This is a modern-English version of The Golden Bough: A Study in Comparative Religion (Vol. 2 of 2), originally written by Frazer, James George.
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The Golden Bough
The Golden Bough
A Study in Comparative Religion
A Study in Comparative Religion
By
By
James George Frazer, M.A.
James George Frazer, M.A.
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge
In Two Volumes.
In 2 Volumes.
Vol. II.
Vol. 2.
New York and London
NY and London
MacMillan and Co.
Macmillan Publishers
1894
1894
Contents
- Chapter III—(continued).
- § 10.—The corn-spirit as an animal.
- § 11.—Eating the god.
- § 12.—Killing the divine animal.
- § 13.—Transference of evil.
- § 14.—Expulsion of evils,
- § 15.—Scapegoats.
- § 16.—Killing the god in Mexico.
- Chapter IV—The Golden Bough.
- § 1.—Between heaven and earth.
- § 2.—Balder.
- § 3.—The external soul in folk-tales.
- § 4.—The external soul in folk-custom.
- § 5.—Conclusion.
- Note. Offerings of first-fruits.
- Index.
- Footnotes

[Transcriber's Note: The above cover image was produced by the submitter at Distributed Proofreaders, and is being placed into the public domain.]
[Transcriber's Note: The cover image above was created by the submitter at Distributed Proofreaders and is now in the public domain.]
Chapter 3—(continued).
§ 10.—The corn spirit as an animal.
In some of the examples cited above to establish the meaning of the term “neck” as applied to the last sheaf, the corn-spirit appears in animal form as a gander, a goat, a hare, a cat, and a fox. This introduces us to a new aspect of the corn-spirit, which we must now examine. By doing so we shall not only have fresh examples of killing the god, but may hope also to clear up some points which remain obscure in the myths and worship of Attis, Adonis, Osiris, Dionysus, Demeter, and Virbius.
In some of the examples mentioned earlier to define the term “neck” as it relates to the last sheaf, the corn spirit appears in animal form as a gander, a goat, a hare, a cat, and a fox. This introduces us to a new aspect of the corn spirit that we need to look into. By doing this, we'll not only find new examples of killing the god but also hope to clarify some points that remain unclear in the myths and worship of Attis, Adonis, Osiris, Dionysus, Demeter, and Virbius.
Amongst the many animals whose forms the corn-spirit is supposed to take are the wolf, dog, hare, cock, goose, cat, goat, cow (ox, bull), pig, and horse. In one or other of these forms the corn-spirit is believed to be present in the corn, and to be caught or killed in the last sheaf. As the corn is being cut the animal flees before the reapers, and if a reaper is taken ill on the field, he is supposed to have stumbled unwittingly on the corn-spirit, who has thus punished the profane intruder. It is said “The Rye-wolf has got hold of him,” “the Harvest-goat has given him a push.” The person who cuts the last corn or binds the last sheaf gets the name of the animal, as the Rye-wolf, [pg 002] the Rye-sow, the Oats-goat, etc., and retains the name sometimes for a year. Also the animal is frequently represented by a puppet made out of the last sheaf or of wood, flowers, etc., which is carried home amid rejoicings on the last harvest waggon. Even where the last sheaf is not made up in animal shape, it is often called the Rye-wolf, the Hare, Goat, and so on. Generally each kind of crop is supposed to have its special animal, which is caught in the last sheaf, and called the Rye-wolf, the Barley-wolf, the Oats-wolf, the Pea-wolf, or the Potato-wolf, according to the crop; but sometimes the figure of the animal is only made up once for all at getting in the last crop of the whole harvest. Sometimes the animal is believed to be killed by the last stroke of the sickle or scythe. But oftener it is thought to live so long as there is corn still unthreshed, and to be caught in the last sheaf threshed. Hence the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is told that he has got the Corn-sow, the Threshing-dog, etc. When the threshing is finished, a puppet is made in the form of the animal, and this is carried by the thresher of the last sheaf to a neighbouring farm, where the threshing is still going on. This again shows that the corn-spirit is believed to live wherever the corn is still being threshed. Sometimes the thresher of the last sheaf himself represents the animal; and if the people of the next farm, who are still threshing, catch him, they treat him like the animal he represents, by shutting him up in the pig-sty, calling him with the cries commonly addressed to pigs, and so forth.1
Among the many animals that the corn spirit is thought to take the shape of are the wolf, dog, hare, rooster, goose, cat, goat, cow (ox, bull), pig, and horse. It's believed that the corn spirit is present in the corn in one of these forms and is captured or killed in the last sheaf. As the corn is harvested, the animal tries to escape from the reapers, and if a reaper becomes ill in the field, it's believed that they've accidentally encountered the corn spirit, who punishes the intruder. People say, "The Rye-wolf has got him." "The Harvest-goat has nudged him." The person who cuts the last ear of corn or binds the last sheaf is given the name of the animal, like Rye-wolf, [pg 002] Rye-sow, Oats-goat, etc., and they sometimes keep that name for a year. The animal is also often represented by a puppet made from the last sheaf or out of wood, flowers, etc., which is brought home joyfully on the last harvest wagon. Even if the last sheaf isn't shaped like an animal, it’s often still called the Rye-wolf, the Hare, Goat, and so on. Typically, each type of crop is thought to have its special animal, which is caught in the last sheaf and named according to the crop, like Rye-wolf, Barley-wolf, Oats-wolf, Pea-wolf, or Potato-wolf; however, sometimes the figure of the animal is only created once for the entire harvest. Occasionally, it’s believed that the animal is killed with the last swing of the sickle or scythe. More often, it’s thought to survive as long as there is still unthreshed corn and to be caught in the last sheaf threshed. Therefore, the person who delivers the last blow with the flail is told they’ve got the Corn-sow, the Threshing-dog, etc. Once threshing is completed, a puppet is made in the shape of the animal, and this is taken by the thresher of the last sheaf to a nearby farm where threshing is still happening. This again indicates that the corn spirit is believed to live wherever corn is being threshed. Sometimes the thresher of the last sheaf themselves represents the animal, and if the people at the next farm, who are still threshing, catch them, they treat them like the animal they represent, shutting them up in the pigsty and calling them with the common cries used for pigs, and so on. 1
These general statements will now be illustrated by examples. We begin with the corn-spirit conceived [pg 003] as a wolf or a dog. This conception is common in France, Germany, and Slavonic countries. Thus, when the wind sets the corn in wave-like motion, the peasants often say, “The Wolf is going over, or through, the corn,” “the Rye-wolf is rushing over the field,” “the Wolf is in the corn,” “the mad Dog is in the corn,” “the big Dog is there.”2 When children wish to go into the corn-fields to pluck ears or gather the blue corn-flowers, they are warned not to do so, for “the big Dog sits in the corn,” or “the Wolf sits in the corn, and will tear you in pieces,” “the Wolf will eat you.” The wolf against whom the children are warned is not a common wolf, for he is often spoken of as the Corn-wolf, Rye-wolf, etc.; thus they say, “The Rye-wolf will come and eat you up, children,” “the Rye-wolf will carry you off,” and so forth.3 Still he has all the outward appearance of a wolf. For in the neighbourhood of Feilenhof (East Prussia), when a wolf was seen running through a field, the peasants used to watch whether he carried his tail in the air or dragged it on the ground. If he dragged it on the ground, they went after him, and thanked him for bringing them a blessing, and even set tit-bits before him. But if he carried his tail high, they cursed him and tried to kill him. Here the wolf is the corn-spirit, whose fertilising power is in his tail.4
These general statements will now be illustrated by examples. We begin with the corn spirit imagined as a wolf or a dog. This idea is common in France, Germany, and Slavic countries. So, when the wind makes the corn move in wave-like patterns, the farmers often say, “The Wolf is going over, or through, the corn,” “the Rye-wolf is rushing over the field,” “the Wolf is in the corn,” “the mad Dog is in the corn,” “the big Dog is there.” When children want to go into the cornfields to pick ears or gather the blue cornflowers, they are warned not to do so, because “the big Dog sits in the corn,” or “the Wolf sits in the corn, and will tear you to pieces,” “the Wolf will eat you.” The wolf that the children are warned about is not an ordinary wolf, for he is often referred to as the Corn-wolf, Rye-wolf, etc.; thus they say, “The Rye-wolf will come and eat you up, kids,” “the Rye-wolf will carry you off,” and so on. Still, he has all the outer appearances of a wolf. In the neighborhood of Feilenhof (East Prussia), when a wolf was seen running through a field, the farmers would watch to see if he held his tail high or dragged it on the ground. If he dragged it on the ground, they followed him, thanked him for bringing them a blessing, and even set out treats for him. But if he held his tail high, they cursed him and tried to kill him. Here, the wolf is the corn spirit, whose fertilizing power is in his tail.
Both dog and wolf appear as embodiments of the corn-spirit in harvest-customs. Thus in some parts [pg 004] of Silesia the person who binds the last sheaf is called the Wheat-dog or the Peas-pug.5 But it is in the harvest-customs of the north-east of France that the idea of the Corn-dog comes out most clearly. Thus when a harvester, through sickness, weariness, or laziness, cannot or will not keep up with the reaper in front of him, they say, “The White Dog passed near him,” “he has the White Bitch,” or “the White Bitch has bitten him.”6 In the Vosges the Harvest-May is called the “Dog of the harvest.”7 About Lons-le-Saulnier, in the Jura, the last sheaf is called the Bitch. In the neighbourhood of Verdun the regular expression for finishing the reaping is, “They are going to kill the Dog;” and at Épinal they say, according to the crop, “We will kill the Wheat-dog, or the Rye-dog, or the Potato-dog.”8 In Lorraine it is said of the man who cuts the last corn, “He is killing the Dog of the harvest.”9 At Dux, in the Tyrol, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is said to “strike down the Dog;”10 and at Ahnebergen, near Stade, he is called, according to the crop, Corn-pug, Rye-pug, Wheat-pug.11
Both the dog and wolf symbolize the corn spirit in harvest traditions. In some areas of Silesia, the person who ties the last sheaf is referred to as the Wheat-dog or the Peas-pug. But it's in the harvest customs of northeast France where the concept of the Corn-dog is most evident. If a harvester is too sick, tired, or lazy to keep up with the reaper ahead, they might say, “The White Dog passed near him,” “He has the White Bitch,” or “The White Bitch has bitten him.” In the Vosges, the Harvest-May is known as the “Dog of the harvest.” Around Lons-le-Saulnier in the Jura, the last sheaf is called the Bitch. Near Verdun, the common phrase for finishing the harvest is, “They are going to kill the Dog;” and in Épinal, they say, depending on the crop, “We will kill the Wheat-dog, or the Rye-dog, or the Potato-dog.” In Lorraine, when someone cuts the last grain, it is remarked that “He is killing the Dog of the harvest.” In Dux, Tyrol, the person who delivers the final blow in threshing is said to “strike down the Dog;” and in Ahnebergen, near Stade, he is named according to the crop: Corn-pug, Rye-pug, Wheat-pug.
So with the wolf. In Germany it is said that “The Wolf sits in the last sheaf.”12 In some places they call out to the reaper, “Beware of the Wolf;” or they say, “He is chasing the Wolf out of the corn.”13 The last bunch of standing corn is called the Wolf, and the man who cuts it “has the Wolf.” The last sheaf is also called the Wolf; and of the woman who binds it they say, “The Wolf is biting her,” “she has the [pg 005] Wolf,” “she must fetch the Wolf” (out of the corn).14 Moreover, she is herself called Wolf and has to bear the name for a whole year; sometimes, according to the crop, she is called the Rye-wolf or the Potato-wolf.15 In the island of Rügen they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, “You're Wolf;” and when she comes home she bites the lady of the house and the stewardess, for which she receives a large piece of meat. The same woman may be Rye-wolf, Wheat-wolf, and Oats-wolf, if she happens to bind the last sheaf of rye, wheat, and oats.16 At Buir, in the district of Cologne, it was formerly the custom to give to the last sheaf the shape of a wolf. It was kept in the barn till all the corn was threshed. Then it was brought to the farmer, and he had to sprinkle it with beer or brandy.17 In many places the sheaf called the Wolf is made up in human form and dressed in clothes. This indicates a confusion between the conceptions of the corn-spirit as theriomorphic (in animal form) and as anthropomorphic (in human form).18 Generally the Wolf is brought home on the last waggon, with joyful cries.19
So with the wolf. In Germany, it's said that "The Wolf is sitting in the last bundle."12 In some places, they call out to the reaper, “Watch out for the Wolf;” or they say, “He is driving the Wolf out of the corn.”13 The last bunch of standing corn is called the Wolf, and the person who cuts it “has the Wolf.” The last sheaf is also referred to as the Wolf; and about the woman who binds it, they say, “The wolf is biting her,” “she has the Wolf,” “she must get the Wolf” (out of the corn).14 Moreover, she is herself called Wolf and has to bear that name for a whole year; sometimes, depending on the crop, she is called the Rye-wolf or the Potato-wolf.15 On the island of Rügen, they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, "You're Wolf." and when she comes home, she bites the lady of the house and the stewardess, for which she receives a large piece of meat. The same woman may be Rye-wolf, Wheat-wolf, and Oats-wolf if she happens to bind the last sheaf of rye, wheat, and oats.16 In Buir, in the district of Cologne, it was once customary to shape the last sheaf like a wolf. It was kept in the barn until all the corn was threshed. Then, it was brought to the farmer, who had to sprinkle it with beer or brandy.17 In many places, the sheaf called the Wolf is formed into a human shape and dressed in clothes. This indicates a mix-up between the ideas of the corn spirit as theriomorphic (in animal form) and as anthropomorphic (in human form).18 Generally, the Wolf is brought home on the last wagon, accompanied by joyful shouts.19
Again, the Wolf is supposed to hide himself amongst the cut corn in the granary, until he is driven out of the last bundle by the strokes of the flail. Hence at Wanzleben, near Magdeburg, after the threshing the peasants go in procession, leading by a chain a man, who is enveloped in the threshed out straw and is called the Wolf.20 He represents the corn-spirit who has been caught escaping from the threshed corn. In Trier it is believed that the Corn-wolf [pg 006] is killed at threshing. The men thresh the last sheaf till it is reduced to chopped straw. In this way they think that the Corn-wolf who was lurking in the last sheaf, has been certainly killed.21
Again, the Wolf is supposed to hide among the cut corn in the granary until he is driven out of the last bundle by the strokes of the flail. So, at Wanzleben, near Magdeburg, after threshing, the peasants hold a procession, leading a man who is covered in the threshed straw and is called the Wolf. He represents the corn spirit that has been caught trying to escape from the threshed corn. In Trier, it's believed that the Corn-wolf is killed during threshing. The men beat the last sheaf until it becomes chopped straw. This way, they believe that the Corn-wolf hiding in the last sheaf has definitely been killed.
In France also the Corn-wolf appears at harvest. Thus they call out to the reaper of the last corn, “You will catch the Wolf.” Near Chambéry they form a ring round the last standing corn, and cry, “The Wolf is in there.” In Finisterre, when the reaping draws near an end, the harvesters cry, “There is the Wolf; we will catch him.” Each takes a swath to reap, and he who finishes first calls out, “I've caught the Wolf.”22 In Guyenne, when the last corn has been reaped, they lead a wether all round the field. It is called “the Wolf of the field.” Its horns are decked with a wreath of flowers and corn-ears, and its neck and body are also encircled with garlands and ribbons. All the reapers march, singing, behind it. Then it is killed on the field. In this part of France the last sheaf is called the coujoulage, which, in the patois, means a wether. Hence the killing of the wether represents the death of the corn-spirit, considered as present in the last sheaf; but two different conceptions of the corn-spirit—as a wolf and as a wether—are mixed up together.23
In France too, the Corn-wolf shows up at harvest time. They call out to the person gathering the last of the corn, “You'll catch the Wolf.” Near Chambéry, they create a circle around the last standing corn and shout, "The Wolf is in there." In Finisterre, as the reaping comes to a close, the workers yell, "We've got the Wolf; we'll catch him." Everyone takes a section to harvest, and whoever finishes first calls out, "I've caught the Wolf."22 In Guyenne, when the last corn is harvested, they take a wether around the field. It's called "the Wolf of the field." Its horns are adorned with a wreath of flowers and ears of corn, and its neck and body are also decorated with garlands and ribbons. All the harvesters march behind it, singing. Then it is killed in the field. Here, the last sheaf is called the coujoulage, which means a wether in the local dialect. Thus, the killing of the wether symbolizes the death of the corn-spirit associated with the last sheaf; however, two different ideas of the corn-spirit—as a wolf and as a wether—are intertwined. 23
Sometimes it appears to be thought that the Wolf, caught in the last corn, lives during the winter in the farmhouse, ready to renew his activity as corn-spirit in the spring. Hence at midwinter, when the lengthening days begin to herald the approach of spring, the Wolf makes his appearance once more. In Poland a man, with a wolf's skin thrown over his head, is led about at Christmas; or a stuffed wolf is carried about by [pg 007] persons who collect money.24 There are facts which point to an old custom of leading about a man enveloped in leaves and called the Wolf, while his conductors collected money.25
Sometimes it seems that the Wolf, caught in the last of the corn, stays in the farmhouse during the winter, ready to come back as the corn-spirit in the spring. So, at midwinter, when the days start to get longer and signal the approach of spring, the Wolf shows up again. In Poland, a man wearing a wolf's skin over his head is paraded around at Christmas; or a stuffed wolf is carried around by [pg 007] people who are collecting donations. There are signs of an old tradition of leading around a man wrapped in leaves, called the Wolf, while his escorts gathered money.
Another form which the corn-spirit often assumes is that of a cock. In Austria children are warned against straying in the corn-fields, because the Corn-cock sits there, and will peck their eyes out.26 In North Germany they say that “the Cock sits in the last sheaf;” and at cutting the last corn the reapers cry, “Now we will chase out the Cock.” When it is cut they say, “We have caught the Cock.” Then a cock is made of flowers, fastened on a pole, and carried home by the reapers, singing as they go.27 At Braller, in Transylvania, when the reapers come to the last patch of corn, they cry, “Here we shall catch the Cock.”28 At Fürstenwalde, when the last sheaf is about to be bound, the master lets loose a cock, which he has brought in a basket, and lets it run over the field. All the harvesters chase it till they catch it. Elsewhere the harvesters all try to seize the last corn cut; he who succeeds in grasping it must crow, and is called Cock.29 The last sheaf is called Cock, Cock-sheaf, Harvest-cock, Harvest-hen, Autumn-hen. A distinction is made between a Wheat-cock, Bean-cock, etc., according to the crop.30 At Wünschensuhl, in Thüringen, the last sheaf is made into the shape of a cock, and called Harvest-cock.31 A figure of a cock, [pg 008] made of wood, pasteboard, or ears of corn, is borne in front of the harvest-waggon, especially in Westphalia, where the cock carries in his beak fruits of the earth of all kinds. Sometimes the image of the cock is fastened to the top of a May-tree on the last harvest-waggon. Elsewhere a live cock, or a figure of one, is attached to a harvest-crown and carried on a pole. In Galicia and elsewhere this live cock is fastened to the garland of corn-ears or flowers, which the leader of the women-reapers carries on her head as she marches in front of the harvest procession.32 In Silesia a live cock is presented to the master on a plate. The harvest supper is called Harvest-cock, Stubble-cock, etc., and a chief dish at it, at least in some places, is a cock.33 If a waggoner upsets a harvest-waggon, it is said that “he has spilt the Harvest-cock,” and he loses the cock—that is, the harvest supper.34 The harvest-waggon, with the figure of the cock on it, is driven round the farmhouse before it is taken to the barn. Then the cock is nailed over, or at the side of the house door, or on the gable, and remains there till next harvest.35 In East Friesland the person who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the Clucking-hen, and grain is strewed before him as if he were a hen.36
Another form that the corn spirit often takes is that of a rooster. In Austria, kids are warned not to wander into the cornfields because the Corn Rooster is there and will peck their eyes out.26 In northern Germany, they say that “the Rooster sits in the last bundle;” and when cutting the last corn, the harvesters shout, “Now we will drive out the Rooster.” Once it’s cut, they say, “We've caught the Rooster.” Then a rooster is made from flowers, attached to a pole, and taken home by the harvesters while singing as they go.27 In Braller, Transylvania, when the harvesters reach the last patch of corn, they shout, "Here we will catch the Rooster."28 In Fürstenwalde, when the last sheaf is about to be tied, the boss releases a rooster he has brought in a basket and lets it run around the field. All the harvesters chase it until they catch it. Elsewhere, the harvesters all try to grab the last stalk cut; whoever manages to do so must crow and is called the Rooster.29 The last sheaf is referred to as Rooster, Rooster-sheaf, Harvest-rooster, Harvest-hen, Autumn-hen. There’s a distinction made between a Wheat-rooster, Bean-rooster, etc., depending on the crop.30 In Wünschensuhl, Thüringen, the last sheaf is shaped like a rooster and called Harvest-rooster.31 An image of a rooster, [pg 008] made of wood, cardboard, or ears of corn, is carried in front of the harvest wagon, especially in Westphalia, where the rooster holds fruits of the earth in its beak. Sometimes the rooster figure is attached to the top of a Maypole on the last harvest wagon. In other places, a live rooster or a figure of one is tied to a harvest crown and carried on a pole. In Galicia and other regions, this live rooster is tied to the garland of corn ears or flowers, which the leader of the female harvesters wears on her head as she walks in front of the harvest parade.32 In Silesia, a live rooster is presented to the boss on a plate. The harvest meal is called Harvest-rooster, Stubble-rooster, etc., and one of the main dishes at it, at least in some areas, is a rooster.33 If a wagon driver tips over a harvest wagon, it’s said that “he has spilled the harvest rooster,” and he loses the rooster—that is, the harvest meal.34 The harvest wagon, with the rooster figure on it, is driven around the farmhouse before being taken to the barn. Then the rooster is nailed over, or beside the house door, or on the gable, and stays there until the next harvest.35 In East Friesland, the person who gives the last blow at threshing is called the Clucking Hen, and grain is sprinkled in front of him as if he were a hen.36
Again, the corn-spirit is killed in the form of [pg 009] a cock. In parts of Germany, Hungary, Poland, and Picardy, the reapers place a live cock in the corn which is to be cut last, and chase it over the field, or bury it up to the neck in the ground; afterwards they strike off its head with a sickle or scythe.37 In many parts of Westphalia, when the harvesters bring the wooden cock to the farmer, he gives them a live cock, which they kill with whips or sticks, or behead with an old sword, or throw it into the barn to the girls, or give it to the mistress to cook. If the Harvest-cock has not been spilt—that is, if no waggon has been upset—the harvesters have the right of killing the farmyard cock by throwing stones at it or beheading it. Where this custom has fallen into disuse, it is still common for the farmer's wife to make cockie-leekie for the harvesters, and to show them the head of the cock which has been killed for the soup.38 In the neighbourhood of Klausenburg, Transylvania, a cock is buried on the harvest-field in the earth, so that only its head appears. A young man then takes a scythe and cuts off the cock's head at a single stroke. If he fails to do this, he is called the Red Cock for a whole year, and people fear that next year's crop will be bad.39 In the neighbourhood of Udvarhely, Transylvania, a live cock is bound up in the last sheaf and killed with a spit. It is then skinned. The flesh is thrown away, but the skin and feathers are kept till next year; and in spring the grain from the last sheaf is mixed with the feathers of the cock and scattered on the field which is to be tilled.40 Nothing could set in a clearer [pg 010] light the identification of the cock with the spirit of the corn. By being tied up in the last sheaf and killed, the cock is identified with the corn, and its death with the cutting of the corn. By keeping its feathers till spring, then mixing them with the seed-corn taken from the very sheaf in which the bird had been bound, and scattering the feathers together with the seed over the field, the identity of the bird with the corn is again emphasised, and its quickening and fertilising power, as the corn-spirit, is intimated in the plainest manner. Thus the corn-spirit, in the form of a cock, is killed at harvest, but rises to fresh life and activity in spring. Again, the equivalence of the cock to the corn is expressed, hardly less plainly, in the custom of burying the bird in the ground, and cutting off its head (like the ears of corn) with the scythe.
Again, the corn spirit is killed in the form of a rooster. In parts of Germany, Hungary, Poland, and Picardy, the reapers place a live rooster in the last section of corn to be cut and chase it around the field or bury it up to its neck in the ground; afterwards, they chop off its head with a sickle or scythe. In many areas of Westphalia, when the harvesters bring the wooden rooster to the farmer, he gives them a live rooster, which they kill with whips or sticks, or behead with an old sword, or throw into the barn for the girls, or give to the mistress to cook. If the Harvest-rooster has not been spilled—that is, if no wagon has been upset—the harvesters have the right to kill the farmyard rooster by throwing stones at it or beheading it. Where this custom has fallen out of practice, it is still common for the farmer's wife to make cockie-leekie for the harvesters and to show them the head of the rooster that has been killed for the soup. In the area around Klausenburg, Transylvania, a rooster is buried in the harvest field with only its head showing. A young man then takes a scythe and cuts off the rooster's head in one stroke. If he fails, he is called the Red Rooster for an entire year, and people worry that the next year's crop will be poor. In the vicinity of Udvarhely, Transylvania, a live rooster is bound in the last sheaf and killed with a spit. It is then skinned. The flesh is thrown away, but the skin and feathers are kept until the next year; in the spring, the grain from the last sheaf is mixed with the rooster's feathers and scattered in the field that will be tilled. Nothing could make it clearer that the rooster is identified with the spirit of the corn. By being tied up in the last sheaf and killed, the rooster is associated with the corn, and its death represents the cutting of the corn. By keeping its feathers until spring, then mixing them with the seed corn from the very sheaf where the bird had been bound, and scattering the feathers along with the seed in the field, the connection between the bird and the corn is emphasized again, and its life-giving and fertilizing power, as the corn spirit, is clearly indicated. Thus, the corn spirit, in the form of a rooster, is killed at harvest but rises to new life and activity in the spring. Furthermore, the parallel between the rooster and the corn is expressed just as clearly in the custom of burying the bird in the ground and cutting off its head (like the ears of corn) with the scythe.
Another common embodiment of the corn-spirit is the hare.41 In some parts of Ayrshire the cutting of the last corn is called “cutting the Hare;”42 and in Germany a name for the last sheaf is the Hare.43 In East Prussia they say that the Hare sits in the last patch of standing corn, and must be chased out by the last reaper. The reapers hurry with their work, each being anxious not to have “to chase out the Hare;” for the man who does so, that is, who cuts the last corn, is much laughed at.44 At Birk in Transylvania, when the reapers come to the last patch, they cry out, “We have the Hare.”45 At Aurich, as we have seen,46 an expression for cutting the last corn is “to cut off the Hare's tail.” “He is killing the Hare” is [pg 011] commonly said of the man who cuts the last corn in Germany, Sweden, Holland, France, and Italy.47 In Norway the man who is thus said to “kill the Hare” must give “hare's blood,” in the form of brandy, to his fellows to drink.48
Another common representation of the corn spirit is the hare. In some areas of Ayrshire, the cutting of the last corn is referred to as “cutting the Hare,” and in Germany, the last sheaf is called the Hare. In East Prussia, they say that the Hare sits in the last patch of standing corn and must be chased out by the last reaper. The reapers work quickly, each one eager not to have “to chase out the Hare,” because the person who does so, meaning who cuts the last corn, is laughed at a lot. At Birk in Transylvania, when the reapers reach the last patch, they shout, “We have the Hare.” In Aurich, as we have seen, a phrase for cutting the last corn is “to cut off the Hare's tail.” “He is killing the Hare” is commonly said about the person who cuts the last corn in Germany, Sweden, Holland, France, and Italy. In Norway, the man who is said to “kill the Hare” must provide “hare's blood,” in the form of brandy, for his friends to drink.
Again, the corn-spirit sometimes takes the form of a cat.49 Near Kiel children are warned not to go into the corn-fields because “the Cat sits there.” In the Eisenach Oberland they are told “the Corn-cat will come and fetch you,” “the Corn-cat goes in the corn.” In some parts of Silesia at mowing the last corn they say, “the Cat is caught;” and at threshing, the man who gives the last stroke is called the Cat. In the neighbourhood of Lyons the last sheaf and the harvest supper are both called the Cat. About Vesoul when they cut the last corn they say, “We have the Cat by the tail.” At Briançon, in Dauphiné, at the beginning of reaping, a cat is decked out with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn. It is called the Cat of the ball-skin (le chat de peau de balle). If a reaper is wounded at his work, they make the cat lick the wound. At the close of the reaping the cat is again decked out with ribbons and ears of corn; then there is dancing and merriment. When the dance is over, the cat is solemnly stripped of its ornaments by the girls. At Grüneberg in Silesia the reaper who cuts the last corn is called the Tom-cat. He is enveloped in rye-stalks and green withes, and is furnished with a long plaited tail. Sometimes as a companion he has a man similarly dressed, who is called the (female) Cat. Their duty is to run after people whom they see and beat them with a long stick. Near Amiens the [pg 012] expression for finishing the harvest is, “They are going to kill the Cat;” and when the last corn is cut a cat is killed in the farmyard. At threshing, in some parts of France, a live cat is placed under the last bundle of corn to be threshed, and is struck dead with the flails. Then on Sunday it is roasted and eaten as a holiday dish.
Again, the corn spirit sometimes takes the form of a cat. Near Kiel, children are told not to go into the cornfields because "the cat is sitting there." In the Eisenach Oberland, they say "The Corn-cat will come and get you," "The corn cat goes in the corn." In some parts of Silesia, when mowing the last bits of corn, they say, “the cat is caught;” and during threshing, the person who gives the final stroke is called the Cat. In the area around Lyons, the last sheaf and the harvest dinner are both referred to as the Cat. Around Vesoul, when they cut the last corn, they say, "We've got the Cat by the tail." In Briançon, in Dauphiné, at the beginning of harvest, a cat is dressed with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn. It's called the Cat of the ball-skin (the skin of a ball cat). If a reaper gets hurt while working, they make the cat lick the wound. At the end of the harvest, the cat is again adorned with ribbons and ears of corn; then, there's dancing and fun. When the dancing is over, the girls formally remove the cat's decorations. In Grüneberg, Silesia, the reaper who cuts the last corn is called the Tom-cat. He is wrapped in rye stalks and green branches, sporting a long braided tail. Sometimes he has a man dressed the same way, called the (female) Cat, as a companion. Their job is to chase after people they see and hit them with a long stick. Near Amiens, the expression for finishing the harvest is, “They're going to kill the Cat;” and when the last corn is cut, a cat is killed in the farmyard. During threshing, in some regions of France, a live cat is placed under the last bundle of corn to be threshed and is struck dead with the flails. It is then roasted and eaten as a holiday dish the following Sunday.
Further, the corn-spirit often appears in the form of a goat. In the province of Prussia, when the corn bends before the wind, they say, “The Goats are chasing each other,” “the wind is driving the Goats through the corn,” “the Goats are browsing there,” and they expect a very good harvest. Again they say, “the Oats-goat is sitting in the oats-field,” “the Corn-goat is sitting in the rye-field.”50 Children are warned not to go into the corn-fields to pluck the blue cornflowers, or amongst the beans to pluck pods, because the Rye-goat, the Corn-goat, the Oats-goat, or the Bean-goat is sitting or lying there, and will carry them away or kill them.51 When a harvester is taken sick or lags behind his fellows at their work, they call out, “The Harvest-goat has pushed him,” “he has been pushed by the Corn-goat.”52 In the neighbourhood of Braunsberg (East Prussia) at binding the oats every harvester makes haste “lest the Corn-goat push him.” At Oefoten in Norway each harvester has his allotted patch to reap. When a harvester in the middle has not finished reaping his piece after his neighbours have finished theirs, they say of him, “He remains on the island.” And if the laggard is a man, they imitate the cry with which they call a he-goat; if a woman, the cry with which they call a she-goat.53 Near Straubing [pg 013] in Lower Bavaria, it is said of the man who cuts the last corn that “he has the Corn-goat or the Wheat-goat, or the Oats-goat,” according to the crop. Moreover, two horns are set up on the last heap of corn, and it is called “the horned Goat.” At Kreutzburg, East Prussia, they call out to the woman who is binding the last sheaf, “The Goat is sitting in the sheaf.”54 At Gablingen in Swabia, when the last field of oats upon a farm is being reaped, the reapers carve a goat out of wood. Ears of oats are inserted in its nostrils and mouth, and it is adorned with garlands of flowers. It is set upon the field and called the Oats-goat. When the reaping approaches an end, each reaper hastens to finish his piece first; he who is the last to finish gets the Oats-goat.55 Again, the last sheaf is itself called the Goat. Thus, in the valley of the Wiesent, Bavaria, the last sheaf bound on the field is called the Goat, and they have a proverb, “The field must bear a goat.”56 At Spachbrücken in Hesse, the last handful of corn which is cut is called the Goat, and the man who cuts it is much ridiculed.57 Sometimes the last sheaf is made up in the form of a goat,58 and they say, “The Goat is sitting in it.” Again, the person who cuts or binds the last sheaf is called the Goat. Thus, in parts of Mecklenburg they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, “You are the Harvest-goat.” In the neighbourhood of Uelzen in Hanover, the harvest festival begins with “the bringing of the Harvest-goat;” that is, the woman who bound the last sheaf is wrapt in straw, crowned with a harvest-wreath, and brought in a wheelbarrow [pg 014] to the village, where a round dance takes place. About Lüneburg, also, the woman who binds the last corn is decked with a crown of corn-ears and is called the Corn-goat.59 In the Canton St. Gall, Switzerland, the person who cuts the last handful of corn on the field, or drives the last harvest-waggon to the barn, is called the Corn-goat or the Rye-goat, or simply the Goat.60 In the Canton Thurgau he is called Corn-goat; like a goat he has a bell hung round his neck, is led in triumph, and drenched with liquor. In parts of Styria, also, the man who cuts the last corn is called Corn-goat, Oats-goat, etc. As a rule, the man who thus gets the name of Corn-goat has to bear it a whole year till the next harvest.61
Further, the corn spirit often shows up as a goat. In Prussia, when the corn bends in the wind, they say, "The goats are running after each other." "The wind is blowing the goats through the corn." "the goats are grazing there," and they expect a great harvest. They also say, “The goat is sitting in the oat field.” "The corn-goat is sitting in the rye field."50 Children are warned not to enter the cornfields to pick the blue cornflowers or among the beans to pick pods, because the rye-goat, the corn-goat, the oats-goat, or the bean-goat is sitting or lying there, and will either carry them away or harm them.51 When a harvester gets sick or falls behind his peers, they shout, “The harvest goat has pushed him,” "he has been pushed by the corn-goat."52 In the area of Braunsberg (East Prussia), when binding the oats, every harvester hurries “so the corn-goat doesn’t push him.” In Oefoten, Norway, each harvester has his own patch to reap. If someone in the middle hasn't finished harvesting while his neighbors have completed theirs, they say of him, “He’s still on the island.” If the laggard is a man, they mimic the call used for a male goat; if it's a woman, they mimic the call for a female goat.53 Near Straubing [pg 013] in Lower Bavaria, it's said of the man who cuts the last corn that "he has the corn goat, the wheat goat, or the oats goat," depending on the crop. Additionally, two horns are placed on the last pile of corn, and it's called "the horned goat." At Kreutzburg, East Prussia, they call out to the woman binding the last sheaf, “The goat is sitting in the bundle.”54 At Gablingen in Swabia, when the last field of oats on a farm is being harvested, the reapers carve a goat from wood. They put ears of oats in its nostrils and mouth and decorate it with flower garlands. It's placed in the field and named the oats-goat. As harvesting nears completion, each reaper rushes to finish their piece first; the last one to finish gets the oats-goat.55 Meanwhile, the last sheaf is also called the goat. In the Wiesent valley, Bavaria, the last sheaf bound in the field is referred to as the goat, and they have a saying, “The field must have a goat.”56 In Spachbrücken, Hesse, the last handful of corn cut is called the goat, and the man who cuts it is greatly teased.57 Sometimes the last sheaf is shaped like a goat,58 and they say, "The goat is sitting in it." Again, the person who cuts or binds the last sheaf is called the goat. Thus, in parts of Mecklenburg, they call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf, “You are the lucky charm.” In the area of Uelzen in Hanover, the harvest festival starts with “the arrival of the harvest-goat;” meaning the woman who bound the last sheaf is wrapped in straw, crowned with a harvest wreath, and brought in a wheelbarrow [pg 014] to the village, where they hold a round dance. Around Lüneburg, the woman who binds the last corn is also adorned with a crown of corn-ears and referred to as the corn-goat.59 In the Canton of St. Gall, Switzerland, the person who cuts the last handful of corn in the field, or drives the last harvest wagon to the barn, is called the corn-goat or the rye-goat, or simply the goat.60 In the Canton of Thurgau, they use the term corn-goat; much like a goat, he has a bell hung around his neck, is led in celebration, and is soaked in liquor. In parts of Styria, as well, the man who cuts the last corn is called corn-goat, oats-goat, etc. Generally, the man who earns the title corn-goat has to keep it for a whole year until the next harvest.61
According to one view, the corn-spirit, who has been caught in the form of a goat or otherwise, lives in the farmhouse or barn over winter. Thus, each farm has its own embodiment of the corn-spirit. But, according to another view, the corn-spirit is the genius or deity, not of the corn of one farm only, but of all the corn. Hence when the corn on one farm is all cut, he flees to another where there is still corn left standing. This idea is brought out in a harvest-custom which was formerly observed in Skye. The farmer who first finished reaping sent a man or woman with a sheaf to a neighbouring farmer who had not finished; the latter in his turn, when he had finished, sent on the sheaf to his neighbour who was still reaping; and so the sheaf made the round of the farms till all the corn was cut. The sheaf was called the goabbir bhacagh, that is, the Cripple Goat.62 The corn-spirit was probably thus represented as lame because he had been [pg 015] crippled by the cutting of the corn. We have seen that sometimes the old woman who brings home the last sheaf must limp on one foot.63 In the Böhmer Wald mountains, between Bohemia and Bavaria, when two peasants are driving home their corn together, they race against each other to see who shall get home first. The village boys mark the loser in the race, and at night they come and erect on the roof of his house the Oats-goat, which is a colossal figure of a goat made of straw.64
According to one perspective, the corn spirit, which can take the form of a goat or something else, stays in the farmhouse or barn during the winter. Each farm thus has its own version of the corn spirit. However, another view suggests that the corn spirit is a divine being, not just associated with the corn from one farm, but with all corn. So when the corn is fully harvested from one farm, it moves on to another where there's still corn left. This idea is highlighted in a harvest tradition that used to be practiced in Skye. The farmer who first completed the reaping would send a man or woman with a sheaf of corn to a neighboring farmer who hadn't finished yet. Once that farmer finished, they would pass the sheaf to another neighbor who was still working, and this would continue until all the corn was harvested. The sheaf was called the goabbir bhacagh, which means the Cripple Goat.62 The corn spirit was likely represented as lame because it was supposedly injured by the cutting of the corn. We've noted that sometimes, the old woman who brings home the last sheaf has to limp on one foot.63 In the Böhmer Wald mountains, between Bohemia and Bavaria, when two peasants are bringing their corn home together, they race to see who gets there first. The village boys mark the loser of the race, and at night, they come and place a giant straw goat, known as the Oats-goat, on the roof of his house.64
But sometimes the corn-spirit, in the form of a goat, is believed to be slain on the harvest-field by the sickle or scythe. Thus, in the neighbourhood of Bernkastel, on the Moselle, the reapers determine by lot the order in which they shall follow each other. The first is called the fore-reaper, the last the tail-bearer. If a reaper overtakes the man in front he reaps past him, bending round so as to leave the slower reaper in a patch by himself. This patch is called the Goat; and the man for whom “the Goat is cut” in this way, is laughed and jeered at by his fellows for the rest of the day. When the tail-bearer cuts the last ears of corn, it is said “He is cutting the Goat's neck off.”65 In the neighbourhood of Grenoble, before the end of the reaping, a live goat is adorned with flowers and ribbons and allowed to run about the field. The reapers chase it and try to catch it. When it is caught, the farmer's wife holds it fast while the farmer cuts off its head. The goat's flesh serves to furnish the harvest supper. A piece of the flesh is pickled and kept till the next harvest, when another goat is killed. Then all the harvesters eat [pg 016] of the flesh. On the same day the skin of the goat is made into a cloak, which the farmer, who works with his men, must always wear at harvest-time if rain or bad weather sets in. But if a reaper gets pains in his back, the farmer gives him the goat-skin to wear.66 The reason for this seems to be that the pains in the back, being inflicted by the corn-spirit, can also be healed by it. Similarly we saw that elsewhere, when a reaper is wounded at reaping, a cat, as the representative of the corn-spirit, is made to lick the wound.67 Esthonian reapers in the island of Mon think that the man who cuts the first ears of corn at harvest will get pains in his back,68—probably because the corn-spirit is believed to resent especially the first wound; and, in order to escape pains in the back, Saxon reapers in Transylvania gird their loins with the first handful of ears which they cut.69 Here, again, the corn-spirit is applied to for healing or protection, but in his original vegetable form, not in the form of a goat or a cat.
But sometimes the corn spirit, appearing as a goat, is believed to be killed in the harvest field by the sickle or scythe. In the area around Bernkastel, on the Moselle, the reapers draw lots to determine the order in which they will follow one another. The first is called the fore-reaper, and the last the tail-bearer. If a reaper catches up to the person in front, he reaps past them, bending around to leave the slower reaper in a patch by themselves. This patch is called the Goat, and the reaper for whom “the goat is cut” is laughed at and teased by their peers for the rest of the day. When the tail-bearer cuts the last ears of corn, it's said “He is cutting the goat's neck.” 65 In the region around Grenoble, before the end of the reaping, a live goat is decorated with flowers and ribbons and allowed to run through the field. The reapers chase it and try to catch it. When it is caught, the farmer's wife holds it securely while the farmer beheads it. The goat's meat is used for the harvest supper. A piece of the meat is pickled and saved until the next harvest when another goat is killed. Then all the harvesters eat [pg 016] the meat. On the same day, the goat's skin is turned into a cloak, which the farmer, who works alongside his men, must always wear during harvest time if it rains or the weather turns bad. But if a reaper experiences back pain, the farmer gives him the goat skin to wear. 66 The reason for this seems to be that the back pain, inflicted by the corn spirit, can also be healed by it. Similarly, we saw elsewhere that when a reaper is injured while harvesting, a cat, representing the corn spirit, is made to lick the wound. 67 Estonian reapers on the island of Mon believe that the person who cuts the first ears of corn at harvest will get back pain, 68 probably because the corn spirit is thought to particularly resent the first wound; to avoid back pain, Saxon reapers in Transylvania tie their loins with the first handful of ears they cut. 69 Here again, the corn spirit is called upon for healing or protection, but in its original vegetable form rather than as a goat or a cat.
Further, the corn-spirit under the form of a goat is sometimes conceived as lurking among the cut corn in the barn, till he is driven from it by the threshing-flail. For example, in the neighbourhood of Marktl in Upper Bavaria the sheaves are called Straw-goats or simply Goats. They are laid in a great heap on the open field and threshed by two rows of men standing opposite each other, who, as they ply their flails, sing a song in which they say that they see the Straw-goat amongst the corn-stalks. The last Goat, that is, the last sheaf, is adorned with a wreath of violets and other [pg 017] flowers and with cakes strung together. It is placed right in the middle of the heap. Some of the threshers rush at it and tear the best of it out; others lay on with their flails so recklessly that heads are sometimes broken. In threshing this last sheaf, each man casts up to the man opposite him the misdeeds of which he has been guilty throughout the year.70 At Oberinntal in Tyrol the last thresher is called Goat.71 At Tettnang in Würtemberg the thresher who gives the last stroke to the last bundle of corn before it is turned goes by the name of the He-goat, and it is said “he has driven the He-goat away.” The person who, after the bundle has been turned, gives the last stroke of all, is called the She-goat.72 In this custom it is implied that the corn is inhabited by a pair of corn-spirits, male and female. Further, the corn-spirit, captured in the form of a goat at threshing, is passed on to a neighbour whose threshing is not yet finished. In Franche Comté, as soon as the threshing is over, the young people set up a straw figure of a goat on the farmyard of a neighbour who is still threshing. He must give them wine or money in return. At Ellwangen in Würtemberg the effigy of a goat is made out of the last bundle of corn at threshing; four sticks form its legs, and two its horns. The man who gives the last stroke with the flail must carry the Goat to the barn of a neighbour who is still threshing and throw it down on the floor; if he is caught in the act, they tie the Goat on his back.73 A similar custom is observed at Indersdorf in Upper Bavaria; the man who throws the straw Goat into the neighbour's barn imitates the bleating of a goat; if they [pg 018] catch him they blacken his face and tie the Goat on his back.74 At Zabern in Elsass, when a farmer is a week or more behind his neighbours with his threshing, they set a real stuffed goat (or fox) before his door.75 Sometimes the spirit of the corn in goat form is believed to be killed at threshing. In the district of Traunstein, Upper Bavaria, it is thought that the Oats-goat is in the last sheaf of oats. He is represented by an old rake set up on end, with an old pot for a head. The children are then told to kill the Oats-goat.76 A stranger passing a harvest-field is sometimes taken for the Corn-goat escaping in human shape from the cut or threshed grain. Thus, when a stranger passes a harvest-field, all the labourers stop and shout as with one voice “He-goat! He-goat!” At rape-seed threshing in Schleswig, which generally takes place on the field, the same cry is raised if the stranger does not take off his hat.77
Furthermore, the corn spirit, in the shape of a goat, is sometimes imagined as hiding among the cut corn in the barn until it’s driven away by the threshing flail. For instance, in the Marktl area of Upper Bavaria, the sheaves are called Straw-goats or simply Goats. They are piled high in an open field and threshed by two rows of men facing each other, who sing a song while they work and claim they see the Straw-goat among the corn stalks. The last Goat, which is the final sheaf, is decorated with a wreath of violets and other flowers, along with cakes strung together. It’s placed right at the center of the pile. Some threshers rush at it and grab the best parts; others swing their flails so wildly that heads sometimes break. While threshing this last sheaf, each man calls out to the man opposite him the misdeeds he’s committed over the past year. In Oberinntal, Tyrol, the last thresher is referred to as the Goat. In Tettnang, Würtemberg, the man who delivers the final blow to the last bundle of corn before it’s turned is known as the He-goat, and it’s noted that “he has driven the He-goat away.” The person who delivers the final strike after the bundle has been turned is called the She-goat. This tradition suggests that the corn is inhabited by a pair of spirits, one male and one female. Additionally, the corn spirit captured in the goat form during threshing is passed to a neighbor whose threshing isn't complete. In Franche Comté, once the threshing wraps up, the young people set up a straw goat figure in the yard of a neighbor still working. They must be given wine or money in return. At Ellwangen, Würtemberg, a goat figure is created from the last bundle of corn during threshing; four sticks make the legs, and two represent its horns. The man who delivers the last blow with the flail must carry the Goat to a neighbor's barn and toss it onto the floor; if caught, they tie the Goat to his back. A similar custom occurs in Indersdorf, Upper Bavaria; the man who tosses the straw Goat into the neighbor's barn imitates a goat’s bleat; if caught, they blacken his face and tie the Goat on his back. At Zabern, Elsass, if a farmer is a week or more behind his neighbors in threshing, they set a real stuffed goat (or fox) in front of his door. Sometimes, the corn spirit in goat form is believed to be killed during threshing. In the Traunstein district of Upper Bavaria, it’s thought that the Oats-goat resides in the last sheaf of oats. It’s represented by an old rake set upright with an old pot as a head. The children are then told to kill the Oats-goat. A stranger passing by a harvest field is sometimes seen as the Corn-goat escaping in human form from the cut or threshed grain. Thus, when a stranger walks through a harvest field, all the workers stop and yell in unison, “He-goat! He-goat!” At rape-seed threshing in Schleswig, which typically occurs in the field, the same call is made if the stranger doesn't remove his hat.
At sowing their winter corn the Prussian Slavs used to kill a goat, consume its flesh with many superstitious ceremonies, and hang the skin on a high pole near an oak and a large stone. Here it remained till harvest. Then, after a prayer had been offered by a peasant who acted as priest (Weidulut) the young folk joined hands and danced round the oak and the pole. Afterwards they scrambled for the bunch of corn, and the priest distributed the herbs with a sparing hand. Then he placed the goat-skin on the large stone, sat down on it and preached to the people about the history of their forefathers and their old heathen customs and beliefs.78 The goat-skin thus suspended [pg 019] on the field from sowing time to harvest represents the corn-spirit superintending the growth of the corn.
When planting their winter corn, the Prussian Slavs would kill a goat, eat its meat with various superstitious rituals, and hang the skin on a tall pole next to an oak tree and a big stone. It stayed there until harvest time. Then, after a prayer was said by a peasant acting as priest (Weidulut), the young people held hands and danced around the oak and the pole. Afterwards, they raced for a bunch of corn, and the priest handed out the herbs sparingly. He then placed the goat skin on the large stone, sat on it, and preached to the people about their ancestors’ history and their old pagan customs and beliefs.78 The goat-skin that hung in the field from planting to harvest symbolizes the corn spirit overseeing the corn's growth.
Another form which the corn-spirit often assumes is that of a bull, cow, or ox. When the wind sweeps over the corn they say at Conitz in West Prussia, “The Steer is running in the corn;”79 when the corn is thick and strong in one spot, they say in some parts of East Prussia, “The Bull is lying in the corn.” When a harvester has overstrained and lamed himself, they say in the Graudenz district (West Prussia), “The Bull pushed him;” in Lothringen they say, “He has the Bull.” The meaning of both expressions is that he has unwittingly lighted upon the divine corn-spirit, who has punished the profane intruder with lameness.80 So near Chambéry when a reaper wounds himself with his sickle, it is said that he has “the wound of the Ox.”81 In the district of Bunzlau the last sheaf is sometimes made into the shape of a horned ox, stuffed with tow and wrapt in corn-ears. This figure is called the Old Man (der Alte). In some parts of Bohemia the last sheaf is made up in human form and called the Buffalo-bull.82 These cases show a confusion between the anthropomorphic and the theriomorphic conception of the corn-spirit. The confusion is parallel to that of killing a wether under the name of a wolf.83 In the Canton of Thurgau, Switzerland, the last sheaf, if it is a large one, is called the Cow.84 All over Swabia the last bundle of corn on the field is called the Cow; the man who cuts the last ears “has the Cow,” and is himself called Cow or Barley-cow or Oats-cow, according to the crop; at the harvest supper he gets a nosegay of flowers and corn-ears and a more liberal allowance of drink than the rest. [pg 020] But he is teased and laughed at; so no one likes to be the Cow.85 The Cow was sometimes represented by the figure of a woman made out of ears of corn and corn-flowers. It was carried to the farmhouse by the man who had cut the last handful of corn. The children ran after him and the neighbours turned out to laugh at him, till the farmer took the Cow from him.86 Here again the confusion between the human and the animal form of the corn-spirit is apparent. In various parts of Switzerland the reaper who cuts the last ears of corn is called Wheat-cow, Corn-cow, Oats-cow, or Corn-steer, and is the butt of many a joke.87 In some parts of East Prussia, when a few ears of corn have been left standing by inadvertence on the last swath, the foremost reaper seizes them and cries, “Bull! Bull!”88 On the other hand, in the district of Rosenheim, in Upper Bavaria, when a farmer is later in getting in his harvest than his neighbours, they set up on his land a Straw-bull, as it is called. This is a gigantic figure of a bull made of stubble on a framework of wood and adorned with flowers and leaves. A label is attached to it containing doggerel verses in ridicule of the man on whose land the Straw-bull is placed.89
Another form that the corn-spirit often takes is that of a bull, cow, or ox. When the wind rustles through the corn, they say in Conitz, West Prussia, “The steer is running in the corn.” when the corn is dense and healthy in one spot, they say in some parts of East Prussia, "The bull is lying in the corn." When a harvester injures himself, they say in the Graudenz district (West Prussia), “The bull shoved him;” in Lothringen, they say, “He has the bull.” Both expressions mean that he has unknowingly encountered the divine corn-spirit, who has punished the intruder with lameness.80 Near Chambéry, when a reaper cuts himself with his sickle, it's said he has "the wound of the Ox."81 In the Bunzlau region, the last sheaf is sometimes shaped like a horned ox, stuffed with tow and wrapped in corn-ears. This figure is called the Old Man (the old man). In some areas of Bohemia, the last sheaf is made into a human form and called the Buffalo-bull.82 These cases illustrate a mix-up between the anthropomorphic and the theriomorphic concepts of the corn-spirit. This confusion is similar to the act of killing a wether but calling it a wolf.83 In the Canton of Thurgau, Switzerland, if the last sheaf is large, it’s called the Cow.84 Throughout Swabia, the last bundle of corn in the field is also called the Cow; the person who cuts the last ears “has the cow,” and is referred to as Cow, Barley-cow, or Oats-cow, depending on the crop. At the harvest supper, he receives a bouquet of flowers and corn-ears and a larger drink allowance than the others. [pg 020] However, he is teased and laughed at; so no one wants to be the Cow.85 The Cow was sometimes represented by a figure of a woman made from corn-ears and corn-flowers, carried to the farmhouse by the man who cut the last handful of corn. Children would run after him, and neighbors would come out to laugh until the farmer took the Cow from him.86 Here again, the confusion between the human and animal forms of the corn-spirit is clear. In various parts of Switzerland, the reaper who cuts the last ears of corn is called Wheat-cow, Corn-cow, Oats-cow, or Corn-steer, and becomes the subject of many jokes.87 In some regions of East Prussia, if a few ears of corn are left standing on the last swath, the first reaper grabs them and shouts, "Bull! Bull!"88 Conversely, in the Rosenheim district of Upper Bavaria, if a farmer is slower to harvest than his neighbors, they place a Straw-bull on his land. This is a giant figure of a bull made from stubble on a wooden frame, decorated with flowers and leaves. A label with mocking verses ridiculing the farmer is attached to this Straw-bull.89
Again, the corn-spirit in the form of a bull or ox is killed on the harvest-field at the close of the reaping. At Pouilly near Dijon, when the last ears of corn are about to be cut, an ox adorned with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn is led all round the field, followed by the whole troop of reapers dancing. Then a man [pg 021] disguised as the Devil cuts the last ears of corn and immediately kills the ox. Part of the flesh of the animal is eaten at the harvest supper; part is pickled and kept till the first day of sowing in spring. At Pont à Mousson and elsewhere on the evening of the last day of reaping a calf adorned with flowers and ears of corn is led three times round the farmyard, being allured by a bait or driven by men with sticks, or conducted by the farmer's wife with a rope. The calf selected for this ceremony is the calf which was born first on the farm in the spring of the year. It is followed by all the reapers with their implements. Then it is allowed to run free; the reapers chase it, and whoever catches it is called King of the Calf. Lastly, it is solemnly killed; at Lunéville the man who acts as butcher is the Jewish merchant of the village.90
Once again, the corn spirit, represented as a bull or ox, is sacrificed in the harvest field at the end of the reaping. In Pouilly near Dijon, when the last ears of corn are about to be harvested, an ox decorated with ribbons, flowers, and ears of corn is led around the field, followed by a group of reapers dancing. Then, a man disguised as the Devil cuts the last ears of corn and immediately kills the ox. Part of the meat is eaten at the harvest supper, while some is pickled and saved until the first day of sowing in spring. In Pont à Mousson and other places, on the evening of the last day of reaping, a calf decorated with flowers and ears of corn is led three times around the farmyard, either lured with bait or driven by men with sticks, or guided by the farmer's wife with a rope. The calf chosen for this ceremony is the first one born on the farm that spring. All the reapers, with their tools, follow it. After that, the calf is allowed to run free; the reapers chase it, and the person who catches it is named King of the Calf. Finally, it is ceremonially killed; in Lunéville, the butcher is the Jewish merchant from the village.
Sometimes again the corn-spirit hides himself amongst the cut corn in the barn to reappear in bull or cow form at threshing. Thus at Wurmlingen in Thüringen the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the Cow, or rather the Barley-cow, Oats-cow, Peas-cow, etc., according to the crop. He is entirely enveloped in straw; his head is surmounted by sticks in imitation of horns, and two lads lead him by ropes to the well to drink. On the way thither he must low like a cow, and for a long time afterwards he goes by the name of the Cow.91 At Obermedlingen in Swabia, when the threshing draws near an end, each man is careful to avoid giving the last stroke. He who does give it “gets the Cow,” which is a straw figure dressed in an old ragged petticoat, hood, and [pg 022] stockings. It is tied on his back with a straw-rope; his face is blackened, he is tied with straw-ropes to a wheelbarrow, and wheeled round the village.92 Here, again, we are met with that confusion between the anthropomorphic and theriomorphic conception of the corn-spirit, which has been already signalised. In Canton Schaffhausen the man who threshes the last corn is called the Cow; in Canton Thurgau, the Corn-bull; in Canton Zurich, the Thresher-cow. In the last-mentioned district he is wrapt in straw and bound to one of the trees in the orchard.93 At Arad in Hungary the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is enveloped in straw and a cow's hide with the horns attached to it.94 At Pessnitz, in the district of Dresden, the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is called Bull. He must make a straw-man and set it up before a neighbour's window.95 Here, apparently, as in so many cases, the corn-spirit is passed on to a neighbour who has not finished threshing. So at Herbrechtingen in Thüringen the effigy of a ragged old woman is flung into the barn of the farmer who is last with his threshing. The man who throws it in cries, “There is the Cow for you.” If the threshers catch him they detain him over night and punish him by keeping him from the harvest supper.96 In these latter customs the confusion between the anthropomorphic and theriomorphic conception of the corn-spirit meets us again. Further, the corn-spirit in bull form is sometimes believed to be killed at threshing. At Auxerre in threshing the last bundle of corn they call out twelve times, “We are killing the Bull.” In [pg 023] the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, where a butcher kills an ox on the field immediately after the close of the reaping, it is said of the man who gives the last stroke at threshing that “he has killed the Bull.”97 At Chambéry the last sheaf is called the sheaf of the Young Ox and a race takes place to it, in which all the reapers join. When the last stroke is given at threshing they say that “the Ox is killed;” and immediately thereupon a real ox is slaughtered by the reaper who cut the last corn. The flesh of the ox is eaten by the threshers at supper.98
Sometimes, the corn spirit hides among the cut corn in the barn and reappears in the form of a bull or cow during threshing. In Wurmlingen, Thüringen, the person who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the Cow, or specifically the Barley-cow, Oats-cow, Peas-cow, etc., depending on the crop. He is completely covered in straw, with sticks on his head to look like horns, and two young men lead him by ropes to the well for a drink. On the way, he must moo like a cow, and for a long time afterward, he is known as the Cow.91 In Obermedlingen, Swabia, as threshing comes to an end, each man tries to avoid being the one to give the last stroke. Whoever does is given the Cow, which is a straw figure dressed in an old ragged petticoat, hood, and [pg 022] stockings. It's secured to his back with a straw rope; his face is blackened, and he is tied with straw ropes to a wheelbarrow, which is then wheeled around the village.92 Here, once again, we see the mix-up between the human and animal representations of the corn spirit, as previously noted. In Canton Schaffhausen, the man who threshes the last corn is called the Cow; in Canton Thurgau, it's the Corn-bull; and in Canton Zurich, the Thresher-cow. In Zurich, he is wrapped in straw and tied to one of the trees in the orchard.93 In Arad, Hungary, the person who gives the last stroke at threshing is covered in straw and wears a cowhide with the horns attached.94 In Pessnitz, in the Dresden district, the person who gives the last stroke with the flail is called Bull. He must make a straw figure and place it in front of a neighbor's window.95 Here, it seems that the corn spirit is passed on to a neighbor who hasn’t finished threshing. Similarly, in Herbrechtingen, Thüringen, a ragged old woman effigy is thrown into the barn of the farmer who finishes threshing last. The person who throws it in shouts, "Here's the cow for you." If the threshers catch him, they keep him overnight and punish him by preventing him from joining the harvest supper.96 In these customs, the combination of the human and animal concepts of the corn spirit appears again. Additionally, the corn spirit in bull form is sometimes believed to be killed during threshing. In Auxerre, when they thresh the last bundle of corn, they shout out twelve times, “We're taking down the Bull.” In [pg 023] the Bordeaux area, where a butcher kills an ox in the field right after the harvest ends, the man who gives the last stroke at threshing is said to “have killed the bull.”97 In Chambéry, the last sheaf is called the sheaf of the Young Ox, and a race to it takes place with all the reapers participating. When the last stroke is made at threshing, they say that “the ox is killed;” and shortly afterward, a real ox is slaughtered by the reaper who cut the last corn. The threshers eat the ox's meat at supper.98
We have seen that sometimes the young corn-spirit, whose task it is to quicken the corn of the coming year, is believed to be born as a Corn-baby on the harvest-field.99 Similarly in Berry the young corn-spirit is sometimes believed to be born on the field in calf form. For when a binder has not rope enough to bind all the corn in sheaves, he puts aside the wheat that remains over and imitates the lowing of a cow. The meaning is that “the sheaf has given birth to a calf.”100 In Puy-de-Dôme when a binder cannot keep up with the reaper whom he or she follows, they say “He or she is giving birth to the Calf.”101 In some parts of Prussia, in similar circumstances, they call out to the woman, “The Bull is coming,” and imitate the bellowing of a bull.102 In these cases the woman is conceived as the Corn-cow or old corn-spirit, while the supposed calf is the Corn-calf or young corn-spirit. In some parts of Austria a mythical calf (Muhkälbchen) is believed to be seen amongst the sprouting corn in spring and to push the [pg 024] children; when the corn waves in the wind they say, “The Calf is going about.” Clearly, as Mannhardt observes, this calf of the spring-time is the same animal which is afterwards believed to be killed at reaping.103
We have seen that sometimes the young corn spirit, whose job is to bring the corn of the next year to life, is believed to be born as a Corn-baby in the harvest field.99 Similarly, in Berry, the young corn spirit is sometimes thought to be born in calf form on the field. When a binder doesn't have enough rope to tie up all the corn into sheaves, he sets aside the excess wheat and makes cow sounds. The idea is that "the sheaf has given birth to a calf."100 In Puy-de-Dôme, when a binder can't keep up with the reaper they are following, people say "They are giving birth to the Calf."101 In some parts of Prussia, under similar circumstances, they call out to the woman, “The Bull is coming,” and mimic the bellowing of a bull.102 In these situations, the woman is seen as the Corn-cow or old corn spirit, while the supposed calf represents the Corn-calf or young corn spirit. In some regions of Austria, there's a mythical calf (Muhkälbchen) that is believed to be spotted among the sprouting corn in spring, helping to push the [pg 024] children; when the corn sways in the wind, people say, "The calf is wandering around." Clearly, as Mannhardt points out, this springtime calf is the same creature that is later thought to be killed during the harvest.103
Sometimes the corn-spirit appears in the shape of a horse or mare. Between Kalw and Stuttgart, when the corn bends before the wind, they say, “There runs the Horse.”104 In Hertfordshire, at the end of the reaping, there is or was a ceremony called “crying the Mare.” The last blades of corn left standing on the field are tied together and called the Mare. The reapers stand at a distance and throw their sickles at it; he who cuts it through “has the prize, with acclamations and good cheer.” After it is cut the reapers cry thrice with a loud voice, “I have her!” Others answer thrice, “What have you?”—“A Mare! a Mare! a Mare!”—“Whose is she?” is next asked thrice. “A. B.'s,” naming the owner thrice. “Whither will you send her?”—“To C. D.,” naming some neighbour who has not all his corn reaped.105 In this custom the corn-spirit in the form of a mare is passed on from a farm where the corn is all cut to another farm where it is still standing, and where therefore the corn-spirit may be supposed naturally to take refuge. In Shropshire the custom is similar. “Crying, calling, or shouting the mare is a ceremony performed by the men of that farm which is the first in any parish or district to finish the harvest. The object of it is to make known their own prowess, and to taunt the laggards by a pretended offer of the ‘owd mar’ [old mare] to help out their ‘chem’ [team]. All the men assemble (the wooden harvest-bottle being of course [pg 025] one of the company) in the stackyard, or, better, on the highest ground on the farm, and there shout the following dialogue, preceding it by a grand ‘Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!’
Sometimes the corn spirit appears as a horse or mare. Between Kalw and Stuttgart, when the corn bends in the wind, they say, “There goes the Horse.” In Hertfordshire, at the end of the harvest, there is or was a ceremony called "crying the mare." The last remaining stalks of corn in the field are tied together and referred to as the Mare. The reapers stand back and throw their sickles at it; the one who cuts it through "has the prize, along with cheers and celebrations." After it’s cut, the reapers shout three times loudly, “I got her!” Others respond three times, “What do you have?”—"A Mare! A Mare! A Mare!"—“Who does she belong to?” is then asked three times. “A. B.'s,” naming the owner three times. "Where are you sending her?"—"To C. D.," mentioning a neighbor who hasn’t finished harvesting. In this tradition, the corn spirit in the form of a mare is passed from a farm where the corn has all been harvested to another farm where it still stands, signifying that the corn spirit naturally takes refuge there. In Shropshire, the custom is similar. Crying, calling, or shouting for the mare is a ritual performed by the men of the first farm in any parish or district to mark the end of harvesting. The goal is to show off their skills and tease those who are falling behind by pretending to offer the ‘owd mar’ [old mare] to help their ‘chem’ [team]. All the men gather (the wooden harvest bottle being, of course, [pg 025] one of the group) in the stack yard, or ideally, on the highest ground of the farm, where they shout the following dialogue, starting with a grand ‘Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!’
“ ‘I 'ave 'er, I 'ave 'er, I 'ave 'er!’
“ ‘I’ve got her, I’ve got her, I’ve got her!’
“ ‘Whad 'ast thee, whad 'ast thee, whad 'ast thee?’
‘What do you want, what do you want, what do you want?’
“ ‘A mar'! a mar'! a mar'!’
“ ‘Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!’
“ ‘Whose is 'er, whose is 'er, whose is 'er?’
‘Who does this belong to, whose is it?’
“ ‘Maister A.'s, Maister A.'s, Maister A.'s!’ (naming the farmer whose harvest is finished).
“ ‘Mr. A.’s, Mr. A.’s, Mr. A.’s!’ (naming the farmer whose harvest is finished).
“ ‘W'eer sha't the' send 'er? w'eer sha't the' send 'er? w'eer sha't the' send 'er?’
“ ‘Where should they send her? Where should they send her? Where should they send her?’
“ ‘To Maister B.'s, to Maister B.'s, to Maister B.'s’ (naming one whose harvest is not finished).”
“ ‘To Mr. B.'s, to Mr. B.'s, to Mr. B.'s’ (referring to someone whose harvest is not complete).”
The farmer who finishes his harvest last, and who therefore cannot send the Mare to any one else, is said “to keep her all winter.” The mocking offer of the Mare was sometimes responded to by a mocking acceptance of her help. Thus an old man told an inquirer, “While we wun at supper, a mon cumm'd wi' a autar [halter] to fatch her away.” But at one place (Longnor, near Leebotwood), down to about 1850, the Mare used really to be sent. “The head man of the farmer who had finished harvest first was mounted on the best horse of the team—the leader—both horse and man being adorned with ribbons, streamers, etc. Thus arrayed, a boy on foot led the pair in triumph to the neighbouring farmhouses. Sometimes the man who took the ‘mare’ received, as well as plenty of harvest-ale, some rather rough, though good-humoured, treatment, coming back minus his decorations, and so on.”106 In the neighbourhood of Lille the idea of the corn-spirit [pg 026] in horse form is clearly preserved. When a harvester grows weary at his work, it is said, “He has the fatigue of the Horse.” The first sheaf, called the “Cross of the Horse,” is placed on a cross of box-wood in the barn, and the youngest horse on the farm must tread on it. The reapers dance round the last blades of corn, crying, “See the remains of the Horse.” The sheaf made out of these last blades is given to the youngest horse of the parish (commune) to eat. This youngest horse of the parish clearly represents, as Mannhardt says, the corn-spirit of the following year, the Corn-foal, which absorbs the spirit of the old Corn-horse by eating the last corn cut; for, as usual, the old corn-spirit takes his final refuge in the last sheaf. The thresher of the last sheaf is said to “beat the Horse.”107 Again, a trace of the horse-shaped corn-spirit is reported from Berry. The harvesters there are accustomed to take a noon-day sleep in the field. This is called “seeing the Horse.” The leader or “King” of the harvesters gives the signal for going to sleep. If he delays giving the signal, one of the harvesters will begin to neigh like a horse, the rest imitate him, and then they all go “to see the Horse.”108
The farmer who finishes his harvest last, and who therefore can't send the Mare to anyone else, is said “to have her all winter.” The teasing offer of the Mare was sometimes met with a teasing acceptance of her help. For example, an old man told someone asking about it, "While we were having dinner, a man came with a rope to take her away." However, in one area (Longnor, near Leebotwood), up until around 1850, the Mare was actually sent. The head of the farmer who finished the harvest first was riding the best horse from the team—the leader—both the horse and the man adorned with ribbons and streamers. Dressed like this, a boy on foot led them in triumph to the nearby farmhouses. Sometimes, the man who took the ‘mare’ not only got plenty of harvest ale but also endured some rough, though good-natured, treatment, returning without his decorations, and so on.106 In the neighborhood of Lille, the idea of the corn-spirit [pg 026] in horse form is clearly maintained. When a harvester grows tired from his work, it's said, "He is as tired as a horse." The first sheaf, known as the "Cross of the Horse," is placed on a boxwood cross in the barn, and the youngest horse on the farm must step on it. The reapers dance around the last blades of corn, shouting, "Check out the remains of the Horse." The sheaf made from these last blades is given to the youngest horse of the parish (commune) to eat. This youngest horse of the parish clearly represents, as Mannhardt states, the corn-spirit of the following year, the Corn-foal, which takes in the spirit of the old Corn-horse by consuming the last corn cut; for, traditionally, the old corn-spirit finds its final resting place in the last sheaf. The thresher of the last sheaf is said to “beat the horse.”107 Furthermore, a trace of the horse-shaped corn-spirit is noted from Berry. The harvesters there typically take a midday nap in the field. This is referred to as "spotting the horse." The leader or “King” of the harvesters gives the signal to sleep. If he takes too long to signal, one of the harvesters will start to neigh like a horse, the others will join in, and then they all go “to see the horse.”108
The last animal embodiment of the corn-spirit which we shall notice is the pig (boar or sow). In Thüringen, when the wind sets the young corn in motion, they sometimes say, “The Boar is rushing through the corn.”109 Amongst the Esthonians of the island of Oesel the last sheaf is called the Rye-boar, and the man who gets it is saluted with a cry of, [pg 027] “You have the Rye-boar on your back!” In reply he strikes up a song, in which he prays for plenty.110 At Kohlerwinkel, near Augsburg, at the close of the harvest, the last bunch of standing corn is cut down, stalk by stalk, by all the reapers in turn. He who cuts the last stalk “gets the Sow,” and is laughed at.111 In other Swabian villages also the man who cuts the last corn “has the Sow,” or “has the Rye-sow.”112 In the Traunstein district, Upper Bavaria, the man who cuts the last handful of rye or wheat “has the Sow,” and is called Sow-driver.113 At Friedingen, in Swabia, the thresher who gives the last stroke is called Sow—Barley-sow, Corn-sow, etc., according to the crop. At Onstmettingen the man who gives the last stroke at threshing “has the Sow;” he is often bound up in a sheaf and dragged by a rope along the ground.114 And, generally, in Swabia the man who gives the last stroke with the flail is called Sow. He may, however, rid himself of this invidious distinction by passing on to a neighbour the straw-rope, which is the badge of his position as Sow. So he goes to a house and throws the straw-rope into it, crying, “There, I bring you the Sow.” All the inmates give chase; and if they catch him they beat him, shut him up for several hours in the pig-sty, and oblige him to take the “Sow” away again.115 In various parts of Upper Bavaria the man who gives the last stroke at threshing must “carry the Pig”—that is, either a straw effigy of a pig or merely a bundle of straw-ropes. This he [pg 028] carries to a neighbouring farm where the threshing is not finished, and throws it into the barn. If the threshers catch him they handle him roughly, beating him, blackening or dirtying his face, throwing him into filth, binding the Sow on his back, etc.; if the bearer of the Sow is a woman they cut off her hair. At the harvest supper or dinner the man who “carried the Pig” gets one or more dumplings made in the form of pigs; sometimes he gets a large dumpling and a number of small ones, all in pig form, the large one being called the sow and the small ones the sucking-pigs. Sometimes he has the right to be the first to put his hand into the dish and take out as many small dumplings (“sucking-pigs”) as he can, while the other threshers strike at his hand with spoons or sticks. When the dumplings are served up by the maid-servant, all the people at table cry, “Süz, süz, süz!” being the cry used in calling pigs. Sometimes after dinner the man who “carried the Pig” has his face blackened, and is set on a cart and drawn round the village by his fellows, followed by a crowd crying, “Süz, süz, süz!” as if they were calling swine. Sometimes, after being wheeled round the village, he is flung on the dunghill.116
The last animal, the embodiment of the corn spirit that we'll discuss, is the pig (boar or sow). In Thüringen, when the wind stirs the young corn, they sometimes say, “The boar is charging through the corn.”109 Among the Estonians on the island of Oesel, the last sheaf is called the Rye-boar, and the person who gets it is greeted with a shout of [pg 027] "You have the Rye-boar on your back!" In response, they sing a song praying for abundance.110 In Kohlerwinkel, near Augsburg, at the end of the harvest, the last bunch of standing corn is cut down, stalk by stalk, by all the reapers in turn. The one who cuts the last stalk "gets the pig," and becomes the subject of laughter.111 In other villages in Swabia, too, the person who cuts the last corn "has the Sow," or "has the Rye sow."112 In the Traunstein district of Upper Bavaria, the person who cuts the last handful of rye or wheat “has the Sow,” and is called Sow-driver.113 At Friedingen, in Swabia, the thresher who makes the last stroke is called Sow—Barley-sow, Corn-sow, etc., depending on the crop. At Onstmettingen, the person who makes the last stroke during threshing “has the Sow;” they are often bundled up in a sheaf and dragged along the ground with a rope.114 Generally, in Swabia, the person who makes the last stroke with the flail is called Sow. However, they can escape this unwelcome title by handing the straw-rope, which signifies their position as Sow, to a neighbor. Then, they go to a house and throw the straw-rope inside, shouting "Here, I present to you the Sow." Everyone inside chases after them; if they catch them, they beat them, lock them up for several hours in the pigsty, and force them to take the “Plant” back again.115 In various areas of Upper Bavaria, the person who makes the last stroke at threshing must “carry the pig”—which means either a straw effigy of a pig or just a bundle of straw ropes. They [pg 028] carry this to a nearby farm where threshing isn't finished, and throw it into the barn. If they get caught by the threshers, they are treated roughly, beaten, have their faces blackened or dirtied, thrown into muck, and are even strapped with the Sow on their back. If the one carrying the Sow is a woman, they cut off her hair. During the harvest supper or dinner, the person who “carried the pig” receives one or more dumplings shaped like pigs; sometimes there’s a large dumpling and several small ones, the large one called the sow and the small ones the sucking-pigs. Sometimes they have the right to be the first to grab from the dish and take as many small dumplings (“sucking pigs”) as they can, while others strike at their hands with spoons or sticks. When the maidservant serves the dumplings, everyone at the table shouts "Sift, sift, sift!", a call used for pigs. Sometimes after dinner, the person who “carried the pig” gets their face blackened and is placed on a cart, being pulled around the village by their friends, with a crowd following and shouting, "Sift, sift, sift!", as if they were calling for pigs. At times, after being wheeled around the village, they are thrown onto the dung heap.116
Again, the corn-spirit in the form of a pig plays his part at sowing-time as well as at harvest. At Neuautz, in Courland, when barley is sown for the first time in the year, the farmer's wife boils the chine of a pig along with the tail, and brings it to the sower on the field. He eats of it, but cuts off the tail and sticks it in the field; it is believed that the ears of corn will then grow as long as the tail.117 Here the pig is the corn-spirit, [pg 029] whose fertilising power is sometimes supposed to lie especially in his tail.118 As a pig he is put in the ground at sowing-time, and as a pig he reappears amongst the ripe corn at harvest. For amongst the neighbouring Esthonians, as we have seen,119 the last sheaf is called the Rye-boar. Somewhat similar customs are observed in Germany. In the Salza district, near Meiningen, a certain bone in the pig is called “the Jew on the winnowing-fan” (der Jud' auf der Wanne). The flesh of this bone is boiled on Shrove Tuesday, but the bone is put amongst the ashes, which the neighbours exchange as presents on St. Peter's Day (22d February), and then mix with the seed-corn.120 In the whole of Hessen, Meiningen, etc., people eat pea-soup with dried pig-ribs on Ash Wednesday or Candlemas. The ribs are then collected and hung in the room till sowing-time, when they are inserted in the sown field or in the seed-bag amongst the flax seed. This is thought to be an infallible specific against earth-fleas and moles, and to cause the flax to grow well and tall.121 In many parts of White Russia people eat a roast lamb or sucking-pig at Easter, and then throw the bones backwards upon the fields, to preserve the corn from hail.122
Once again, the corn spirit represented by a pig plays a role during both sowing and harvest time. In Neuautz, Courland, when barley is first sown each year, the farmer's wife boils a pig's backbone and tail and brings it to the sower in the field. He eats some but cuts off the tail and sticks it in the ground; it's believed this will make the ears of corn grow as long as the tail. Here, the pig symbolizes the corn spirit, whose fertility power is thought to be especially in its tail. As a pig, it is buried during sowing, and as a pig, it reappears among the ripe corn at harvest. Among the neighboring Esthonians, as we've noted, the last sheaf is referred to as the Rye-boar. Similar customs exist in Germany. In the Salza district near Meiningen, a specific bone in the pig is called “the Jew on the winnowing-fan.” The meat from this bone is boiled on Shrove Tuesday, while the bone is placed in the ashes, which neighbors exchange as gifts on St. Peter's Day (February 22) and later mix with the seed corn. Throughout Hessen, Meiningen, and other places, people eat pea soup with dried pig ribs on Ash Wednesday or Candlemas. The ribs are gathered and hung up until sowing time, when they are placed in the sown field or in the seed bag with the flax seed. This is believed to be a sure remedy against earth fleas and moles and to promote the growth of flax. In many regions of White Russia, people eat a roast lamb or sucking pig at Easter and then throw the bones backwards onto the fields to protect the corn from hail.
But the conception of the corn-spirit as embodied in pig form is nowhere more clearly expressed than in the Scandinavian custom of the Yule Boar. In Sweden and Denmark at Yule (Christmas) it is the custom to bake a loaf in the form of a boar-pig. This is called [pg 030] the Yule Boar. The corn of the last sheaf is often used to make it. All through Yule the Yule Boar stands on the table. Often it is kept till the sowing-time in spring, when part of it is mixed with the seed-corn and part given to the ploughmen and plough-horses or plough-oxen to eat, in the expectation of a good harvest.123 In this custom the corn-spirit, immanent in the last sheaf, appears at midwinter in the form of a boar made from the corn of the last sheaf; and his quickening influence on the corn is shown by mixing part of the Yule Boar with the seed-corn, and giving part of it to the ploughman and his cattle to eat. Similarly we saw that the Corn-wolf makes his appearance at midwinter, the time when the year begins to verge towards spring.124 We may conjecture that the Yule straw, of which Swedish peasants make various superstitious uses, comes, in part at least, from the sheaf out of which the Yule Boar is made. The Yule straw is long rye-straw, a portion of which is always set apart for this season. It is strewn over the floor at Christmas, and the peasants attribute many virtues to it. For example, they think that some of it scattered on the ground will make a barren field productive. Again, the peasant at Christmas seats himself on a log; his eldest son or daughter, or the mother herself, if the children are not old enough, places a wisp of the Yule straw on his knee. From this he draws out single straws, and throws them, one by one, up to the ceiling; and as many as lodge in the rafters, so many will be the sheaves of rye he [pg 031] will have to thresh at harvest.125 Again, it is only the Yule straw which may be used in binding the fruit-trees as a charm to fertilise them.126 These uses of the Yule straw show that it is believed to possess fertilising virtues analogous to those ascribed to the Yule Boar; the conjecture is therefore legitimate that the Yule straw is made from the same sheaf as the Yule Boar. Formerly a real boar was sacrificed at Christmas,127 and apparently also a man in the character of the Yule Boar. This, at least, may perhaps be inferred from a Christmas custom still observed in Sweden. A man is wrapt up in a skin, and carries a wisp of straw in his mouth, so that the projecting straws look like the bristles of a boar. A knife is brought, and an old woman, with her face blackened, pretends to sacrifice the man.128
But the idea of the corn-spirit taking the form of a pig is most clearly seen in the Scandinavian tradition of the Yule Boar. In Sweden and Denmark during Yule (Christmas), it's customary to bake a loaf in the shape of a pig. This is called the Yule Boar. The grain from the last sheaf is often used to make it. Throughout Yule, the Yule Boar stays on the table. It's often kept until sowing time in spring, when part of it is mixed with the seed-corn and part is given to the ploughmen and their plough-horses or plough-oxen to eat, hoping for a good harvest. In this tradition, the corn-spirit, which resides in the last sheaf, shows up at midwinter in the form of a boar made from the grain of that sheaf; and his life-giving influence on the corn is demonstrated by mixing part of the Yule Boar with the seed-corn and feeding part of it to the ploughman and his animals. Similarly, we saw that the Corn-wolf appears at midwinter, the time when the year begins to move towards spring. We can guess that the Yule straw, which Swedish peasants use in various superstitions, comes at least partly from the sheaf that the Yule Boar is made from. The Yule straw consists of long rye-straw, with some always set aside for this season. It is spread over the floor at Christmas, and the peasants attribute many benefits to it. For instance, they believe that some of it scattered on the ground will make a barren field fertile. Additionally, the peasant at Christmas sits on a log; his oldest son or daughter, or the mother herself if the children are young enough, places a wisp of the Yule straw on his knee. He then pulls out individual straws and throws them one by one to the ceiling; the number that sticks in the rafters predicts how many sheaves of rye he will have to thresh at harvest. Moreover, only the Yule straw can be used to bind the fruit trees as a charm to make them fruitful. These uses of the Yule straw indicate that it’s believed to have fertility powers similar to those of the Yule Boar, so it’s reasonable to think that the Yule straw comes from the same sheaf as the Yule Boar. In the past, a real boar was sacrificed at Christmas, and apparently, a man portraying the Yule Boar as well. This can be inferred from a Christmas custom still practiced in Sweden. A man is wrapped in a skin and carries a wisp of straw in his mouth, making the protruding straws look like a boar's bristles. A knife is brought, and an old woman, with her face blackened, pretends to sacrifice the man.
So much for the animal embodiments of the corn-spirit as they are presented to us in the folk-customs of Northern Europe. These customs bring out clearly the sacramental character of the harvest supper. The corn-spirit is conceived as embodied in an animal; this divine animal is slain, and its flesh and blood are partaken of by the harvesters. Thus, the cock, the goose, the hare, the cat, the goat, and the ox are eaten sacramentally by the harvesters, and the pig is eaten sacramentally by ploughmen in spring.129 Again, as a substitute for the real flesh of the divine being, bread or dumplings are made in his image and eaten sacramentally; thus, pig-shaped dumplings are eaten by the [pg 032] harvesters, and loaves made in boar-shape (the Yule Boar) are eaten in spring by the ploughman and his cattle.
So much for the animal representations of the corn-spirit as seen in the folk customs of Northern Europe. These customs clearly highlight the sacramental nature of the harvest meal. The corn-spirit is seen as embodied in an animal; this sacred animal is killed, and its flesh and blood are consumed by the harvesters. Therefore, the rooster, the goose, the hare, the cat, the goat, and the ox are sacramentally eaten by the harvesters, and the pig is sacramentally consumed by ploughmen in the spring.129 Additionally, as a substitute for the actual flesh of the divine being, bread or dumplings are made in its likeness and eaten sacramentally; thus, pig-shaped dumplings are consumed by the [pg 032] harvesters, and loaves shaped like a boar (the Yule Boar) are eaten in spring by the ploughman and his cattle.
The reader has probably remarked the complete parallelism between the anthropomorphic and the theriomorphic conceptions of the corn-spirit. The parallel may be here briefly resumed. When the corn waves in the wind it is said either that the Corn-mother or that the Corn-wolf, etc. is passing through the corn. Children are warned against straying in corn-fields either because the Corn-mother or because the Corn-wolf, etc. is there. In the last corn cut or the last sheaf threshed either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc. is supposed to be present. The last sheaf is itself called either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc., and is made up in the shape either of a woman or of a wolf, etc. The person who cuts, binds, or threshes the last sheaf is called either the Old Woman or the Wolf, etc., according to the name bestowed on the sheaf itself. As in some places a sheaf made in human form and called the Maiden, the Mother of the Maize, etc. is kept from one harvest to the next in order to secure a continuance of the corn-spirit's blessing; so in some places the Harvest-cock and in others the flesh of the goat is kept for a similar purpose from one harvest to the next. As in some places the grain taken from the Corn-mother is mixed with the seed-corn in spring to make the crop abundant; so in some places the feathers of the cock, and in Sweden the Yule Boar is kept till spring and mixed with the seed-corn for a like purpose. As part of the Corn-mother or Maiden is given to the cattle to eat in order that they may thrive, so part of the Yule Boar is given to the [pg 033] ploughing horses or oxen in spring. Lastly, the death of the corn-spirit is represented by killing (in reality or pretence) either his human or his animal representative; and the worshippers partake sacramentally either of the actual body and blood of the representative (human or animal) of the divinity, or of bread made in his likeness.
The reader has probably noticed the clear similarities between the human-like and animal-like ideas of the corn spirit. Here’s a brief summary of the connection. When the corn sways in the breeze, it is said that either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc., is moving through it. Children are warned not to wander into cornfields because either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc., is present. In the last corn cut or the final sheaf threshed, either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc., is believed to be there. The last sheaf is referred to as either the Corn-mother or the Corn-wolf, etc., and is formed in the shape of either a woman or a wolf, etc. The person who cuts, ties, or threshes the last sheaf is called either the Old Woman or the Wolf, etc., depending on the name given to the sheaf itself. In some regions, a sheaf made in the shape of a human and called the Maiden, the Mother of the Maize, etc., is kept from one harvest to the next to ensure the corn spirit's blessing continues; similarly, in some places, the Harvest-cock or in others, the meat of the goat is preserved for the same reason from one harvest to the next. Just as in some areas the grain collected from the Corn-mother is mixed with the seed corn in spring to promote a plentiful harvest, in other places the feathers of the cock, and in Sweden, the Yule Boar, are saved until spring and mixed with the seed corn for the same purpose. As some of the Corn-mother or Maiden is given to the livestock to help them thrive, a portion of the Yule Boar is given to the plowing horses or oxen in spring. Finally, the death of the corn spirit is symbolized by the killing (either real or pretend) of either its human or animal representative; and the worshippers partake sacramentally of either the actual body and blood of the representative (human or animal) of the deity, or of bread made in its likeness.
Other animal forms assumed by the corn-spirit are the stag, roe, sheep, bear, ass, fox, mouse, stork, swan, and kite.130 If it is asked why the corn-spirit should be thought to appear in the form of an animal and of so many different animals, we may reply that to primitive man the simple appearance of an animal or bird among the corn is probably sufficient of itself to suggest a mysterious connection between the animal or bird and the corn; and when we remember that in the old days, before fields were fenced in, all kinds of animals must have been free to roam over them, we need not wonder that the corn-spirit should have been identified even with large animals like the horse and cow, which nowadays could not, except by a rare accident, be found straying among the corn. This explanation applies with peculiar force to the very common case in which the animal embodiment of the corn-spirit is believed to lurk in the last standing corn. For at harvest a number of wild animals—hares, rabbits, partridges, etc.—are commonly driven by the progress of the reaping into the last patch of standing corn, and make their escape from it as it is being cut down. So regularly does this happen that reapers and others often stand round the last patch of corn armed with sticks or guns, with which they kill the animals as they dart out of their last refuge among the [pg 034] corn. Now, primitive man, to whom magical changes of shape seem perfectly credible, finds it most natural that the spirit of the corn, driven from his home amongst the corn, should make his escape in the form of the animal which is seen to rush out of the last patch of corn as it falls under the scythe of the reaper. Thus the identification of the corn-spirit with an animal is analogous to the identification of him with a passing stranger. As the sudden appearance of a stranger near the harvest-field or threshing-floor is, to the primitive mind, sufficient to identify him as the spirit of the corn escaping from the cut or threshed corn, so the sudden appearance of an animal issuing from the cut corn is enough to identify it with the corn-spirit escaping from his ruined home. The two identifications are so analogous that they can hardly be dissociated in any attempt to explain them. Those who look to some other principle than the one here suggested for the explanation of the latter identification are bound to show that their explanation covers the former identification also.
Other animal forms taken on by the corn spirit include the stag, roe, sheep, bear, donkey, fox, mouse, stork, swan, and kite.130 If we wonder why the corn spirit is thought to appear as various animals, we can answer that for primitive humans, simply seeing an animal or bird in the corn likely suggested a mysterious connection between the creature and the corn. Furthermore, we should remember that in ancient times, before fields were fenced, all sorts of animals roamed freely among them. It’s no surprise then that the corn spirit could be associated with larger animals like horses and cows, which nowadays would rarely be found wandering in the corn. This explanation is particularly relevant for the common belief that the animal embodiment of the corn spirit hides in the last standing corn. During harvest, various wild animals—hares, rabbits, partridges, etc.—are typically driven into the last patch of standing corn by the reapers, escaping as it’s being cut down. This happens so regularly that harvesters and others often gather around the last patch of corn with sticks or guns to kill the animals as they flee their last hiding spot in the [pg 034] corn. To primitive people, who find magical transformations completely believable, it seems only natural that the corn spirit, forced out of its place among the corn, would escape in the form of the animal rushing out of the last patch as the reaper cuts it. Therefore, the identification of the corn spirit with an animal is similar to identifying it with a passing stranger. Just as the sudden appearance of a stranger near a harvest field or threshing floor is enough for primitive minds to see him as the spirit of the corn escaping from the harvested grain, so too is the sudden emergence of an animal from the cut corn sufficient to associate it with the corn spirit fleeing from its destroyed home. The similarities between these two identifications are so close that they are difficult to separate in any explanation. Those who propose a different principle for understanding the latter identification must also demonstrate how their explanation applies to the former identification.
But however we may explain it, the fact remains that in peasant folk-lore the corn-spirit is very commonly conceived and represented in animal form. May not this fact explain the relation in which certain animals stood to the ancient deities of vegetation, Dionysus, Demeter, Adonis, Attis, and Osiris?
But no matter how we explain it, the fact is that in peasant folklore, the corn-spirit is often thought of and depicted in animal form. Could this be the reason behind the connection between certain animals and the ancient gods of vegetation, like Dionysus, Demeter, Adonis, Attis, and Osiris?
To begin with Dionysus. We have seen that he was represented sometimes as a goat and sometimes as a bull. As a goat he can hardly be separated from the minor divinities, the Pans, Satyrs, and Silenuses, all of whom are closely associated with him and are represented more or less completely in the form of goats. Thus, Pan was regularly represented in [pg 035] sculpture and painting with the face and legs of a goat.131 The Satyrs were depicted with pointed goat-ears, and sometimes with sprouting horns and short tails.132 They were sometimes spoken of simply as goats;133 and in the drama their parts were played by men dressed in goat-skins.134 Silenus is represented in art clad in a goat-skin.135 Further, the Fauns, the Italian counterpart of the Greek Pans and Satyrs, are described as being half goats, with goat-feet and goat-horns.136 Again, all these minor goat-formed divinities partake more or less clearly of the character of woodland deities. Thus, Pan was called by the Arcadians the Lord of the Wood.137 The Silenuses associated with the tree-nymphs.138 The Fauns are expressly designated as woodland deities;139 and their character as such is still further brought out by their association, or even identification, with Silvanus and the Silvanuses, who, as their name of itself indicates, are spirits of the woods.140 Lastly, the association of the Satyrs with the Silenuses, Fauns, and Silvanuses,141 proves that the Satyrs also were woodland deities. These goat-formed spirits of the woods have their counterparts in the folk-lore of Northern Europe. Thus, the Russian wood-spirits, called Ljeschie (from ljes, “wood,”) are believed to appear partly in human shape, but with the horns, ears, and legs of goats. The Ljeschi can alter his stature at pleasure; when he [pg 036] walks in the wood he is as tall as the trees; when he walks in the meadows he is no higher than the grass. Some of the Ljeschie are spirits of the corn as well as of the wood; before harvest they are as tall as the corn-stalks, but after it they shrink to the height of the stubble.142 This brings out—what we have remarked before—the close connection between tree-spirits and corn-spirits, and shows how easily the former may melt into the latter. Similarly the Fauns, though wood-spirits, were believed to foster the growth of the crops.143 We have already seen how often the corn-spirit is represented in folk-custom as a goat.144 On the whole, then, as Mannhardt argues,145 the Pans, Satyrs, and Fauns appear to belong to a widely diffused class of wood-spirits conceived in goat-form. The fondness of goats for straying in woods and nibbling the bark of trees—to which it is well known that they are most destructive—is an obvious and perhaps sufficient reason why wood-spirits should so often be supposed to take the form of goats. The inconsistency of a god of vegetation subsisting upon the vegetation which he personifies is not one to strike the primitive mind. Such inconsistencies arise when the deity, ceasing to be immanent in the vegetation, comes to be regarded as its owner or lord; for the idea of owning the vegetation naturally leads to that of subsisting on it. We have already seen that the corn-spirit, originally conceived as immanent in the corn, afterwards comes to be regarded as its owner, who lives on it and is reduced to poverty and want by being deprived of it.146
To start with Dionysus. We’ve seen that he was sometimes depicted as a goat and sometimes as a bull. As a goat, he’s closely linked with lesser deities like the Pans, Satyrs, and Silenuses, all of whom are often shown in goat form. For instance, Pan was commonly represented in [pg 035] sculpture and painting with the face and legs of a goat.131 The Satyrs were illustrated with pointed goat ears, and sometimes with horns and short tails.132 They were sometimes simply referred to as goats;133 in plays, their roles were played by men dressed in goat skins.134 Silenus is shown in art wearing goat skin.135 Furthermore, the Fauns, the Italian equivalents of the Greek Pans and Satyrs, are described as being half goats, with goat feet and horns.136 Additionally, all these minor goat-shaped deities can be seen as woodland spirits. For example, the Arcadians referred to Pan as the Lord of the Wood.137 The Silenuses were often linked with tree nymphs.138 The Fauns are explicitly designated as woodland deities;139 and their nature as such is further highlighted by their ties, or even identification, with Silvanus and the Silvanuses, who, as their name suggests, are spirits of the woods.140 Finally, the connection between the Satyrs and the Silenuses, Fauns, and Silvanuses,141 confirms that Satyrs were also woodland deities. These goat-shaped forest spirits have their counterparts in Northern European folklore. For instance, the Russian wood spirits, called Ljeschie (from ljes, “wood”) are believed to appear partly in human form, but with goat horns, ears, and legs. The Ljeschi can change his size at will; when he [pg 036] walks in the woods, he is as tall as the trees; when he walks in the meadows, he’s no taller than the grass. Some of the Ljeschie are spirits of the corn as well as the wood; before harvest, they tower like the corn stalks, but after the harvest, they shrink to the height of the stubble.142 This highlights — as we mentioned before — the close connection between tree spirits and corn spirits, illustrating how easily they can merge. Similarly, the Fauns, although they are wood spirits, were thought to promote the growth of crops.143 We have already seen how often the corn spirit is depicted in folk customs as a goat.144 Overall, then, as Mannhardt argues,145 the Pans, Satyrs, and Fauns seem to be part of a widespread class of woodland spirits conceived in goat form. The goats’ tendency to roam in woods and nibble on tree bark—something they are notorious for destroying—gives a clear and possibly sufficient reason why woodland spirits are often depicted as goats. The contradiction of a god of vegetation feeding on the vegetation he embodies isn’t one that strikes the primitive mind. Such contradictions arise when the deity, no longer seen as part of the vegetation, is viewed as its owner or lord; the idea of owning the vegetation naturally leads to the idea of subsisting on it. We’ve already observed that the corn spirit, initially understood as part of the corn, later comes to be seen as its owner, who depends on it and suffers when deprived of it.146
Thus the representation of wood-spirits in goat-form appears to be both widespread and, to the primitive [pg 037] mind, natural. Therefore when we find, as we have done, that Dionysus—a tree-god—is sometimes represented in goat form,147 we can hardly avoid concluding that this representation is simply a part of his proper character as a tree-god and is not to be explained by the fusion of two distinct and independent cults, in one of which he originally appeared as a tree-god and in the other as a goat. If such a fusion took place in the case of Dionysus, it must equally have taken place in the case of the Pans and Satyrs of Greece, the Fauns of Italy, and the Ljeschie of Russia. That such a fusion of two wholly disconnected cults should have occurred once is possible; that it should have occurred twice independently is improbable; that it should have occurred thrice independently is so unlikely as to be practically incredible.
So, the idea of wood spirits being depicted in goat form seems to be common and, for primitive minds, natural. Therefore, when we find that Dionysus—a tree god—is sometimes shown in goat form, we can hardly conclude that this representation is merely a mix-up of two separate cults, where he originally showed up as a tree god in one and as a goat in the other. If such a mix-up happened with Dionysus, it must have also happened with the Pans and Satyrs of Greece, the Fauns of Italy, and the Лесичие of Russia. While it’s possible for such a merge of completely unrelated cults to happen once, the likelihood of it happening twice independently is low, and the chance of it happening three times independently is so unlikely that it’s practically unbelievable.
Dionysus was also represented, as we have seen,148 in the form of a bull. After what has gone before we are naturally led to expect that his bull form must have been only another expression for his character as a deity of vegetation, especially as the bull is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit in Northern Europe;149 and the close association of Dionysus with Demeter and Proserpine in the mysteries of Eleusis shows that he had at least strong agricultural affinities. The other possible explanation of the bull-shaped Dionysus would be that the conception of him as a bull was originally entirely distinct from the conception of him as a deity of vegetation, and that the fusion of the two conceptions was due to some such circumstance as the union of two tribes, one of which had previously worshipped a bull-god and the other a tree-god. This appears to be the view taken by Mr. Andrew Lang, who suggests that [pg 038] the bull-formed Dionysus “had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to the worship of a bull-totem.”150 Of course this is possible. But it is not yet certain that the Aryans ever had totemism. On the other hand, it is quite certain that many Aryan peoples have conceived deities of vegetation as embodied in animal forms. Therefore when we find amongst an Aryan people like the Greeks a deity of vegetation represented as an animal, the presumption must be in favour of explaining this by a principle which is certainly known to have influenced the Aryan race rather than by one which is not certainly known to have done so. In the present state of our knowledge, therefore, it is safer to regard the bull form of Dionysus as being, like his goat form, an expression of his proper character as a deity of vegetation.
Dionysus was also represented, as we've seen, in the form of a bull. Given what we've discussed, it's natural to think that his bull form is just another way to express his identity as a god of vegetation, especially since the bull is often seen as a symbol of the corn spirit in Northern Europe. His close connection with Demeter and Proserpine in the Eleusinian mysteries indicates that he had strong ties to agriculture. Another possible explanation for the bull-shaped Dionysus is that the idea of him as a bull was originally separate from his role as a god of vegetation, and that the blending of the two ideas happened when two tribes, one worshipping a bull-god and the other a tree-god, united. This is the perspective suggested by Mr. Andrew Lang, who says that the bull-formed Dionysus "had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to the worship of a bull-totem." This might be true. However, it's not yet clear whether the Aryans practiced totemism. On the other hand, it's definitely known that many Aryan peoples have imagined deities of vegetation in animal forms. So, when we see an Aryan group like the Greeks having a vegetation god depicted as an animal, it's more reasonable to explain this by a principle that is well-documented among the Aryan race rather than one that is not. Given what we currently know, it's safer to view the bull form of Dionysus, like his goat form, as a reflection of his identity as a god of vegetation.
The probability of this view will be somewhat increased if it can be shown that in other rites than those of Dionysus the ancients slew an ox as a representative of the spirit of vegetation. This they appear to have done in the Athenian sacrifice known as “the murder of the ox” (bouphonia). It took place about the end of June or beginning of July, that is, about the time when the threshing is nearly over in Attica. According to tradition the sacrifice was instituted to procure a cessation of drought and barrenness which had afflicted the land. The ritual was as follows. Barley mixed with wheat, or cakes made of them, were laid upon the bronze altar of Zeus Polieus on the Acropolis. Oxen were driven round the altar, and the ox which went up to the altar and ate the offering on it was sacrificed. The axe and knife with which the beast was slain had been previously wetted with water brought [pg 039] by maidens called “water-carriers.” The weapons were then sharpened and handed to the butchers, one of whom felled the ox with the axe and another cut its throat with the knife. As soon as he had felled the ox, the former threw the axe from him and fled; and the man who cut the beast's throat apparently imitated his example. Meantime the ox was skinned and all present partook of its flesh. Then the hide was stuffed with straw and sewed up; next the stuffed animal was set on its feet and yoked to a plough as if it were ploughing. A trial then took place in an ancient law-court presided over by the King (as he was called) to determine who had murdered the ox. The maidens who had brought the water accused the men who had sharpened the axe and knife; the men who had sharpened the axe and knife blamed the men who had handed these implements to the butchers; the men who had handed the implements to the butchers blamed the butchers; and the butchers laid the blame on the axe and knife, which were accordingly found guilty, condemned, and cast into the sea.151
The likelihood of this perspective increases if it's shown that in other rituals besides those for Dionysus, the ancients sacrificed an ox as a symbol of the spirit of vegetation. This seems to have happened during the Athenian ritual known as “the killing of the ox” (bouphonia). It took place around the end of June or early July, which is roughly when the grain harvesting was finishing up in Attica. According to tradition, the sacrifice was established to end a drought and infertility that had plagued the land. The ritual went like this: Barley mixed with wheat, or cakes made from them, were placed on the bronze altar of Zeus Polieus on the Acropolis. Oxen were led around the altar, and the ox that approached the altar and ate the offering was sacrificed. The axe and knife used for the killing were first wetted with water brought by maidens called "water carriers." The tools were then sharpened and given to the butchers, with one of them striking the ox down with the axe and another slitting its throat with the knife. As soon as the ox was down, the first butcher tossed the axe away and ran off; the one who cut the ox's throat seemed to follow suit. Meanwhile, the ox was skinned and everyone present shared in its meat. Afterward, the hide was filled with straw and sewn up; then the stuffed animal was stood upright and hitched to a plow as if it were actually plowing. A trial then occurred in an ancient court led by the King (as he was referred to) to determine who was responsible for the murder of the ox. The maidens who brought the water accused the men who sharpened the axe and knife; those men pointed fingers at the men who handed the tools to the butchers; those who handed the tools blamed the butchers; and the butchers blamed the axe and knife, which were ultimately found guilty, condemned, and thrown into the sea.151
The name of this sacrifice,—“the murder of the ox,”152—the pains taken by each person who had a hand in the slaughter to lay the blame on some one else, [pg 040] together with the formal trial and punishment of the axe or knife or both, prove that the ox was here regarded not merely as a victim offered to a god, but as itself a sacred creature, the slaughter of which was sacrilege or murder. This is borne out by a statement of Varro that to kill an ox was formerly a capital crime in Attica.153 The mode of selecting the victim suggests that the ox which tasted the corn was viewed as the corn-deity taking possession of his own. This interpretation is supported by the following custom. In Beauce, in the district of Orleans, on the 24th or 25th of April they make a straw-man called “the great mondard.” For they say that the old mondard is now dead and it is necessary to make a new one. The straw-man is carried in solemn procession up and down the village and at last is placed upon the oldest apple-tree. There he remains till the apples are gathered, when he is taken down and thrown into the water, or he is burned and his ashes cast into water. But the person who plucks the first fruit from the tree succeeds to the title of “the great mondard.”154. Here the straw figure, called “the great mondard” and placed on the apple-tree in spring, represents the spirit of the tree, who, dead in winter, revives when the apple-blossoms appear in spring. The fact, therefore, that the person who plucks the first fruit from the apple-tree receives the name of “the great mondard” proves that he is regarded as a representative of the tree-spirit. Primitive peoples are, as a rule, reluctant to taste the annual first-fruits of any crop, until some ceremony has been performed which makes it safe and [pg 041] pious for them to do so. The reason of this reluctance appears to be that the first-fruits either are the property of, or actually contain, a divinity. Therefore when a man or animal is seen boldly to appropriate the sacred first-fruits, he or it is naturally regarded as the divinity himself in human or animal form taking possession of his own. The time of the Athenian sacrifice—about the close of the threshing—suggests that the wheat and barley laid upon the altar were a harvest offering; and the sacramental character of the subsequent repast—all partaking of the flesh of the divine animal—would make it parallel to the harvest suppers of modern Europe, in which, as we have seen, the flesh of the animal who represents the corn-spirit is eaten by the harvesters. Again, the tradition that the sacrifice was instituted in order to put an end to drought and famine is in favour of taking it as a harvest festival. The resurrection of the corn-spirit, represented by setting up the stuffed ox and yoking it to the plough, may be compared with the resurrection of the tree-spirit in the person of his representative, the Wild Man.155
The name of this sacrifice—“the murder of the ox,”152—the efforts made by everyone involved in the slaughter to shift the blame to someone else, [pg 040] along with the formal trial and punishment of the axe or knife or both, show that the ox was seen not just as a victim offered to a god, but as a sacred being, the killing of which was seen as sacrilege or murder. This is supported by a statement from Varro that killing an ox used to be a capital crime in Attica.153 The way the victim was chosen suggests that the ox that ate the corn was viewed as the corn-deity claiming what was his. This interpretation is backed up by the following custom. In Beauce, in the Orleans area, on April 24th or 25th, they create a straw figure called "the great mondard." They say that the old mondard has now passed away, and it's necessary to make a new one. The straw figure is carried in a solemn procession around the village and is eventually placed upon the oldest apple tree. It stays there until the apples are harvested, then it's taken down and thrown into the water, or burned, and the ashes are scattered in water. However, the person who picks the first fruit from the tree claims the title of “the great mondard.”154. Here, the straw figure, referred to as “the great mondard”, placed on the apple tree in spring, represents the spirit of the tree, which, being dead in winter, revives with the appearance of the apple blossoms in spring. Thus, the fact that the person who picks the first fruit from the apple tree receives the name “the great mondard” shows he is seen as representing the tree spirit. Generally, primitive peoples are hesitant to eat the first fruits of any crop until a ceremony has been performed that makes it safe and [pg 041] respectful for them to do so. This reluctance seems to stem from the belief that the first fruits either belong to a deity or actually contain a divine essence. Therefore, when a person or animal is seen taking the sacred first fruits boldly, they are naturally viewed as the deity themselves, in human or animal form, claiming what is theirs. The timing of the Athenian sacrifice—around the end of the threshing season—suggests that the wheat and barley placed on the altar were offerings for the harvest; and the ritual nature of the subsequent meal—all participants consuming the flesh of the divine animal—makes it similar to modern European harvest meals, where, as we’ve noted, the flesh of the animal representing the corn spirit is eaten by the harvesters. Furthermore, the tradition that the sacrifice was established to end drought and famine supports viewing it as a harvest festival. The resurrection of the corn spirit, symbolized by erecting the stuffed ox and yoking it to the plow, can be compared to the resurrection of the tree spirit embodied in his representative, the Wild Man.155
The ox appears as a representative of the corn-spirit in other parts of the world. At Great Bassam, in Guinea, two oxen are slain annually to procure a good harvest. If the sacrifice is to be effectual, it is necessary that the oxen should weep. So all the women of the village sit in front of the beasts, chanting, “The ox will weep; yes, he will weep!” From time to time one of the women walks round the beasts, throwing manioc meal or palm wine upon them, especially into their eyes. When tears roll down from the eyes of the oxen, the people dance, singing, “The ox [pg 042] weeps! the ox weeps!” Then two men seize the tails of the beasts and cut them off at one blow. It is believed that a great misfortune will happen in the course of the year if the tails are not severed at one blow. The oxen are afterwards killed, and their flesh is eaten by the chiefs.156 Here the tears of the oxen, like those of the human victims amongst the Khonds, are probably a rain-charm. We have already seen that the virtue of the corn-spirit, embodied in animal form, is sometimes supposed to reside in the tail, and that the last handful of corn is sometimes conceived as the tail of the corn-spirit.157 Still more clearly does the ox appear as a personification of the corn-spirit in a ceremony which is observed in all the provinces and districts of China to welcome the approach of spring. On the first day of spring the governor or prefect of the city goes in procession to the east gate of the city, and sacrifices to the Divine Husbandman, who is represented with a bull's head on the body of a man. A large effigy of an ox, cow, or buffalo has been prepared for the occasion, and stands outside of the east gate, with agricultural implements beside it. It is made of differently-coloured pieces of paper pasted on a framework either by a blind man or according to the directions of a necromancer. The colours of the paper indicate the character of the coming year; if red prevails, there will be many fires; if white, there will be floods and rain, etc. The mandarins walk slowly round the ox, beating it severely at each step with rods of various colours. It is filled with five kinds of grain, which pour forth when the ox is broken by the blows of the rods. The paper fragments are then set on fire, [pg 043] and a scramble takes place for the burning fragments, as the people believe that whoever gets one of them is sure to be fortunate throughout the year. A live buffalo is then killed, and its flesh is divided among the mandarins. According to one account, the effigy of the ox is made of clay, and, after being beaten by the governor, is stoned by the people till they break it in pieces, “from which they expect an abundant year.”158 Here the corn-spirit appears to be plainly represented by the corn-filled ox, whose fragments may therefore be supposed to bring fertility with them. We may compare the Silesian spring custom of burning the effigy of Death, scrambling for the burning fragments, and burying them in the fields to secure a good crop, and the Florentine custom of sawing the Old Woman and scrambling for the dried fruits with which she was filled.159
The ox represents the corn spirit in various parts of the world. In Great Bassam, Guinea, two oxen are sacrificed each year to ensure a good harvest. For the sacrifice to be successful, the oxen must weep. So all the women in the village sit in front of the animals, chanting, “The ox will cry; yes, he will cry!” Occasionally, one of the women walks around the oxen, throwing manioc meal or palm wine on them, especially into their eyes. When tears roll from the oxen's eyes, the people dance and sing, “The ox [pg 042] is crying! The ox is crying!” Then, two men grab the tails of the oxen and cut them off in one swift motion. It's believed that if the tails aren't severed in one blow, a great misfortune will occur within the year. The oxen are then killed, and their meat is eaten by the chiefs.156 Here, the tears of the oxen, similar to those of the human victims among the Khonds, likely serve as a rain charm. We've already seen that the essence of the corn spirit, embodied in animal form, is sometimes thought to reside in the tail and that the last handful of corn is sometimes viewed as the tail of the corn spirit.157 More clearly, the ox serves as a representation of the corn spirit in a ceremony observed across all provinces and districts of China to celebrate the arrival of spring. On the first day of spring, the city’s governor or prefect leads a procession to the east gate and offers sacrifices to the Divine Husbandman, depicted with a bull's head on a man's body. A large effigy of an ox, cow, or buffalo is prepared for the occasion and positioned outside the east gate, alongside agricultural tools. It's crafted from pieces of colored paper pasted onto a framework, either by a blind person or following a necromancer’s instructions. The colors of the paper signify the nature of the upcoming year: if red predominates, there will be many fires; if white, there will be floods and rain, etc. The mandarins walk slowly around the ox, hitting it hard with rods of various colors at each step. It is filled with five types of grain, which spills out when the ox is broken by the blows of the rods. The paper pieces are then set on fire, [pg 043] and a scramble occurs for the burning fragments, as people believe that anyone who gets one will be lucky for the whole year. A live buffalo is then killed, and its meat is shared among the mandarins. According to one version, the ox effigy is made of clay, and after being beaten by the governor, it's stoned by the people until it's shattered, “from which they anticipate a prosperous year.”158 Here, the corn spirit is clearly represented by the corn-filled ox, suggesting that its fragments may bring fertility. We can compare this to the Silesian spring tradition of burning the effigy of Death, scrambling for the burning pieces, and burying them in the fields for a good crop, as well as the Florentine custom of sawing the Old Woman and scrambling for the dried fruits inside her.159
On the whole, then, we may perhaps conclude that both as a goat and as a bull Dionysus was essentially a god of vegetation. The Chinese and European customs just referred to may perhaps shed light on the custom of rending a live bull or goat at the rites of Dionysus. The animal was torn in fragments, as the Khond victim was cut in pieces, in order that the worshippers might each secure a portion of the life-giving and fertilising influence of the god. The flesh was eaten raw as a sacrament, and we may conjecture that some of it was taken home to be buried in the fields, or otherwise employed so as to convey to the fruits of the earth the quickening influence of the god of vegetation. The resurrection of Dionysus, related [pg 044] in his myth, may have been represented in his rites by stuffing and setting up the slain ox, as was done at the Athenian bouphonia.
Overall, we might conclude that Dionysus, both as a goat and a bull, was fundamentally a god of vegetation. The customs from China and Europe mentioned earlier may provide insight into the practice of sacrificing a live bull or goat during the rites of Dionysus. The animal was torn apart, similar to how the Khond victim was cut into pieces, so that the worshippers could each obtain a share of the life-giving and fertilizing power of the god. The flesh was eaten raw as a sacrament, and it’s likely that some of it was taken home to be buried in the fields or used in a way that transferred the god’s revitalizing energy to the earth's produce. The resurrection of Dionysus, as described in his myth, might have been symbolized in his rituals by stuffing and displaying the slain ox, similar to what was done at the Athenian bouphonia.
Passing next to the corn-goddess Demeter, and remembering that in European folk-lore the pig is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit,160 we may now ask, may not the pig, which was so closely associated with Demeter, be nothing but the goddess herself in animal form? The pig was sacred to her;161 in art she was represented carrying or accompanied by a pig;162 and the pig was regularly sacrificed in her mysteries, the reason assigned being that the pig injures the corn and is therefore an enemy of the goddess.163 But after an animal has been conceived as a god or a god as an animal, it sometimes happens, as we have seen, that the god sloughs off his animal form and becomes purely anthropomorphic; and that then the animal, which at first had been slain in the character of the god, comes to be regarded as a victim offered to the god on the ground of its hostility to the deity; in short, that the god is sacrificed to himself on the ground that he is his own enemy. This happened to Dionysus, and it may have happened to Demeter also. And in fact the rites of one of her festivals, the Thesmophoria, bear out the view that originally the pig was an embodiment of the corn-goddess herself, either Demeter or her daughter and double Proserpine. The Thesmophoria was an autumn festival, celebrated by women alone in October,164 and appears to have represented [pg 045] with mourning rites the descent of Proserpine (or Demeter)165 into the lower world, and with joy her return from the dead.166 Hence the name Descent or Ascent variously applied to the first, and the name Kalligeneia (fair-born) applied to the third day of the festival. Now from a scholion on Lucian, first edited in 1870,167 we learn some details about the mode of celebrating the Thesmophoria, which shed important light on the part of the festival called the Descent or the Ascent. The scholiast tells us that it was customary at the Thesmophoria to throw pigs, cakes of dough, and branches of pine-trees into “the chasms of Demeter and Proserpine,” which appear to have been sacred caverns or vaults.168 In these caverns or vaults there were said to be serpents, which guarded the caverns and consumed most of the flesh of the pigs and dough-cakes which were thrown in. Afterwards—apparently at the next annual festival169—the decayed [pg 046] remains of the pigs, the cakes, and the pine-branches were fetched by women called “drawers,” who, after observing rules of ceremonial purity for three days, descended into the caverns, and, frightening away the serpents by clapping their hands, brought up the remains and placed them on the altar. Whoever got a piece of the decayed flesh and cakes, and sowed it with the seed-corn in his field, was believed to be sure of a good crop.
Passing by the corn goddess Demeter, and recalling that in European folklore the pig often represents the corn spirit, we can now ask—might the pig, so closely linked to Demeter, actually be the goddess herself in animal form? The pig was sacred to her; in art, she was depicted carrying or accompanied by a pig; and the pig was regularly sacrificed in her mysteries, with the reason given that the pig damages the corn and is therefore an enemy of the goddess. However, once an animal is conceived as a god, or a god as an animal, it sometimes occurs, as we've seen, that the god sheds his animal form and becomes purely human-like. Then, the animal, which was initially killed as a representation of the god, comes to be seen as a victim offered to the god due to its hostility to the deity; in short, the god is sacrificed to himself because he is his own enemy. This occurred with Dionysus, and it may have happened with Demeter too. Indeed, the rituals of one of her festivals, the Thesmophoria, support the idea that originally the pig was a representation of the corn goddess herself, whether Demeter or her daughter Proserpine. The Thesmophoria was an autumn festival, celebrated only by women in October, and seems to have symbolized, with mourning rites, Proserpine’s descent (or Demeter’s) into the underworld, and with joy her return from the dead. Hence the names Descent or Ascent applied to the first day, and the name Kalligeneia (fair-born) used for the third day of the festival. Now, from a scholion on Lucian, first edited in 1870, we learn some details about how the Thesmophoria was celebrated, which provide important insight into the festival segment known as the Descent or the Ascent. The scholiast tells us that it was a tradition at the Thesmophoria to toss in pigs, dough cakes, and pine branches into “the chasms of Demeter and Proserpine,” which seem to have been sacred caves or vaults. In these caves or vaults, there were said to be serpents, which guarded the caverns and consumed most of the flesh of the pigs and dough cakes that were thrown in. Afterwards—apparently at the next annual festival—the decayed remains of the pigs, cakes, and pine branches were retrieved by women called “drawers,” who, after following ceremonial purity rules for three days, went into the caverns and, scaring away the serpents by clapping their hands, brought up the remains and placed them on the altar. Anyone who got a piece of the decayed flesh and cakes, and planted it with the seed corn in their field, was believed to be guaranteed a good harvest.
To explain this rude and ancient rite the following legend was told. At the moment that Pluto carried off Proserpine, a swineherd called Eubuleus was herding his swine on the spot, and his herd was engulfed in the chasm down which Pluto vanished with Proserpine. Accordingly at the Thesmophoria pigs were annually thrown into caverns in order to commemorate the disappearance of the swine of Eubuleus. It follows from this that the casting of the pigs into the vaults at the Thesmophoria formed part of the dramatic representation of Proserpine's descent into the lower world; and as no image of Proserpine appears to have been thrown in, it follows that the descent of the pigs must have been, not an accompaniment of her descent, but the descent itself; in short, the pigs were Proserpine. Afterwards when Proserpine or Demeter (for the two are equivalent) became anthropomorphic, a reason had to be found for the custom of throwing pigs into caverns at her festival; and this was done by saying that when Proserpine was carried off, there happened to be some swine browsing near, which were swallowed up along with her. The story is obviously a forced and awkward attempt to bridge over the gulf between the old conception of the corn-spirit as a pig and the new conception of her as [pg 047] an anthropomorphic goddess. A trace of the older conception survived in the legend that when Demeter was looking for the lost Proserpine, the footprints of the latter were obliterated by the footprints of a pig;170 originally, no doubt, the footprints of the pig were the footprints of Proserpine and of Demeter herself. A consciousness of the intimate connection of the pig with the corn lurks in the tradition that the swineherd Eubuleus was a brother of Triptolemus, to whom Demeter first imparted the secret of the corn. Indeed, according to one version of the story, Eubuleus himself received, jointly with his brother Triptolemus, the gift of the corn from Demeter as a reward for revealing to her the fate of Proserpine.171 Further, it is to be noted that at the Thesmophoria the women appear to have eaten swine's flesh.172 The meal, if I am right, must have been a solemn sacrament or communion, the worshippers partaking of the body of the god.
To explain this rude and ancient ritual, the following legend was told. At the moment when Pluto took Proserpine, a swineherd named Eubuleus was herding his pigs nearby, and his herd fell into the chasm down which Pluto vanished with Proserpine. As a result, at the Thesmophoria, pigs were thrown into caves every year to commemorate the loss of Eubuleus's swine. This indicates that the act of throwing pigs into the vaults at the Thesmophoria was part of the dramatic reenactment of Proserpine's descent into the underworld; and since no image of Proserpine seems to have been thrown in, it suggests that the pigs' descent was not just an accompaniment to her descent, but her descent itself; in short, the pigs were Proserpine. Later, when Proserpine or Demeter (since the two are equal) became represented as a human figure, a justification had to be found for the custom of tossing pigs into caves during her festival; this was explained by saying that when Proserpine was taken away, some pigs happened to be grazing nearby, and they were swallowed up along with her. The story is clearly a forced and clumsy attempt to connect the old idea of the corn-spirit as a pig with the new idea of her as an anthropomorphic goddess. A remnant of the older belief is seen in the legend that when Demeter was searching for her lost Proserpine, Proserpine's footprints were wiped out by the footprints of a pig; originally, no doubt, the footprints of the pig were meant to represent Proserpine and Demeter herself. An awareness of the close connection between pigs and grain is reflected in the tradition that Eubuleus, the swineherd, was a brother of Triptolemus, to whom Demeter first revealed the secret of grain. In fact, according to one version of the story, Eubuleus himself received the gift of grain, along with his brother Triptolemus, from Demeter as a reward for informing her about the fate of Proserpine. Furthermore, it’s worth mentioning that at the Thesmophoria, the women seemed to have eaten pork. The meal, if I’m correct, must have been a solemn sacrament or communion, with the worshippers partaking of the body of the goddess.
As thus explained, the Thesmophoria has its analogies in the folk-customs of Northern Europe which have been already described. As at the Thesmophoria—an autumn festival in honour of the corn-goddess—swine's flesh was partly eaten, partly kept in caverns till the following year, when it was taken up to be sown with the seed-corn in the fields for the purpose of securing a good crop; so in the neighbourhood of Grenoble the goat killed on the harvest-field is partly eaten at the harvest supper, partly pickled and kept till the next harvest;173 so at Pouilly the ox killed on the harvest-field is partly eaten by the harvesters, partly pickled and kept till the first day of [pg 048] sowing in spring174—probably to be then mixed with the seed, or eaten by the ploughmen, or both; so at Udvarhely the feathers of the cock which is killed in the last sheaf at harvest are kept till spring, and then sown with the seed on the field;175 so in Hessen and Meiningen the flesh of pigs is eaten on Ash Wednesday or Candlemas, and the bones are kept till sowing-time, when they are put into the field sown or mixed with the seed in the bag;176 so, lastly, the corn from the last sheaf is kept till Christmas, made into the Yule Boar, and afterwards broken and mixed with the seed-corn at sowing in spring.177 Thus, to put it generally, the corn-spirit is killed in animal form in autumn; part of his flesh is eaten as a sacrament by his worshippers; and part of it is kept till next sowing-time or harvest as a pledge and security for the continuance or renewal of the corn-spirit's energies. Whether in the interval between autumn and spring he is conceived as dead, or whether, like the ox in the bouphonia, he is supposed to come to life again immediately after being killed, is not clear. At the Thesmophoria, according to Clement and Pausanias, as emended by Lobeck,178 the pigs were thrown in alive, and were supposed to reappear at the festival of the following year. Here, therefore, if we accept Lobeck's emendations, the corn-spirit is conceived as alive throughout the year; he lives and works under ground, but is brought up each autumn to be renewed and then replaced in his subterranean abode.179
As explained, the Thesmophoria has similarities with folk customs in Northern Europe that have been previously described. Just like at the Thesmophoria—an autumn festival honoring the corn goddess—pig meat was partly eaten and partly stored in caves until the following year, when it was taken to be sown with the seed corn in the fields to ensure a good harvest; similarly, near Grenoble, the goat killed in the harvest field is partly consumed at the harvest supper and partly pickled to be kept until the next harvest;173 and at Pouilly, the ox killed in the harvest field is partly eaten by the harvesters and partly pickled to be kept until the first day of [pg 048] sowing in spring174—likely to be mixed with the seed or eaten by the ploughmen, or both; at Udvarhely, the feathers of the rooster killed at the last sheaf of the harvest are kept until spring and then sown with the seed in the field;175 similarly, in Hessen and Meiningen, pig meat is eaten on Ash Wednesday or Candlemas, and the bones are kept until sowing time, when they are added to the field or mixed with the seed in the sack;176 finally, the grain from the last sheaf is kept until Christmas, made into the Yule Boar, and afterward broken and mixed with the seed corn at sowing in spring.177 Thus, generally speaking, the corn spirit is killed in animal form in autumn; part of its flesh is eaten as a sacrament by its worshippers, and part is kept until the next sowing time or harvest as a pledge and assurance for the continuation or renewal of the corn spirit's energy. It's unclear whether he is thought of as dead between autumn and spring, or if, like the ox in the bouphonia, he is believed to come back to life right after being killed. At the Thesmophoria, according to Clement and Pausanias, as corrected by Lobeck,178 the pigs were thrown in alive and were believed to reappear at the festival the following year. Therefore, if we accept Lobeck's corrections, the corn spirit is viewed as alive throughout the year; he lives and operates underground, but is brought up each autumn to be renewed and then returned to his underground dwelling.179
If it is objected that the Greeks never could have conceived Demeter and Proserpine to be embodied in the form of pigs, it may be answered that in the cave of Phigalia in Arcadia the Black Demeter was represented with the head and mane of a horse on the body of a woman.180 Between the representation of a goddess as a pig, and the representation of her as a woman with a horse's head, there is little to choose in respect of barbarism. The legend told of the Phigalian Demeter indicates that the horse was one of the animal forms assumed in ancient Greece, as in modern Europe,181 by the corn-spirit. It was said that in her search for her daughter, Demeter assumed the form of a mare to escape the addresses of Poseidon, and that, offended at his importunity, she withdrew to the cave of Phigalia. There, robed in black, she stayed so long that the fruits of the earth were perishing, and mankind would have died of famine if Pan had not soothed the angry goddess and persuaded her to quit the cave. In memory of this event, the Phigalians set up an image of the Black Demeter in the cave; it represented a woman dressed in a long robe, with the head and mane of a horse.182 The Black Demeter, in whose absence the fruits of the earth perish, is plainly a mythical expression for the state of vegetation in winter.
If it’s argued that the Greeks could never have imagined Demeter and Proserpine taking the form of pigs, it can be pointed out that in the cave of Phigalia in Arcadia, the Black Demeter was depicted with the head and mane of a horse on a woman's body.180 There’s not much difference, in terms of barbarism, between showing a goddess as a pig and portraying her as a woman with a horse's head. The story of the Phigalian Demeter suggests that the horse was one of the animal forms adopted in ancient Greece, similar to the corn-spirit in modern Europe,181 who was associated with the harvest. It was said that in her search for her daughter, Demeter took on the form of a mare to escape Poseidon's advances, and when she grew offended by his persistence, she retreated to the cave of Phigalia. There, dressed in black, she stayed for so long that the earth's crops were dying, and humanity would have perished from hunger if Pan hadn't calmed the furious goddess and convinced her to leave the cave. To commemorate this event, the Phigalians erected an image of the Black Demeter in the cave; it depicted a woman in a long robe, with the head and mane of a horse.182 The Black Demeter, whose absence causes the earth’s fruits to wither, is clearly a mythical expression for the condition of vegetation in winter.
Passing now to Attis and Adonis, we may note a few facts which seem to show that these deities of vegetation had also, like other deities of vegetation, their animal embodiments. The worshippers of Attis abstained from eating the flesh of swine.183 This fact is [pg 050] certainly in favour of supposing that the pig was regarded as an embodiment of Attis. And the legend that Attis was killed by a boar184 points in the same direction. For after the examples of the goat Dionysus and the pig Demeter it may almost be laid down as a rule that an animal which is said to have injured a god was originally the god himself. Perhaps the cry of “Hyes Attes! Hyes Attes!”185 which was raised by the worshippers of Attis, may be neither more nor less than “Pig Attis! Pig Attis!”—hyes being possibly a Phrygian form of the Greek hȳs, “a pig.”
Switching to Attis and Adonis, we can observe a few facts that suggest these vegetation deities also had animal forms, like other nature gods. The followers of Attis refrained from eating pork. This indicates that the pig was likely seen as a representation of Attis. Additionally, the tale of Attis being killed by a boar supports this idea. Following the precedence of the goat for Dionysus and the pig for Demeter, it's reasonable to conclude that an animal believed to have harmed a god was originally that god. Perhaps the shout of “Hyes Attes!” from Attis's worshippers translates to “Pig Attis!”—with “hyes” potentially being a Phrygian version of the Greek “hȳs,” meaning “a pig.”
In regard to Adonis, his connection with the boar was not always explained by the story that he was killed by a boar. According to another story, a boar rent with his tusk the bark of the tree in which the infant Adonis was born.186 According to another story, he was killed by Hephaestus on Mount Lebanon while he was hunting wild boars.187 These variations in the legend serve to show that, while the connection of the boar with Adonis was certain, the reason of the connection was not understood, and that consequently different stories were devised to explain it. Certainly the pig was one of the sacred animals of the Syrians. At the great religious metropolis of Hierapolis pigs were neither sacrificed nor eaten, and if a man touched a pig he was unclean for the rest of the day. Some people said this was because the pigs were unclean; others said it was because the pigs were sacred.188 This difference of opinion points to a state of religious thought and feeling in which the ideas of sanctity and uncleanness are not yet differentiated, and which is best [pg 051] indicated by the word taboo. It is quite consistent with this that the pig should have been held to be an embodiment of the divine Adonis, and the analogies of Dionysus and Demeter make it probable that the story of the hostility of the animal to the god was only a modern misunderstanding of the old view of the god as embodied in a pig. The rule that pigs were not sacrificed or eaten by worshippers of Attis and presumably of Adonis, does not exclude the possibility that in these cults the pig was slain on solemn occasions as a representative of the god and consumed sacramentally by the worshippers. Indeed, the sacramental killing and eating of an animal, that is the killing and eating it as a god, implies that the animal is sacred, and is, as a general rule, not killed.189
In relation to Adonis, his link to the boar isn’t always made clear by the story that he was killed by one. In another version, a boar tore the bark from the tree where the infant Adonis was born.186 In yet another tale, he was killed by Hephaestus on Mount Lebanon while hunting wild boars.187 These variations in the legend demonstrate that, while the connection between the boar and Adonis was recognized, the reason for the connection was unclear, leading to different stories being created to explain it. Clearly, the pig was one of the sacred animals for the Syrians. In the major religious center of Hierapolis, pigs were neither sacrificed nor eaten, and if someone touched a pig, they were considered unclean for the rest of the day. Some people said this was because the pigs were unclean; others believed it was because the pigs were sacred.188 This disagreement reflects a stage of religious thought and emotion where the concepts of sacredness and uncleanness aren’t yet distinguished, best described by the term taboo. It’s consistent that the pig was viewed as an embodiment of the divine Adonis, and parallels with Dionysus and Demeter suggest that the narrative of the animal's hostility toward the god was just a modern misunderstanding of the older belief of the god represented in a pig. The rule that pigs were not sacrificed or eaten by followers of Attis and presumably Adonis doesn’t rule out the chance that within these cults, the pig was sacrificed during significant occasions as a representation of the god and was consumed sacramentally by the worshippers. In fact, the sacramental killing and eating of an animal, meaning treating it as a god during the process, implies that the animal is sacred, and, as a general rule, is not killed.189
The attitude of the Jews to the pig was as ambiguous as that of the heathen Syrians towards the same animal. The Greeks could not decide whether the Jews worshipped swine or abominated them. On the one hand they might not eat swine; but on the other hand they might not kill them.190 And if the former rule speaks for the uncleanness, the latter speaks still more strongly for the sanctity of the animal. For whereas both rules may, and one rule must, be explained on the supposition that the pig was sacred; neither rule must, and one rule cannot, be explained on the supposition that the pig was unclean. If, therefore, we prefer the former supposition, we must conclude [pg 052] that, originally at least, the pig was held to be sacred rather than unclean by the Israelites. This is confirmed by the fact that down to the time of Isaiah some of the Jews used to meet secretly in gardens to eat the flesh of swine and mice as a religious rite.191 Doubtless this was a very ancient rite, dating from a time when both the pig and the mouse were venerated as divine, and when their flesh was partaken of sacramentally on rare and solemn occasions as the body and blood of gods. And in general it may be said that all so-called unclean animals were originally sacred; the reason why they were not eaten was that they were divine.
The Jews had a complicated attitude towards pigs, much like the Syrians did. The Greeks were unsure whether the Jews worshipped pigs or hated them. On one hand, they didn’t eat pigs, but on the other, they didn’t kill them. If the first rule indicates that pigs were considered unclean, the second rule suggests they were seen as sacred. Both rules could be interpreted to mean the pig was sacred; however, neither can be explained solely on the basis that the pig was unclean. If we lean towards the former interpretation, we can conclude that, at least originally, the Israelites viewed the pig as sacred rather than unclean. This is supported by the fact that until the time of Isaiah, some Jews would secretly gather in gardens to eat the flesh of pigs and mice as part of a religious ritual. This was likely an ancient practice, dating back to when both pigs and mice were revered as divine, and their flesh was consumed sacramentally on rare and important occasions as the body and blood of gods. Overall, it can be said that all animals classified as unclean were originally seen as sacred; the reason they weren’t eaten was that they were considered divine.
In ancient Egypt, within historical times, the pig occupied the same dubious position as in Syria and Palestine, though at first sight its uncleanness is more prominent than its sanctity. The Egyptians are generally said by Greek writers to have abhorred the pig as a foul and loathsome animal.192 If a man so much as touched a pig in passing, he stepped into the river with all his clothes on, to wash off the taint.193 To drink pig's milk was believed to cause leprosy to the drinker.194 Swineherds, though natives of Egypt, were forbidden to enter any temple, and they were the only men who were thus excluded. No one would give his daughter in marriage to a swineherd, or marry a swineherd's daughter; the swineherds married among themselves.195 Yet once a year the Egyptians sacrificed pigs to the moon and to Osiris, and not only sacrificed them, but ate of their flesh, though on any other day of the year [pg 053] they would neither sacrifice them nor taste of their flesh. Those who were too poor to offer a pig on this day baked cakes of dough, and offered them instead.196 This can hardly be explained except by the supposition that the pig was a sacred animal which was eaten sacramentally by his worshippers once a year. The view that in Egypt the pig was a sacred animal is borne out by the very facts which, to moderns, might seem to prove the contrary. Thus the Egyptians thought, as we have seen, that to drink pig's milk produced leprosy. But exactly analogous views are held by savages about the animals and plants which they deem most sacred. Thus in the island of Wetar (between New Guinea and Celebes) people believe themselves to be variously descended from wild pigs, serpents, crocodiles, turtles, dogs, and eels; a man may not eat an animal of the kind from which he is descended; if he does so, he will become a leper, and go mad.197 Amongst the Omaha Indians of North America men whose totem (sacred animal or plant) is the elk, believe that if they ate the flesh of the male elk they would break out in boils and white spots in different parts of their bodies.198 In the same tribe men whose totem is the red maize, think that if they ate red maize they would have running sores all round their mouths.199 The Bush negroes of Surinam, who have totemism, believe that if they ate the capiaï [pg 054] (an animal like a pig) it would give them leprosy;200 probably the capiaï is one of their totems. In Samoa each man had generally his god in the shape of some species of animal; and if he ate one of these divine animals, it was supposed that the god avenged himself by taking up his abode in the eater's body, and there generating an animal of the kind he had eaten till it caused his death. For example, if a man whose god was the prickly sea-urchin, ate one of these creatures, a prickly sea-urchin grew in his stomach and killed him. If his god was an eel, and he ate an eel, he became very ill, and before he died the voice of the god was heard from his stomach saying, “I am killing this man; he ate my incarnation.”201 These examples prove that the eating of a sacred animal is often believed to produce skin-disease or even death; so far, therefore, they support the view that the pig must have been sacred in Egypt, since the effect of drinking its milk was believed to be leprosy.
In ancient Egypt, during historical times, pigs had the same questionable status as in Syria and Palestine, though at first glance, their uncleanliness seemed more noticeable than their sacredness. Greek writers generally claimed that Egyptians detested pigs as filthy and repulsive creatures. If a man accidentally touched a pig, he would immediately jump into the river fully clothed to wash off the contamination. Drinking pig's milk was thought to cause leprosy. Swineherds, although native to Egypt, were not allowed to enter any temple and were the only people excluded from such sacred spaces. No one would marry their daughter to a swineherd, nor would they accept a swineherd's daughter as a bride; swineherds married among themselves. Yet, once a year, Egyptians sacrificed pigs to the moon and to Osiris, and not only did they sacrifice them, but they also consumed their meat. However, on any other day of the year, they neither sacrificed nor ate pig flesh. Those too poor to offer a pig on this day baked dough cakes and offered those instead. This can hardly be explained without suggesting that the pig was a sacred animal consumed sacramentally by its worshipers once a year. The belief that pigs were sacred in Egypt is supported by facts that might seem contrary to this opinion today. As we observed, Egyptians believed that drinking pig's milk caused leprosy. Similar beliefs are held by some indigenous peoples about their most sacred animals and plants. For instance, on the island of Wetar (between New Guinea and Celebes), people believe they are descended from wild pigs, snakes, crocodiles, turtles, dogs, and eels; a person cannot eat an animal from which they are believed to be descended; doing so would result in leprosy and madness. Among the Omaha Indians of North America, men whose totem (sacred animal or plant) is the elk believe that eating male elk meat would lead to boils and white spots on their bodies. In the same tribe, men whose totem is red maize think that consuming red maize would cause running sores around their mouths. The Bush Negroes of Surinam, who practice totemism, believe that eating the capiaï (an animal similar to a pig) would lead to leprosy; probably, the capiaï is one of their totems. In Samoa, each person usually had a god represented by a specific animal species; if someone ate one of these divine animals, it was believed that the god would take revenge by inhabiting the eater's body and generating an animal of that kind until it caused their death. For example, if a man whose god was the prickly sea urchin ate one of these creatures, a prickly sea urchin would grow in his stomach and kill him. If his god was an eel and he consumed an eel, he would become very ill, and before dying, the voice of the god would be heard from his stomach saying, “I am killing this man; he ate my incarnation.” These examples illustrate that consuming a sacred animal is often thought to cause skin diseases or even death, thereby supporting the idea that pigs were likely sacred in Egypt, as drinking their milk was believed to result in leprosy.
Again, the rule that, after touching a pig, a man had to wash himself and his clothes, also favours the view of the sanctity of the pig. For it is a common belief that the effect of contact with a sacred object must be removed, by washing or otherwise, before a man is free to mingle with his fellows. Thus the Jews wash their hands after reading the sacred scriptures. Before coming forth from the tabernacle after the sin-offering, the high priest had to wash himself, and put off the garments which he had worn in the holy place.202 It was a rule of Greek ritual that, in offering an expiatory sacrifice, the sacrificer should not touch the sacrifice, and that, after the [pg 055] offering was made, he must wash his body and his clothes in a river or spring before he could enter a city or his own house.203 The Polynesians felt strongly the need of ridding themselves of the sacred contagion, if it may be so called, which they caught by touching sacred objects. Various ceremonies were performed for the purpose of removing this sacred contagion. For example, in Tonga a man who happened to touch a sacred chief, or anything personally belonging to him, as his clothes or his mat, was obliged to go through the ceremony of touching the soles of the chief's (or of any chief's) feet with his hands, first applying the palm and then the back of each hand; next he had to rinse his hands in water, or, if there was no water near, the sap of the plantain or banana-tree might be used as a substitute. If he were to feed himself with his hands before he performed this ceremony, it was believed that he would swell up and die, or at least be afflicted with scrofula or some other disease.204 We have already seen what fatal effects are supposed to follow, and do actually follow, from contact with a sacred object in New Zealand.205 In short, primitive man believes that what is sacred is dangerous; it is pervaded by a sort of electrical sanctity which communicates a shock to, even if it does not kill, whatever comes in contact with it. Hence the savage is unwilling to touch or even to see that which he deems peculiarly holy. Thus Bechuanas, of the Crocodile clan, think it “hateful and unlucky” to meet or see a crocodile; the sight is thought to cause inflammation of the [pg 056] eyes. Yet the crocodile is their most sacred object; they call it their father, swear by it, and celebrate it in their festivals.206 The goat is the sacred animal of the Madenassana Bushmen; yet “to look upon it would be to render the man for the time impure, as well as to cause him undefined uneasiness.”207 The Elk clan, among the Omaha Indians, believe that even to touch the male elk would be followed by an eruption of boils and white spots on the body.208 Members of the Reptile clan in the same tribe think that if one of them touches or smells a snake, it will make his hair white.209 In Samoa people whose god was a butterfly believed that if they caught a butterfly it would strike them dead.210 Again, in Samoa the reddish-seared leaves of the banana-tree were commonly used as plates for handing food; but if any member of the Wild Pigeon clan had used banana leaves for this purpose, it was believed that he would have suffered from rheumatic swellings or an eruption all over the body like chicken-pox.211
Again, the rule that a person must wash themselves and their clothes after touching a pig supports the idea that the pig is sacred. There's a common belief that any contact with a holy object needs to be cleaned off—whether by washing or some other means—before a person can interact freely with others. For instance, Jews wash their hands after reading sacred texts. Before leaving the tabernacle after making a sin offering, the high priest had to wash himself and change out of the garments he wore in the holy area. It was a standard practice in Greek rituals that when making an atonement sacrifice, the person performing the sacrifice should not touch it, and afterward, they had to wash their body and clothes in a river or spring before entering a city or their home. Polynesians also felt a strong need to cleanse themselves of what they considered sacred contagion caught from touching holy objects. Various ceremonies were held for this purpose. In Tonga, for example, if a man accidentally touched a sacred chief or anything belonging to him, like his clothes or mat, he had to go through a ceremony of touching the soles of the chief's feet with his hands—first the palms and then the backs of each hand. After that, he had to rinse his hands in water, or if no water was available, use the sap from a plantain or banana tree. If he ate with his hands before completing this ritual, it was believed he would swell up and die or at least suffer from scrofula or another illness. We have already seen the fatal consequences thought to arise from contact with sacred objects in New Zealand. In summary, primitive people believe that the sacred is dangerous, charged with an electrical sanctity that delivers a shock to whatever comes into contact with it, even if it doesn’t lead to death. Therefore, those in primitive societies are hesitant to touch or even look at what they consider especially holy. For example, the Bechuanas of the Crocodile clan find it “hateful and unlucky” to encounter or see a crocodile, as it is believed to cause eye inflammation. Yet, the crocodile is their most sacred symbol; they refer to it as their father, swear oaths by it, and honor it during their festivals. The goat is the sacred animal for the Madenassana Bushmen, but “to look upon it would make a person impure for the time being and induce unspecified unease.” The Elk clan among the Omaha Indians believes that even touching a male elk would result in boils and white spots appearing on the skin. Members of the Reptile clan in the same tribe think that if one of them touches or smells a snake, it'll turn their hair white. In Samoa, those who worshipped a butterfly thought catching one would cause their death. Similarly, the reddish-seared leaves of the banana tree were typically used as plates for serving food, but if any member of the Wild Pigeon clan used banana leaves for this, it was believed they would suffer from rheumatic swellings or have a body eruption resembling chickenpox.
In the light of these parallels the beliefs and customs of the Egyptians touching the pig are probably to be explained as based upon an opinion of the extreme sanctity rather than of the extreme uncleanness of the animal; or rather, to put it more correctly, they imply that the animal was looked on, not simply as a filthy and disgusting creature, but as a being endowed with high supernatural powers, and that as such it was regarded with that primitive [pg 057] sentiment of religious awe and fear in which the feelings of reverence and abhorrence are almost equally blended. The ancients themselves seem to have been aware that there was another side to the horror with which swine seemed to inspire the Egyptians. For the Greek astronomer and mathematician Eudoxus, who resided fourteen months in Egypt and conversed with the priests,212 was of opinion that the Egyptians spared the pig, not out of abhorrence, but from a regard to its utility in agriculture; for, according to him, when the Nile had subsided, herds of swine were turned loose over the fields to tread the seed down into the moist earth.213 But when a being is thus the object of mixed and implicitly contradictory feelings, he may be said to occupy a position of unstable equilibrium. In course of time one of the contradictory feelings is likely to prevail over the other, and according as the feeling which finally predominates is that of reverence or abhorrence, the being who is the object of it will rise into a god or sink into a devil. The latter, on the whole, was the fate of the pig in Egypt. For in historical times the fear and horror of the pig seem certainly to have outweighed the reverence and worship of which he must once have been the object, and of which, even in his fallen state, he never quite lost trace. He came to be looked on as an embodiment of Set or Typhon, the Egyptian devil and enemy of Osiris. For it was in the shape of a boar that Typhon menaced the eye of the god Horus, who burned him and instituted the sacrifice of the pig, the sun-god Ra having declared the pig abominable.214 [pg 058] Again, the story that Typhon was hunting a boar when he discovered and mangled the body of Osiris, and that this was the reason why the pig was sacrificed once a year,215 is a transparent modernisation of an older story that Osiris, like Adonis and Attis, was slain or mangled by a boar, or by Typhon in the form of a boar. Thus, the annual sacrifice of a pig to Osiris might naturally be interpreted as vengeance inflicted on the hostile animal that had slain or mangled the god. But, in the first place, when an animal is thus killed as a solemn sacrifice once and once only in the year, it generally or always means that the animal is divine—that he is spared and respected the rest of the year as a god and slain, when he is slain, also in the character of a god.216 In the second place, the examples of Dionysus and Demeter, if not of Attis and Adonis, have taught us that the animal which is sacrificed to a god on the ground that he is the god's enemy may have been, and probably was, originally the god himself. Therefore, the fact that the pig was sacrificed once a year to Osiris, and the fact that he appears to have been sacrificed on the ground that he was the god's enemy, go to show, first, that originally the pig was a god, and, second, that he was Osiris. At a later age the pig was distinguished from Osiris when the latter became anthropomorphic and his original relation to the pig was forgotten; later still, the pig was opposed as an enemy to Osiris by mythologists who could think of no reason for killing an animal in connection with the worship of a god except that the animal was the god's [pg 059] enemy; or, as Plutarch puts it, not that which is dear to the gods, but that which is the contrary, is fit to be sacrificed.217 At this later stage the havoc which a wild boar notoriously makes amongst the corn would supply a plausible reason for regarding him as an enemy of the corn-spirit, though originally, if I am right, the very fact that the boar was found ranging at will through the corn was the reason for identifying him with the corn-spirit, to whom he was afterwards opposed as an enemy. The view which identifies the pig with Osiris derives not a little support from the fact that the day on which the pigs were sacrificed to him was the day on which, according to tradition, Osiris was killed;218 for thus the killing of the pig was the annual representation of the killing of Osiris, just as the throwing of the pigs into the caverns at the Thesmophoria was an annual representation of the descent of Proserpine into the lower world; and both customs are parallel to the European practice of killing a goat, cock, etc., at harvest as a representative of the corn-spirit.
In light of these similarities, the beliefs and customs of the Egyptians regarding pigs likely stem from a view of the animal's extreme sanctity rather than its extreme uncleanliness; or more accurately, they suggest that the animal was seen not just as a filthy and disgusting creature, but as a being with significant supernatural powers, regarded with that primitive sentiment of religious awe and fear where feelings of reverence and disgust are closely intertwined. The ancients themselves seemed to recognize that there was another side to the fear that pigs inspired in the Egyptians. The Greek astronomer and mathematician Eudoxus, who spent fourteen months in Egypt and spoke with the priests, believed that the Egyptians spared pigs not out of disgust but due to their usefulness in farming. He noted that when the Nile receded, herds of pigs were let loose in the fields to press the seeds into the damp soil. However, when an entity is the subject of mixed and contradictory emotions, it can be said to be in a state of unstable equilibrium. Over time, one of these conflicting feelings is likely to dominate the other, and depending on whether reverence or disgust prevails, the entity may be elevated to god status or reduced to a devil. Generally speaking, the latter was the fate of the pig in Egypt. Throughout history, the fear and horror associated with pigs seem to have overshadowed the reverence and worship that they once received, a trace of which they never entirely lost. Pigs were eventually seen as manifestations of Set or Typhon, the Egyptian devil and adversary of Osiris. It was in the form of a boar that Typhon threatened the eye of the god Horus, who scorched him and initiated the sacrifice of pigs, the sun-god Ra having declared pigs to be abominable. Additionally, the narrative that Typhon was hunting a boar when he found and mutilated Osiris's body—which explained why pigs were sacrificed annually—appears to be a modern interpretation of an older story in which Osiris, like Adonis and Attis, was killed or harmed by a boar, or by Typhon in the shape of a boar. Thus, the yearly sacrifice of a pig to Osiris could easily be seen as an act of vengeance against the hostile creature that had killed or mangled the god. However, when an animal is ceremonially sacrificed just once a year, it usually signifies that the animal is divine—that it is honored and respected as a god the rest of the year and is killed, when it is killed, also in the capacity of a god. Furthermore, examples such as Dionysus and Demeter, if not Attis and Adonis, demonstrate that the animal sacrificed to a god because it is considered an enemy may have originally been the god itself. Therefore, the fact that pigs were sacrificed once a year to Osiris and the notion that they were sacrificed because they were seen as the god's enemies suggests, first, that originally the pig was a god, and second, that he was Osiris. Over time, the pig became distinct from Osiris once the latter took on a human form and his original association with the pig was forgotten. Later still, mythologists portrayed the pig as an enemy of Osiris, unable to think of any reason for killing an animal in connection with the worship of a god except that it was the god's enemy; or as Plutarch stated, what is not dear to the gods, but rather its opposite, is what is fit for sacrifice. At this later stage, the destruction that a wild boar causes among crops would provide a plausible reason for viewing it as an enemy of the corn spirit, even though, if I am correct, the initial reason for associating the boar with the corn spirit was its free roaming through the corn. This connection between the pig and Osiris is supported by the fact that the day pigs were sacrificed to him coincided with the day, according to tradition, that Osiris was killed; thus, the slaughter of the pig represented the annual killing of Osiris, just as the tossing of pigs into the pits during the Thesmophoria symbolized Proserpine's descent into the underworld; both customs parallel the European tradition of sacrificing a goat, rooster, etc., during harvest as a representation of the corn spirit.
Again, the view that the pig, originally Osiris himself, afterwards came to be regarded as an embodiment of his enemy Typhon, is supported by the similar relation of red-haired men and red oxen to Typhon. For in regard to the red-haired men who were burned and whose ashes were scattered with winnowing-fans, we have seen fair grounds for believing that originally, like the red-haired puppies killed at Rome in spring, they were representatives of the corn-spirit himself, that is, of Osiris, and were slain for the express purpose of making the corn turn red or golden.
Again, the idea that the pig, originally Osiris himself, later came to be seen as a representation of his enemy Typhon is backed by the similar connection between red-haired people and red oxen to Typhon. Regarding the red-haired individuals who were burned and whose ashes were scattered with winnowing fans, we have good reason to believe that originally, like the red-haired puppies killed in Rome during spring, they were symbols of the corn spirit itself, which is, of course, Osiris, and were sacrificed specifically to make the corn turn red or golden.
Yet at a later time these men were explained to be representatives, not of Osiris, but of his enemy Typhon,219 and the killing of them was regarded as an act of vengeance inflicted on the enemy of the god. Similarly, the red oxen sacrificed by the Egyptians were said to be sacrificed on the ground of their resemblance to Typhon;220 though it is more likely that originally they were slain on the ground of their resemblance to the corn-spirit Osiris. We have seen that the ox is a common representative of the corn-spirit and is slain as such on the harvest-field.
Yet later, these men were identified as representatives, not of Osiris, but of his enemy Typhon,219 and killing them was seen as an act of revenge against the god's enemy. Likewise, the red oxen sacrificed by the Egyptians were said to be offered up because they resembled Typhon;220 although it’s more likely that they were originally killed because they resembled the corn-spirit Osiris. We’ve seen that the ox is commonly associated with the corn-spirit and is sacrificed as such in the harvest field.
Osiris was regularly identified with the bull Apis of Memphis and the bull Mnevis of Heliopolis.221 But it is hard to say whether these bulls were embodiments of him as the corn-spirit, as the red oxen appear to have been, or whether they were not rather entirely distinct deities which got fused with Osiris by syncretism. The fact that these two bulls were worshipped by all the Egyptians,222 seems to put them on a different footing from the ordinary sacred animals whose cults were purely local. Hence, if the latter were evolved from totems, as they probably were, some other origin would have to be found for the worship of Apis and Mnevis. If these bulls were not originally embodiments of the corn-god Osiris, they may possibly be descendants of the sacred cattle [pg 061] worshipped by a pastoral people.223 If this were so, ancient Egypt would exhibit a stratification of the three great types of religion corresponding to the three great stages of society. Totemism or (roughly speaking) the worship of wild animals—the religion of society in the hunting stage—would be represented by the worship of the local sacred animals; the worship of cattle—the religion of society in the pastoral stage—would be represented by the cults of Apis and Mnevis; and the worship of cultivated plants, especially of corn—the religion of society in the agricultural stage—would be represented by the worship of Osiris and Isis. The Egyptian reverence for cows, which were never killed,224 might belong either to the second or third of these stages. The fact that cows were regarded as sacred to, that is, as embodiments of Isis, who was represented with cow's horns, would indicate that they, like the red oxen, were embodiments of the corn-spirit. However, this identification of Isis with the cow, like that of Osiris with the bulls Apis and Mnevis, may be only an effect of syncretism. But whatever the original relation of Apis to Osiris may have been, there is one fact about the former which ought not to be passed over in a chapter dealing with the custom of killing the god. Although the bull Apis was worshipped as a god with much pomp and profound reverence, he was not suffered to live beyond a certain length of time which was prescribed by the sacred books, and on the expiry of which he was drowned in a holy spring.225 The limit, according to Plutarch, was twenty-five [pg 062] years;226 but it cannot always have been enforced, for the tombs of the Apis bulls have been discovered in the present century, and from the inscriptions on them it appears that in the twenty-second dynasty two bulls lived more than twenty-six years.227
Osiris was regularly associated with the bull Apis in Memphis and the bull Mnevis in Heliopolis.221 However, it's unclear if these bulls were representations of him as the corn spirit, as the red oxen seem to have been, or if they were entirely separate deities that merged with Osiris through syncretism. The fact that all Egyptians worshipped these two bulls,222 suggests that they were different from the typical sacred animals whose worship was mainly local. If the latter developed from totems, as is likely, then a different origin must be identified for the veneration of Apis and Mnevis. If these bulls were not originally representations of the corn god Osiris, they might be descendants of the sacred cattle [pg 061] worshipped by a pastoral people.223 If that's the case, ancient Egypt would showcase a hierarchy of the three main types of religion corresponding to the three major stages of society. Totemism, or generally speaking, the worship of wild animals—the religion of societies in the hunting stage—would be reflected in the veneration of local sacred animals; the worship of cattle—the religion of societies in the pastoral stage—would be represented by the cults of Apis and Mnevis; and the worship of cultivated plants, especially corn—the religion of societies in the agricultural stage—would be represented by the worship of Osiris and Isis. The Egyptians' reverence for cows, which were never killed,224 might belong to either the second or third of these stages. The fact that cows were considered sacred, meaning they were embodiments of Isis, who was depicted with cow's horns, suggests that they, like the red oxen, were representations of the corn spirit. Nonetheless, this association of Isis with the cow, just like that of Osiris with the bulls Apis and Mnevis, may simply be a result of syncretism. Regardless of the original connection between Apis and Osiris, one important detail about the former should not be overlooked in a chapter discussing the custom of killing the god. Although the bull Apis was worshipped as a god with great ceremony and deep respect, he was not allowed to live beyond a specific period defined by the sacred texts, after which he was drowned in a holy spring.225 According to Plutarch, this limit was twenty-five [pg 062] years;226 however, this rule was not always enforced, as tombs of the Apis bulls have been found in this century, and inscriptions on them indicate that during the twenty-second dynasty, two bulls lived beyond twenty-six years.227
We are now in a position to hazard a conjecture—for it can be little more—as to the meaning of the tradition that Virbius, the first of the divine Kings of the Wood at Aricia, was killed by horses. Having found, first, that spirits of vegetation are not infrequently represented in the form of horses;228 and, second, that the animal which in later legends is said to have injured the god was sometimes originally the god himself, we may conjecture that the horses by which Virbius was said to have been slain were really embodiments of him as a deity of vegetation. The myth that Virbius had been killed by horses was probably invented to explain certain features in his cult, amongst others the custom of excluding horses from his sacred grove. For myth changes while custom remains constant; men continue to do what their fathers did before them, though the reasons on which their fathers acted have been long forgotten. The history of religion is a long attempt to reconcile old custom with new reason; to find a sound theory for an absurd practice. In the case before us we may be sure that the myth is more modern than the custom and by no means represents the original reason for excluding horses from the grove. From the fact that horses were so excluded it might be inferred that they could not be the sacred animals or embodiments of the [pg 063] god of the grove. But the inference would be rash. The goat was at one time a sacred animal or embodiment of Athene, as may be inferred from the practice of representing her clad in a goat-skin (aegis). Yet the goat was neither sacrificed to her as a rule, nor allowed to enter her great sanctuary, the Acropolis at Athens. The reason alleged for this was that the goat injured the olive, the sacred tree of Athene.229 So far, therefore, the relation of the goat to Athene is parallel to the relation of the horse to Virbius, both animals being excluded from the sanctuary on the ground of injury done by them to the god. But from Varro we learn that there was an exception to the rule which excluded the goat from the Acropolis. Once a year, he says, the goat was driven on to the Acropolis for a necessary sacrifice.230 Now, as has been remarked before, when an animal is sacrificed once and once only in the year, it is probably slain, not as a victim offered to the god, but as a representative of the god himself. Therefore we may infer that if a goat was sacrificed on the Acropolis once a year, it was sacrificed in the character of Athene herself; and it may be conjectured that the skin of the sacrificed animal was placed on the statue of the goddess and formed the aegis, which would thus be renewed annually. Similarly at Thebes in Egypt rams were sacred and were not sacrificed. But on one day in the year a ram was killed, and its skin was placed on the statue of the god Ammon.231 Now, if we knew the ritual of the Arician grove better, we might find the rule of excluding horses from it, like the rule of excluding goats from [pg 064] the Acropolis at Athens, was subject to an annual exception, a horse being once a year taken into the grove and sacrificed as an embodiment of the god Virbius. By the usual misunderstanding the horse thus killed would come in time to be regarded as an enemy offered up in sacrifice to the god whom he had injured, like the pig which was sacrificed to Demeter and Osiris or the goat which was sacrificed to Athene and Dionysus. It is so easy for a writer to record a rule without noticing an exception that we need not wonder at finding the rule of the Arician grove recorded without any mention of an exception such as I suppose. If we had had only the statements of Athenaeus and Pliny, we should have known only the rule which forbade the sacrifice of goats to Athene and excluded them from the Acropolis, without being aware of the important exception which the fortunate preservation of Varro's work has revealed to us.
We are now in a position to make a guess—though it can’t be anything more than that—about the meaning behind the tradition that Virbius, the first of the divine Kings of the Wood at Aricia, was killed by horses. First, we have found that spirits of vegetation are often represented as horses; 228 and, second, that the animal in later legends known to have harmed the god was sometimes originally the god himself. Thus, we can speculate that the horses said to have killed Virbius were actually representations of him as a deity of vegetation. The myth of Virbius being killed by horses was likely created to explain certain aspects of his cult, including the practice of keeping horses out of his sacred grove. Myths change, while customs stay the same; people continue to do what their ancestors did, even though the reasons behind those actions have been forgotten. The history of religion is largely an attempt to reconcile old customs with new explanations; to find a logical reason for an illogical practice. In this case, we can be confident that the myth is more modern than the custom and doesn't reflect the original reason for excluding horses from the grove. The exclusion of horses suggests that they couldn’t have been the sacred animals or embodiments of the [pg 063] god of the grove. However, that conclusion would be hasty. The goat was at one point a sacred animal or embodiment of Athene, as indicated by the practice of depicting her wearing a goat-skin (shield). Yet the goat was generally not sacrificed to her, nor was it allowed to enter her major sanctuary, the Acropolis in Athens. The reason given for this was that the goat harmed the olive tree, which was sacred to Athene.229 So far, the goat's relationship to Athene parallels the horse's relationship to Virbius, as both animals are excluded from the sanctum because they cause harm to the god. However, according to Varro, there was an exception to the rule excluding the goat from the Acropolis. Once a year, he states, the goat was brought onto the Acropolis for a necessary sacrifice.230 Now, as previously noted, when an animal is sacrificed once a year, it is likely offered, not as a victim to the god, but as a representation of the god itself. Thus, we can infer that if a goat was sacrificed on the Acropolis once a year, it was offered as a representation of Athene herself; and it can be speculated that the skin of the sacrificed animal was placed on the goddess's statue and formed the shield, which would then be renewed annually. Similarly, in Thebes, Egypt, rams were sacred and typically not sacrificed. However, on one day of the year, a ram was killed, and its skin was placed on the statue of the god Ammon.231 Now, if we understood the rituals of the Arician grove better, we might discover that the rule excluding horses from it, like the rule excluding goats from [pg 064] the Acropolis in Athens, had an annual exception—a horse being brought into the grove and sacrificed each year as a representation of the god Virbius. Due to common misunderstanding, the horse that was killed may eventually have been seen as an enemy sacrificed to the god it had harmed, like the pig sacrificed to Demeter and Osiris or the goat sacrificed to Athene and Dionysus. It’s easy for a writer to note a rule without acknowledging an exception, so it’s not surprising to find the rule of the Arician grove recorded without mentioning any such exception as I propose. If we had only had the accounts of Athenaeus and Pliny, we would only have known the rule that prohibited sacrificing goats to Athene and keeping them out of the Acropolis, without realizing the significant exception that Varro's work has fortunately preserved for us.
The conjecture that once a year a horse may have been sacrificed in the Arician grove as a representative of the deity of the grove derives some support from the fact that a horse sacrifice of a similar character took place once a year at Rome. On the 15th of October in each year a chariot-race took place on the Field of Mars. The right-hand horse of the victorious team was sacrificed to Mars by being stabbed with a spear. The object of the sacrifice was to ensure good crops. The animal's head was cut off and adorned with a string of loaves. The inhabitants of two wards—the Sacred Way and the Subura—then contended with each other who should get the head. If the people of the Sacred Way got it, they fastened it to a wall of the king's house; if the people of the Subura got it, they fastened it to the Mamilian tower. The horse's [pg 065] tail was cut off and carried to the king's house with such speed that the blood dripped on the hearth of the house.232 Further, it appears that the blood of the horse was caught and preserved till the 21st of April, when it was mixed by the Vestal virgins with the blood of the unborn calves which had been sacrificed six days before. The mixture was then distributed to shepherds, and used by them for fumigating their flocks.233
The idea that a horse was sacrificed once a year in the Arician grove as a representation of the grove’s deity is somewhat supported by the fact that a similar horse sacrifice happened annually in Rome. Every year on October 15th, a chariot race was held in the Field of Mars. The winning team's right horse was sacrificed to Mars by being stabbed with a spear. The purpose of this sacrifice was to ensure a good harvest. The horse's head was chopped off and decorated with a string of loaves. The residents of two neighborhoods—the Sacred Way and the Subura—then competed to see who would keep the head. If the Sacred Way people got it, they would attach it to the wall of the king's house; if it was the Subura, they would fix it to the Mamilian tower. The horse's tail was cut off and raced to the king's house so quickly that the blood dripped onto the household hearth. Furthermore, it seems the horse's blood was collected and preserved until April 21st, when the Vestal virgins mixed it with the blood of unborn calves that had been sacrificed six days earlier. This mixture was then given to shepherds to use for fumigating their flocks.
In this ceremony the decoration of the horse's head with a string of loaves, and the alleged object of the sacrifice, namely, to procure a good harvest, clearly indicate that the horse was killed as one of those animal representatives of the corn-spirit of which we have seen so many examples. The custom of cutting off the horse's tail is like the African custom of cutting off the tails of the oxen and sacrificing them to obtain a good crop.234 In both the Roman and the African custom the animal represents the corn-spirit; and its fructifying power is supposed to reside especially in its tail. The latter idea occurs, as we have seen, in European folk-lore.235 Again, the custom of fumigating the cattle in spring with the blood of the horse may be compared with the custom of giving the Maiden as fodder to the cattle at Christmas, and giving the Yule Boar to the ploughing oxen or horses to eat in spring.236 All these customs aim at ensuring the blessing of the corn-spirit on the homestead and its inmates and storing it up for another year.
In this ceremony, the horse's head is decorated with a string of loaves, and the supposed purpose of the sacrifice, which is to ensure a good harvest, clearly shows that the horse was sacrificed as one of those animal representations of the corn spirit, a concept we’ve seen in many examples. The practice of cutting off the horse's tail is similar to the African tradition of cutting off the tails of oxen and sacrificing them to achieve a good crop. In both Roman and African customs, the animal symbolizes the corn spirit; its life-giving power is believed to be particularly linked to its tail. This idea also appears in European folklore. Similarly, the practice of using horse blood to fumigate cattle in spring can be compared to the tradition of feeding the Maiden to cattle at Christmas and giving the Yule Boar to plowing oxen or horses to eat in spring. All these customs are aimed at securing the corn spirit's blessing for the homestead and its residents, storing that blessing for another year.
The Roman sacrifice of the October horse, as it [pg 066] was called, carries us back to the early days when the Subura, afterwards a low and crowded quarter of the great metropolis, was still a separate village, whose inhabitants engaged in a friendly contest on the harvest-field with their neighbours of Rome, then a little rural town. The Field of Mars on which the ceremony took place lay beside the Tiber, and formed part of the king's domain down to the abolition of the monarchy. For tradition ran that at the time when the last of the kings was driven from Rome, the corn stood ripe for the sickle on the crown lands beside the river; but no one would eat the accursed grain and it was flung into the river in such heaps that, the water being low with the summer heat, it formed the nucleus of an island.237 The horse sacrifice was thus an old autumn custom observed upon the king's corn-fields at the end of the harvest. The tail and blood of the horse, as the chief parts of the corn-spirit's representative, were taken to the king's house and kept there; just as in Germany the harvest-cock is nailed on the gable or over the door of the farmhouse; and as the last sheaf, in the form of the Maiden, is carried home and kept over the fireplace in the Highlands of Scotland. Thus the blessing of the corn-spirit was brought to the king's house and hearth and, through them, to the community of which he was the head. Similarly in the spring and autumn customs of Northern Europe the May-pole is sometimes set up in front of the house of the mayor or burgomaster, and the last sheaf at harvest is brought to him as the head of the village. But while the tail and blood fell to the king, the neighbouring village of the Subura, which no doubt once had a similar ceremony of its own, was gratified [pg 067] by being allowed to compete for the prize of the horse's head. The Mamilian tower to which the Suburans nailed the horse's head when they succeeded in carrying it off, appears to have been a peel-tower or keep of the old Mamilian family, the magnates of the village.238 The ceremony thus performed on the king's fields and at his house on behalf of the whole town and of the neighbouring village presupposes a time when each commune performed a similar ceremony on its own fields. In the rural districts of Latium the villages may have continued to observe the custom, each on its own land, long after the Roman hamlets had merged their separate harvest-homes in the common celebration on the king's lands.239 There is no intrinsic improbability in the supposition that the sacred grove of Aricia, like the Field of Mars at Rome, may have been the scene of a common harvest celebration, at which a horse was sacrificed with the same rude rites on behalf of the neighbouring villages. The horse would represent the fructifying spirit both of the tree and of the corn, for the two ideas melt into each other, as we see in customs like the Harvest-May.
The Roman sacrifice of the October horse, as it was called, takes us back to the early days when the Subura, which later became a crowded area of the great city, was still a separate village. Its residents engaged in friendly competition with their neighbors in Rome, which was then a small rural town. The Field of Mars, where the ceremony took place, was next to the Tiber and was part of the king's domain until the monarchy was abolished. Tradition holds that when the last king was expelled from Rome, the crops were ready for harvest on the royal lands by the river; however, no one was willing to eat the cursed grain, and it was thrown into the river in such large piles that, with the low summer water, it created the base of an island. The horse sacrifice was an old autumn tradition observed on the king's cornfields at the end of the harvest. The tail and blood of the horse, representing the spirit of the corn, were taken to the king's house and kept there, similar to how in Germany the harvest-cock is nailed to the gable or over the door of a farmhouse, and the last sheaf, in the form of the Maiden, is brought home and kept over the fireplace in the Highlands of Scotland. This practice brought the blessing of the corn spirit to the king's home and hearth, and through them, to the community he led. Likewise, in the spring and autumn traditions of Northern Europe, the May-pole is sometimes set up in front of the mayor's house, and the last sheaf at harvest is brought to him as the village leader. However, while the tail and blood were allocated to the king, the nearby village of Subura, which likely once had a similar ceremony of its own, was pleased to compete for the prize of the horse's head. The Mamilian tower, where the Suburans nailed the horse's head when they managed to take it, seems to have been a defensive tower or keep of the old Mamilian family, the prominent figures of the village. The ceremony held on the king's fields and at his house for the whole town and the neighboring village implies that there was once a time when each community performed a similar rite on its own land. In the rural areas of Latium, the villages may have continued to practice this custom, each on its own territory, long after the Roman hamlets had combined their separate harvest celebrations on the king's fields. It’s not improbable to consider that the sacred grove of Aricia, like the Field of Mars in Rome, may have been the site of a shared harvest celebration, where a horse was sacrificed with similar primitive rites for the neighboring villages. The horse represented the life-giving spirit of both the tree and the grain, as the two concepts intertwine, evident in customs like the Harvest-May.
Eating the deity.
We have now seen that the corn-spirit is represented sometimes in human, sometimes in animal form, and that in both cases he is killed in the person of his representative and eaten sacramentally. To find examples of actually killing the human representative of the corn-spirit we had of course to go to savage [pg 068] races; but the harvest suppers of our European peasants have furnished unmistakable examples of the sacramental eating of animals as representatives of the corn-spirit. But further, as might have been anticipated, the new corn is itself eaten sacramentally, that is, as the body of the corn-spirit. In Wermland, Sweden, the farmer's wife uses the grain of the last sheaf to bake a loaf in the shape of a little girl; this loaf is divided amongst the whole household and eaten by them.240 Here the loaf represents the corn-spirit conceived as a maiden; just as in Scotland the corn-spirit is similarly conceived and represented by the last sheaf made up in the form of a woman and bearing the name of the Maiden. As usual, the corn-spirit is believed to reside in the last sheaf; and to eat a loaf made from the last sheaf is, therefore, to eat the corn-spirit itself. Similarly at La Palisse in France a man made of dough is hung upon the fir-tree which is carried on the last harvest-waggon. The tree and the dough-man are taken to the mayor's house and kept there till the vintage is over. Then the close of the harvest is celebrated by a feast at which the mayor breaks the dough-man in pieces and gives the pieces to the people to eat.241
We have now seen that the corn spirit is sometimes portrayed in human form and sometimes in animal form, and in both instances, he is killed through his representative and eaten in a ritual manner. To find examples of actually killing the human representative of the corn spirit, we had to look at primitive [pg 068] cultures; however, the harvest feasts of our European peasants have provided clear examples of sacramental eating of animals as representations of the corn spirit. Furthermore, as expected, the new corn is also eaten sacramentally, meaning it is consumed as the body of the corn spirit. In Wermland, Sweden, the farmer's wife uses the grain from the last sheaf to bake a loaf shaped like a little girl; this loaf is shared among the entire household and eaten by them.240 Here, the loaf symbolizes the corn spirit as a maiden; similarly, in Scotland, the corn spirit is viewed and represented by the last sheaf made into the form of a woman and known as the Maiden. As is common, the corn spirit is believed to dwell in the last sheaf, so eating a loaf made from this sheaf is, essentially, eating the corn spirit itself. Likewise, in La Palisse, France, a dough figure is hung on the fir tree carried by the last harvest wagon. The tree and the dough figure are brought to the mayor's house and kept there until the vintage is complete. Then, the end of the harvest is celebrated with a feast where the mayor breaks the dough figure into pieces and hands them out for everyone to eat.241
In these examples the corn-spirit is represented and eaten in human shape. In other cases, though the new corn is not baked in loaves of human shape, still the solemn ceremonies with which it is eaten suffice to indicate that it is partaken of sacramentally, that is, as the body of the corn-spirit. For example, the following ceremonies used to be [pg 069] observed by Lithuanian peasants at eating the new corn. When the harvest and the sowing of the new corn were over, each farmer held a festival called Sabarios, that is, “the mixing or throwing together.” He took a handful of each kind of grain—wheat, barley, oats, flax, beans, lentils, etc.; and each handful he divided into three parts. The twenty-seven portions of each grain were then thrown on a heap and all mixed up together. The grain used had to be the grain which was first threshed and winnowed and which had been set aside and kept for this purpose. A part of the grain thus mixed was used to bake little loaves, one for each of the household; the rest was mixed with more barley or oats and made into beer. The first beer brewed from this mixture was for the drinking of the farmer, his wife, and children; the second brew was for the servants. The beer being ready, the farmer chose an evening when no stranger was expected. Then he knelt down before the barrel of beer, drew a jugful of the liquor and poured it on the bung of the barrel, saying, “O fruitful earth, make rye and barley and all kinds of corn to flourish.” Next he took the jug to the parlour, where his wife and children awaited him. On the floor of the parlour lay bound a black or white or speckled (not a red) cock and a hen of the same colour and of the same brood, which must have been hatched within the year. Then the farmer knelt down, with the jug in his hand, and thanked God for the harvest and prayed for a good crop next year. Then all lifted up their hands and said, “O God, and thou, O earth, we give you this cock and hen as a free-will offering.” With that the farmer killed the fowls with the blows of a wooden spoon, for he might not cut their heads off. After the first prayer [pg 070] and after killing each of the birds he poured out a third of the beer. Then his wife boiled the fowls in a new pot which had never been used before. A bushel was then set, bottom upwards, on the floor, and on it were placed the little loaves mentioned above and the boiled fowls. Next the new beer was fetched, together with a ladle and three mugs, none of which was used except on this occasion. When the farmer had ladled the beer into the mugs, the family knelt down round the bushel. The father then uttered a prayer and drank off the three mugs of beer. The rest followed his example. Then the loaves and the flesh of the fowls were eaten, after which the beer went round again, till every one had emptied each of the three mugs nine times. None of the food should remain over; but if anything did happen to be left, it was consumed next morning with the same ceremonies. The bones were then given to the dog to eat; if he did not eat them all up, the remains were buried under the dung in the cattle-stall. This ceremony was observed at the beginning of December. On the day on which it occurred no bad word might be spoken.242
In these examples, the corn spirit is depicted and eaten in human form. In other instances, even though the new corn isn’t baked into human-shaped loaves, the solemn ceremonies surrounding its consumption indicate it is partaken of sacramentally, meaning it symbolizes the body of the corn spirit. For instance, the following ceremonies were traditionally observed by Lithuanian peasants when eating the new corn. Once the harvest and planting of the new corn were finished, each farmer held a festival called Sabarios, which means “the mixing or throwing together.” He took a handful of each type of grain—wheat, barley, oats, flax, beans, lentils, etc.; and he divided each handful into three parts. The twenty-seven portions of each type of grain were then piled together and mixed. The grain used had to be the first threshed and winnowed grain that was set aside for this occasion. A portion of the mixed grain was used to bake small loaves, one for each member of the household; the remainder was mixed with more barley or oats and brewed into beer. The first batch of beer made from this mixture was for the farmer, his wife, and children; the second batch was for the workers. Once the beer was ready, the farmer chose an evening when no one else was expected. He knelt before the beer barrel, filled a jug with the liquid, and poured it on the barrel's bung, saying, “O fruitful earth, make rye, barley, and all kinds of corn to thrive.” Next, he took the jug to the living room, where his wife and children awaited him. On the floor lay a black or white or speckled (not red) rooster and hen of the same color and brood, which must have been hatched within the last year. The farmer then knelt with the jug in hand, thanked God for the harvest, and prayed for a good crop the following year. Then everyone raised their hands and said, “O God, and you, O earth, we offer you this rooster and hen as a free-will offering.” With that, the farmer killed the birds with strikes from a wooden spoon, as he was not allowed to cut off their heads. After the first prayer and after killing each bird, he poured out a third of the beer. His wife then boiled the birds in a new pot that had never been used before. A bushel was placed upside down on the floor, and the small loaves and boiled birds were put on top. Next, the new beer was brought in, along with a ladle and three mugs, all of which were only used for this ceremony. Once the farmer had ladled the beer into the mugs, the family knelt around the bushel. The father then prayed and drank all three mugs of beer. The rest followed suit. After that, the loaves and chicken were eaten, and the beer was passed around again until everyone had emptied each of the three mugs nine times. No food was supposed to be left over; if anything remained, it was consumed the next morning with the same rituals. The bones were then given to the dog; if he didn’t eat them all, the leftovers were buried under manure in the cattle shed. This ceremony took place in early December. On the day it occurred, no bad words could be spoken.
Such was the custom about two hundred years ago. At the present day in Lithuania, when new potatoes or loaves made from the new corn are being eaten, all the people at table pull each other's hair.243 The meaning of the latter custom is obscure, but a similar custom was certainly observed by the heathen Lithuanians at their solemn sacrifices.244 Many of the Esthonians of the island of Oesel will not eat bread [pg 071] baked of the new corn till they have first taken a bite at a piece of iron.245 The iron is here plainly a charm, intended to render harmless the spirit that is in the corn.246 In Sutherlandshire at the present day, when the new potatoes are dug all the family must taste them, otherwise “the spirits in them [the potatoes] take offence, and the potatoes would not keep.”247 In one part of Yorkshire it is still the custom for the clergyman to cut the first corn; and my informant believes that the corn so cut is used to make the communion bread.248 If the latter part of the custom is correctly reported (and analogy is all in its favour), it shows how the Christian communion has absorbed within itself a sacrament which is doubtless far older than Christianity.
This was the custom about two hundred years ago. Nowadays in Lithuania, when people are eating new potatoes or loaves made from the new grain, everyone at the table pulls each other’s hair. The reason behind this custom is unclear, but a similar practice was definitely followed by the pagan Lithuanians during their serious sacrifices. Many Estonians from the island of Oesel won't eat bread baked from the new grain until they take a bite of a piece of iron first. The iron is clearly a charm meant to protect against the spirit in the grain. In Sutherlandshire today, when new potatoes are harvested, the whole family must taste them; otherwise, “the spirits in them take offence, and the potatoes would not keep.” In one part of Yorkshire, it's still customary for the clergyman to cut the first grain, and my source believes that the grain cut this way is used to make the communion bread. If the latter part of the custom is accurately reported (and there’s good reason to believe it is), it suggests that the Christian communion has absorbed a sacrament that is certainly much older than Christianity.
At the close of the rice harvest in Boeroe, East Indies, each clan (fenna) meets at a common sacramental meal, to which every member of the clan is bound to contribute a little of the new rice. This meal is called “eating the soul of the rice,” a name which clearly indicates the sacramental character of the repast. Some of the rice is also set apart and offered to the spirits.249 Amongst the Alfoers of Celebes the priest sows the first rice-seed and plucks the first ripe rice in each field. This rice he roasts and grinds into meal, and gives some of it to each of the household.250 Shortly before the rice harvest in Bolang Mongondo, Celebes, an offering is made [pg 072] of a small pig or a fowl. Then the priest plucks a little rice, first on his own field and then on those of his neighbours. All the rice thus plucked by him he dries along with his own, and then gives it back to the respective owners, who have it ground and boiled. When it is boiled the women take it back, with an egg, to the priest, who offers the egg in sacrifice and returns the rice to the women. Of this rice every member of the family, down to the youngest child, must partake. After this ceremony every one is free to get in his rice.251 Amongst the Burghers, a tribe of the Neilgherry Hills in Southern India, the first handful of seed is sown and the first sheaf reaped by a Curumbar—a man of a different tribe, whom the Burghers regard as sorcerers. The grain contained in the first sheaf “is that day reduced to meal, made into cakes, and, being offered as a first-fruit oblation, is, together with the remainder of the sacrificed animal, partaken of by the Burgher and the whole of his family as the meat of a federal offering and sacrifice.”252
At the end of the rice harvest in Boeroe, East Indies, each clan (fenna) gathers for a communal meal, to which every clan member must contribute some of the new rice. This meal is called “consuming the essence of the rice,” a name that clearly shows its sacred significance. Some of the rice is also set aside and offered to the spirits.249 Among the Alfoers of Celebes, the priest plants the first rice seeds and harvests the first ripe rice from each field. He roasts and grinds the rice into flour, then gives some of it to each household.250 Just before the rice harvest in Bolang Mongondo, Celebes, an offering is made [pg 072] of a small pig or a chicken. Then the priest picks some rice, starting in his own field and then in his neighbors' fields. He dries all the rice he collects with his own, and then returns it to the respective owners, who have it ground and cooked. Once it is cooked, the women take it back, along with an egg, to the priest, who offers the egg as a sacrifice and gives the rice back to the women. Every family member, including the youngest child, must eat some of this rice. After this ceremony, everyone is free to harvest their rice.251 Among the Burghers, a tribe in the Neilgherry Hills of Southern India, the first handful of seeds is sown and the first sheaf is harvested by a Curumbar—a man from a different tribe whom the Burghers consider to be sorcerers. The grain from the first sheaf “On that day, it is turned into flour, made into cakes, and offered as a first-fruit gift. Along with the leftover meat from the sacrificed animal, it is shared by the Burgher and his whole family as part of a communal offering and sacrifice.”252
Amongst the Coorgs of Southern India the man who is to cut the first sheaf of rice at harvest is chosen by an astrologer. At sunset the whole household takes a hot bath and then goes to the rice-field, where the chosen reaper cuts an armful of rice with a new sickle, and distributes two or more stalks to all present. Then all return to the threshing-floor. A bundle of leaves is adorned with a stalk of rice and fastened to the post in the centre of the threshing-floor. Enough of the new rice [pg 073] is now threshed, cleaned, and ground to provide flour for the dough cakes which each member of the household is to eat. Then they go to the door of the house, where the mistress washes the feet of the sheaf-cutter, and presents to him, and after him to all the rest, a brass vessel full of milk, honey, and sugar, from which each person takes a draught. Then the man who cut the sheaf kneads a cake of rice meal, plantains, milk, honey, seven new rice corns, seven pieces of cocoa-nut, etc. Every one receives a little of this cake on an Ashvatha leaf, and eats it. The ceremony is then over and the sheaf-cutter mixes with the company. When he was engaged in cutting the rice no one might touch him.253 Among the Hindoos of Southern India the eating of the new rice is the occasion of a family festival called Pongol. The new rice is boiled in a new pot on a fire which is kindled at noon on the day when, according to Hindoo astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of Capricorn. The boiling of the pot is watched with great anxiety by the whole family, for as the milk boils, so will the coming year be. If the milk boils rapidly, the year will be prosperous; but it will be the reverse if the milk boils slowly. Some of the new boiled rice is offered to the image of Ganesa; then every one partakes of it.254 At Gilgit, in the Hindoo Koosh, before wheat-harvest begins, a member of every household gathers a handful of ears of corn secretly at dusk. A few of the ears are hung up over the door of the house, and the rest are roasted next morning, [pg 074] and eaten steeped in milk. The day is spent in rejoicings, and next morning the harvest begins.255
Among the Coorgs of Southern India, the man chosen to cut the first sheaf of rice at harvest is selected by an astrologer. At sunset, the entire household takes a hot bath and then heads to the rice field, where the chosen reaper cuts a handful of rice with a new sickle and shares two or more stalks with everyone present. Then, they all return to the threshing floor. A bundle of leaves is decorated with a stalk of rice and tied to the post in the center of the threshing floor. Enough of the new rice [pg 073] is threshed, cleaned, and ground to make flour for the dough cakes that each household member will eat. Next, they go to the door of the house, where the mistress washes the feet of the sheaf cutter and presents to him, and then to everyone else, a brass vessel filled with milk, honey, and sugar, from which each person takes a drink. The man who cut the sheaf then kneads a cake made of rice meal, plantains, milk, honey, seven new rice grains, seven pieces of coconut, and so on. Everyone receives a small portion of this cake on an Ashvatha leaf and eats it. The ceremony concludes, and the sheaf cutter joins the company. While he was cutting the rice, no one was allowed to touch him.253 Among the Hindus of Southern India, the eating of the new rice marks a family festival called Pongol. The new rice is cooked in a new pot over a fire lit at noon on the day when, according to Hindu astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of Capricorn. The boiling pot is watched anxiously by the entire family, as the way the milk boils indicates how the upcoming year will be. If the milk boils quickly, the year is expected to be prosperous; if it boils slowly, the opposite is true. Some of the newly boiled rice is offered to the image of Ganesa, and then everyone partakes of it.254 In Gilgit, in the Hindu Kush, before the wheat harvest begins, a member of each household secretly gathers a handful of ears of corn at dusk. A few of the ears are hung over the door of the house, and the rest are roasted the next morning, [pg 074] and eaten soaked in milk. The day is filled with celebrations, and the harvest starts the following morning.255
The ceremony of eating the new yams at Onitsha, on the Quorra River, Guinea, is thus described: “Each headman brought out six yams, and cut down young branches of palm-leaves and placed them before his gate, roasted three of the yams, and got some kola-nuts and fish. After the yam is roasted, the Libia, or country doctor, takes the yam, scrapes it with a sort of meal, and divides it into halves; he then takes one piece, and places it on the lips of the person who is going to eat the new yam. The eater then blows up the steam from the hot yam, and afterwards pokes the whole into his mouth, and says, ‘I thank God for being permitted to eat the new yam;’ he then begins to chew it heartily, with fish likewise.”256 Amongst the Kafirs of Natal and Zululand, no one may eat of the new fruits till after a festival which marks the beginning of the Kafir year. All the people assemble at the king's kraal, where they feast and dance. Before they separate the “dedication of the people” takes place. Various fruits of the earth, as corn, mealies, and pumpkins, mixed with the flesh of a sacrificed animal and with “medicine,” are boiled in great pots, and a little of this food is placed in each man's mouth by the king himself. After thus partaking of the sanctified fruits, a man is himself sanctified for the whole year, and may immediately get in his crops.257
The ceremony of eating the new yams at Onitsha, on the Quorra River in Guinea, is described like this: Each headman brought out six yams, cut young branches of palm leaves, and placed them in front of his gate. He roasted three yams and prepared some kola nuts and fish. After the yam is roasted, the Libia, or local doctor, takes the yam, scrapes it with some kind of meal, and divides it in half. He then takes one piece and places it on the lips of the person who is going to eat the new yam. The eater then blows off the steam from the hot yam, pops the whole thing into their mouth, and says, ‘I thank God for letting me eat the new yam;’ and then starts to chew it eagerly, along with the fish.256 Among the Kafirs of Natal and Zululand, no one may eat the new fruits until after a festival that marks the beginning of the Kafir year. Everyone gathers at the king's kraal, where they feast and dance. Before they break apart, the "commitment of the people" takes place. Various fruits like corn, mealies, and pumpkins are mixed with the flesh of a sacrificed animal and with "medication," boiled in large pots, and a bit of this food is put into each man’s mouth by the king himself. After partaking of the sanctified fruits, a man is considered sanctified for the entire year and can immediately begin harvesting his crops.257
Amongst the Creek Indians of North America, the busk or festival of first-fruits was the chief ceremony of the year.258 It was held in July or August, when the corn was ripe, and marked the end of the old year and the beginning of the new one. Before it took place none of the Indians would eat or even handle any part of the new harvest. Sometimes each town had its own busk; sometimes several towns united to hold one in common. Before celebrating the busk, the people provided themselves with new clothes and new household utensils and furniture; they collected their old clothes and rubbish, together with all the remaining grain and other old provisions, cast them together in one common heap, and consumed them with fire.259 As a preparation for the ceremony, all the fires in the village were extinguished, and the ashes swept clean away. In particular, the hearth or altar of the temple was dug up and the [pg 076] ashes carried out. Then the chief priest put some roots of the button-snake plant, with some green tobacco leaves and a little of the new fruits, at the bottom of the fireplace, which he afterwards ordered to be covered up with white clay, and wetted over with clean water. A thick arbour of green branches of young trees was then made over the altar.260 Meanwhile the women at home were cleaning out their houses, renewing the old hearths, and scouring all the cooking vessels that they might be ready to receive the new fire and the new fruits.261 The public or sacred square was carefully swept of even the smallest crumbs of previous feasts, “for fear of polluting the first-fruit offerings.” Also every vessel that had contained or had been used about any food during the expiring year was removed from the temple before sunset. Then all the men who were not known to have violated the law of the first-fruit offering and that of marriage during the year were summoned by a crier to enter the holy square and observe a solemn fast. But the women (except six old ones), the children, and all who had not attained the rank of warriors were forbidden to enter the square. Sentinels were also posted at the corners of the square to keep out all persons deemed impure and all animals. A strict fast was then observed for two nights and a day, the devotees drinking a bitter decoction of button-snake root “in order to vomit and purge their sinful bodies.” That the people outside the square might also be purified, one of the old men laid down a [pg 077] quantity of green tobacco at a corner of the square; this was carried off by an old woman and distributed to the people without, who chewed and swallowed it “in order to afflict their souls.” During this general fast, the women, children, and men of weak constitution were allowed to eat after mid-day, but not before. On the morning when the fast ended, the women brought a quantity of the old year's food to the outside of the sacred square. These provisions were then brought in and set before the famished multitude, but all traces of them had to be removed before noon. When the sun was declining from the meridian, all the people were commanded by the voice of a crier to stay within doors, to do no bad act, and to be sure to extinguish and throw away every spark of the old fire. Universal silence now reigned. Then the high priest made the new fire by the friction of two pieces of wood, and placed it on the altar under the green arbour. This new fire was believed to atone for all past crimes except murder. Then a basket of new fruits was brought; the high priest took out a little of each sort of fruit, rubbed it with bear's oil, and offered it, together with some flesh, “to the bountiful holy spirit of fire, as a first-fruit offering, and an annual oblation for sin.” He also consecrated the sacred emetics (the button-snake root and the cassina or black-drink) by pouring a little of them into the fire. The persons who had remained outside now approached, without entering, the sacred square; and the chief priest thereupon made a speech, exhorting the people to observe their old rites and customs, announcing that the new divine fire had purged away the sins of the past year, and earnestly warning the women that, if any of them had not extinguished the old fire, or had contracted any impurity, [pg 078] they must forthwith depart, “lest the divine fire should spoil both them and the people.” Some of the new fire was then laid down outside the holy square; the women carried it home joyfully, and laid it on their unpolluted hearths. When several towns had united to celebrate the festival, the new fire might thus be carried for several miles. The new fruits were then dressed on the new fires and eaten with bear's oil, which was deemed indispensable. At one point of the festival the men rubbed the new corn between their hands, then on their faces and breasts.262 During the festival which followed, the warriors, dressed in their wild martial array, their heads covered with white down and carrying white feathers in their hands, danced round the sacred arbour, under which burned the new fire. The ceremonies lasted eight days, during which the strictest continence was practised. Towards the conclusion of the festival the warriors fought a mock battle; then the men and women together, in three circles, danced round the sacred fire. Lastly, all the people smeared themselves with white clay and bathed in running water. They came out of the water “believing themselves out of the reach of temporal evil for their past vicious conduct.” So they departed in joy and peace.
Among the Creek Indians of North America, the perform on the street or festival of first fruits was the biggest ceremony of the year.258 It took place in July or August, when the corn was ready to harvest, marking the end of the old year and the start of the new one. Before the festival, no one in the tribe would eat or even touch any part of the new harvest. Sometimes each town would have its own busk, and other times several towns would join together for a shared celebration. Prior to the busk, people bought new clothes and household items; they gathered their old clothes and junk, along with leftover grain and old provisions, piled them up, and set them on fire.259 To prepare for the ceremony, all the fires in the village were put out, and the ashes were swept away. Specifically, the hearth or altar of the temple was cleared, and the [pg 076] ashes were removed. Then the chief priest placed some roots from the button-snake plant, along with green tobacco leaves and a bit of the new fruits, at the bottom of the fireplace, which he then covered with white clay and moistened with clean water. A thick arbor of green branches from young trees was built over the altar.260 Meanwhile, the women at home cleaned their houses, replaced the old hearths, and scrubbed all the cooking pots to get ready for the new fire and the new fruits.261 The public or sacred square was carefully cleared of even the smallest crumbs from past feasts, “to avoid contaminating the first-fruit offerings.” Additionally, every vessel that contained or was used for food during the previous year had to be removed from the temple before sunset. Then, all the men who hadn’t broken the rules of the first-fruit offering or marriage during the year were called by a crier to enter the holy square and participate in a solemn fast. Women (except for six old women), children, and anyone who hadn’t reached warrior status were not allowed to enter the square. Sentinels were stationed at the corners of the square to keep out anyone regarded as impure and any animals. A strict fast was then observed for two nights and one day, with the participants drinking a bitter brew of button-snake root "to throw up and cleanse their sinful bodies." To purify those outside the square, one of the old men placed a [pg 077] quantity of green tobacco at a corner of the square; an old woman took it and distributed it to the people outside, who chewed and swallowed it “to torment themselves.” During this communal fast, women, children, and men of weaker constitution were allowed to eat after midday but not before. On the morning the fast ended, the women brought some of the last year’s food to the outside of the sacred square. This food was then brought in and placed before the starving crowd, but all traces of it had to be cleared away by noon. When the sun was going down from its highest point, everyone was commanded by a crier to stay indoors, avoid bad behavior, and make sure to put out and discard every spark of the old fire. A profound silence fell over everything. Then the high priest created the new fire by twirling two pieces of wood together and placed it on the altar under the green arbor. This new fire was believed to atone for all past sins except murder. Then a basket of new fruits was brought; the high priest took a little of each type of fruit, rubbed it with bear’s oil, and offered it, along with some meat, "to the abundant holy spirit of fire, as an initial offering, and a yearly sacrifice for sin." He also sanctified the sacred emetics (the button-snake root and the cassina or black drink) by pouring a little into the fire. The people who had stayed outside then approached, without entering, the sacred square; the chief priest then gave a speech, urging the community to follow their traditional rituals and customs, proclaiming that the new divine fire had cleansed the sins of the past year, and earnestly warning the women that if any of them hadn’t put out the old fire or had become impure, [pg 078] they needed to leave immediately, “or else the divine fire could ruin both them and the people.” Some of the new fire was then placed outside the holy square; the women happily took it home and placed it on their clean hearths. When multiple towns joined together to celebrate the festival, the new fire could be carried for several miles. The new fruits were then cooked over the new fires and eaten with bear’s oil, which was considered essential. At one point during the festival, the men rubbed the new corn between their hands, then on their faces and chests.262 During the following festival, the warriors, dressed in their wild warrior attire, their heads adorned with white down and holding white feathers, danced around the sacred arbor, where the new fire burned. The ceremonies lasted eight days, during which strict self-control was maintained. Towards the end of the festival, the warriors engaged in a mock battle; then the men and women, together in three circles, danced around the sacred fire. Finally, everyone covered themselves in white clay and bathed in flowing water. They emerged from the water “thinking they are free from earthly troubles because of their past wrongdoing.” So they left in joy and peace.
The solemn preparations thus made for eating the new corn prove that it was eaten as a sacrament. In the Boeroe and Creek customs, this sacrament is combined with a sacrifice, and in course of time the sacrifice of first-fruits tends to throw the sacrament into the shade, if not to supersede it. The mere fact of having offered the first-fruits to the gods or ancestral spirits comes now to be thought a sufficient preparation [pg 079] for eating the new corn; the gods having received their share, man is free to enjoy the rest. This mode of viewing the new fruits implies that they are regarded no longer as themselves instinct with divine life, but merely as a gift bestowed by the gods upon man, who is bound to express his gratitude and homage to his divine benefactors by presenting them with a portion of the fruits of the earth. But with sacrifice, as distinct from sacrament, we are not here concerned.263
The serious preparations made for eating the new corn show that it was consumed as a sacred act. In the Boeroe and Creek traditions, this sacred act is linked with a sacrifice, and over time, the sacrifice of the first fruits tends to overshadow the sacred act, if not replace it entirely. Simply offering the first fruits to the gods or ancestral spirits is now seen as enough preparation for eating the new corn; once the gods have received their share, people are free to enjoy the rest. This view suggests that the new fruits are no longer seen as being filled with divine life, but merely as gifts given by the gods to humans, who are expected to show their gratitude and respect to their divine benefactors by offering a portion of the earth’s fruits. However, we are not discussing sacrifice, separate from the sacred act, here. [pg 079]
The custom of eating bread sacramentally as the body of a god was practised by the Aztecs before the discovery and conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards. Twice a year, in May and December, an image of the great Mexican god Huitzilopochtli or Vitzilipuztli was made of dough, then broken in pieces, and solemnly eaten by his worshippers. The May ceremony is thus described by the historian Acosta. “Two daies before this feast, the virgins whereof I have spoken (the which were shut up and secluded in the same temple and were as it were religious women) did mingle a quantitie of the seede of beetes with roasted Mays [maize], and then they did mould it with honie, making an idol of that paste in bignesse like to that of wood, putting insteede of eyes graines of greene glasse, of blue or white; and for teeth graines of Mays set forth with all the ornament and furniture that I have said. This being finished, all the Noblemen came and brought it an exquisite and rich garment, like unto that of the idol, wherewith they did attyre it. Being thus clad and deckt, they did set it in an azured chaire and in a litter to carry it on their shoulders. The morning of this feast being come, an houre before day all the maidens came forth attired in white, with new ornaments, [pg 080] the which that day were called the Sisters of their god Vitzilipuztli, they came crowned with garlands of Mays rosted and parched, being like unto azahar or the flower of orange; and about their neckes they had great chaines of the same, which went bauldricke-wise under their left arme. Their cheekes were died with vermillion, their armes from the elbow to the wrist were covered with red parrots' feathers.” Young men, crowned like the virgins with maize, then carried the idol in its litter to the foot of the great pyramid-shaped temple, up the steep and narrow steps of which it was drawn to the music of flutes, trumpets, cornets, and drums. “While they mounted up the idoll all the people stoode in the Court with much reverence and feare. Being mounted to the top, and that they had placed it in a little lodge of roses which they held readie, presently came the yong men, which strawed many flowers of sundrie kindes, wherewith they filled the temple both within and without. This done, all the virgins came out of their convent, bringing peeces of paste compounded of beetes and rosted Mays, which was of the same paste whereof their idol was made and compounded, and they were of the fashion of great bones. They delivered them to the yong men, who carried them up and laide them at the idoll's feete, wherewith they filled the whole place that it could receive no more. They called these morcells of paste the flesh and bones of Vitzilipuztli.” Then the priests came in their robes of office, “and putting themselves in order about these morsells and peeces of paste, they used certaine ceremonies with singing and dauncing. By means whereof they were blessed and consecrated for the flesh and bones of this idoll.... The ceremonies, dauncing, and sacrifice ended, they went [pg 081] to unclothe themselves, and the priests and superiors of the temple tooke the idoll of paste, which they spoyled of all the ornaments it had, and made many peeces, as well of the idoll itselfe as of the tronchons which were consecrated, and then they gave them to the people in maner of a communion, beginning with the greater, and continuing unto the rest, both men, women, and little children, who received it with such teares, feare, and reverence as it was an admirable thing, saying that they did eate the flesh and bones of God, wherewith they were grieved. Such as had any sicke folkes demaunded thereof for them, and carried it with great reverence and veneration.”264
The practice of eating bread as a sacred representation of a god was observed by the Aztecs before the Spanish discovered and conquered Mexico. Twice a year, in May and December, an image of the great Mexican god Huitzilopochtli or Vitzilipuztli was made from dough, then broken into pieces, and solemnly consumed by his followers. The May ceremony is described by the historian Acosta: “Two days before this celebration, the virgins I mentioned (who were confined to the same temple and acted like devoted women) mixed some beet seeds with roasted corn, then shaped it with honey to create an idol from that dough, roughly the size of a wooden one. They used green, blue, or white glass seeds for the eyes, and corn seeds decorated with all the embellishments I’ve described for the teeth. Once it was done, all the nobles came and brought it an elegant and rich garment, similar to that of the idol, to dress it. Dressed and adorned this way, they placed it in a blue chair and carried it on their shoulders. On the morning of the feast, an hour before dawn, all the maidens in white emerged, wearing new decorations, [pg 080] referred to as the Sisters of their god Vitzilipuztli that day, crowned with garlands of roasted corn that resembled orange blossoms; around their necks, they wore heavy chains made of the same, draped under their left arms. Their cheeks were painted with vermillion, and their arms from elbow to wrist were covered with red parrot feathers.” Young men, also crowned with corn, then carried the idol in its litter to the foot of the great pyramid-shaped temple, up the steep and narrow steps of which it was pulled to the music of flutes, trumpets, cornets, and drums. As they climbed up with the idol, everyone in the courtyard stood with great respect and fear. When they reached the top and placed it in a small booth of roses they had prepared, young men came and scattered a variety of flowers, filling the temple both inside and out. Once that was done, all the virgins emerged from their convent, bringing pieces of dough made from beets and roasted corn, the same dough used to create their idol, shaped like large bones. They handed these pieces to the young men, who carried them up and laid them at the idol's feet, filling the area to capacity. They called these pieces of dough the flesh and bones of Vitzilipuztli. Then the priests arrived in their ceremonial robes, They gathered around the pieces of dough, performing rituals with singing and dancing. Through these actions, they were blessed and dedicated as the body and bones of this idol. After the rituals, dancing, and offerings were finished, they went [pg 081] to change clothes. The priests and temple leaders took the dough idol, removed all its decorations, and broke it into many pieces, along with the offerings that had been consecrated. They distributed these in a communal manner, starting with the higher-ranking individuals and continuing to everyone else—men, women, and children—who received it with tears, fear, and respect, as it was a profound act, believing they were consuming the flesh and bones of God, which brought them sadness. Those with sick family members requested it for them and carried it away with great respect and reverence.264
Before the festival in December, which took place at the winter solstice, an image of the god Huitzilopochtli was made of seeds of various sorts kneaded into a dough with the blood of children. The bones of the god were represented by pieces of acacia wood, This image was placed on the chief altar of the temple, and on the day of the festival the king offered incense to it. Early next day it was taken down and set on its feet in a great hall. Then a priest took a flint-tipped dart and hurled it into the breast of the dough-image, piercing it through and through. This was called “killing the god Huitzilopochtli so that his body might be eaten.” One of the priests cut out the heart of the image and gave it to the king to eat. The rest of the image was divided into minute pieces, of which every man great and small, down to the male children in the cradle, received one to eat. But no woman might taste a morsel. The ceremony was called teoqualo, that is, “god is eaten.”265
Before the festival in December, which happened at the winter solstice, an image of the god Huitzilopochtli was made from various seed types kneaded into a dough with children's blood. The bones of the god were represented by pieces of acacia wood. This image was placed on the main altar of the temple, and on the day of the festival, the king offered incense to it. Early the next day, it was taken down and stood up in a great hall. Then a priest took a flint-tipped dart and threw it into the chest of the dough image, piercing it completely. This act was called " killing the god Huitzilopochtli so that his body could be consumed." One of the priests cut out the heart of the image and gave it to the king to eat. The rest of the image was broken into small pieces, which everyone, great and small, including male infants in cribs, received to eat. But no woman was allowed to taste even a bit. The ceremony was called teoqualo, meaning “God is consumed.”265
At another festival the Mexicans made little images in human shape to represent the cloud-capped mountains. These images were made of paste of various seeds and were dressed in paper ornaments. Some people made five, others ten, others as many as fifteen of these paste images. They were placed in the oratory of each house and worshipped. Four times in the course of the night offerings of food were made to them in tiny vessels; and people sang and played the flute before them all night. At break of day the priests stabbed the images with a weaver's instrument, cut off their heads, and tore out their hearts, which they presented to the master of the house on a green saucer. The bodies of the images were then eaten by all the family, especially by the servants, “in order that by eating them they might be preserved from certain distempers, to which those persons who were negligent of worship to those deities conceived themselves to be subject.” 266
At another festival, the Mexicans created small human-shaped figures to symbolize the cloud-covered mountains. These figures were made from a paste of various seeds and were adorned with paper decorations. Some people made five, others ten, and some even made as many as fifteen of these paste figures. They were placed in the oratory of each house and worshipped. Four times during the night, food offerings were made to them in tiny vessels, and people sang and played the flute before them all night long. At dawn, the priests pierced the figures with a weaver's tool, decapitated them, and removed their hearts, presenting these to the master of the house on a green dish. The bodies of the figures were then eaten by the whole family, especially by the servants, “so that by eating them, they could be protected from certain illnesses which people who neglected to worship those deities believed they were vulnerable to.” 266
We are now able to suggest an explanation of the proverb “there are many Manii at Aricia.”267 Certain loaves made in the shape of men were called by the Romans maniae, and it appears that this kind of loaf was especially made at Aricia.268 Now, Mania, the name of one of these loaves, was also the name of the Mother or Grandmother of Ghosts,269 to whom woollen [pg 083] effigies of men and women were dedicated at the festival of the Compitalia. These effigies were hung at the doors of all the houses in Rome; one effigy was hung up for every free person in the house, and one effigy, of a different kind, for every slave. The reason was that on this day the ghosts of the dead were believed to be going about, and it was hoped that they would carry off the effigies at the door instead of the living people in the house. According to tradition, these woollen figures were substitutes for a former custom of sacrificing human beings.270 Upon data so fragmentary and uncertain, it is of course impossible to build with certainty; but it seems worth suggesting that the loaves in human form, which appear to have been baked at Aricia, were sacramental bread, and that in the old days, when the divine King of the Wood was annually slain, loaves were made in his image, like the paste figures of the gods in Mexico, and were eaten sacramentally by his worshippers.271 [pg 084] The Mexican sacraments in honour of Huitzilopochtli were also accompanied by the sacrifice of human victims. The tradition that the founder of the sacred grove at Aricia was a man named Manius, from whom many Manii were descended, would thus be an etymological myth invented to explain the name maniae as applied to these sacramental loaves. A dim recollection of the original connection of these loaves with human sacrifices may perhaps be traced in the story that the effigies dedicated to Mania at the Compitalia were substitutes for human victims. The story itself, however, is probably devoid of foundation, since the practice of putting up dummies to divert the attention of demons from living people is not uncommon. For example, when an epidemic is raging, some of the Dyaks of Borneo set up wooden images at their doors, in the hope that the demons of the plague will be deceived into carrying off the images instead of the people.272 The Minahassa of Celebes will sometimes transport a sick man to another house, leaving on his bed a dummy made up of a pillow and clothes. This dummy the demon is supposed to take by mistake for the sick man, who consequently recovers.273 Similarly in Burma it is thought that a patient will recover if an effigy be buried in a small coffin.274
We can now suggest an explanation for the proverb "There are many Manii in Aricia."267 Certain loaves shaped like men were called mania by the Romans, and it seems this type of loaf was particularly made at Aricia.268 Now, Mania, the name of one of these loaves, was also the name of the Mother or Grandmother of Ghosts,269 to whom woollen [pg 083] effigies of men and women were dedicated during the festival of the Compitalia. These effigies were hung at the doors of all the houses in Rome; one effigy was hung up for every free person in the house, and one effigy, of a different kind, for every slave. The reason for this was that on this day, people believed the ghosts of the dead roamed about, and it was hoped they would take the effigies at the door instead of the living people inside. According to tradition, these woollen figures were substitutes for a former practice of sacrificing humans.270 Based on such fragmentary and uncertain information, it’s impossible to draw definite conclusions; however, it seems worth suggesting that the human-shaped loaves, which were likely baked at Aricia, were sacramental bread, and in ancient times, when the divine King of the Wood was annually killed, loaves were made in his image, similar to the paste figures of the gods in Mexico, and were eaten sacramentally by his worshippers.271 The Mexican sacraments honoring Huitzilopochtli were also accompanied by the sacrifice of human victims. The tradition that the founder of the sacred grove at Aricia was a man named Manius, from whom many Manii descended, would then be an etymological myth created to explain the name mania as applied to these sacramental loaves. A vague memory of the original connection of these loaves to human sacrifices might be found in the story that the effigies dedicated to Mania at the Compitalia were substitutes for human victims. However, this story likely lacks a strong basis, since the practice of setting up dummies to divert the attention of demons from living people is not uncommon. For instance, when an epidemic strikes, some Dyaks of Borneo place wooden figures at their doors, hoping that the plague demons will be tricked into carrying off the figures instead of the actual people.272 The Minahassa of Celebes will sometimes move a sick person to another house, leaving a dummy made of a pillow and clothes in their bed. This dummy is thought to confuse the demon into thinking it’s the sick person, allowing the real person to recover.273 Similarly, in Burma, it’s believed that a patient will heal if an effigy is buried in a small coffin.274
The custom of killing the god has now been traced [pg 085] amongst peoples who have reached the agricultural stage of society. We have seen that the spirit of the corn, or of other cultivated plants, is commonly represented either in human or in animal form, and that a custom has prevailed of killing annually either the human or the animal representative of the god. The reason for thus killing the corn-spirit in the person of his representative has been given implicitly in the earlier part of this chapter. But, further, we have found a widespread custom of eating the god sacramentally, either in the shape of the man or animal who represents the god, or in the shape of bread made in human or animal form. The reasons for thus partaking of the body of the god are, from the primitive standpoint, simple enough. The savage commonly believes that by eating the flesh of an animal or man he acquires not only the physical, but even the moral and intellectual qualities which were characteristic of that animal or man. To take examples. The Creeks, Cherokees, and kindred tribes of North American Indians “believe that nature is possessed of such a property, as to transfuse into men and animals the qualities, either of the food they use, or of those objects that are presented to their senses; he who feeds on venison is, according to their physical system, swifter and more sagacious than the man who lives on the flesh of the clumsy bear, or helpless dunghill fowls, the slow-footed tame cattle, or the heavy wallowing swine. This is the reason that several of their old men recommend, and say, that formerly their greatest chieftains observed a constant rule in their diet, and seldom ate of any animal of a gross quality, or heavy motion of body, fancying it conveyed a dulness through the whole system, and disabled them from exerting themselves [pg 086] with proper vigour in their martial, civil, and religious duties.”275 The Zaparo Indians of South America “will, unless from necessity, in most cases not eat any heavy meats, such as tapir and peccary, but confine themselves to birds, monkeys, deer, fish, etc., principally because they argue that the heavier meats make them unwieldy, like the animals who supply the flesh, impeding their agility, and unfitting them for the chase.”276 The Namaquas abstain from eating the flesh of hares, because they think it would make them faint-hearted as a hare. But they eat the flesh of the lion, or drink the blood of the leopard or lion to get the courage and strength of these beasts.277 The Arabs of Eastern Africa believe that an unguent of lion's fat inspires a man with boldness, and makes the wild beasts flee in terror before him.278 When a serious disease has attacked a Zulu kraal, the medicine-man takes the bone of a very old dog, which has died a natural death from mere old age, or the bone of an old cow, bull, or other very old animal, and administers it to the healthy as well as to the sick people, in order that they may live to be as old as the animal of whose bone they have partaken.279 The Miris of Northern India prize tiger's flesh as food for men; it gives them strength and courage. But “it is not suited for women; it would make them too strong-minded.”280 Amongst the Dyaks of North-west Borneo young men and warriors may [pg 087] not eat venison, because it would make them as timid as deer; but the women and very old men are free to eat it.281 Men of the Buro and Aru Islands, East Indies, eat the flesh of dogs in order to be bold and nimble in war.282 Amongst the Papuans of the Port Moresby and Motumotu districts, New Guinea, young lads eat strong pig, wallaby, and large fish, in order to acquire the strength of the animal or fish.283 In Corea the bones of tigers fetch a higher price than those of leopards as a means of inspiring courage. A Chinaman in Soul bought and ate a whole tiger to make himself brave and fierce.284 The special seat of courage, according to the Chinese, is the gall-bladder; so they sometimes procure the gall-bladders of tigers and bears, and eat the bile in the belief that it will give them courage.285 In Norse history, Ingiald, son of King Aunund, was timid in his youth, but after eating the heart of a wolf he became very bold; and Hialto gained strength and courage by eating the heart of a bear and drinking its blood.286 In Morocco lethargic patients are given ants to swallow; and to eat lion's flesh will make a coward brave.287 When a child is late in learning to speak, the Turks of Central Asia will give it the tongues of certain birds to eat.288 A North American Indian thought that brandy must be a decoction of hearts and tongues, “Because,” said he, “after drinking it I fear nothing, and I talk wonderfully.”289 The people of Darfur, [pg 088] in Central Africa, think that the liver is the seat of the soul, and that a man may enlarge his soul by eating the liver of an animal. “Whenever an animal is killed its liver is taken out and eaten, but the people are most careful not to touch it with their hands, as it is considered sacred; it is cut up in small pieces and eaten raw, the bits being conveyed to the mouth on the point of a knife, or the sharp point of a stick. Any one who may accidentally touch the liver is strictly forbidden to partake of it, which prohibition is regarded as a great misfortune for him.” Women are not allowed to eat liver, because they have no soul.290
The practice of killing the god has now been recognized among societies that have reached an agricultural stage. We've seen that the spirit of corn, or other cultivated plants, is often depicted in human or animal form, and there is a custom of annually killing either the human or animal representative of the god. The rationale for killing the corn spirit through its representative was previously discussed in this chapter. Furthermore, we’ve identified a widespread tradition of consuming the god sacramentally, either in the form of a man or animal representing the god, or as bread shaped like a human or animal. The reasons for consuming the body of the god are quite straightforward from a primitive perspective. People often believe that by eating the flesh of an animal or human, they not only gain physical attributes but also the moral and intellectual traits characteristic of that being. For example, the Creeks, Cherokees, and related tribes of North American Indians “believe that nature has the ability to transfer qualities from the food they consume to both humans and animals; someone who eats venison is considered, according to their beliefs, faster and smarter than someone who eats the meat of slow animals like bears, chickens, domestic cattle, or pigs. This is why many of their elders suggest that historically, their greatest chiefs had a strict diet, often avoiding heavy or slow-moving animals, as they believed this would dull their senses and prevent them from performing their martial, civic, and religious duties effectively.” The Zaparo Indians of South America “generally avoid heavy meats like tapir and peccary unless necessary, preferring birds, monkeys, deer, fish, etc., mainly because they think heavier meats make them clumsy, similar to the animals that provide the meat, hindering their agility and making them unsuitable for hunting.” The Namaquas don’t eat hare meat for fear it will make them timid like a hare. However, they do consume lion meat or drink the blood of leopards or lions to gain the courage and strength of these animals. The Arabs of Eastern Africa believe that applying lion fat makes a man more courageous and causes wild animals to flee in fear. When a serious illness strikes a Zulu community, the medicine man takes a bone from an old dog that died of natural causes or an old cow, bull, or another elderly animal, and gives it to both the healthy and the sick, hoping they will live as long as the animal whose bone they have consumed. The Miris of Northern India value tiger meat as a source of strength and courage for men; however, “it is considered unsuitable for women, as it would make them too assertive.” Among the Dyaks of northwest Borneo, young men and warriors are not allowed to eat venison because it would make them as timid as deer, but women and very old men are permitted to consume it. Men from the Buro and Aru Islands in the East Indies eat dog meat to be brave and agile in battle. In Papua New Guinea, young boys consume strong pig, wallaby, and large fish to gain the strength of those animals or fish. In Korea, tiger bones are more valuable than leopard bones for inspiring courage. A Chinese person in Seoul bought and consumed an entire tiger to become fierce and brave. According to Chinese belief, the gall-bladder is the source of courage, so they sometimes obtain the gall-bladders of tigers and bears and consume the bile with the hope of gaining bravery. In Norse legends, Ingiald, son of King Aunund, was once fearful until he ate a wolf's heart, which made him bold; similarly, Hialto grew strong and courageous by consuming a bear's heart and drinking its blood. In Morocco, lethargic patients are given ants to eat, and consuming lion meat is thought to turn a coward into a brave person. If a child is slow to learn to speak, the Turks of Central Asia will let it eat the tongues of certain birds. A North American Indian believed that brandy must be a mix of hearts and tongues, saying, “Because, after drinking it, I fear nothing, and I talk wonderfully.” The people of Darfur in Central Africa believe that the liver is the seat of the soul and that one can expand their soul by eating an animal's liver. “Whenever an animal is killed, its liver is removed and eaten, but people are very careful not to touch it with their hands, as it is considered sacred; it is cut into small pieces and eaten raw, with the pieces brought to the mouth on the tip of a knife or the sharp end of a stick. Anyone who accidentally touches the liver is strictly forbidden from eating it, and this prohibition is considered a significant misfortune for them.” Women are prohibited from eating liver because they are believed to lack a soul.
Again, the flesh and blood of brave men are commonly eaten and drunk to inspire bravery. The Australian Kamilaroi eat the heart and liver of a brave man to get his courage.291 It is a common practice with the Australian blacks to kill a man, cut out his caul-fat, and rub themselves with it, “the belief being that all the qualifications, both physical and mental, of the previous owner of the fat were thus communicated to him who used it.”292 The Italones of the Philippine Islands drink the blood of their slain enemies, and eat part of the back of their heads and of their entrails raw, in order to acquire their courage. For the same reason the Efugaos, another tribe of the Philippines, suck the brains of their foes.293 Amongst the Kimbunda of Western Africa, when a new king succeeds to the throne, a brave prisoner of war is killed in order that the king and nobles may eat his flesh, and so acquire [pg 089] his strength and courage.294 The Basutos cut off pieces of their slain enemies and make them into a powder, “which is supposed to communicate to them the courage, skill, and good fortune of their adversaries.”295 The Zulus think that by eating the centre of the forehead and the eyebrow of an enemy they acquire the power of looking steadfastly at a foe.296 In the Shire Highlands of Africa those who kill a brave man eat his heart to get his courage.297 For the same purpose the Chinese eat the bile of notorious bandits who have been executed.298 In New Zealand “the chief was an atua [god], but there were powerful and powerless gods; each naturally sought to make himself one of the former; the plan therefore adopted was to incorporate the spirits of others with their own; thus, when a warrior slew a chief he immediately gouged out his eyes and swallowed them, the atua tonga, or divinity, being supposed to reside in that organ; thus he not only killed the body, but also possessed himself of the soul of his enemy, and consequently the more chiefs he slew the greater did his divinity become.”299
Again, the flesh and blood of brave men are often consumed to inspire courage. The Australian Kamilaroi eat the heart and liver of a brave man to gain his bravery. It is a common practice among the Australian Indigenous people to kill a man, take out his caul-fat, and rub it on themselves, "The belief is that all the physical and mental qualities of the previous owner of the fat were passed on to the person who used it." The Italones of the Philippine Islands drink the blood of their slain enemies and eat parts of the back of their heads and entrails raw to gain their courage. Similarly, the Efugaos, another tribe in the Philippines, suck the brains of their enemies. Among the Kimbunda of Western Africa, when a new king takes the throne, a brave prisoner of war is executed so that the king and nobles can eat his flesh and gain his strength and courage. The Basutos cut pieces from their slain enemies and turn them into powder, "which is meant to convey the courage, skill, and good luck of their opponents." The Zulus believe that by eating the center of the forehead and the eyebrow of an enemy, they gain the ability to look steadfastly at a foe. In the Shire Highlands of Africa, those who kill a brave man eat his heart to acquire his courage. For the same reason, the Chinese eat the bile of notorious bandits who have been executed. In New Zealand, "The chief was a god, but there were both powerful and powerless gods; each naturally wanted to be among the powerful. The strategy they used was to blend their own spirits with those of others. So, when a warrior killed a chief, he would immediately scoop out his eyes and swallow them, as it was believed that the divine essence resided in that part. Thus, he not only killed the body but also took the soul of his enemy, and as a result, the more chiefs he killed, the greater his divinity became."
It is now easy to understand why a savage should desire to partake of the flesh of an animal or man whom he regards as divine. By eating the body of the god he shares in the god's attributes and powers. And when the god is a corn-god, the corn is his proper body; when he is a vine-god, the juice of the grape is his blood; and so by eating the bread and drinking [pg 090] the wine the worshipper partakes of the real body and blood of his god. Thus the drinking of wine in the rites of a vine-god like Dionysus is not an act of revelry, it is a solemn sacrament.300
It’s now clear why someone might want to eat the flesh of an animal or person they see as divine. By consuming the body of the god, they share in the god’s qualities and powers. When the god is associated with corn, the corn is seen as his true body; when he is linked to vines, the juice of the grape is viewed as his blood; and by eating bread and drinking the wine, the worshipper is taking in the actual body and blood of their god. Therefore, drinking wine during the rituals of a vine-god like Dionysus isn’t just about celebration; it's a serious sacrament.300
§ 12.—Killing the sacred animal.
It remains to show that hunting and pastoral tribes, as well as agricultural peoples, have been in the habit of killing their gods. The gods whom hunters and shepherds adore and kill are animals pure and simple, not animals regarded as embodiments of other supernatural beings. Our first example is drawn from the Indians of California, who, living in a fertile country301 under a serene and temperate sky, nevertheless rank near the bottom of the savage scale. The Acagchemen tribe of San Juan Capistrano adored the great buzzard. Once a year, at a great festival called Panes or bird-feast, they carried one of these birds in procession to their chief temple, which seems to have been merely an unroofed enclosure of stakes. Here they killed the bird without losing a drop of its blood. The skin was removed entire and preserved with the feathers as a relic or for the purpose of making the festal garment or paelt. The carcass was buried in a hole in the temple, and the old women gathered round the grave weeping and moaning bitterly, while they threw various kinds of seeds or pieces of food on it, crying out, “Why [pg 091] did you run away? Would you not have been better with us?” and so on. They said that the Panes was a woman who had run off to the mountains and there been changed into a bird by the god Chinigchinich. They believed that though they sacrificed the bird annually, she came to life again and returned to her home in the mountains. Moreover they thought that “as often as the bird was killed, it became multiplied; because every year all the different Capitanes celebrated the same feast of the Panes, and were firm in the opinion that the birds sacrificed were but one and the same female.”302
It still needs to be shown that hunting and pastoral tribes, as well as farming communities, have a history of killing their gods. The gods worshiped and killed by hunters and shepherds are simply animals, not seen as representations of other supernatural beings. Our first example comes from the Native Americans of California, who, despite living in a fertile region301 under a calm and temperate sky, are considered among the least advanced. The Acagchemen tribe from San Juan Capistrano worshiped the great buzzard. Once a year, during a major festival called Panes or bird-feast, they carried one of these birds in a procession to their main temple, which was basically just an open area surrounded by stakes. There, they killed the bird without letting a single drop of its blood fall. The skin was removed whole and kept with the feathers as a keepsake or to make the festive garment called paelt. The body was buried in a hole in the temple, and the old women gathered around the grave, crying and mourning loudly, while they tossed different seeds or bits of food onto it, lamenting, "Why [pg 091] did you leave? Wouldn't you have been better off with us?" They said that the Panes was a woman who had fled to the mountains and was turned into a bird by the god Chinigchinich. They believed that even though they sacrificed the bird every year, she came back to life and returned to her home in the mountains. Additionally, they thought that "Every time the bird was killed, it multiplied; because each year, all the different Capitanes celebrated the same feast of the Panes and believed that the sacrificed birds were all the same female."302
The unity in multiplicity thus postulated by the Californians is very noticeable and helps to explain their motive for killing the divine bird. The notion of the life of a species as distinct from that of an individual, easy and obvious as it seems to us, appears to be one which the Californian savage cannot grasp. He is unable to conceive the life of the species otherwise than as an individual life, and therefore as exposed to the same dangers and calamities which menace and finally destroy the life of the individual. Apparently he thinks that a species left to itself will grow old and die like an individual, and that therefore some step must be taken to save from extinction the particular species which he regards as divine. The only means he can think of to avert the catastrophe is to kill a member of the species in whose veins the tide of life is still running strong and has not yet stagnated among the fens of old age. The life thus diverted from one channel will flow, he fancies, more freshly and freely in a new one; in other words, the slain animal will [pg 092] revive and enter on a new term of life with all the spring and energy of youth. To us this reasoning is transparently absurd, but so too is the custom. If a better explanation, that is, one more consonant with the facts and with the principles of savage thought, can be given of the custom, I will willingly withdraw the one here proposed. A similar confusion, it may be noted, between the individual life and the life of the species was made by the Samoans. Each family had for its god a particular species of animal; yet the death of one of these animals, for example an owl, was not the death of the god, “he was supposed to be yet alive, and incarnate in all the owls in existence.”303
The unity in multiplicity that the Californians propose is quite evident and helps clarify their reason for killing the divine bird. The idea of a species' life being different from an individual’s life, which seems so straightforward to us, appears to be something that the Californian native struggles to understand. He cannot think of the life of a species as anything other than an individual life, and thus views it as being at risk from the same dangers and disasters that threaten and ultimately end an individual’s life. He seems to believe that a species left unchecked will age and die like an individual, so he feels compelled to take action to prevent the extinction of the specific species he sees as divine. The only solution he can come up with to avoid this disaster is to kill a member of the species that is still full of life and hasn't yet experienced the stagnation that comes with old age. He imagines that the life taken from one creature will flow more vibrantly and freely in another; in other words, the animal that is killed will revive and embark on a new phase of life with all the vitality and energy of youth. To us, this reasoning seems obviously ridiculous, but so does the custom itself. If a better explanation exists—one that aligns more closely with the facts and the principles of primitive thought—I’m open to reconsidering the one I've offered. A similar misunderstanding between individual life and the life of the species was also seen among the Samoans. Each family had a particular species of animal as its god; however, the death of one of these animals, like an owl, did not signify the death of the god, “he was supposed to be yet alive, and incarnate in all the owls in existence.”
The rude Californian rite which we have just considered has a close parallel in the religion of ancient Egypt. The Thebans and all other Egyptians who worshipped the Theban god Ammon held rams to be sacred and would not sacrifice them. But once a year at the festival of Ammon they killed a ram, skinned it, and clothed the image of the god in the skin. Then they mourned over the ram and buried it in a sacred tomb. The custom was explained by a story that Zeus had once exhibited himself to Hercules clad in the fleece and wearing the head of a ram.304 Of course the ram in this case was simply the beast-god of Thebes, as the wolf was the beast-god of Lycopolis, and the goat was the beast-god of Mendes. In other words, the ram was Ammon himself. On the monuments, it is true, Ammon appears in semi-human form with the body of a man and the head of a ram.305 But this only shows that he was in the usual [pg 093] chrysalis state through which beast-gods regularly pass before they emerge as full-fledged anthropomorphic gods. The ram, therefore, was killed, not as a sacrifice to Ammon, but as the god himself, whose identity with the beast is plainly shown by the custom of clothing his image in the skin of the slain ram. The reason for thus killing the ram-god annually may have been that which I have assigned for the general custom of killing the god and for the special Californian custom of killing the divine buzzard. As applied to Egypt, this explanation is supported by the analogy of the bull-god Apis, who was not suffered to outlive a certain term of years.306 The intention of thus putting a limit to the life of the god was, as I have argued, to secure him from the weakness and frailty of age. The same reasoning would explain the custom—probably an older one—of putting the beast-god to death annually, as was done with the ram of Thebes.
The harsh Californian ceremony we've just looked at has a close equivalent in the religion of ancient Egypt. The Thebans and other Egyptians who worshiped the Theban god Ammon regarded rams as sacred and did not sacrifice them. But once a year, during the festival of Ammon, they would kill a ram, skin it, and dress the image of the god in its skin. Then, they mourned for the ram and buried it in a sacred tomb. The practice was explained by a story that Zeus once appeared to Hercules wearing the fleece and head of a ram. Of course, the ram in this context was simply the beast-god of Thebes, just as the wolf was the beast-god of Lycopolis and the goat was the beast-god of Mendes. In other words, the ram was Ammon himself. On monuments, Ammon does appear in semi-human form with a human body and a ram's head. But this just shows that he was in the usual transitional state that beast-gods typically go through before becoming fully anthropomorphic gods. Therefore, the ram was killed not as a sacrifice to Ammon, but as the god himself, whose identity with the beast is clearly demonstrated by the tradition of dressing his image in the skin of the sacrificed ram. The reason for killing the ram-god annually may relate to the rationale I provided for the general custom of killing the god, as well as the specific Californian practice of killing the divine buzzard. When it comes to Egypt, this explanation is supported by the example of the bull-god Apis, who was not allowed to live beyond a certain age. The aim of restricting the god's lifespan, as I have argued, was to protect him from the weakness and frailty of old age. The same reasoning would apply to the custom—likely an older one—of annually sacrificing the beast-god, as was done with the ram of Thebes.
One point in the Theban ritual—the application of the skin to the image of the god—deserves special attention. If the god was at first the living ram, his representation by an image must have originated later. But how did it originate? The answer to this question is perhaps furnished by the practice of preserving the skin of the animal which is slain as divine. The Californians, as we have seen, preserved the skin of the buzzard; and the skin of the goat, which is killed on the harvest-field as a representative of the corn-spirit, is kept for various superstitious purposes.307 The skin in fact was kept as a token or memorial of the god, or rather as containing in it a part of the divine life, and it had only to be [pg 094] stuffed or stretched upon a frame to become a regular image of him. At first an image of this kind would be renewed annually,308 the new image being provided by the skin of the slain animal. But from annual images to permanent images the transition is easy. We have seen that the older custom of cutting a new May-tree every year was superseded by the practice of maintaining a permanent May-pole, which was, however, annually decked with fresh leaves and flowers and even surmounted each year by a fresh young tree.309 Similarly when the stuffed skin, as a representative of the god, was replaced by a permanent image of him in wood, stone, or metal, the permanent image was annually clad in the fresh skin of the slain animal. When this stage had been reached, the custom of killing the ram came naturally to be interpreted as a sacrifice offered to the image, and was explained by a story like that of Ammon and Hercules.
One aspect of the Theban ritual—the application of the skin to the image of the god—merits particular focus. If the god initially took form as a living ram, the idea of representing him with an image must have developed later. But how did that happen? The answer to this might lie in the practice of keeping the skin of the slain animal as sacred. As we've noted, the Californians preserved the skin of the buzzard; similarly, the skin of the goat, which is sacrificed in the fields during harvest as a symbol of the corn spirit, is kept for various superstitious reasons. The skin was essentially retained as a symbol or reminder of the god—or rather, as containing a part of the divine essence—and it only needed to be stuffed or stretched on a frame to become an official image of him. Initially, this type of image would be renewed every year, with the new image created from the skin of the sacrificed animal. However, transitioning from annual images to permanent ones is quite straightforward. We saw that the old custom of cutting a new May-tree every year was replaced by the tradition of having a permanent May-pole, which was still decorated each year with fresh leaves and flowers and even topped with a new young tree each season. In the same way, when the stuffed skin, representing the god, was replaced by a permanent image made of wood, stone, or metal, that permanent image was yearly adorned with the fresh skin of the sacrificed animal. Once this stage was reached, the act of killing the ram naturally became seen as a sacrifice offered to the image and was often explained by a myth similar to that of Ammon and Hercules.
West Africa furnishes another example of the annual killing of a sacred animal and the preservation of its skin. The negroes of Issapoo, in the island of Fernando Po, regard the cobra-capella as their guardian deity, who can do them good or ill, bestow riches or inflict disease and death. The skin of one of these reptiles is hung tail downwards from a branch of the highest tree in the public square, and the placing of it on the tree is an annual ceremony. As soon as [pg 095] the ceremony is over, all children born within the past year are carried out and their hands made to touch the tail of the serpent's skin.310 The latter custom is clearly a way of placing the infants under the protection of the tribal god. Similarly in Senegambia a python is expected to visit every child of the Python clan within eight days after birth;311 and the Psylli, a Snake clan of ancient Africa, used to expose their infants to snakes in the belief that the snakes would not harm true-born children of the clan.312
West Africa provides another example of the yearly ritual of killing a sacred animal and keeping its skin. The people of Issapoo, on the island of Fernando Po, see the cobra-capella as their protective deity, capable of bringing them good or bad fortune, wealth or illness and death. The skin of one of these snakes is hung tail down from a high branch in the public square, and this act is part of an annual ceremony. Once the ceremony is complete, all children born in the past year are brought out and made to touch the tail of the serpent's skin. This custom clearly serves to place the infants under the care of the tribal god. In a similar vein, in Senegambia, a python is expected to visit every child of the Python clan within eight days after birth; and the Psylli, a snake clan of ancient Africa, used to expose their infants to snakes, believing that the snakes would not harm the true-born children of the clan.
In the Californian, Egyptian, and Fernando Po customs the animal slain probably is, or once was, a totem. At all events, in all three cases the worship of the animal seems to have no relation to agriculture, and may therefore be presumed to date from the hunter or pastoral stage of society. The same may be said of the following custom, though the people who practise it—the Zuni Indians of New Mexico—are now settled in walled villages or towns of a peculiar type, and practise agriculture and the arts of pottery and weaving. But the Zuni custom is marked by certain features which appear to place it in a somewhat different category from the preceding cases. It may be well therefore to describe it at full length in the words of an eye-witness.
In the Californian, Egyptian, and Fernando Po traditions, the animal that is killed likely is, or used to be, a totem. In any case, in all three situations, the worship of the animal seems unrelated to agriculture and can therefore be assumed to originate from the hunting or pastoral phase of society. The same is true for the next custom, although the people who practice it—the Zuni Indians of New Mexico—are now settled in distinctive walled villages or towns and engage in farming as well as pottery and weaving. However, the Zuni custom has certain characteristics that seem to place it in a somewhat different category than the earlier examples. It would be worthwhile to describe it in detail using the words of someone who witnessed it.
“With midsummer the heat became intense. My brother [i.e. adopted Indian brother] and I sat, day after day, in the cool under-rooms of our house,—the latter [sic] busy with his quaint forge and crude appliances, working Mexican coins over into bangles, [pg 096] girdles, ear-rings, buttons, and what not for savage ornament.... One day as I sat watching him, a procession of fifty men went hastily down the hill, and off westward over the plain. They were solemnly led by a painted and shell-bedecked priest, and followed by the torch-bearing Shu-lu-wit-si, or God of Fire. After they had vanished, I asked old brother what it all meant.
“With midsummer, the heat became intense. My brother [i.e. adopted Indian brother] and I spent day after day in the cool lower rooms of our house, while he [sic] was busy with his unique forge and simple tools, turning Mexican coins into bangles, [pg 096] girdles, earrings, buttons, and various other items for tribal decoration.... One day as I was watching him, a group of fifty men hurried down the hill and headed west across the plain. They were solemnly led by a painted and shell-adorned priest, followed by the torch-bearing Shu-lu-wit-si, or God of Fire. After they disappeared, I asked my brother what it all meant.
“ ‘They are going,’ said he, ‘to the city of the Ka-ka and the home of our others.’
"They're leaving," he said, "for the city of the Ka-ka and the home of our people."
“Four days after, toward sunset, costumed and masked in the beautiful paraphernalia of the Ka-k'ok-shi, or ‘Good Dance,’ they returned in file up the same pathway, each bearing in his arms a basket filled with living, squirming turtles, which he regarded and carried as tenderly as a mother would her infant. Some of the wretched reptiles were carefully wrapped in soft blankets, their heads and forefeet protruding,—and, mounted on the backs of the plume-bedecked pilgrims, made ludicrous but solemn caricatures of little children in the same position. While I was at supper upstairs that evening, the governor's brother-in-law came in. He was welcomed by the family as if a messenger from heaven. He bore in his tremulous fingers one of the much abused and rebellious turtles. Paint still adhered to his hands and bare feet, which led me to infer that he had formed one of the sacred embassy.
Four days later, at sunset, dressed up and masked in the beautiful gear of the Ka-k'ok-shi, or ‘Good Dance,’ they returned along the same path, each carrying a basket filled with live, squirming turtles, cradling them as gently as a mother would her baby. Some of the unfortunate turtles were carefully wrapped in soft blankets, with their heads and front legs sticking out—and perched on the backs of the feather-adorned pilgrims, they comically resembled little kids in the same position. While I was having dinner upstairs that evening, the governor's brother-in-law came in. The family greeted him as if he were a messenger from heaven. He was holding one of the much-abused and rebellious turtles in his shaky hands. Paint still clung to his hands and bare feet, indicating that he had been part of the sacred delegation.
“ ‘So you went to Ka-thlu-el-lon, did you?’ I asked.
"So, you went to Ka-thlu-el-lon, right?" I asked.
“ ‘E'e,’ replied the weary man, in a voice husky with long chanting, as he sank, almost exhausted, on a roll of skins which had been placed for him, and tenderly laid the turtle on the floor. No sooner did [pg 097] the creature find itself at liberty than it made off as fast as its lame legs would take it. Of one accord the family forsook dish, spoon, and drinking-cup, and grabbing from a sacred meal-bowl whole handfuls of the contents, hurriedly followed the turtle about the room, into dark corners, around water-jars, behind the grinding-troughs, and out into the middle of the floor again, praying and scattering meal on its back as they went. At last, strange to say, it approached the footsore man who had brought it.
“‘E'e,’” the tired man replied, his voice raspy from singing for so long, as he dropped down, nearly worn out, onto a pile of skins that had been prepared for him, and carefully set the turtle on the floor. As soon as the creature was free, it dashed off as fast as its injured legs could manage. Immediately, the family left their dish, spoon, and cup behind, grabbing big handfuls from a sacred meal bowl, and rushed after the turtle around the room—into dark corners, around water jars, behind the grinding troughs, and back to the center of the floor, praying and tossing meal onto its back as they followed. Finally, interestingly enough, it moved toward the exhausted man who had brought it.
“ ‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, with emotion; ‘see, it comes to me again; ah, what great favours the fathers of all grant me this day,’ and passing his hand gently over the sprawling animal, he inhaled from his palm deeply and long, at the same time invoking the favour of the gods. Then he leaned his chin upon his hand, and with large wistful eyes regarded his ugly captive as it sprawled about, blinking its meal-bedimmed eyes, and clawing the smooth floor in memory of its native element. At this juncture I ventured a question:
“ ‘Ha!’ he said, filled with emotion; ‘look, it's coming to me again; ah, what great blessings the beings above are giving me today,’ and as he gently ran his hand over the sprawled animal, he took a deep, long breath from his palm while calling on the favor of the gods. Then he rested his chin on his hand and with big, longing eyes, he watched his ugly captive as it lay there, blinking its food-dulled eyes and scratching the smooth floor, reminiscing about its natural habitat. At this point, I decided to ask a question:
“ ‘Why do you not let him go, or give him some water?’
“ ‘Why don’t you let him go, or give him some water?’
“Slowly the man turned his eyes toward me, an odd mixture of pain, indignation, and pity on his face, while the worshipful family stared at me with holy horror.
Gradually, the man turned to look at me, his face showing a strange mix of pain, anger, and sympathy, while the astonished family stared at me in disbelief.
“ ‘Poor younger brother!’ he said at last, ‘know you not how precious it is? It die? It will not die; I tell you, it cannot die.’
“ ‘Poor little brother!’ he finally said, ‘don’t you realize how valuable it is? Will it perish? It will not perish; I promise you, it can't perish.’
“ ‘But it will die if you don't feed it and give it water.’
“ ‘But it will die if you don't feed it and give it water.’
“ ‘I tell you it cannot die; it will only change houses to-morrow, and go back to the home of its brothers. Ah, well! How should you know?’ he [pg 098] mused. Turning to the blinded turtle again: ‘Ah! my poor dear lost child or parent, my sister or brother to have been! Who knows which? Maybe my own great-grandfather or mother!’ And with this he fell to weeping most pathetically, and, tremulous with sobs, which were echoed by the women and children, he buried his face in his hands. Filled with sympathy for his grief, however mistaken, I raised the turtle to my lips and kissed its cold shell; then depositing it on the floor, hastily left the grief-stricken family to their sorrows. Next day, with prayers and tender beseechings, plumes, and offerings, the poor turtle was killed, and its flesh and bones were removed and deposited in the little river, that it might ‘return once more to eternal life among its comrades in the dark waters of the lake of the dead.’ The shell, carefully scraped and dried, was made into a dance-rattle, and, covered by a piece of buckskin, it still hangs from the smoke-stained rafters of my brother's house. Once a Navajo tried to buy it for a ladle; loaded with indignant reproaches, he was turned out of the house. Were any one to venture the suggestion that the turtle no longer lived, his remark would cause a flood of tears, and he would be reminded that it had only ‘changed houses and gone to live for ever in the home of “our lost others.” ’ ”313
“I tell you it can't die; it will just move to a new place tomorrow and return to the home of its siblings. Oh well! How could you know?” he thought. Turning to the blinded turtle again: “Ah! my poor dear lost child or parent, my sister or brother that could have been! Who knows which? Maybe my own great-grandfather or mother!” And with that, he started crying so heartbreakingly, shaking with sobs that were echoed by the women and children as he buried his face in his hands. Filled with sympathy for his grief, even though it was misplaced, I raised the turtle to my lips and kissed its cold shell; then, placing it on the ground, I quickly left the heartbroken family to their sorrow. The next day, with prayers and tender pleas, feathers, and offerings, the poor turtle was killed, and its flesh and bones were taken and placed in the little river, so it could “return once more to eternal life among its friends in the dark waters of the lake of the dead.” The shell, carefully cleaned and dried, was made into a dance rattle, and, covered by a piece of buckskin, it still hangs from the smoke-stained rafters of my brother's house. Once a Navajo tried to buy it as a ladle; filled with indignation, he was thrown out of the house. If anyone dared to suggest that the turtle was no longer alive, their comment would bring a flood of tears, and they would be reminded that it had only “moved to a new home and gone to live forever in the home of ‘our lost others.’”313
In this custom we find expressed in the clearest way a belief in the transmigration of human souls into the bodies of turtles.314 The same belief in transmigration [pg 099] is held by the Moqui Indians, who belong to the same race as the Zunis. The Moquis are divided into totem clans—the Bear clan, Deer clan, Wolf clan, Hare clan, etc.; they believe that the ancestors of the clans were bears, deer, wolves, hares, etc.; and that at death the members of each clan become bears, deer, etc.315 The Zuni are also divided into clans, the totems of which agree closely with those of the Moquis, and one of their totems is the turtle.316 Thus their belief in transmigration into the turtle is probably one of the regular articles of their totem faith. What then is the meaning of killing a turtle in which the soul of a kinsman is believed to be present? Apparently the object is to keep up a communication with the other world in which the souls of the departed are believed to be assembled in the form of turtles. It is a common belief that the spirits of the dead return occasionally to their old homes; and accordingly the unseen visitors are welcomed and feasted by the living, and then sent upon their way.317 In the Zuni ceremony the dead are fetched back in the form of turtles, and the killing of the turtles is the way of sending back the souls to the spirit-land. Thus the general explanation given above of the custom of killing a god seems inapplicable to the Zuni custom, the true meaning of which is somewhat obscure.
In this tradition, we clearly see a belief in the reincarnation of human souls into turtles.314 The same belief in reincarnation [pg 099] is shared by the Moqui Indians, who are from the same ethnic group as the Zunis. The Moquis are organized into totem clans—the Bear clan, Deer clan, Wolf clan, Hare clan, etc.; they believe that the ancestors of these clans were bears, deer, wolves, hares, etc.; and that upon death, members of each clan become bears, deer, etc.315 The Zunis are also divided into clans, and their totems align closely with those of the Moquis, one of which is the turtle.316 Therefore, their belief in reincarnation into turtles is likely a key element of their totem beliefs. So what does it mean to kill a turtle believed to host the soul of a relative? The purpose seems to be to maintain a connection with the afterlife, where the souls of the departed are thought to gather in the form of turtles. It is commonly believed that the spirits of the dead occasionally return to their former homes; thus, the living welcome and feast these unseen visitors before sending them on their way.317 In the Zuni ceremony, the dead are brought back as turtles, and killing the turtles serves as a way to return the souls to the spirit world. Thus, the general interpretation of the practice of killing a god seems inapplicable to the Zuni tradition, the true significance of which remains somewhat unclear.
Doubt also hangs over the meaning of the bear-sacrifice offered by the Ainos, a primitive people [pg 100] who are found in the Japanese islands of Yesso and Saghalien, and also in the southern of the Kurile Islands. It is not quite easy to make out the attitude of the Ainos towards the bear. On the one hand they give it the name of Kamui or “god”; but as they apply the same word to strangers,318 it probably means no more than a being supposed to be endowed with superhuman powers. Again, it is said “the bear is their chief divinity;”319 “in the religion of the Ainos the bear plays a chief part;”320 “amongst the animals it is especially the bear which receives an idolatrous veneration;”321 “they worship it after their fashion.... There is no doubt that this wild beast inspires more of the feeling which prompts worship than the inanimate forces of nature, and the Ainos may be distinguished as bear-worshippers.”322 Yet, on the other hand, they kill the bear whenever they can;323 “the men spend the autumn, winter, and spring in hunting deer and bears. Part of their tribute or taxes is paid in skins, and they subsist on the dried meat;”324 bear's flesh is indeed one of their staple foods; they eat it both fresh and salted;325 and the skins of bears furnish them with clothing.326 In fact, the “worship” of which writers on this subject speak appears to be paid only to the dead animal. Thus, although they kill a bear whenever they can, “in the process of dissecting the carcass they [pg 101] endeavour to conciliate the deity, whose representative they have slain, by making elaborate obeisances and deprecatory salutations;”327 “when a bear is trapped or wounded by an arrow, the hunters go through an apologetic or propitiatory ceremony.”328 The skulls of slain bears receive a place of honour in their huts, or are set up on sacred posts outside the huts, and are treated with much respect; libations of sake, an intoxicating liquor, are offered to them.329 The skulls of foxes are also fastened to the sacred posts outside the huts; they are regarded as charms against evil spirits, and are consulted as oracles.330 Yet it is expressly said, “The live fox is revered just as little as the bear; rather they avoid it as much as possible, considering it a wily animal.”331 The bear cannot, therefore, be described as a sacred animal of the Ainos, and it certainly is not a totem; for they do not call themselves bears, they appear to have no legend of their descent from a bear,332 and they kill and eat the animal freely.
Doubt also surrounds the significance of the bear sacrifice made by the Ainos, a primitive group found in the Japanese islands of Hokkaido and Sakhalin, as well as in the southern Kuril Islands. Understanding the Ainos' perspective on the bear isn't straightforward. On one hand, they call it Kamui or "God"; however, since they use the same term for strangers, it likely just means a being believed to have superhuman abilities. Additionally, it’s claimed that "the bear is their main god;"319 "In Aino religion, the bear holds a central role;"320 "among the animals, it is especially the bear that is worshipped with great reverence;"321 "they worship it in their own way.... There's no doubt that this wild animal evokes more of the emotions that lead to worship than the non-living forces of nature, and the Ainos can be identified as bear worshippers."322 Yet, at the same time, they kill bears whenever possible; 323 "The men spend autumn, winter, and spring hunting deer and bears. They pay part of their tribute or taxes with skins, and they live on dried meat."324 bear meat is indeed one of their main foods; they consume it both fresh and salted; 325 and bear skins provide them with clothing.326 In reality, the "worship" that writers on this topic refer to seems to be directed only at the dead animal. Thus, even though they hunt bears whenever they can, “In the process of cutting up the carcass, they [pg 101] try to appease the deity, whose representative they have killed, by performing elaborate bows and humble greetings;”327 "When a bear is trapped or injured by an arrow, the hunters perform an apologetic or propitiatory ceremony."328 The skulls of dead bears are given a place of honor in their huts or are mounted on sacred posts outside the huts, treated with great respect; libations of sake, an alcoholic drink, are offered to them.329 The skulls of foxes are also attached to the sacred posts outside the huts; they are seen as charms against evil spirits and are consulted as oracles.330 Yet it is specifically stated, "The live fox is respected just as little as the bear; instead, they try to stay away from it as much as possible, seeing it as a sly animal."331 Therefore, the bear can't be considered a sacred animal for the Ainos, and it certainly isn’t a totem; they don't identify themselves as bears, don’t seem to have any legend about descending from bears, 332 and they freely hunt and consume the animal.
But it is the bear-festival of the Ainos which concerns us here. Towards the end of winter a young bear is caught and brought into the village. At first he is suckled by an Aino woman; afterwards he is fed on fish. When he grows so strong that he threatens to break out of the wooden cage in which he is confined, the feast is held. But “it is a peculiarly [pg 102] striking fact that the young bear is not kept merely to furnish a good meal; rather he is regarded and honoured as a fetish, or even as a sort of higher being.”333 The festival is generally celebrated in September or October. Before it takes place the Ainos apologise to their gods, alleging that they have treated the bear kindly as long as they could, now they can feed him no longer, and are obliged to kill him. A man who gives a bear-feast invites his relations and friends; in a small village nearly the whole community takes part in the feast. One of these festivals has been described by an eyewitness, Dr. Scheube.334 On entering the hut he found about thirty Ainos present, men, women, and children, all dressed in their best. The master of the house first offered a libation on the fireplace to the god of the fire, and the guests followed his example. Then a libation was offered to the house-god in his sacred corner of the hut. Meanwhile the housewife, who had nursed the bear, sat by herself, silent and sad, bursting now and then into tears. Her grief was obviously unaffected, and it deepened as the festival went on. Next, the master of the house and some of the guests went out of the hut and offered libations before the bear's cage. A few drops were presented to the bear in a saucer, which he at once upset. Then the women and girls danced round the cage, their faces turned towards it, their knees slightly bent, rising and hopping on their toes. As they danced they clapped their hands and sang a monotonous song. The housewife and a few old women, who might have nursed many bears, danced tearfully, stretching out their arms to [pg 103] the bear, and addressing it in terms of endearment. The young folks were less affected; they laughed as well as sang. Disturbed by the noise, the bear began to rush about his cage and howl lamentably. Next libations were offered to the inabos or sacred wands which stand outside of an Aino hut. These wands are about a couple of feet high, and are whittled at the top into spiral shavings.335 Five new wands with bamboo leaves attached to them had been set up for the festival. This is regularly done when a bear is killed; the leaves mean that the bear may come to life again. Then the bear was let out of his cage, a rope was thrown round his neck, and he was led about in the neighbourhood of the hut. While this was being done the men, headed by a chief, shot at the bear with arrows tipped with wooden buttons. Dr. Scheube had to do so also. Then the bear was taken before the sacred wands, a stick was put in his mouth, nine men knelt on him and pressed his neck against a beam. In five minutes the bear had expired without uttering a sound. Meantime the women and girls had taken post behind the men, where they danced, lamenting, and beating the men who were killing the bear. The bear's carcass was next placed on a mat before the sacred wands; and a sword and quiver, taken from the wands, were hung round the beast's neck. Being a she-bear, it was also adorned with a necklace and ear-rings. Then food and drink were offered to it, in the shape of millet-broth, millet-cakes, and a pot of sake. The men now sat down on mats before the dead bear, offered libations to [pg 104] it, and drank deep. Meanwhile the women and girls had laid aside all marks of sorrow, and danced merrily, none more merrily than the old women. When the mirth was at its height two young Ainos, who had let the bear out of his cage, mounted the roof of the hut and threw cakes of millet among the company, who all scrambled for them without distinction of age or sex. The bear was next skinned and disembowelled, and the trunk severed from the head, to which the skin was left hanging. The blood, caught in cups, was eagerly swallowed by the men. None of the women or children appeared to drink the blood, though custom did not forbid them to do so. The liver was cut in small pieces and eaten raw, with salt, the women and children getting their share. The flesh and the rest of the vitals were taken into the house to be kept till the next day but one, and then to be divided among the persons who had been present at the feast. Blood and liver were offered to Dr. Scheube. While the bear was being disembowelled, the women and girls danced the same dance which they had danced at the beginning—not, however, round the cage, but in front of the sacred wands. At this dance the old women, who had been merry a moment before, again shed tears freely. After the brain had been extracted from the bear's head and swallowed with salt, the skull, detached from the skin, was hung on a pole beside the sacred wands. The stick with which the bear had been gagged was also fastened to the pole, and so were the sword and quiver which had been hung on the carcass. The latter were removed in about an hour, but the rest remained standing. The whole company, men and women, danced noisily [pg 105] before the pole; and another drinking-bout, in which the women joined, closed the festival.
But it is the bear festival of the Ainos that we are focusing on here. Towards the end of winter, a young bear is captured and brought into the village. At first, he is nursed by an Aino woman; later, he is fed fish. When he becomes strong enough that he threatens to break out of the wooden cage he is kept in, the feast takes place. But “It’s a remarkably striking fact that the young bear isn't kept just to provide a good meal; instead, he is viewed and respected as a fetish, or even as a kind of higher being.”333 The festival usually happens in September or October. Before it starts, the Ainos apologize to their gods, claiming that they have treated the bear kindly for as long as they could, but now they can no longer care for him and must kill him. A man who hosts a bear feast invites his relatives and friends; in a small village, nearly the entire community participates in the feast. One of these festivals was described by an eyewitness, Dr. Scheube.334 Upon entering the hut, he found around thirty Ainos present—men, women, and children—dressed in their best clothes. The head of the household first poured a libation on the fireplace to the god of fire, and the guests followed suit. Then, a libation was offered to the house-god in his designated corner of the hut. Meanwhile, the housewife, who had cared for the bear, sat alone, silent and sad, occasionally bursting into tears. Her sorrow was clearly genuine, and it deepened as the festival continued. Next, the head of the household and several guests went outside the hut to pour libations before the bear's cage. A few drops were poured into a saucer for the bear, which he immediately tipped over. Then the women and girls danced around the cage, facing it, their knees slightly bent, rising and hopping on their toes. As they danced, they clapped their hands and sang a repetitive song. The housewife and a few elderly women, who may have nursed many bears, danced tearfully, reaching out their arms to [pg 103] the bear and addressing it affectionately. The younger folks were less affected; they laughed as well as sang. Disturbed by the noise, the bear started moving around his cage and howling mournfully. Next, libations were offered to the inabos or sacred wands placed outside an Aino hut. These wands are about a couple of feet high and are carved into spiral shavings at the top.335 Five new wands with bamboo leaves attached were set up for the festival. This is a routine practice when a bear is killed; the leaves symbolize the bear's potential to come back to life. Then the bear was released from his cage, a rope was thrown around his neck, and he was led around the hut's vicinity. As this occurred, the men, led by a chief, shot at the bear with arrows tipped with wooden buttons. Dr. Scheube had to participate as well. Then, the bear was brought before the sacred wands, a stick was placed in his mouth, nine men knelt on him and pressed his neck against a beam. In five minutes, the bear died without making a sound. Meanwhile, the women and girls stood behind the men, dancing and lamenting, while beating the men who were killing the bear. The bear's carcass was then laid on a mat in front of the sacred wands, and a sword and quiver from the wands were hung around the bear's neck. Being a she-bear, it was also adorned with a necklace and earrings. Then food and drink were presented to it, including millet broth, millet cakes, and a pot of sake. The men sat down on mats in front of the dead bear, offered libations to [pg 104] it, and drank deeply. Meanwhile, the women and girls had set aside their sorrow and danced joyfully, with the old women perhaps the most spirited. When the merriment peaked, two young Ainos who had released the bear from its cage climbed onto the roof of the hut and tossed millet cakes among the guests, who scrambled for them regardless of age or gender. The bear was then skinned and disemboweled, and the trunk was separated from the head, to which the skin remained attached. The blood, collected in cups, was eagerly drunk by the men. None of the women or children seemed to drink the blood, even though tradition did not forbid it. The liver was cut into small pieces and eaten raw with salt, and the women and children received their share. The flesh and remaining internal organs were taken into the house to be kept until two days later when they would be divided among those who attended the feast. Blood and liver were offered to Dr. Scheube. As the bear was being disemboweled, the women and girls performed the same dance they had at the beginning—not around the cage, but in front of the sacred wands. During this dance, the old women, who were cheerful just a moment before, began to weep freely again. After the brain was removed from the bear's head and swallowed with salt, the skull, detached from the skin, was hung on a pole beside the sacred wands. The stick used to gag the bear was also fastened to the pole, along with the sword and quiver that had been hung on the carcass. The latter were removed after about an hour, but the rest remained in place. The entire group, both men and women, danced noisily [pg 105] in front of the pole; another drinking session, in which the women participated, wrapped up the festival.
The mode of killing the bear is described somewhat differently by Miss Bird, who, however, did not witness the ceremony. She says: “Yells and shouts are used to excite the bear; and when he becomes much agitated a chief shoots him with an arrow, inflicting a slight wound which maddens him, on which the bars of the cage are raised, and he springs forth, very furious. At this stage the Ainos run upon him with various weapons, each one striving to inflict a wound, as it brings good luck to draw his blood. As soon as he falls down exhausted his head is cut off, and the weapons with which he has been wounded are offered to it, and he is asked to avenge himself upon them.” At Usu, on Volcano Bay, when the bear is being killed, the Ainos shout, “We kill you, O bear! come back soon into an Aino.”336 A very respectable authority, Dr. Siebold, states that the bear's own heart is frequently offered to the dead animal, in order to assure him that he is still in life.337 This, however, is denied by Dr. Scheube, who says the heart is eaten.338 Perhaps the custom may be observed in some places, though not in others.
The way of killing the bear is described slightly differently by Miss Bird, who, however, did not see the ceremony herself. She says: Crying out and shouting are used to rile up the bear; when he gets really worked up, a chief shoots him with an arrow, causing a small wound that sends him into a frenzy. Then, the cage bars are lifted, and he jumps out, extremely angry. At this moment, the Ainos rush at him with different weapons, each trying to injure him, since drawing his blood is seen as good luck. Once he falls from exhaustion, his head is cut off, and the weapons that wounded him are presented to it, as they ask him to take revenge on them. At Usu, on Volcano Bay, when the bear is being killed, the Ainos shout, "We'll hunt you down, oh bear! Come back soon as an Aino."336 A very respected authority, Dr. Siebold, states that the bear's own heart is often offered to the dead animal to assure him that he is still alive.337 However, this is disputed by Dr. Scheube, who claims the heart is eaten.338 Perhaps the custom may be observed in some places but not in others.
The Gilyaks, a Tunguzian people of Eastern Siberia,339 hold a bear festival of the same sort. “The bear is the object of the most refined solicitude of an entire village and plays the chief part in their religious [pg 106] ceremonies.”340 An old she-bear is shot and her cub is reared, but not suckled in the village. When the bear is big enough he is taken from his cage and dragged through the village. But first he is led to the bank of the river, for this is believed to ensure abundance of fish to each family. He is then taken into every house in the village, where fish, brandy, etc. are offered to him. Some people prostrate themselves before the beast. His entrance into a house is supposed to bring a blessing; and if he snuffs at the food offered to him, this also is a blessing. Nevertheless they tease and worry, poke and tickle the animal continually, so that he is surly and snappish.341 After being thus taken to every house, he is tied to a peg and shot dead with arrows. His head is then cut off, decked with shavings, and placed on the table where the feast is set out. Here they beg pardon of the beast and worship him. Then his flesh is roasted and eaten in special vessels of wood finely carved. They do not eat the flesh raw nor drink the blood, as the Ainos do. The brain and entrails are eaten last; and the skull, still decked with shavings, is placed on a tree near the house. Then the people sing and both sexes dance in ranks, as bears.342
The Gilyaks, a Tunguzian people of Eastern Siberia, hold a bear festival that is quite similar. “The bear is the center of great attention from the whole village and plays a crucial role in their religious [pg 106] ceremonies.” An old she-bear is hunted, and her cub is raised, but not nursed within the village. When the bear is big enough, he is taken out of his cage and paraded through the village. First, however, he is brought to the riverbank, as this is believed to guarantee an abundance of fish for each family. He is then taken into every house in the village, where fish, brandy, and other offerings are given to him. Some people bow down before the bear. His arrival in a house is thought to bring blessings, and if he sniffs at the food presented to him, this is also considered a blessing. However, they continuously tease and irritate him, poking and tickling the animal, which makes him grumpy and irritable. After visiting every house, he is tied to a stake and killed with arrows. His head is then removed, adorned with shavings, and placed on the table set for the feast. Here, they ask forgiveness from the bear and honor him. Then his flesh is roasted and served in beautifully carved wooden dishes. They do not consume the flesh raw or drink the blood, unlike the Ainos. The brain and entrails are eaten last, and the skull, still adorned with shavings, is placed on a tree near the house. Following this, the people sing and both men and women dance in lines, mimicking bears.
The Goldi, neighbours of the Gilyaks, treat the bear in much the same way. They hunt and kill it; but sometimes they capture a live bear and keep him in a cage, feeding him well and calling him their son and brother. Then at a great festival he is taken from his cage, paraded about with marked consideration, and afterwards killed and eaten. “The skull, jaw-bones, and ears are then suspended on a tree, as an antidote against evil spirits; but the flesh is eaten and much relished, for they believe that all who partake of it acquire a zest for the chase, and become courageous.”343
The Goldi, neighbors of the Gilyaks, treat the bear in a similar way. They hunt and kill it; but sometimes they capture a live bear and keep him in a cage, feeding him well and calling him their son and brother. Then at a big festival, he is taken from his cage, paraded around with special attention, and afterward killed and eaten. "The skull, jaw bones, and ears are then hung on a tree as a charm against evil spirits; however, the meat is consumed and regarded as valuable because people believe that those who eat it develop a passion for hunting and become brave."343
In the treatment of the captive bear by these tribes there are features which can hardly be distinguished from worship. Such in particular is the Gilyak custom of leading him from house to house, that every family may receive his blessing—a custom parallel to the European one of taking a May-tree or a personal representative of the tree-spirit from door to door in spring, in order that all may share the fresh energies of reviving nature. Again the expected resurrection of the bear is avowedly indicated by the bamboo leaves and by the prayer addressed to him to “come back soon into an Aino.” And that the eating of his flesh is regarded as a sacrament is made probable by the Gilyak custom of reserving special vessels to hold the bear's flesh on this solemn occasion. How is the reverence thus paid to particular bears to be reconciled with the fact that bears in general are habitually hunted and killed by these tribes for the sake of their flesh and skins? On the one hand, the [pg 108] bear is treated as a god; on the other hand, as a creature wholly subservient to human needs. The apparent contradiction vanishes when we place ourselves at the savage point of view. The savage, we must remember, believes that animals are endowed with feelings and intelligence like those of men, and that, like men, they possess souls which survive the death of their bodies either to wander about as disembodied spirits or to be born again in animal form. To the savage, therefore, who regards all living creatures as practically on a footing of equality with man,344 the act of killing and eating an animal must wear a very different aspect from that which the same act presents to us who regard the intelligence of animals as far inferior to our own and deny them the possession of immortal souls. Thus on the principles of his rude philosophy the savage who slays an animal believes himself exposed to the vengeance either of its disembodied spirit or of all the other animals of the same species, whom he considers as knit together, like men, by the ties of kin and the obligations of the blood feud, and therefore as bound to resent the injury done to one of their number. Accordingly the savage makes it a rule to spare the life of those animals which he has no pressing motive for killing, at least such fierce and dangerous animals as are likely to exact a bloody vengeance for the slaughter of one of their kind. Crocodiles are animals of this sort. They are only found in hot countries where, as a rule, food is [pg 109] abundant and primitive man has therefore no reason to kill them for the sake of their tough and unpalatable flesh. Hence it is a general rule among savages to spare crocodiles, or rather only to kill them in obedience to the law of blood feud, that is, as a retaliation for the slaughter of men by crocodiles. For example, the Dyaks of Borneo will not kill a crocodile unless a crocodile has first killed a man. “For why, say they, should they commit an act of aggression, when he and his kindred can so easily repay them? But should the alligator take a human life, revenge becomes a sacred duty of the living relatives, who will trap the man-eater in the spirit of an officer of justice pursuing a criminal. Others, even then, hang back, reluctant to embroil themselves in a quarrel which does not concern them. The man-eating alligator is supposed to be pursued by a righteous Nemesis; and whenever one is caught they have a profound conviction that it must be the guilty one, or his accomplice.”345 So the natives of Madagascar never kill a crocodile “except in retaliation for one of their friends who has been destroyed by a crocodile. They believe that the wanton destruction of one of these reptiles will be followed by the loss of human life, in accordance with the principle of lex talionis.” The people who live near the lake Itasy in Madagascar make a yearly proclamation to the crocodiles, announcing that they will revenge the death of some of their friends by killing as many crocodiles in return and warning all [pg 110] well-disposed crocodiles to keep out of the way, as they have no quarrel with them, but only with their evil-minded relations who have taken human life.346 The Foulahs of Senegambia respect crocodiles on similar grounds.347 The Seminoles, Sioux, and Iowa Indians of North America spare the rattle-snake because they fear that the ghost of the dead rattle-snake would incite its kinsfolk to take vengeance.348 No consideration will induce a Sumatran to catch or wound a tiger except in self-defence or immediately after the tiger has destroyed a friend or relation. When a European has set traps for tigers, the people of the neighbourhood have been known to go by night to the place and explain to the tiger that the traps are not set by them nor with their consent.349
In how these tribes treat the captive bear, there are elements that almost resemble worship. A notable example is the Gilyak tradition of taking the bear from house to house so that every family can receive his blessing—similar to the European custom of carrying a May tree or a representative of the tree spirit from door to door in spring, allowing everyone to share in the revitalizing energies of nature. Additionally, the anticipated return of the bear is clearly signaled by bamboo leaves and by prayers asking him to "Come back soon to an Aino." The belief that consuming his flesh is a sacred act is supported by the Gilyak practice of using special vessels to hold the bear's meat on this significant occasion. How can the respect given to specific bears be reconciled with the fact that these tribes regularly hunt and kill bears for their meat and fur? On one hand, the [pg 108] bear is venerated as a god; on the other hand, it is viewed as a being completely subordinate to human needs. This apparent contradiction disappears when we consider the perspective of those who are 'savage.' We must keep in mind that they believe animals have emotions and intelligence similar to humans, and like humans, they have souls that either roam as spirits after death or are reborn in animal form. For the savage, who sees all living beings as essentially equal to humans, the act of killing and consuming an animal must look very different than it does to us, who view animal intelligence as vastly inferior to our own and deny them the existence of immortal souls. Thus, according to their basic beliefs, when a savage kills an animal, they think they risk incurring the wrath of its spirit or of all other animals of that kind, whom they believe are united, like humans, by familial bonds and blood feud obligations, and are therefore inclined to avenge the harm done to one of their number. Consequently, they typically choose to spare the lives of animals they have no urgent reason to kill, particularly fierce and dangerous ones that might exact violent revenge for the death of one of their own. Crocodiles fall into this category. They only exist in warm climates where food is generally [pg 109] plentiful, so primitive people have little incentive to kill them for their tough and unappetizing flesh. As a result, it's customary among savages to avoid killing crocodiles, or to only do so in adherence to the blood feud principle, which is to retaliate for the deaths of humans caused by crocodiles. For instance, the Dyaks of Borneo will not kill a crocodile unless it has first killed a human. "Why, they ask, would they act aggressively when he and his family can easily retaliate? But if an alligator takes a human life, it becomes a sacred duty for the surviving relatives to capture the man-eater, just like a justice officer chasing a criminal. Others, even then, hesitate, not wanting to get involved in a conflict that doesn't affect them. The man-eating alligator is thought to be hunted by a righteous Nemesis; and whenever one is caught, they strongly believe it must be the guilty one or their accomplice."345 Similarly, the natives of Madagascar never kill a crocodile “except in retaliation for one of their friends who was killed by a crocodile. They think that the senseless killing of one of these reptiles will result in the loss of human life, based on the principle of lex talionis.” The people near Lake Itasy in Madagascar make an annual announcement to the crocodiles, informing them that they will avenge the deaths of their friends by killing as many crocodiles as possible and warning all [pg 110] friendly crocodiles to stay clear, as they have no issue with them, only with their malicious relatives who have taken human lives.346 The Foulahs of Senegambia respect crocodiles for similar reasons.347 The Seminoles, Sioux, and Iowa Indians of North America spare rattlesnakes due to fear that the spirit of the dead rattlesnake might incite its relatives to seek vengeance.348 No amount of persuasion will convince a Sumatran to capture or harm a tiger, except in self-defense or immediately after the tiger has killed a friend or relative. When a European has set traps for tigers, the local people have been known to sneak out at night to tell the tiger that the traps were not set by them or with their approval.349
But the savage clearly cannot afford to spare all animals. He must either eat some of them or starve, and when the question thus comes to be whether he or the animal must perish, he is forced to overcome his superstitious scruples and take the life of the beast. At the same time he does all he can to appease his victims and their kinsfolk. Even in the act of killing them he testifies his respect for them, endeavours to excuse or even conceal his share in procuring their death, and promises that their remains will be honourably treated. By thus robbing death of its terrors he hopes to reconcile his victims to their fate and to induce their fellows to come and be killed also. For example, it was a principle with the Kamtchatkans never to kill a land or sea animal without first making excuses to it and begging that the animal would not [pg 111] take it ill. Also they offered it cedar-nuts, etc. to make it think that it was not a victim but a guest at a feast. They believed that this prevented other animals of the same species from growing shy. For instance, after they had killed a bear and feasted on its flesh, the host would bring the bear's head before the company, wrap it in grass, and present it with a variety of trifles. Then he would lay the blame of the bear's death on the Russians, and bid the beast wreak his wrath upon them. Also he would ask the bear to tell the other bears how well he had been treated, that they too might come without fear. Seals, sea-lions, and other animals were treated by the Kamtchatkans with the same ceremonious respect.350 When the Ostiaks have hunted and killed a bear, they cut off its head and hang it on a tree. Then they gather round in a circle and pay it divine honours. Next they run towards the carcass uttering lamentations and saying, “Who killed you? It was the Russians. Who cut off your head? It was a Russian axe. Who skinned you? It was a knife made by a Russian.” They explain, too, that the feathers which sped the arrow on its flight came from the wing of a strange bird, and that they did nothing but let the arrow go. They do all this because they believe that the wandering ghost of the slain bear would attack them on the first opportunity, if they did not thus appease it.351 Or they stuff the skin of the slain bear with hay; and after celebrating their victory with songs of mockery and insult, after spitting on and kicking it, they set it up on its hind legs, “and then, for a considerable time, they [pg 112] bestow on it all the veneration due to a guardian god.”352 When a party of Koriaks have killed a bear or a wolf, they skin the beast and dress one of themselves in the skin. Then they dance round the skin-clad man, saying that it was not they who killed the animal, but some one else, generally a Russian. When they kill a fox they skin it, wrap the body in grass, and bid him go tell his companions how hospitably he has been received, and how he has received a new cloak instead of his old one.353 The Finns used to try to persuade a slain bear that he had not been killed by them, but had fallen from a tree, etc.354 When the Lapps had succeeded in killing a bear with impunity, they thanked him for not hurting them and for not breaking the clubs and spears which had given him his death wounds; and they prayed that he would not visit his death upon them by sending storms or in any other way.355 His flesh then furnished a feast.
But the savage clearly can't afford to spare all animals. He must either eat some of them or starve, and when it comes down to whether he or the animal must die, he has to set aside his superstitions and take the life of the beast. At the same time, he does everything he can to appease his victims and their relatives. Even while killing them, he shows respect, tries to excuse or hide his role in their death, and promises that their remains will be treated honorably. By making death less frightening, he hopes to ease his victims into accepting their fate and encourage their kind to come and be killed too. For instance, the Kamtchatkans had a rule never to kill a land or sea animal without first making apologies and asking the animal not to take offense. They would also offer cedar nuts and other treats to make the animal feel like a guest at a feast rather than a victim. They believed this would prevent other animals of the same species from becoming wary. After killing a bear and enjoying its meat, the host would bring the bear's head before everyone, wrap it in grass, and present it with various small gifts. Then he would blame the bear’s death on the Russians and encourage the bear to take revenge on them. He would also ask the bear to tell the other bears how well he had been treated so they would come without fear. Seals, sea lions, and other animals were treated with the same ceremonial respect by the Kamtchatkans. When the Ostiaks hunted and killed a bear, they cut off its head and hang it on a tree. Then they circle around it and pay it divine honors. Next, they rush to the carcass, lamenting and saying, “Who killed you? It was the Russians. Who cut off your head? It was a Russian axe. Who skinned you? It was a knife made by a Russian.” They also explain that the feathers that guided the arrow came from a strange bird, and that they only let the arrow go. They do this because they believe that the wandering spirit of the slain bear would attack them if they didn’t appease it. Alternatively, they stuff the bear's skin with hay, and after celebrating their victory with mocking and insulting songs, spitting on and kicking it, they prop it up on its hind legs, “and then, for a long time, they show it all the respect due to a guardian god.” When a group of Koriaks kills a bear or a wolf, they skin it and dress one of their own in its hide. Then they dance around the person in the skin, insisting that it wasn't them who killed the animal, but someone else, usually a Russian. When they kill a fox, they skin it, wrap its body in grass, and tell it to go inform its friends about the warm welcome it received and how it got a new coat instead of the old one. The Finns tried to convince a slain bear that it hadn't been killed by them, but had merely fallen from a tree, etc. When the Lapps managed to kill a bear without consequences, they thanked the bear for not hurting them or breaking the clubs and spears that caused its injuries; they prayed that it wouldn’t take revenge by sending storms or any other forms of harm. Its flesh then provided a feast.
The reverence of hunters for the bear whom they regularly kill and eat may thus be traced all along the northern region of the Old World, from Behring's Straits to Lappland. It reappears in similar forms in North America. With the American Indians a bear hunt was an important event for which they prepared by long fasts and purgations. Before setting out they offered expiatory sacrifices to the souls of bears slain in previous hunts, and besought them to be favourable to the hunters. When a bear was killed the hunter [pg 113] lit his pipe, and putting the mouth of it between the bear's lips, blew into the bowl, filling the beast's mouth with smoke. Then he begged the bear not to be angry at having been killed, and not to thwart him afterwards in the chase. The carcass was roasted whole and eaten; not a morsel of the flesh might be left over. The head, painted red and blue, was hung on a post and addressed by orators, who heaped praise on the dead beast.356 When men of the Bear clan in the Otawa tribe killed a bear, they made him a feast of his own flesh, and addressed him thus: “Cherish us no grudge because we have killed you. You have sense; you see that our children are hungry. They love you and wish to take you into their bodies. Is it not glorious to be eaten by the children of a chief?”357 Amongst the Nootka Indians of British Columbia, when a bear had been killed, it was brought in and seated before the head chief in an upright posture, with a chief's bonnet, wrought in figures, on its head, and its fur powdered over with white down. A tray of provisions was then set before it, and it was invited by words and gestures to eat. The animal was then skinned, boiled, and eaten.358
The respect that hunters have for the bear they regularly hunt and eat can be seen throughout the northern parts of the Old World, from the Bering Strait to Lapland. This attitude also appears similarly in North America. For American Indians, a bear hunt was a significant event that required preparation through long fasts and cleansing rituals. Before heading out, they performed sacrifices to atone for the souls of bears killed in past hunts, asking for their favor. When a bear was killed, the hunter lit his pipe and placed the mouthpiece between the bear's lips, blowing smoke into its mouth. He would then plead with the bear not to be angry about being killed and not to hinder him in future hunts. The bear was cooked whole, and every bit of flesh was consumed; nothing could be left over. The head, painted red and blue, was hung on a post and addressed by speakers who praised the deceased animal. When members of the Bear clan from the Ottawa tribe killed a bear, they prepared a feast with its flesh and spoke to it, saying: "Don't hold it against us for killing you. You get it; our kids are hungry. They love you and want to have you in their bodies. Isn't it a privilege to be eaten by the children of a chief?" Among the Nootka Indians of British Columbia, after a bear was killed, it was brought in and placed upright before the head chief, wearing a decorated chief's headdress and its fur sprinkled with white down. A tray of food was set before it, and it was invited to eat with words and gestures. The animal was then skinned, boiled, and eaten.
A like respect is testified for other dangerous animals by the hunters who regularly trap and kill them. When Kafir hunters are in the act of showering spears on an elephant, they call out, “Don't kill us, [pg 114] great captain; don't strike or tread upon us, mighty chief.”359 When he is dead they make their excuses to him, pretending that his death was a pure accident. As a mark of respect they bury his trunk with much solemn ceremony; for they say that “The elephant is a great lord; his trunk is his hand.”360 Amongst some tribes of Eastern Africa, when a lion is killed, the carcass is brought before the king, who does homage to it by prostrating himself on the ground and rubbing his face on the muzzle of the beast.361 In some parts of Western Africa if a negro kills a leopard he is bound fast and brought before the chiefs for having killed one of their peers. The man defends himself on the plea that the leopard is chief of the forest and therefore a stranger. He is then set at liberty and rewarded. But the dead leopard, adorned with a chief's bonnet, is set up in the village, where nightly dances are held in its honour.362 “Before leaving a temporary camp in the forest, where they have killed a tapir and dried the meat on a babracot, Indians [of Guiana] invariably destroy this babracot, saying that should a tapir passing that way find traces of the slaughter of one of his kind, he would come by night on the next occasion when Indians slept at that place, and, taking a man, would babracot him in revenge.”363
A similar respect is shown for other dangerous animals by the hunters who regularly trap and kill them. When Kafir hunters are in the process of throwing spears at an elephant, they shout, "Please don't kill us, [pg 114] great captain; don't hit or step on us, powerful chief."359 After the elephant is dead, they make excuses to him, pretending that his death was an accident. As a sign of respect, they bury his trunk with a lot of solemnity because they believe that "The elephant is a majestic creature; its trunk is like a hand."360 Among some tribes in Eastern Africa, when a lion is killed, the body is presented to the king, who honors it by lying on the ground and rubbing his face against the lion’s face.361 In certain parts of Western Africa, if a man kills a leopard, he is tied up and brought before the chiefs for having killed one of their peers. He defends himself by arguing that the leopard is the chief of the forest and thus a stranger. He is then freed and rewarded. However, the dead leopard, decorated with a chief's hat, is displayed in the village, where nightly dances are held in its honor.362 "Before leaving a temporary camp in the forest, where they have killed a tapir and dried the meat on a babracot, the Indians [of Guiana] always destroy this babracot, saying that if a tapir passing by finds evidence of the killing of one of its own, it will come at night the next time the Indians sleep there and, capturing a man, will babracot him in revenge."363
But it is not merely dangerous animals with whom the savage desires to keep on good terms. It is true that the respect which he pays to wild beasts is in some [pg 115] measure proportioned to their strength and ferocity. Thus the savage Stiens of Cambodia, believing that all animals have souls which roam about after their death, beg an animal's pardon when they kill it, lest its soul should come and torment them. Also they offer it sacrifices, but these sacrifices are proportioned to the size and strength of the animal. The ceremonies observed at the death of an elephant are conducted with much pomp and last seven days.364 Similar distinctions are drawn by North American Indians. “The bear, the buffalo, and the beaver are manidos [divinities] which furnish food. The bear is formidable, and good to eat. They render ceremonies to him, begging him to allow himself to be eaten, although they know he has no fancy for it. We kill you, but you are not annihilated. His head and paws are objects of homage.... Other animals are treated similarly from similar reasons.... Many of the animal manidos, not being dangerous, are often treated with contempt—the terrapin, the weasel, polecat, etc.”365 The distinction is instructive. Animals which are feared, or are good to eat, or both, are treated with ceremonious respect; those which are neither formidable nor good to eat are despised. We have had examples of reverence paid to animals which are both feared and eaten. It remains to prove that similar respect is shown for animals which, without being feared, are either eaten or valued for their skins.
But it’s not just dangerous animals that the savage wants to keep on good terms with. It’s true that the respect he shows to wild beasts is somewhat related to their strength and ferocity. For example, the Stiens people of Cambodia believe that all animals have souls that wander after death, so they apologize to an animal when they kill it to avoid its soul haunting them. They also make sacrifices to it, with the sacrifices being proportional to the animal's size and strength. The ceremonies for an elephant's death are elaborate and last for seven days. Similar distinctions are made by North American Indians. “The bear, the buffalo, and the beaver are manidos [divinities] that provide food. The bear is dangerous and tasty. They perform ceremonies for him, asking him to allow himself to be eaten, even though they know he doesn’t want that. We kill you, but you are not destroyed. His head and paws are honored... Other animals are treated similarly for similar reasons... Many of the animal manidos, not being dangerous, are often looked down upon—the terrapin, the weasel, polecat, etc.” The distinction is telling. Animals that are feared, good to eat, or both are treated with ceremonial respect; those that are neither threatening nor edible are disregarded. We have seen reverence shown to animals that are both feared and eaten. It remains to show that similar respect is given to animals that, while not feared, are eaten or valued for their skins.
When Siberian sable-hunters have caught a sable, no one is allowed to see it, and they think that if good or evil be spoken of the captured sable, no more sables [pg 116] will be caught. A hunter has been known to express his belief that the sables could hear what was said of them as far off as Moscow. He said that the chief reason why the sable hunt was now so unproductive was that some live sables had been sent to Moscow. There they had been viewed with astonishment as strange animals, and the sables cannot abide that. Another, though minor, cause of the diminished take of sable was, he alleged, that the world is now much worse than it used to be, so that nowadays a hunter will sometimes hide the sable which he has got instead of putting it into the common stock. This also, said he, the sables cannot abide.366 Alaskan hunters preserve the bones of sables and beavers out of reach of the dogs for a year and then bury them carefully, “lest the spirits who look after the beavers and sables should consider that they are regarded with contempt, and hence no more should be killed or trapped.”367 The Canadian Indians were equally particular not to let their dogs gnaw the bones, or at least certain of the bones, of beavers. They took the greatest pains to collect and preserve these bones and, when the beaver had been caught in a net, they threw them into the river. To a Jesuit who argued that the beavers could not possibly know what became of their bones, the Indians replied, “You know nothing about catching beavers and yet you will be talking about it. Before the beaver is stone dead, his soul takes a turn in the hut of the man who is killing him and makes a careful note of what is done with his bones. If the bones are given to the dogs, the other beavers would get word of it and would not let themselves be caught. Whereas, [pg 117] if their bones are thrown into the fire or a river, they are quite satisfied; and it is particularly gratifying to the net which caught them.”368 Before hunting the beaver they offered a solemn prayer to the Great Beaver, and presented him with tobacco; and when the chase was over, an orator pronounced a funeral oration over the dead beavers. He praised their spirit and wisdom. “You will hear no more,” said he, “the voice of the chieftains who commanded you and whom you chose from among all the warrior beavers to give you laws. Your language, which the medicine-men understand perfectly, will be heard no more at the bottom of the lake. You will fight no more battles with the otters, your cruel foes. No, beavers! But your skins shall serve to buy arms; we will carry your smoked hams to our children; we will keep the dogs from eating your bones, which are so hard.”369
When Siberian sable hunters catch a sable, no one is allowed to see it, and they believe that if anyone talks about the captured sable, good or bad, no more sables will be caught. A hunter once claimed that sables could hear what was said about them from as far away as Moscow. He stated that the main reason the sable hunt had become so unproductive was that some live sables had been sent to Moscow. There, they were viewed as strange animals, and the sables can't stand that. Another, though less significant, reason for the decline in sables, he argued, was that the world is now a much worse place than before, leading hunters to sometimes hide the sable they’ve caught instead of adding it to the common stock. He said the sables can't stand that either. Alaskan hunters keep the bones of sables and beavers out of reach of dogs for a year and then carefully bury them, “lest the spirits who look after the beavers and sables should consider that they are regarded with contempt, and hence no more should be killed or trapped.” The Canadian Indians were equally careful not to let their dogs chew on certain bones of beavers. They took great care to collect and preserve these bones, and when a beaver was caught in a net, they threw the bones into the river. To a Jesuit who argued that beavers couldn’t possibly know what happened to their bones, the Indians replied, “You know nothing about catching beavers and yet you will be talking about it. Before the beaver is completely dead, his soul takes a look in the hut of the man who is killing him and makes a careful note of what is done with his bones. If the bones are given to the dogs, the other beavers would hear about it and would avoid being caught. However, if their bones are thrown into the fire or a river, they are completely satisfied; and it is especially pleasing to the net that caught them.” Before hunting the beaver, they offered a solemn prayer to the Great Beaver and presented him with tobacco. When the chase was over, an orator delivered a eulogy for the dead beavers, praising their spirit and wisdom. “You will hear no more,” he said, “the voice of the chieftains who commanded you and whom you chose from among all the warrior beavers to give you laws. Your language, which the medicine men understand perfectly, will be heard no more at the bottom of the lake. You will fight no more battles with the otters, your cruel foes. No, beavers! But your skins shall serve to buy weapons; we will carry your smoked hams to our children; we will keep the dogs from eating your bones, which are so hard.”
The elan, deer, and elk were treated by the North American Indians with the same punctilious respect, and for the same reason. Their bones might not be given to the dogs nor thrown into the fire, nor might their fat be dropped upon the fire, because the souls of the dead animals were believed to see what was done to their bodies and to tell it to the other beasts, living and dead. Hence, if their bodies were ill used, the animals of that species would not allow [pg 118] themselves to be taken, neither in this world nor in the world to come.370 A sick man would be asked by the medicine-man whether he had not thrown away some of the flesh of the deer or turtle, and if he answered yes, the medicine-man would say, “That is what is killing you. The soul of the deer or turtle has entered into your body to avenge the wrong you did it.”371 The Sioux will not stick an awl or needle into a turtle, for they are sure that, if they were to do so, the turtle would punish them at some future time.372 The Canadian Indians would not eat the embryos of the elk, unless at the close of the hunting season; otherwise the mother-elks would be shy and refuse to be caught.373 Some of the Indians believed that each sort of animal had its patron or genius who watched over and preserved it. An Indian girl having once picked up a dead mouse, her father snatched the little creature from her and tenderly caressed and fondled it. Being asked why he did so, he said that it was to appease the genius of mice, in order that he might not torment his daughter for eating the mouse. With that he handed the mouse to the girl and she ate it.374
The elk, deer, and moose were treated by Native Americans with the same careful respect, and for the same reasons. Their bones weren’t given to dogs or thrown into the fire, nor was their fat dropped on the fire, because it was believed that the spirits of the dead animals could see what was done to their bodies and would tell the other creatures, both living and dead. Therefore, if their bodies were disrespected, the animals of that species wouldn’t allow themselves to be caught, either in this world or the next.370 A sick person would be asked by the healer if they had discarded any of the flesh from the deer or turtle, and if they said yes, the healer would respond, "That's what's making you sick. The spirit of the deer or turtle has entered your body to take revenge for the harm you caused."371 The Sioux wouldn’t pierce a turtle with a needle or awl, as they believed that doing so would lead to punishment from the turtle later on.372 Canadian tribes wouldn’t eat elk embryos, unless it was at the end of hunting season; otherwise, the mother elk would become wary and avoid being captured.373 Some tribes believed that every type of animal had a guardian spirit that looked after them and kept them safe. Once, an Indian girl picked up a dead mouse, and her father quickly took it from her and gently stroked it. When asked why, he explained that he was trying to appease the spirit of mice, so it wouldn’t punish his daughter for eating the mouse. He then gave the mouse back to the girl, and she ate it.374
For like reasons, a tribe which depends for its subsistence, chiefly or in part, upon fishing is careful to treat the fish with every mark of honour and respect. The Indians of Peru “adored the fish that they caught in greatest abundance; for they said that the first fish that was made in the world above (for so they [pg 119] named Heaven) gave birth to all other fish of that species, and took care to send them plenty of its children to sustain their tribe. For this reason they worshipped sardines in one region, where they killed more of them than of any other fish; in others, the skate; in others, the dogfish; in others, the golden fish for its beauty; in others, the crawfish; in others, for want of larger gods, the crabs, where they had no other fish, or where they knew not how to catch and kill them. In short, they had whatever fish was most serviceable to them as their gods.”375 The Otawa Indians of Canada, believing that the souls of dead fish passed into other bodies of fish, never burned fish bones, for fear of displeasing the souls of the fish, who would come no more to the nets.376 The Hurons also refrained from throwing fish bones into the fire, lest the souls of the fish should go and warn the other fish not to let themselves be caught, since the Hurons would burn their bones. Moreover, they had men who preached to the fish and persuaded them to come and be caught. A good preacher was much sought after, for they thought that the exhortations of a clever man had a great effect in drawing the fish to the nets. In the Huron fishing village where the French missionary Sagard stayed, the preacher to the fish prided himself very much on his eloquence, which was of a florid order. Every evening after supper, having seen that all the people were in their places and that a strict silence was observed, he preached to the fish. His text was that the Hurons did not burn fish bones. “Then enlarging on his theme [pg 120] with extraordinary unction, he exhorted and conjured and invited and implored the fish to come and be caught and to be of good courage and to fear nothing, for it was all to serve their friends who honoured them and did not burn their bones.”377 The disappearance of herring from the sea about Heligoland in 1530 was attributed by the fishermen to the fact that two lads had whipped a freshly-caught herring and then flung it back into the sea.378 The natives of the Duke of York Island annually decorate a canoe with flowers and ferns, lade it, or are supposed to lade it, with shell-money, and set it adrift to pay the fish for those they lose by being caught.379 It is especially necessary to treat the first fish caught with consideration in order to conciliate the rest of the fish, for their conduct may be supposed to be influenced by the reception given to the first of their kind which is taken. Accordingly the Maoris always put back into the sea the first fish caught, “with a prayer that it may tempt other fish to come and be caught.”380
For similar reasons, a tribe that relies mainly or partly on fishing is careful to treat fish with great honor and respect. The Indians of Peru “adored the fish that they caught in greatest abundance; for they said that the first fish created in the world above (as they referred to it as Heaven) gave birth to all other fish of that kind and made sure to send plenty of its offspring to support their tribe. Because of this, they worshipped sardines in one area, where they caught more than any other fish; in other places, the skate; in others, the dogfish; in others, the beautiful golden fish; in others, the crawfish; and in places where they had no other fish or did not know how to catch and kill them, they worshipped crabs. In short, they considered any fish that was most useful to them as their gods.” The Otawa Indians of Canada, believing that the souls of dead fish passed into other fish, never burned fish bones, fearing it might upset the souls of the fish, who would then stop coming to their nets. The Hurons also avoided throwing fish bones into the fire, worried that the souls of the fish would inform the others not to get caught since the Hurons would burn their bones. Additionally, they had men who preached to the fish, convincing them to come and be caught. A good preacher was highly sought after because they believed the words of a skilled speaker could greatly influence the fish to swim into the nets. In the Huron fishing village where the French missionary Sagard stayed, the fish preacher took great pride in his elaborate speaking style. Every evening after dinner, making sure everyone was seated and silence prevailed, he preached to the fish. His main point was that the Hurons did not burn fish bones. “Then, expanding on his message with extraordinary zeal, he urged and begged and invited and implored the fish to come and be caught, telling them to be brave and fear nothing, since it was all for the benefit of their friends who honored them and did not burn their bones.” The disappearance of herring from the waters near Heligoland in 1530 was blamed by fishermen on two boys who had beaten a freshly caught herring and then tossed it back into the sea. The natives of Duke of York Island annually decorate a canoe with flowers and ferns, fill it, or are believed to fill it, with shell money, and set it adrift to pay the fish for the ones they catch. It is especially important to treat the first fish caught with care to appease the others, since their behavior might be influenced by how the first fish is received. Therefore, the Maoris always return the first fish caught to the sea, “with a prayer that it may tempt other fish to come and be caught.”
Still more stringent are the precautions taken when the fish are the first of the season. On salmon rivers, when the fish begin to run up the stream in spring, they are received with much deference by tribes who, like the Indians of the Pacific Coast of North America, subsist largely upon a fish diet. In British Columbia the Indians used to go out to meet the first fish as they came up the river. “They paid [pg 121] court to them, and would address them thus. ‘You fish, you fish; you are all chiefs, you are; you are all chiefs.’ ”381 Amongst the Thlinket of Alaska the first halibut of the season is carefully handled, addressed as a chief, and a festival is given in his honour, after which the fishing goes on.382 In spring, when the winds blow soft from the south and the salmon begin to run up the Klamath river, the Karoks of California dance for salmon, to ensure a good catch. One of the Indians, called the Kareya or God-man, retires to the mountains and fasts for ten days. On his return the people flee, while he goes to the river, takes the first salmon of the catch, eats some of it, and with the rest kindles the sacred fire in the sweating-house. “No Indian may take a salmon before this dance is held, nor for ten days after it, even if his family are starving.” The Karoks also believe that a fisherman will take no salmon if the poles of which his spearing-booth is made were gathered on the river-side, where the salmon might have seen them. The poles must be brought from the top of the highest mountain. The fisherman will also labour in vain if he uses the same poles a second year in booths or weirs, “because the old salmon will have told the young ones about them.”383 Among the Indians of the Columbia River, “when the salmon make their first appearance in the river, they are never allowed to be cut crosswise, nor boiled, but roasted; nor are they allowed to be sold without the heart being first taken out, nor to be kept over night, but must be all consumed or eaten the day they are taken out of the water. All these [pg 122] rules are observed for about ten days.”384 They think that if the heart of a fish were eaten by a stranger at the beginning of the season, they would catch no more fish. Hence, they roast and eat the hearts themselves.385 There is a favourite fish of the Ainos which appears in their rivers about May and June. They prepare for the fishing by observing rules of ceremonial purity, and when they have gone out to fish, the women at home must keep strict silence or the fish would hear them and disappear. When the first fish is caught he is brought home and passed through a small opening at the end of the hut, but not through the door; for if he were passed through the door, “the other fish would certainly see him and disappear.”386 This explains the custom observed by other savages of bringing game into their huts, not by the door, but by the window, the smoke-hole, or by a special opening at the back of the hut.387
Still more strict are the precautions taken when the fish are the first of the season. On salmon rivers, when the fish start to run up the stream in spring, they are treated with great respect by tribes who, like the Indigenous peoples of the Pacific Coast of North America, rely heavily on a fish-based diet. In British Columbia, the Indigenous peoples used to go out to greet the first fish as they swam up the river. “They showed [pg 121] them respect and would say, ‘You fish, you fish; you are all leaders, you are; you are all leaders.’ ”381 Among the Thlinket of Alaska, the first halibut of the season is treated with care, addressed as a chief, and a festival is held in its honor, after which fishing resumes.382 In spring, when the winds blow gently from the south and the salmon begin to run up the Klamath river, the Karoks of California dance for salmon, to ensure a good catch. One of the Indigenous men, known as the Kareya or God-man, retreats to the mountains and fasts for ten days. Upon his return, the people scatter, while he heads to the river, takes the first salmon of the catch, eats some of it, and with the rest ignites the sacred fire in the sweating-house. "No Indigenous person can catch a salmon before this dance takes place, and for ten days after it, even if their family is hungry." The Karoks also believe that a fisherman will catch no salmon if the poles for his spearing-booth were collected by the river, where the salmon might have seen them. The poles must be sourced from the top of the highest mountain. A fisherman will also work in vain if he uses the same poles a second year in booths or weirs, “because the older salmon will have told the younger ones about them.”383 Among the Indigenous peoples of the Columbia River, "When the salmon first arrive in the river, they can never be cut crosswise or boiled; they must be roasted. They also can't be sold without first removing the heart, and they can't be kept overnight; they must be eaten the same day they’re caught. All of these rules are followed for about ten days."384 They believe that if the heart of a fish were eaten by a stranger at the beginning of the season, they would not catch any more fish. Therefore, they roast and eat the hearts themselves.385 There is a favorite fish of the Ainos that appears in their rivers around May and June. They prepare for fishing by observing rules of ceremonial cleanliness, and when they go out to fish, the women at home must remain completely silent, or else the fish would hear them and vanish. When the first fish is caught, it is brought home and passed through a small opening at the end of the hut, not through the door; if it were passed through the door, “the other fish would definitely notice it and swim away.”386 This explains the custom observed by other Indigenous peoples of bringing game into their huts, not through the door, but via the window, the smoke-hole, or through a special opening at the back of the hut.387
With some savages a special reason for respecting the bones of game, and generally of the animals which they eat, is a belief that, if the bones are preserved, they will in course of time be reclothed with flesh, and thus the animal will come to life again. It is, therefore, clearly for the interest of the hunter to leave the bones intact, since to destroy them would be to diminish the future supply of game. Many of the Minnetaree Indians “believe that the bones of those bisons which they have slain and divested of flesh rise again [pg 123] clothed with renewed flesh, and quickened with life, and become fat, and fit for slaughter the succeeding June.”388 Hence on the western prairies of America, the skulls of buffalos may be seen arranged in circles and symmetrical piles, awaiting the resurrection.389 After feasting on a dog, the Dacotas carefully collect the bones, scrape, wash, and bury them, “partly, as it is said, to testify to the dog-species, that in feasting upon one of their number no disrespect was meant to the species itself, and partly also from a belief that the bones of the animal will rise and reproduce another.”390 In sacrificing an animal the Lapps regularly put aside the bones, eyes, ears, heart, lungs, sexual parts (if the animal was a male), and a morsel of flesh from each limb. Then, after eating the rest of the flesh, they laid the bones etc. in anatomical order in a coffin and buried them with the usual rites, believing that the god to whom the animal was sacrificed would reclothe the bones with flesh and restore the animal to life in Jabme-Aimo, the subterranean world of the dead. Sometimes, as after feasting on a bear, they seem to have contented themselves with thus burying the bones.391 Thus the Lapps expected the resurrection of the slain animal to take place in another world, resembling in this respect the Kamtchatkans, who believed that every creature, down to the smallest fly, would rise from the dead and live underground.392 On the [pg 124] other hand, the North American Indians looked for the resurrection of the animals in the present world. The habit, observed especially by Mongolian peoples, of stuffing the skin of a sacrificed animal, or stretching it on a framework,393 points rather to a belief in a resurrection of the latter sort. The objection commonly entertained by primitive peoples to break the bones of the animals which they have eaten or sacrificed394 may be based either on a belief in the resurrection of the animals, or on a fear of intimidating the other creatures [pg 125] of the same species and offending the ghosts of the slain animals. The reluctance of North American Indians to let dogs gnaw the bones of animals395 is perhaps only a precaution to prevent the bones from being broken. There are traces in folk-tales of the same primitive belief that animals or men may come to life again, if only their bones are preserved; not uncommonly the animal or man in the story comes to life lame of a limb, because one of his bones has been eaten, broken, or lost.396 In a Magyar tale, the hero is cut in pieces, but the serpent-king lays the bones together in their proper order, and washes them with water, whereupon the hero comes to life again. His shoulder-blade, however, had been lost, so the serpent-king supplied its place with one of gold and ivory.397 Such stories, as Mannhardt has seen, explain why Pythagoras, who claimed to have lived many lives, one after the other, was said to have exhibited his golden leg as a proof of his supernatural pretensions.398 Doubtless he was reported to have explained that at one of his resurrections a leg had been broken or mislaid, [pg 126] and that it had been replaced with one of gold. Similarly, when the murdered Pelops was restored to life, the shoulder which Demeter had eaten was replaced with one of ivory.399 The story that one of the members of the mangled Osiris was eaten by fish, and that, when Isis collected his scattered limbs, she replaced the missing member with one of wood,400 may perhaps belong to the same circle of beliefs.
With some tribes, a special reason for respecting the bones of animals they hunt is the belief that if the bones are kept, they will eventually be covered with flesh again and the animal will come back to life. Therefore, it's clearly in the hunter's best interest to leave the bones intact, as destroying them would reduce future game supplies. Many of the Minnetaree Indians “believe that the bones of the bisons they have slain and stripped of flesh rise again [pg 123] clothed with renewed flesh, and filled with life, becoming fat and ready for slaughter the following June.”388 As a result, you can see the skulls of buffalo arranged in circles and neat piles on the western prairies of America, waiting for resurrection.389 After feasting on a dog, the Dacotas carefully gather the bones, clean, scrub, and bury them, "Partly, as it's said, to show respect for dogs, proving that no disrespect was intended by feasting on one of their own, and partly out of a belief that the bones will rise and create another."390 When they sacrifice an animal, the Lapps consistently set aside the bones, eyes, ears, heart, lungs, sexual organs (if it was a male), and a piece of flesh from each limb. Then, after eating the remaining flesh, they arrange the bones and other parts in anatomical order in a coffin and bury them with traditional rites, believing that the god to whom they sacrificed the animal would re-cover the bones with flesh and bring the animal back to life in Jabme-Aimo, the underground world of the dead. Sometimes, like after feasting on a bear, they seem satisfied with just burying the bones.391 Thus, the Lapps expected the resurrection of the slaughtered animal to happen in another world, similar to the Kamtchatkans, who believed that every creature, down to the smallest fly, would rise from the dead and live underground.392 In contrast, North American Indians looked forward to the resurrection of animals in this world. The practice, especially seen among Mongolian peoples, of preserving the skin of a sacrificed animal or stretching it on a frame,393 suggests a belief in a resurrection of a different kind. The common reluctance among primitive peoples to break the bones of the animals they've eaten or sacrificed394 may stem from either a belief in the animals’ resurrection or a fear of frightening other creatures [pg 125] of the same species and offending the spirits of the slain animals. The North American Indians' hesitation to let dogs gnaw on animal bones395 is likely just a precaution to avoid breaking them. There are hints in folktales of a similar primitive belief that animals or people can come back to life if their bones are preserved; often, the character in the story comes back to life with a limp because one of their bones was eaten, broken, or lost.396 In a Magyar tale, a hero is cut into pieces, but the serpent-king collects the bones in their correct order and washes them with water, bringing the hero back to life. However, his shoulder blade was missing, so the serpent-king replaced it with one of gold and ivory.397 Such tales, as Mannhardt noted, explain why Pythagoras, who claimed to have lived many lives one after another, reportedly showed off his golden leg as evidence of his supernatural abilities.398 He was likely said to have claimed that in one of his resurrections, a leg had been broken or lost, [pg 126] and it had been replaced with a golden one. Similarly, when the murdered Pelops was brought back to life, the shoulder that Demeter had eaten was replaced with one of ivory.399 The tale that one of the parts of the dismembered Osiris was eaten by fish, and that when Isis gathered his severed limbs, she substituted the missing part with one of wood,400 may belong to the same group of beliefs.
There is a certain rule observed by savage hunters and fishers which, obscure at first sight, may be explained by this savage belief in resurrection. A traveller in America in the early part of this century was told by a half-breed Choctaw that the Indians “had an obscure story, somewhat resembling that of Jacob wrestling with an angel; and that the full-blooded Indians always separate the sinew which shrank, and that it is never seen in the venison exposed for sale; he did not know what they did with it. His elder brother, whom I afterwards met, told me that they eat it as a rarity; but I have also heard, though on less respectable authority, that they refrain from it, like the ancient Jews. A gentleman, who had lived on the Indian frontier, or in the nation, for ten or fifteen years, told me that he had often been surprised that the Indians always detached the sinew; but it had never occurred to him to inquire the reason.”401 James Adair, who knew the Indians of the South Eastern States intimately, and whose theories appear not to have distorted his view of the facts, observes that “when in the woods, the Indians cut a small piece out of the lower part of the thighs of the deer they kill, lengthways [pg 127] and pretty deep. Among the great number of venison-hams they bring to our trading houses, I do not remember to have observed one without it.... And I have been assured by a gentleman of character, who is now an inhabitant of South Carolina, and well acquainted with the customs of the Northern Indians, that they also cut a piece out of the thigh of every deer they kill, and throw it away; and reckon it such a dangerous pollution to eat it as to occasion sickness and other misfortunes of sundry kinds, especially by spoiling their guns from shooting with proper force and direction.”402 In recent years the statement of Adair's informant has been confirmed by the French missionary Petitot, who has also published the “obscure story” to which Hodgson refers. The Loucheux and Hare-skin Indians who roam the bleak steppes and forests that stretch from Hudson's Bay to the Rocky Mountains, and northward to the frozen sea, are forbidden by custom to eat the sinew of the legs of animals. To explain this custom they tell the following “sacred story.” Once upon a time a man found a burrow of porcupines, and going down into it after the porcupines he lost his way in the darkness, till a kind giant called “He who sees before and behind” released him by cleaving open the earth. So the man, whose name was “Fireless and Homeless,” lived with the kind giant, and the giant hunted elans and beavers for him, and carried him about in the sheath of his flint knife. “But know, my son,” said the giant, “that he who uses the sky as his head is angry with me, and has sworn my destruction. If he slays me the clouds will be tinged with my blood; they will be red with it, probably.” Then he gave the man an axe made of the [pg 128] tooth of a gigantic beaver, and went forth to meet his enemy. But from under the ice the man heard a dull muffled sound. It was a whale which was making this noise because it was naked and cold. Warned by the man, the giant went toward the whale, which took human shape, and rushed upon the giant. It was the wicked giant, the kind giant's enemy. The two struggled together for a long time, till the kind giant cried, “Oh, my son! cut, cut the sinew of the leg.” The man cut the sinew, and the wicked giant fell down and was slain. That is why the Indians do not eat the sinew of the leg. Afterwards, one day the sky suddenly grew red, so Fireless and Homeless knew that the kind giant was dead, and he wept.403 This myth, it is almost needless to observe, does not really explain the custom. No people ever observed a custom because a mythical being was said to have once acted in a certain way. But, on the contrary, all peoples have invented myths to explain why they observed certain customs. Dismissing, therefore, the story of Fireless and Homeless as a myth invented to explain why the Indians abstain from eating a particular sinew, it may be suggested404 that the original reason for observing the custom was a belief that the sinew in question was necessary to reproduction, and that deprived of it the slain animals could not come to life again and stock the steppes and prairies either of the present world or of the spirit land. We have seen that the resurrection [pg 129] of animals is a common article of savage faith, and that when the Lapps bury the skeleton of the male bear in the hope of its resurrection they are careful to bury the genital parts along with it.405
There is a certain rule followed by primitive hunters and fishers that, while not immediately clear, can be explained by their belief in resurrection. A traveler in America at the start of this century was told by a mixed-race Choctaw that the Indians "had a vague story, somewhat similar to Jacob wrestling with an angel; and that the full-blooded Indians always separate the sinew that shrank, and it is never seen in the venison on sale; he didn't know what they did with it. His older brother, whom I met later, told me that they eat it occasionally as a delicacy; but I've also heard, though from less reliable sources, that they avoid it, like the ancient Jews. A gentleman who lived on the Indian frontier, or within the nation, for ten or fifteen years, mentioned that he was often curious about why the Indians always removed the sinew; but it never occurred to him to ask why." James Adair, who was well-acquainted with the Indians of the Southeastern States and whose views seem to be based on facts rather than distortion, remarked that "when in the woods, the Indians cut a small piece from the lower part of the thighs of the deer they kill, lengthwise and quite deep. Among the many venison hams they bring to our trading houses, I don't recall seeing one without it... And I have been told by a reputable gentleman, who now lives in South Carolina and is familiar with the customs of the Northern Indians, that they also cut a piece from the thigh of every deer they kill and discard it, considering it such a dangerous impurity to eat that it can cause illness and various misfortunes, particularly ruining their guns from not firing with the proper force and direction." In recent years, Adair's informant's statement has been supported by the French missionary Petitot, who also published the "vague story" that Hodgson mentioned. The Loucheux and Hare-skin Indians who roam the desolate plains and forests from Hudson's Bay to the Rocky Mountains, and northward to the frozen seas, are customarily forbidden to eat the leg sinew of animals. To explain this custom, they tell the following "sacred story." Once, a man discovered a porcupine burrow, and while pursuing the porcupines, he got lost in the darkness until a kind giant called "He who sees before and behind" rescued him by splitting the earth open. So the man, whose name was "Fireless and Homeless," lived with the kind giant, who hunted elk and beavers for him and carried him in the sheath of his flint knife. "But know, my son," said the giant, "that he who uses the sky as his head is angry with me and has sworn to destroy me. If he kills me, the clouds will be stained with my blood; they will be red with it, probably." Then he gave the man an axe made from the tooth of a gigantic beaver and went off to confront his enemy. But from under the ice, the man heard a dull, muffled sound. It was a whale making this noise because it was exposed and cold. Warned by the man, the giant approached the whale, which transformed into a human shape and attacked the giant. It was the wicked giant, the enemy of the kind giant. They fought for a long time until the kind giant cried, "Oh, my son! Cut the sinew of the leg." The man cut the sinew, and the wicked giant fell and was defeated. That’s why the Indians do not eat the leg sinew. Later, one day the sky suddenly turned red, and Fireless and Homeless realized that the kind giant was dead, and he cried. This myth, it almost goes without saying, doesn’t truly explain the custom. No group follows a custom simply because a mythical being was said to have acted in a certain way. Rather, all societies create myths to clarify why they follow specific customs. Therefore, setting aside the story of Fireless and Homeless as a myth created to explain why the Indians avoid eating a particular sinew, it can be suggested that the original reason for this custom was the belief that the sinew was essential for reproduction, and without it, the killed animals could not come back to life and populate the present world or the spirit realm. We have seen that the resurrection of animals is a widely held belief among primitive peoples, and that when the Lapps bury the skeleton of the male bear in hopes of its resurrection, they ensure to bury the reproductive parts along with it.
Besides the animals which primitive man dreads for their strength and ferocity, and those which he reveres on account of the benefits which he expects from them, there is another class of creatures which he sometimes deems it necessary to conciliate by worship and sacrifice. These are the vermin that infest the crops. To rid himself of these deadly foes the farmer has recourse to a thousand superstitious devices, of which, though many are meant to destroy or intimidate the vermin, others aim at propitiating them and persuading them by fair means to spare the fruits of the earth. Thus Esthonian peasants, in the Island of Oesel, stand in great awe of the weevil, an insect which is exceedingly destructive to the grain. They give it a euphemistic title, and if a child is about to kill a [pg 130] weevil they say, “Don't do it; the more we hurt him, the more he hurts us.” If they find a weevil they bury it in the earth instead of killing it. Some even put the weevil under a stone in the field and offer corn to it. They think that thus it is appeased and does less harm.406 Amongst the Saxons of Transylvania, in order to keep sparrows from the corn, the sower begins by throwing the first handful of seed backwards over his head, saying, “That is for you, sparrows.” To guard the corn against the attacks of leaf-flies (Erdflöhe) he shuts his eyes and scatters three handfuls of oats in different directions. Having made this offering to the leaf-flies he feels sure that they will spare the corn. A Transylvanian way of securing the crops against all birds, beasts, and insects, is this: After he has finished sowing, the sower goes once more from end to end of the field imitating the gesture of sowing, but with an empty hand. As he does so he says, “I sow this for the animals; I sow it for everything that flies and creeps, that walks and stands, that sings and springs, in the name of God the Father, etc.”407 The following is a German way of freeing a garden from caterpillars. After sunset or at midnight the mistress of the house, or another female member of the family, walks all round the garden dragging a broom after her. She must not look behind her, and must keep murmuring, “Good evening, Mother Caterpillar, you shall come with your husband to church.” The garden gate is left open till the following morning.408
Besides the animals that early humans feared for their strength and aggression, and those they respected for the benefits they might provide, there's another group of creatures that they sometimes felt the need to appease through worship and sacrifice. These are the pests that invade the crops. To eliminate these deadly adversaries, farmers resort to numerous superstitious practices, many of which aim to either drive away or scare off the pests, while others try to appease them and convince them, through kind gestures, to leave the earth's fruits alone. For example, Estonian farmers on the Island of Oesel hold the weevil, a highly destructive insect to their grain, in great reverence. They use a softer name for it and caution a child about to kill a weevil, saying, “Don’t do it; the more we hurt him, the more he hurts us.” If they spot a weevil, they bury it in the ground instead of killing it. Some even place the weevil under a stone in the field and offer it corn, believing this will appease it and cause it to do less damage. Among the Saxons in Transylvania, to keep sparrows away from the corn, the sower starts by tossing the first handful of seeds over his shoulder, saying, “That is for you, sparrows.” To protect the corn from leaf-flies, he closes his eyes and scatters three handfuls of oats in different directions. After making this offering to the leaf-flies, he feels confident they will spare the corn. Another Transylvanian method for securing crops against all birds, beasts, and insects involves the sower walking through the field one more time, mimicking the act of sowing but with an empty hand. As he does this, he says, “I sow this for the animals; I sow it for everything that flies and creeps, that walks and stands, that sings and springs, in the name of God the Father, etc.” A common German practice for getting rid of caterpillars in a garden involves the lady of the house, or another female relative, walking around the garden at sunset or midnight while dragging a broom behind her. She must not look back and must keep murmuring, “Good evening, Mother Caterpillar, you shall come with your husband to church.” The garden gate is left open until the next morning.
Sometimes in dealing with vermin the farmer [pg 131] resorts neither to unmitigated severity nor to unbounded indulgence, but aims at adopting a judicious compromise between the two; kind but firm, he tempers severity with mercy. An ancient Greek treatise on farming advises the husbandman who would rid his lands of mice to act thus: “Take a sheet of paper and write on it as follows: ‘I adjure you, ye mice here present, that ye neither injure me nor suffer another mouse to do so. I give you yonder field’ (here you specify the field); ‘but if ever I catch you here again, by the Mother of the Gods I will rend you in seven pieces.’ Write this, and stick the paper on an unhewn stone in the field before sunrise, taking care to keep the written side uppermost.”409 Sometimes the desired object is supposed to be attained by treating with high distinction one or two chosen individuals of the obnoxious species, while the rest are pursued with relentless rigour. In the East Indian island of Bali, the mice which ravage the rice-fields are caught in great numbers, and burned in the same way that corpses are burned. But two of the captured mice are allowed to live, and receive a little packet of white linen. Then the people bow down before them, as before gods, and let them go.410 In some parts of Bohemia the peasant, though he kills field mice and gray mice without scruple, always spares white mice. If he finds a white mouse he takes it up carefully, and makes a comfortable bed for it in the window; for if it died the luck of the house would be gone, and the gray mice would [pg 132] multiply fearfully in the house.411 When caterpillars invaded a vineyard or field in Syria, the virgins were gathered, and one of the caterpillars was taken and a girl made its mother. Then they bewailed and buried it. Thereafter they conducted the “mother” to the place where the caterpillars were, consoling her, in order that all the caterpillars might leave the garden.412 On the 1st of September, Russian girls “make small coffins of turnips and other vegetables, enclose flies and other insects in them, and then bury them with a great show of mourning.”413
Sometimes when dealing with pests, the farmer [pg 131] doesn't go for complete harshness or total leniency, but instead tries to find a reasonable middle ground; kind but firm, he balances tough love with compassion. An ancient Greek farming manual suggests that a farmer wanting to get rid of mice should do this: "Take a piece of paper and write the following: ‘I call upon you, mice present here, not to harm me or allow any other mouse to do so. I give you that field over there’ (here you name the field); ‘but if I catch you here again, by the Mother of the Gods, I will tear you into seven pieces.’” Write this out and attach the paper to an uncut stone in the field before sunrise, ensuring the written side is facing up."409 Sometimes the goal is thought to be achieved by treating one or two selected individuals of the unwanted species with high regard, while the others are hunted down with fierce determination. In the East Indian island of Bali, the mice that destroy the rice fields are caught in large numbers and burned like corpses. However, two of the captured mice are spared and given a small packet of white cloth. Then, the people bow down to them as if they were gods and set them free.410 In some regions of Bohemia, the peasant kills field mice and gray mice without hesitation but always spares white mice. If he finds a white mouse, he picks it up gently and makes a cozy bed for it in the window, because if it dies, the luck of the house would be gone, and the gray mice would [pg 132] multiply uncontrollably in the home.411 When caterpillars invaded a vineyard or field in Syria, the virgins were gathered, and one of the caterpillars was taken to be treated as if it were the mother. Then they mourned for it and buried it. Afterward, they led the “mom” to where the caterpillars were, comforting her so that all the caterpillars would leave the garden.412 On the 1st of September, Russian girls “Create small coffins using turnips and other vegetables, place flies and other insects inside them, and then bury them with great sorrow.”413
In these latter examples the deference shown to a few chosen individuals of the species is apparently regarded as entitling a person to exterminate with impunity all the rest of the species upon which he can lay hands. This principle perhaps explains the attitude, at first sight puzzling and contradictory, of the Ainos towards the bear. The flesh and skin of the bear regularly afford them food and clothing; but since the bear is an intelligent and powerful animal, it is necessary to offer some satisfaction or atonement to the bear species for the loss which it sustains in the death of so many of its members. This satisfaction or atonement is made by rearing young bears, treating them, so long as they live, with respect, and killing them with extraordinary marks of sorrow and devotion. Thus the other bears are appeased, and do not resent the slaughter of their kind by attacking the slayers or deserting the country, and thus depriving the Ainos of one of their means of subsistence.
In these later examples, the respect given to a select few individuals of the species seems to allow a person to kill any other members of that species without consequence. This idea might explain the seemingly puzzling and contradictory attitude of the Ainos towards the bear. The flesh and skin of the bear often provide them with food and clothing; however, because the bear is an intelligent and strong animal, it's important to offer some form of satisfaction or atonement to the bear population for the loss caused by the death of many of its members. This atonement is given by raising young bears, treating them with respect while they live, and killing them with profound expressions of grief and devotion. This way, the other bears are appeased and do not retaliate against the hunters or leave the area, which would cut off a vital source of sustenance for the Ainos.
Thus the primitive worship of animals assumes two forms, which are in some respects the converse of each other. On the one hand animals are respected, and are therefore neither killed nor eaten. Totemism is a form of this worship, if worship it can be called; but it is not the only form, for we have seen that dangerous and useless animals, like the crocodile, are commonly revered and spared by men who do not regard the animal in question as their totem. On the other hand animals are worshipped because they are habitually killed and eaten. In both forms of worship the animal is revered on account of some benefit, positive or negative, which the savage hopes to receive from it. In the former worship the benefit comes either in the positive form of protection, advice, and help which the animal affords the man, or in the negative one of abstinence from injuries which it is in the power of the animal to inflict. In the latter worship the benefit takes the material form of the animal's flesh and skin. The two forms of worship are in some measure antithetical: in the one, the animal is not eaten because it is revered; in the other, it is revered because it is eaten. But both may be practised by the same people, as we see in the case of the North American Indians, who, while they revere and spare their totem animals, also revere the animals and fish upon which they subsist. The aborigines of Australia have totemism in the most primitive form known to us, but, so far as I am aware, there is no evidence that they attempt, like the North American Indians, to conciliate the animals which they kill and eat. The means which the Australians adopt to secure a plentiful supply of game appear to be based not on [pg 134] conciliation, but on sympathetic magic,414 a principle to which the North American Indians also resort for the same purpose.415 If this is so, it would appear that the totemistic respect for animals is older than the other, and that, before hunters think of worshipping the game as a means of ensuring an abundant supply of it, they seek to attain the same end by sympathetic magic. This, again, would show—what there is good reason for believing—that sympathetic magic is one of the earliest means by which man endeavours to adapt the agencies of nature to his needs.
Thus, the primitive worship of animals takes on two forms that are somewhat opposite. On one side, animals are respected and therefore not killed or eaten. Totemism is one example of this worship, if you can call it that; however, it’s not the only example, as we’ve seen that dangerous and seemingly useless animals, like the crocodile, are often honored and spared by people who don’t see those animals as their totem. On the flip side, animals are worshipped because they are regularly killed and eaten. In both forms of worship, the animal is revered due to some benefit—whether good or bad—that the person hopes to gain from it. In the first case, the benefit comes in the form of either the protection, guidance, and assistance the animal provides, or the avoidance of harm that the animal could potentially inflict. In the second case, the benefit is the actual meat and skin of the animal. The two forms of worship are somewhat contradictory: in one, the animal isn’t eaten because it’s respected; in the other, it’s respected because it's eaten. However, both practices can be found among the same people, as seen with some North American Indians who respect and spare their totem animals while also honoring the animals and fish they rely on for food. The Aboriginal people of Australia exhibit totemism in the most basic form known to us, but, as far as I know, there’s no evidence that they try, like the North American Indians, to appease the animals they hunt and eat. The methods used by Australians to ensure a good supply of game seem to be based not on appeasement, but on sympathetic magic, a strategy that North American Indians also use for the same reason. If this is true, it suggests that totemistic respect for animals is older than the other form, indicating that before hunters consider worshipping their game to guarantee an abundant supply, they try to achieve that goal through sympathetic magic. This would further support the notion—backed by strong evidence—that sympathetic magic is one of the earliest ways humans seek to shape the forces of nature to meet their needs.
Corresponding to the two distinct types of animal worship, there are two distinct types of the custom of killing the animal god. On the one hand, when the revered animal is habitually spared, it is nevertheless killed—and sometimes eaten—on rare and solemn occasions. Examples of this custom have been already given and an explanation of them offered. On the other hand, when the revered animal is habitually killed, the slaughter of any one of the species involves the killing of the god, and is atoned for on the spot by apologies and sacrifices, especially when the animal is a powerful and dangerous one; and, in addition to this ordinary and everyday atonement, there is a special annual atonement, at which a select individual of the species is slain with extraordinary marks of respect and devotion. Clearly the two types of sacramental killing—the Egyptian and the Aino types, as we may call them for distinction—are liable to be confounded by an observer; and, [pg 135] before we can say to which type any particular example belongs, it is necessary to ascertain whether the animal sacramentally slain belongs to a species which is habitually spared, or to one which is habitually killed by the tribe. In the former case the example belongs to the Egyptian type of sacrament, in the latter to the Aino type.
Corresponding to the two distinct types of animal worship, there are also two distinct customs regarding the killing of the animal god. On one hand, when the revered animal is usually spared, it is still killed—and sometimes eaten—on rare and significant occasions. Examples of this custom have already been provided along with explanations. On the other hand, when the revered animal is usually killed, the slaughter of any member of that species means killing the god, and this is immediately atoned for with apologies and sacrifices, especially if the animal is a powerful and dangerous one. In addition to this regular and daily atonement, there is a special annual atonement, in which a chosen individual of the species is killed with extraordinary respect and devotion. Clearly, the two types of sacramental killing—the Egyptian and the Aino types, as we can call them for clarity—could easily be confused by an observer; and, [pg 135] before we can determine to which type any particular example belongs, we need to find out whether the animal that is sacramentally killed belongs to a species that is usually spared or one that is usually killed by the tribe. In the former case, the example belongs to the Egyptian type of sacrament; in the latter, it belongs to the Aino type.
The practice of pastoral tribes appears to furnish examples of both types of sacrament. “Pastoral tribes,” says the most learned ethnologist of the day, “being sometimes obliged to sell their herds to strangers who may handle the bones disrespectfully, seek to avert the danger which such a sacrilege would entail by consecrating one of the herd as an object of worship, eating it sacramentally in the family circle with closed doors, and afterwards treating the bones with all the ceremonious respect which, strictly speaking, should be accorded to every head of cattle, but which, being punctually paid to the representative animal, is deemed to be paid to all. Such family meals are found among various peoples, especially those of the Caucasus. When amongst the Abchases the shepherds in spring eat their common meal with their loins girt and their staffs in their hands, this may be looked upon both as a sacrament and as an oath of mutual help and support. For the strongest of all oaths is that which is accompanied with the eating of a sacred substance, since the perjured person cannot possibly escape the avenging god whom he has taken into his body and assimilated.”416 This kind of sacrament [pg 136] is of the Aino or expiatory type, since it is meant to atone to the species for the possible ill-usage of individuals. An expiation, similar in principle but different in details, is offered by the Kalmucks to the sheep whose flesh is one of their staple foods. Rich Kalmucks are in the habit of consecrating a white ram under the title of “the ram of heaven” or “the ram of the spirit.” The animal is never shorn and never sold; but when it grows old and its owner wishes to consecrate a new one, the old ram must be killed and eaten at a feast to which the neighbours are invited. On a lucky day, generally in autumn when the sheep are fat, a sorcerer kills the old ram, after sprinkling it with milk. Its flesh is eaten; the skeleton, with a portion of the fat, is burned on a turf altar; and the skin, with the head and feet, is hung up.417
The practice of pastoral tribes seems to provide examples of both types of sacrament. "Rural tribes," says the most knowledgeable ethnologist today, “often have to sell their herds to outsiders who might disrespect the bones. To avoid the danger that such a disrespect would bring, they consecrate one of the herd as an object of worship, eat it sacramentally in the family circle with the doors closed, and then treat the bones with the utmost respect that should generally be given to every head of cattle. However, since this respect is consistently shown to the representative animal, it is understood to be given to all. These family meals take place among various groups, especially those in the Caucasus. For example, among the Abchases, shepherds in spring share a common meal with their loins girded and staffs in hand, which can be seen as both a sacrament and a pledge of mutual assistance. The strongest oaths are taken with the consumption of a sacred substance, as the person who commits perjury cannot escape the wrath of the god they have taken into their body and assimilated.”416 This type of sacrament [pg 136] is of the Aino or expiatory type, as it is intended to make amends to the species for any possible mistreatment of individuals. A similar expiation, differing in details but based on the same principle, is performed by the Kalmucks for the sheep that are a staple of their diet. Wealthy Kalmucks typically consecrate a white ram known as "the ram of heaven" or "the spirit's ram." This animal is never shorn or sold; when it becomes old and its owner wants to consecrate a new one, they must kill and eat the old ram at a feast to which neighbors are invited. On an auspicious day, usually in autumn when the sheep are fat, a sorcerer kills the old ram after sprinkling it with milk. Its flesh is consumed, the skeleton along with some fat is burned on a turf altar, and the skin, head, and feet are hung up.417
An example of a sacrament of the Egyptian type is furnished by the Todas, a pastoral people of Southern India, who subsist largely upon the milk of their buffaloes. Amongst them “the buffalo is to a certain degree held sacred” and “is treated with great kindness, even with a degree of adoration, by the people.”418 They never eat the flesh of the cow buffalo, and as a rule abstain from the flesh of the male. But [pg 137] to the latter rule there is a single exception. Once a year all the adult males of the village join in the ceremony of killing and eating a very young male calf,—seemingly under a month old. They take the animal into the dark recesses of the village wood, where it is killed with a club made from the sacred tree of the Todas (the tûde or Millingtonia). A sacred fire having been made by the rubbing of sticks, the flesh of the calf is roasted on the embers of certain trees, and is eaten by the men alone, women being excluded from the assembly. This is the only occasion on which the Todas eat buffalo flesh.419 The Madi or Moru tribe of Central Africa, whose chief wealth is their cattle, though they also practice agriculture, appear to kill a lamb sacramentally on certain solemn occasions. The custom is thus described by Dr. Felkin. “A remarkable custom is observed at stated times—once a year, I am led to believe. I have not been able to ascertain what exact meaning is attached to it. It appears, however, to relieve the people's minds, for beforehand they evince much sadness, and seem very joyful when the ceremony is duly accomplished. The following is what takes place: A large concourse of people of all ages assemble, and sit down round a circle of stones, which is erected by the side of a road (really a narrow path). A very choice lamb is then fetched by a boy, who leads it four times round the assembled people. As it passes they pluck off little bits of its fleece and place them in their hair, or on to some other part of their body. The lamb is then led up to the stones, and there killed by a man belonging to a kind of priestly order, who takes some of the blood and sprinkles it four times over the people. He [pg 138] then applies it individually. On the children he makes a small ring of blood over the lower end of the breast bone, on women and girls he makes a mark above the breasts, and the men he touches on each shoulder. He then proceeds to explain the ceremony, and to exhort the people to show kindness.... When this discourse, which is at times of great length, is over, the people rise, each places a leaf on or by the circle of stones, and then they depart with signs of great joy. The lamb's skull is hung on a tree near the stones, and its flesh is eaten by the poor. This ceremony is observed on a small scale at other times. If a family is in any great trouble, through illness or bereavement, their friends and neighbours come together and a lamb is killed: this is thought to avert further evil. The same custom prevails at the grave of departed friends, and also on joyful occasions, such as the return of a son home after a very prolonged absence.”420 The sorrow thus manifested by the people at the annual slaughter of the lamb clearly indicates that the lamb slain is a divine animal, whose death is mourned by his worshippers,421 just as the death of the sacred buzzard was mourned by the Californians and the death of the Theban ram by the Egyptians. The smearing each of the worshippers with the blood of the lamb is a form of communion with the divinity;422 the vehicle of the divine life is applied externally instead of being taken internally, as when the blood is drunk or the flesh eaten.
An example of a sacrament similar to those in Egypt can be seen with the Todas, a pastoral group in Southern India, who mainly live off the milk of their buffaloes. Among them, "The buffalo is seen as somewhat sacred." and "is treated with a lot of kindness, even a sense of reverence, by the community."418 They never eat the flesh of the cow buffalo and generally avoid eating the males. However, [pg 137] there’s one exception to this rule. Once a year, all the adult males in the village participate in a ceremony where they kill and eat a very young male calf—apparently under a month old. They take the calf into the dark parts of the village woods, where it's struck down with a club made from the sacred tree of the Todas (the tude or Millingtonia). After creating a sacred fire by rubbing sticks together, the calf's flesh is roasted on the embers of specific trees and consumed only by the men, while women are excluded from the gathering. This is the only time the Todas eat buffalo meat.419 The Madi or Moru tribe of Central Africa, whose main wealth comes from cattle, also practice agriculture, and they seem to sacramentally kill a lamb on certain significant occasions. Dr. Felkin describes this custom: A notable ritual takes place at specific times—once a year, as I understand it. I couldn't discover the exact significance behind it. However, it seems to boost the spirits of the people, who appear quite sad beforehand and very joyful once the ceremony is over. Here’s how it goes: A large crowd of people of all ages gathers around a circle of stones set up next to a narrow path. A selected lamb is brought by a boy, who leads it around the group four times. As it goes by, they take small tufts of its fleece and place them in their hair or on other parts of their body. The lamb is then taken to the stones, where a man from a sort of priestly class kills it and sprinkles some of its blood over the people four times. He [pg 138] then applies it individually. For children, he makes a small circle of blood at the lower end of their breastbone; for women and girls, he makes a mark above the breasts; and for men, he touches each shoulder. He then explains the ceremony and encourages kindness.... After this often lengthy talk, the people stand up, each placing a leaf on or by the circle of stones. Then they leave, showing signs of great joy. The lamb's skull is hung on a nearby tree, and the meat is given to the needy. This ceremony is also performed on a smaller scale at other times. If a family is facing serious troubles, like illness or loss, their friends and neighbors come together and a lamb is sacrificed; this is believed to prevent further misfortune. The same practice takes place at the graves of deceased friends, as well as during happy events like a son returning home after a long time away.420 The sadness expressed by the people during the annual slaughter of the lamb clearly shows that the lamb is viewed as a divine animal, whose death is mourned by its worshippers,421 just as the Californians mourned the death of the sacred buzzard and the Egyptians mourned the death of the Theban ram. The act of smearing each worshipper with the lamb's blood is a form of communion with the divine;422 it’s a way to apply the divine essence externally rather than ingesting it, as in drinking blood or eating flesh.
The form of communion in which the sacred animal is taken from house to house, that all may enjoy a share of its divine influence, has been exemplified by the Gilyak custom of promenading the bear through the village before it is slain. A similar form of communion with the sacred snake is observed by a Snake tribe in the Punjaub. Once a year in the month of September the snake is worshipped by all castes and religions for nine days only. At the end of August the Mirasans, especially those of the Snake tribe, make a snake of dough which they paint black and red, and place on a winnowing basket. This basket they carry round the village, and on entering any house they say—
The practice of sharing a sacred animal by taking it from house to house, so everyone can benefit from its divine influence, is seen in the Gilyak tradition of parading a bear through the village before it's killed. A similar practice is followed by a Snake tribe in Punjab, where for nine days each September, people of all castes and religions worship a snake. At the end of August, the Mirasans, particularly those in the Snake tribe, create a snake from dough, paint it black and red, and place it on a winnowing basket. They carry this basket around the village, and when they enter a house, they say—
They then present the basket with the snake, saying—
They then present the basket with the snake, saying—
Strictly speaking, a cake and butter should be given, but it is seldom done. Every one, however, gives something, generally a handful of dough or some corn. In houses where there is a new bride or whence a bride has gone, or where a son has been born, it is usual to give a rupee and a quarter, or some cloth. Sometimes the bearers of the snake also sing—
Strictly speaking, a cake and butter should be provided, but that rarely happens. However, everyone usually gives something, typically a handful of dough or some corn. In homes with a new bride or where a bride has left, or where a son has been born, it's common to give a rupee and a quarter or some cloth. Sometimes the bearers of the snake also sing—
When every house has been thus visited, the dough snake is buried and a small grave is erected over it. Hither during the nine days of September the women [pg 140] come to worship. They bring a basin of curds, a small portion of which they offer at the snake's grave, kneeling on the ground and touching the earth with their foreheads. Then they go home and divide the rest of the curds among the children. Here the dough snake is clearly a substitute for a real snake. This is proved by the fact that in districts where snakes abound the worship is offered, not at the grave of the dough snake, but in the jungles where snakes are known to be. Besides this yearly worship performed by all the people, the members of the Snake tribe worship in the same way every morning after a new moon. The Snake tribe is not uncommon in the Punjaub. Members of it will not kill a snake and they say that its bite does not hurt them. If they find a dead snake, they put clothes on it and give it a regular funeral.423
When every house has been visited, the dough snake is buried and a small grave is set up over it. During the nine days of September, women [pg 140] come to pay their respects. They bring a basin of curds, offering a small portion at the snake's grave while kneeling on the ground and touching the earth with their foreheads. After that, they go home and share the rest of the curds with the children. Here, the dough snake clearly represents a real snake. This is confirmed by the fact that in areas where snakes are common, worship takes place not at the dough snake's grave, but in the jungles where real snakes are found. In addition to this yearly worship by the community, members of the Snake tribe also worship in the same way every morning after a new moon. The Snake tribe is fairly common in the Punjab. Members of this tribe won’t kill a snake, and they claim that its bite doesn’t hurt them. If they come across a dead snake, they dress it in clothes and give it a proper funeral.
Ceremonies closely analogous to this Indian worship of the snake have survived in Europe into recent times, and doubtless date from a very primitive paganism. The best-known example is the “hunting of the wren.” By many European peoples—the ancient Greeks and Romans, the modern Italians, Spaniards, French, Germans, Dutch, Danes, Swedes, English, and Welsh—the wren has been designated the king, the little king, the king of birds, the hedge king, etc.,424 and has been reckoned amongst those birds which it is extremely unlucky to kill. In England it is thought that if any one kills a wren or harries its nest, he will infallibly break a bone or [pg 141] meet with some dreadful misfortune within the year;425 sometimes it is thought that the cows will give bloody milk.426 In Scotland the wren is called “the Lady of Heaven's hen,” and boys say—
Ceremonies similar to this Indian worship of the snake have persisted in Europe into modern times and likely go back to ancient pagan practices. The most famous example is the "wren hunting." Many European cultures—the ancient Greeks and Romans, as well as present-day Italians, Spaniards, French, Germans, Dutch, Danes, Swedes, English, and Welsh—have referred to the wren as the king, the little king, the king of birds, the hedge king, etc.,424 and it's considered one of those birds that you should absolutely not kill. In England, it’s believed that if someone kills a wren or disturbs its nest, they will surely break a bone or [pg 141] encounter some terrible misfortune within the year;425 sometimes it’s thought that cows will produce bloody milk.426 In Scotland, the wren is called “the Lady of Heaven's hen,” and boys say—
At Saint Donan, in Brittany, people believe that if children touch the young wrens in the nest, they will suffer from the fire of St. Lawrence, that is, from pimples on the face, legs, etc.428 In other parts of France it is believed that if a person kills a wren or harries its nest, his house will be struck by lightning, or that the fingers with which he did the deed will shrivel up and drop off, or at least be maimed, or that his cattle will suffer in their feet.429 Notwithstanding such beliefs, the custom of annually killing the wren has prevailed widely both in this country and in France. In the Isle of Man last century the custom was observed on Christmas Eve or rather Christmas morning. On the 24th of December, towards evening, all the servants got a holiday; they did not go to bed all night, but rambled about till the bells rang in all the churches at midnight. When prayers were over, they went to hunt the wren, and having found one of these birds they killed it and fastened it to the top of a long pole with its wings extended. Thus they carried it in procession to every house chanting the following rhyme—
At Saint Donan, in Brittany, people believe that if kids touch the young wrens in the nest, they will suffer from the fire of St. Lawrence, meaning they'll get pimples on their face, legs, and so on.428 In other parts of France, it's believed that if someone kills a wren or disturbs its nest, their house will be struck by lightning, or the fingers they used will shrivel up and fall off, or at least be injured, or their cattle will have foot problems.429 Despite these beliefs, the tradition of killing the wren each year has been widely practiced both in this country and in France. In the Isle of Man last century, this tradition was followed on Christmas Eve, or rather Christmas morning. On December 24th, in the evening, all the servants got the night off; they stayed awake all night, wandering around until the church bells rang at midnight. After the prayers, they went to hunt the wren, and once they found one, they killed it and attached it to the top of a long pole with its wings spread out. They then carried it in a procession to every house while chanting the following rhyme—
After going from house to house and collecting all the money they could, they laid the wren on a bier “with the utmost solemnity, singing dirges over her in the Manks language, which they call her knell; after which Christmas begins.” After the burial the company outside the churchyard formed a circle and danced to music. About the middle of the present century the burial of the wren took place in the Isle of Man on St. Stephen's Day (December 26th). Boys went from door to door with a wren suspended by the legs in the centre of two hoops which crossed each other at right angles and were decorated with evergreens and ribbons. The bearers sang certain lines in which reference was made to boiling and eating the bird. If at the close of the song they received a small coin, they gave in return a feather of the wren; so that before the end of the day the bird often hung almost featherless. The wren was then buried, no longer in the churchyard, but on the sea-shore or in some waste place. The feathers distributed were preserved with religious care, it being believed that every feather was an effectual preservative from shipwreck for a year, and a fisherman would have been thought very foolhardy who had not one of them.430
After going from house to house and collecting all the money they could, they laid the wren on a bier "with great seriousness, singing dirges for her in the Manks language, which they refer to as her knell; after that, Christmas starts." After the burial, the group outside the churchyard formed a circle and danced to music. Around the middle of the current century, the burial of the wren took place in the Isle of Man on St. Stephen's Day (December 26th). Boys went from door to door with a wren hanging upside down in the center of two crossed hoops decorated with evergreens and ribbons. The bearers sang specific lines mentioning boiling and eating the bird. If they received a small coin at the end of the song, they would give a feather of the wren in return, so by the end of the day, the bird often ended up nearly featherless. The wren was then buried, no longer in the churchyard but on the beach or in some abandoned spot. The distributed feathers were kept with great care, as it was believed that each feather offered protection from shipwreck for a year, and a fisherman would have been seen as very reckless if he didn’t have one. 430
In Ireland the “hunting of the wren” still takes place in parts of Leinster and Connaught. On Christmas Day or St. Stephen's Day the boys hunt and kill the wren, fasten it in the middle of a mass of holly and ivy on the top of a broomstick, and on St. Stephen's Day go about with it from house to house, singing—
In Ireland, the "wren hunting" still happens in some areas of Leinster and Connaught. On Christmas Day or St. Stephen's Day, boys hunt and kill the wren, attach it to the center of a bundle of holly and ivy atop a broomstick, and on St. Stephen's Day, they go door to door with it, singing—
Money or food (bread, butter, eggs, etc.) were given them, upon which they feasted in the evening. Sometimes in Ireland, as in the Isle of Man, the bird was hung by the leg in the centre of two hoops crossing each other at right angles.431 In Essex a similar custom used to be observed at Christmas, and the verses sung by the boys were almost identical with those sung in Ireland.432 In Pembrokeshire a wren, called the King, used to be carried about on Twelfth Day in a box with glass windows surmounted by a wheel, from which hung various coloured ribbons. The men and boys who carried it from house to house sang songs, in one of which they wished “joy, health, love, and peace” to the inmates of the house.433
Money or food (like bread, butter, eggs, etc.) was given to them, which they feasted on in the evening. Sometimes in Ireland, as in the Isle of Man, the bird was hung by its leg in the center of two hoops crossing each other at right angles. 431 In Essex, a similar tradition used to happen at Christmas, and the verses sung by the boys were almost identical to those sung in Ireland. 432 In Pembrokeshire, a wren, referred to as the King, used to be carried around on Twelfth Night in a box with glass windows topped with a wheel, from which various colored ribbons hung. The men and boys who carried it from house to house sang songs, in one of which they wished "joy, health, love, and peace" to the occupants of the house. 433
In the first half of this century similar customs were still observed in various parts of the south of France. Thus at Carcassone, every year on the first Sunday of December the young people of the street Saint Jean used to go out of the town armed with sticks, with which they beat the bushes, looking for wrens. The first to strike down one of these birds was proclaimed King. Then they returned to the town in procession, headed by the King, who carried the wren on a pole. On the evening of the last day of the year the King and all who had hunted the wren marched through the streets of the town with torches and music. At the door of every house they stopped, [pg 144] and one of them wrote with chalk on the door vive le roi! with the number of the year which was about to begin. On the morning of Twelfth Day the King again marched in procession with great pomp, wearing a crown and a blue mantle and carrying a sceptre. In front of him was borne the wren fastened to the top of a pole, which was adorned with a wreath of olive, oak, and mistletoe. After hearing high mass in the church, surrounded by his officers and guards, he visited the bishop, mayor, magistrates, and the chief inhabitants, collecting money to defray the expenses of the royal banquet which took place in the evening.434 At Entraigues men and boys used to hunt the wren on Christmas Eve. When they caught one alive they presented it to the priest, who, after the midnight mass, set the bird free in the church. At Mirabeau the priest blessed the bird. If the men failed to catch a wren and the women succeeded in doing so, the women had the right to mock and insult the men, and to blacken their faces with mud and soot, if they caught them.435 At La Ciotat, near Marseilles, a large body of men armed with swords and pistols used to hunt the wren every year about the end of December. When a wren was caught it was hung on the middle of a pole which two men carried, as if it were a heavy burden. Thus they paraded round the town; the bird was weighed in a great pair of scales; and then the company sat down to table and made merry.436
In the first half of this century, similar traditions were still practiced in various parts of southern France. For example, in Carcassonne, every year on the first Sunday of December, the young people from Saint Jean Street would leave town armed with sticks, beating the bushes in search of wrens. The first person to catch one of these birds was crowned King. They would then return to town in a parade, led by the King, who carried the wren on a pole. On New Year's Eve, the King and all the wren hunters would march through the streets with torches and music. They would stop at every house and one of them would write in chalk on the door long live the king! along with the number of the coming year. On the morning of Twelfth Night, the King again paraded in grand style, wearing a crown and a blue cloak while holding a scepter. Ahead of him was the wren, displayed atop a pole adorned with a wreath of olive, oak, and mistletoe. After attending a high mass at church, surrounded by his officers and guards, he would visit the bishop, mayor, magistrates, and prominent residents, collecting donations to cover the costs of the royal banquet held that evening. At Entraigues, men and boys would hunt wren on Christmas Eve. If they caught one alive, they would present it to the priest, who would release the bird in the church after the midnight mass. In Mirabeau, the priest would bless the bird. If the men failed to catch a wren but the women succeeded, the women had the right to mock and insult the men, even blackening their faces with mud and soot if they caught them. At La Ciotat, near Marseille, a large group of men armed with swords and pistols would hunt the wren every year around the end of December. When a wren was caught, it would be hung in the middle of a pole carried by two men, as if it were a heavy load. They would parade around the town; the bird would be weighed on a large scale, and then the group would sit down to eat and celebrate.
The parallelism between this custom of “hunting the wren” and some of those we have considered, especially the Gilyak procession with the bear, and the Indian one with the snake, seems too close to allow us to doubt that they all belong to the same circle of ideas. The worshipful animal is killed with special solemnity once a year; and before or immediately after death, he is promenaded from door to door, that each of his worshippers may receive a portion of the divine virtues that are supposed to emanate from the dead or dying god. Religious processions of this sort must have had a great place in the ritual of European peoples in prehistoric times, if we may judge from the numerous traces of them which have survived in folk-custom. A well-preserved specimen is the following, which survived in the Highlands of Scotland and in St. Kilda down to the latter half of last century. “On the evening before New Year's Day, it is usual for the cowherd and the young people to meet together, and one of them is covered with a cow's hide. The rest of the company are provided with staves, to the end of which bits of raw hide are tied. The person covered with the hide runs thrice round the dwelling-house, deiseil—i.e. according to the course of the sun; the rest pursue, beating the hide with their staves, and crying [here follows the Gaelic], ‘Let us raise the noise louder and louder; let us beat the hide.’ They then come to the door of each [pg 146] dwelling-house, and one of them repeats some verses composed for the purpose. When admission is granted, one of them pronounces within the threshold the beannachadthurlair, or verses by which he pretends to draw down a blessing upon the whole family [here follows the Gaelic], ‘May God bless this house and all that belongs to it, cattle, stones, and timber! In plenty of meat, of bed and body-clothes, and health of men, may it ever abound!’ Then each burns in the fire a little bit of hide which is tied to the end of the staff. It is applied to the nose of every person and domestic animal that belongs to the house. This, they imagine, will tend much to secure them from diseases and other misfortunes during the ensuing year. The whole of the ceremony is called colluinn, from the great noise which the hide makes.”437 From another authority,438 we learn that the hide of which pieces were burned in each house and applied to the inmates was the breast part of a sheep-skin. Formerly, perhaps, pieces of the cow-hide in which the man was clad were detached for this purpose, just as in the Isle of Man a feather of the wren used to be given to each household. Similarly, as we have seen, the human victim whom the Khonds slew as a divinity was taken from house to house, and every one strove to obtain a relic of his sacred person. Such customs are only another form of that communion with the deity which is attained most completely by eating the body and drinking the blood of the god.
The parallelism between this tradition of “hunting the wren” and some of the others we've looked at, especially the Gilyak procession with the bear, and the Indian one with the snake, seems too close to make us doubt that they all come from the same set of ideas. The revered animal is killed with special solemnity once a year; and just before or right after its death, it's paraded from door to door, so that each of its worshippers can receive a share of the divine virtues believed to radiate from the dead or dying god. Religious processions like this must have played a significant role in the rituals of European peoples in prehistoric times, if we can judge by the many traces that have survived in folk customs. A well-documented example is the following, which lasted in the Highlands of Scotland and in St. Kilda until the latter half of last century. On the night before New Year's Day, it’s common for the cowherd and young people to gather together, with one of them covered in a cowhide. The others are given sticks, tied with pieces of raw hide at the ends. The person in the hide runs around the house three times, deiseil—i.e. following the sun's direction; the others chase after, hitting the hide with their sticks and shouting [here follows the Gaelic], ‘Let us make the noise louder and louder; let us beat the hide.’ They then visit the door of each [pg 146] house, and one of them recites some verses prepared for the occasion. When they’re allowed inside, one of them says the beannachadthurlair, or verses he uses to pretend to bless the whole family [here follows the Gaelic], ‘May God bless this house and everything in it, including cattle, stones, and timber! May it always be abundant in meat, beds, clothing, and good health for everyone!’ Then, each person burns a small piece of hide tied to the end of their stick. It is touched to the nose of every person and domestic animal in the household. They believe this will help protect them from diseases and other misfortunes in the coming year. The whole ceremony is called colluinn, because of the loud noise made by the hide.437 From another source,438 we learn that the hide from which pieces were burned in each home and applied to the persons inside was from the breast of a sheep-skin. In the past, perhaps, pieces of the cow-hide worn by the man were taken for this purpose, just as in the Isle of Man a feather of the wren used to be given to each household. Likewise, as we’ve seen, the human sacrifice that the Khonds offered as a deity was taken from house to house, and everyone tried to obtain a part of his sacred body. Such customs are just another form of that communion with the deity, which is most completely achieved by consuming the body and drinking the blood of the god.
In the “hunting of the wren,” and the procession with the man clad in a cow-skin, there is nothing to show that the customs in question have any relation to agriculture. So far as appears, they may date from the pre-agricultural era when animals were revered as divine in themselves, not merely as divine because they embodied the corn-spirit; and the analogy of the Gilyak procession of the bear, and the Indian procession of the snake is in favour of assigning the corresponding European customs to this very early date. On the other hand, there are certain European processions of animals, or of men disguised as animals, which may possibly be purely agricultural in their origin;439 in other words, the animals which figure in them may have been from the first nothing but representatives of the corn-spirit conceived in animal shape. But it is at least equally possible that these processions originated in the pre-agricultural era, and have only received an agricultural tinge from the environment in which they have so long survived. But the question is an obscure and difficult one, and cannot be here discussed.
In the “wren hunt,” and the procession with the man dressed in a cow-hide, there's no evidence that these customs are related to agriculture. They might date back to a time before agriculture when animals were seen as divine beings in their own right, not just as representations of the corn spirit; the Gilyak bear procession and the Indian snake procession support the idea that these European customs are from this ancient period. On the flip side, there are some European animal processions, or men dressed as animals, that might be purely agricultural in origin; in other words, the animals in these processions may have originally been just representations of the corn spirit in animal form. However, it’s also quite possible that these processions originated in pre-agricultural times and only developed agricultural aspects due to the context in which they have persisted. But this is a complicated and unclear question, and we can’t delve into it here.
§ 13.—Transfer of evil.
The custom of killing the god has now been proved to have been practised by peoples in the hunting, pastoral, and agricultural stages of society, and the various reasons for observing the custom have been explained. One aspect of the custom still remains to be noticed. The accumulated misfortunes and sins of the whole people are sometimes laid upon the dying god, who is supposed to bear them away for ever, leaving the people innocent and happy. The notion that we can transfer our pains and griefs to some other being who will bear them in our stead is familiar to the savage mind. It arises from a very obvious confusion between the physical and the mental. Because it is possible to transfer a load of wood, stones, or what not, from our own back to the back of another, the savage fancies that it is equally possible to transfer the burden of his pains and sorrows to another, who will suffer them in his stead. Upon this idea he acts, and the result is an endless number of often very unamiable devices for putting off upon some one else the trouble which a man shrinks from bearing himself. Such devices are amongst the most familiar facts in folk-lore; but for the benefit of readers who are not professed students of folk-lore, a few illustrations may be given.
The practice of killing the god has been shown to have been followed by people in hunting, pastoral, and agricultural societies, and the various reasons for this practice have been explained. One aspect of this custom still needs to be addressed. The accumulated misfortunes and sins of the entire community are sometimes placed on the dying god, who is believed to carry them away forever, leaving the people innocent and happy. The idea that we can transfer our pain and grief to another being who will carry it for us is familiar to primitive thinking. It comes from a clear mix-up between the physical and the mental. Just as we can move a load of wood, stones, or anything else from our own back to someone else's, the primitive person imagines that it is just as possible to transfer the burden of their pain and sorrow to another, who will suffer in their place. They act on this idea, resulting in countless often unkind methods to push off the troubles they prefer not to bear themselves. These methods are some of the most well-known elements in folklore; however, for the benefit of readers who are not experts in folklore studies, a few examples may be provided.
It is not necessary that the pain or trouble should be transferred from the sufferer to a person; it may equally well be transferred to an animal or a thing, though in the last case the thing is often only a vehicle to convey the trouble to the first person who touches it. In some of the East Indian islands [pg 149] epilepsy is believed to be cured by striking the patient on the face with the leaves of certain trees and then throwing the leaves away. The epilepsy is believed to have passed into the leaves, and to have been thrown away with them.440 To cure toothache some of the Australian blacks apply a heated spear-thrower to the cheek. The spear-thrower is then cast away, and the toothache goes with it, in the shape of a black stone called karriitch. Stones of this kind are found in old mounds and sandhills. They are carefully collected and thrown in the direction of enemies, in order to give them toothache.441 When a Moor has a headache, he will sometimes take a lamb or a goat and beat it till it falls down, believing that the headache will thus be transferred to the animal.442 After an illness, a Bechuana king seated himself upon an ox which lay stretched on the ground. The native doctor next poured water on the king's head till it ran down over his body. Then the head of the ox was held in a vessel of water till the animal expired; whereupon the doctor declared, and the people believed, that the ox died of the king's disease, which had been transferred to it from the king.443 Amongst the Malagasy the vehicle for carrying away evils is called a faditra. “The faditra is anything selected by the sikidy [divining-board] for the purpose of taking away any hurtful evils or diseases that might prove injurious to an individual's happiness, peace, or prosperity. The faditra may be either ashes, cut money, a sheep, a [pg 150] pumpkin, or anything else the sikidy may choose to direct. After the particular article is appointed, the priest counts upon it all the evils that may prove injurious to the person for whom it is made, and which he then charges the faditra to take away for ever. If the faditra be ashes, it is blown, to be carried away by the wind. If it be cut money, it is thrown to the bottom of deep water, or where it can never be found. If it be a sheep, it is carried away to a distance on the shoulders of a man, who runs with all his might, mumbling as he goes, as if in the greatest rage against the faditra for the evils it is bearing away. If it be a pumpkin, it is carried on the shoulders to a little distance, and there dashed upon the ground with every appearance of fury and indignation.”444 A Malagasy was informed by a diviner that he was doomed to a bloody death, but that possibly he might avert his fate by performing a certain rite. Carrying a small vessel full of blood upon his head, he was to mount upon the back of a bullock; while thus mounted, he was to spill the blood upon the bullock's head, and then send the animal away into the wilderness, whence it might never return.445
It is not necessary for the pain or trouble to be transferred from the sufferer to a person; it can also be transferred to an animal or an object. In the latter case, the object often serves just as a vehicle to carry the trouble to the first person who touches it. In some East Indian islands [pg 149], it's believed that striking a patient with the leaves of certain trees will cure epilepsy, with the belief that the epilepsy has transferred to the leaves and is discarded along with them. To cure toothaches, some Australian Aboriginals use a heated spear-thrower on the cheek. The spear-thrower is then discarded, and the toothache is thought to go with it, manifested in a black stone called karriitch. These stones are found in old mounds and sandhills, collected carefully and thrown toward enemies to give them a toothache. When a Moor has a headache, he may take a lamb or goat and beat it until it falls, believing the headache will transfer to the animal. After an illness, a Bechuana king sat on a cow lying on the ground. A native doctor then poured water on the king's head until it flowed over his body. The cow's head was held in a vessel of water until the animal died; afterward, the doctor claimed, and the people believed, that the cow died from the king's illness, which had transferred to it from him. Among the Malagasy, the object used to carry away evils is known as a faditra. The faditra is anything chosen by the sikidy [divining-board] to remove harmful evils or diseases that could affect a person's happiness, peace, or prosperity. The faditra can be ashes, cut money, a sheep, a pumpkin, or anything else selected by the sikidy. Once the specific item is chosen, the priest counts all the evils that could harm the intended person and instructs the faditra to permanently eliminate them. If the faditra is ashes, they are blown away by the wind. If it’s cut money, it’s thrown into deep water or a hidden place. If it’s a sheep, a man takes it as far away as possible while running with all his strength, angrily muttering at the faditra for the evils it carries. If it’s a pumpkin, it is carried a short distance and then smashed on the ground with expressions of anger and indignation.444 A Malagasy learned from a diviner that he was destined for a bloody death, but possibly could escape this fate by performing a specific rite. He was to carry a small vessel of blood on his head, ride on a bullock’s back, spill the blood on the bullock's head, and then send the animal away into the wilderness, never to return.445
The Battas of Sumatra have a ceremony which they call “making the curse to fly away.” When a woman is childless, a sacrifice is offered to the gods of three grasshoppers, representing a head of cattle, a buffalo, and a horse. Then a swallow is set free, with a prayer that the curse may fall [pg 151] upon the bird and fly away with it.446 At the cleansing of a leper and of a house suspected of being tainted with leprosy, the Jews let a bird fly away.447 Amongst the Miaotse of China, when the eldest son of the house attains the age of seven years, a ceremony called “driving away the devil” takes place. The father makes a kite of straw and lets it fly away in the desert, bearing away all evil with it.448 In Morocco most wealthy Moors keep a wild boar in their stables, in order that the jinn and evil spirits may be diverted from the horses and enter into the boar.449 The Dyaks believe that certain men possess in themselves the power of neutralising bad omens. So, when evil omens have alarmed a farmer for the safety of his crops, he takes a small portion of his farm produce to one of these wise men, who eats it raw for a small consideration, “and thereby appropriates to himself the evil omen, which in him becomes innocuous, and thus delivers the other from the ban of the pemali or taboo.”450 In Travancore, when a Rajah is dangerously ill and his life is despaired of, a holy Brahman is brought, who closely embraces the King, and says, “O King! I undertake to bear all your sins and diseases. May your Highness live long and reign happily.” Then the sin-bearer is sent away from the country, and never allowed to return.451 Amongst the Burghers or Badagas of the Neilgherry Hills in Southern India, when a death has taken place, the [pg 152] sins of the deceased are laid upon a buffalo calf. A set form of confession of sins, the same for every one, is recited aloud, then the calf is set free, and is never afterwards used for common purposes. “The idea of this ceremony is that the sins of the deceased enter the calf, or that the task of his absolution is laid on it. They say that the calf very soon disappears, and that it is never after heard of.”452
The Battas of Sumatra have a ceremony they call “making the curse disappear.” When a woman is childless, a sacrifice is offered to the gods of three grasshoppers, symbolizing a cow, a buffalo, and a horse. Then a swallow is released, along with a prayer that the curse be placed on the bird and fly away with it.[pg 151] During the cleansing of a leper and a house suspected of having leprosy, the Jews let a bird fly away.[pg 151] Among the Miaotse of China, when the eldest son reaches the age of seven, there is a ceremony called "chasing away the devil". The father makes a kite out of straw and lets it fly away in the desert, carrying all evil with it.[pg 151] In Morocco, many wealthy Moors keep a wild boar in their stables so that jinn and evil spirits will be drawn away from the horses and into the boar.[pg 151] The Dyaks believe that certain individuals have the power to neutralize bad omens. So, when a farmer is worried about bad omens threatening his crops, he brings a small portion of his produce to one of these wise men, who eats it raw for a small fee, “by doing so, he absorbs the evil omen, rendering it harmless within himself, and relieving the farmer of the burden of the pemali or taboo.”[pg 151] In Travancore, when a Rajah is seriously ill and death seems near, a holy Brahman is brought in, who closely embraces the King and says, “O King! I accept all your sins and illnesses. May you live long and rule joyfully.” Then, the sin-bearer is sent away and never allowed to return.[pg 151] Among the Burghers or Badagas of the Neilgherry Hills in Southern India, after a death occurs, the [pg 152] sins of the deceased are placed upon a buffalo calf. A standard confession of sins, the same for everyone, is recited aloud, then the calf is set free and is never again used for ordinary purposes. “The purpose of this ceremony is to transfer the sins of the deceased into the calf, or to place the responsibility for their absolution onto it. It’s said that the calf quickly vanishes and is never seen again.”[pg 152]
Similar attempts to shift the burden of disease and sin from one's self to another person, or to an animal or thing, have been common in ancient and modern Europe. Grave writers of antiquity recommended that, if a man be stung by a scorpion, he should sit upon an ass with his face to the tail, or whisper in the ear of the ass, “A scorpion has stung me”; in either case, they thought, the pain would be transferred from the man to the ass.453 A Roman cure for fever was to pare the patient's nails, and stick the parings with wax upon a neighbour's door before sunrise; the fever then passed from the sick man to his neighbour.454 Similar devices must have been practised by the Greeks; for in laying down laws for his ideal state, Plato thinks it too much to expect that men should not be alarmed at finding certain wax figures adhering to their doors or to the tombstones [pg 153] of their parents, or lying at cross-roads.455 In modern Europe there is no end to such devices. Thus the Orkney Islanders will wash a sick person and then throw the water down at a gateway, in the belief that the sickness will leave the patient and be transferred to the first person who passes through the gate.456 A Bavarian cure for the fever is to write upon a piece of paper, “Fever, stay away, I am not at home,” and to put the paper in some person's pocket. The latter then catches the fever and the patient is rid of it.457 Another cure is for the patient to stick a twig of the elder-tree in the ground without speaking. The fever then adheres to the twig, and whoever pulls up the twig will catch the disease.458 To get rid of warts, take a string and make as many knots in it as you have warts. Then lay the string under a stone. Whoever treads upon the stone will get the warts, and you will be rid of them.459 Gout may be transferred from a man to a tree thus. Pare the nails of the sufferer's fingers and clip some hairs from his legs. Bore a hole in an oak, stuff the nails and hair in the hole, stop up the hole again, and smear it with cow's dung. If, for three months afterwards, the patient is free of gout, then the oak has it in his stead.460 A Flemish cure for the ague is to go early in the morning to an old willow, tie three knots in one of its branches, say, “Good-morrow, Old One, I give thee the cold, good-morrow, Old One,” then turn and run away without looking round.461 A cure [pg 154] current in Sunderland for a cough is to shave the patient's head and hang the hair on a bush. When the birds carry the hair to their nests, they will carry the cough with it. A Northamptonshire and Devonshire cure is to put a hair of the patient's head between two slices of buttered bread and give it to a dog. The dog will get the cough and the patient will lose it.462 In the Greek island of Carpathus the priest ties a red thread round the neck of a sick person. Next morning the friends of the patient remove the thread and go out to the hillside, where they tie the thread to a tree, thinking that they thus transfer the sickness to the tree.463
Similar attempts to shift the burden of disease and sin from oneself to another person, or to an animal or object, have been common in both ancient and modern Europe. Serious writers from ancient times recommended that if a man is stung by a scorpion, he should sit on a donkey facing its tail or whisper in the donkey's ear, "I got stung by a scorpion."; in either case, they believed the pain would transfer from the man to the donkey.453 A Roman remedy for fever was to trim the patient's nails and stick the trimmings with wax on a neighbor's door before sunrise; the fever would then pass from the sick person to the neighbor.454 Similar practices must have been used by the Greeks; for when outlining laws for his ideal state, Plato believed it was unreasonable to expect men not to be frightened at finding certain wax figures stuck to their doors or to the tombstones [pg 153] of their parents, or lying at crossroads.455 In modern Europe, these kinds of practices are still prevalent. For example, the Orkney Islanders wash a sick person and then pour the water out at a gateway, believing that the illness will leave the patient and attach itself to the first person who passes through the gate.456 A Bavarian remedy for fever involves writing on a piece of paper, "Fever, stay back, I'm not home." and placing the paper in someone else's pocket. That person then catches the fever, freeing the patient of it.457 Another remedy involves the patient sticking a twig from the elder tree into the ground without speaking. The fever will then cling to the twig, and whoever pulls up the twig will contract the illness.458 To get rid of warts, take a string and tie as many knots in it as you have warts. Then place the string under a stone. Whoever steps on the stone will develop the warts, and you will be rid of them.459 Gout may be transferred from a person to a tree in this way. Trim the nails of the sufferer's fingers and cut some hairs from their legs. Dig a hole in an oak tree, stuff the nails and hair into the hole, seal it up again, and smear it with cow dung. If the patient is free of gout for three months afterward, then the oak has taken it on instead.460 A Flemish remedy for ague involves going early in the morning to an old willow, tying three knots in one of its branches, saying, “Good morning, Old One, I'm sending you a cool, good morning, Old One,” and then turning and running away without looking back.461 A remedy [pg 154] popular in Sunderland for a cough is to shave the patient's head and hang the hair on a bush. When the birds take the hair to their nests, they'll carry the cough with it. A cure from Northamptonshire and Devonshire is to place a strand of the patient's hair between two slices of buttered bread and give it to a dog. The dog will catch the cough, and the patient will be cured.462 On the Greek island of Carpathus, the priest ties a red thread around the neck of a sick person. The next morning, the friends of the patient remove the thread and go to the hillside, where they tie the thread to a tree, believing they are transferring the illness to the tree.463
The old Welsh custom known as “sin-eating” is another example of the supposed transference of evil from one person to another. According to Aubrey, “In the County of Hereford was an old Custome at funeralls to hire poor people, who were to take upon them all the sinnes of the party deceased. One of them, I remember, lived in a cottage on Rosse-high way (he was a long, leane, ugly, lamentable poor raskal). The manner was that when the Corps was brought out of the house and layd on the Biere; a Loafe of bread was brought out, and delivered to the Sinne-eater over the corps, as also a Mazar-bowle of maple (Gossips bowle) full of beer, which he was to drinke up, and sixpence in money, in consideration whereof he took upon him (ipso facto) all the Sinnes of the Defunct, and freed him (or her) from walking after they were dead.... I believe this custom was heretofore used over all [pg 155] Wales.... In North Wales the Sinne-eaters are frequently made use of; but there, instead of a Bowle of Beere, they have a bowle of Milke.”464 According to a letter dated February 1, 1714-5, “within the memory of our fathers, in Shropshire, in those villages adjoyning to Wales, when a person dyed, there was notice given to an old sire (for so they called him), who presently repaired to the place where the deceased lay, and stood before the door of the house, when some of the family came out and furnished him with a cricket, on which he sat down facing the door. Then they gave him a groat, which he put in his pocket; a crust of bread, which he eat; and a full bowle of ale, which he drank off at a draught. After this he got up from the cricket and pronounced, with a composed gesture, the ease and rest of the soul departed for which he would pawn his own soul. This I had from the ingenious John Aubrey, Esq.”465 In recent years some doubt has been thrown on Aubrey's account of the custom.466 The practice, however, is reported to have prevailed in a valley not far from Llandebie to a recent period. An instance was said to have occurred about forty years ago.467 Aubrey's statement is supported by the analogy of similar customs in India. When the Rajah [pg 156] of Tanjore died in 1801, some of his bones and the bones of the two wives, who were burned with his corpse, were ground to powder and eaten, mixed with boiled rice, by twelve Brahmans. It was believed that the sins of the deceased passed into the bodies of the Brahmans, who were paid for the service.468 A Brahman, resident in a village near Raipúr, stated that he had eaten food (rice and milk) out of the hand of the dead Rajah of Biláspúr, and that in consequence he had been placed on the throne for the space of a year. At the end of the year he had been given presents and then turned out of the territory and forbidden apparently to return. He was an outcast among his fellows for having eaten out of a dead man's hand.469 A similar custom is believed to obtain among the hill states about Kángrá, and to have given rise to a caste of “outcaste” Brahmans. At the funeral of a Rání of Chambá rice and ghí were eaten out of the hands of the corpse by a Brahman paid for the purpose. Afterwards a stranger, who had been caught outside the Chambá territory, was given the costly wrappings of the corpse, then told to depart and never show his face in the country again.470 In Oude when an infant was killed it used to be buried in the room in which it had been born. On the thirteenth day afterwards the priest had to cook and eat his food in that room. By doing so he was supposed to take the whole sin upon himself and to cleanse the family from it.471 At Utch Kurgan in Turkistan Mr. Schuyler saw an old man who was said [pg 157] to get his living by taking on himself the sins of the dead and thenceforth devoting his life to prayer for their souls.472
The old Welsh custom known as “sin-eating” is another example of how evil was believed to be transferred from one person to another. According to Aubrey, In Hereford County, there was an old tradition at funerals where poor people were hired to take on the sins of the deceased. I remember one of them lived in a cottage on the Rosse highway; he was a tall, skinny, unfortunate-looking fellow. The practice was that when the body was brought out of the house and placed on the bier, a loaf of bread was presented to the sin-eater over the corpse, along with a wooden bowl of maple (known as Gossip's bowl) filled with beer for him to drink, and sixpence in cash. In exchange for this, he took on all the sins of the deceased, which freed them from wandering after death. I believe this custom was once common throughout Wales. In North Wales, sin-eaters are still often used; however, instead of a bowl of beer, they receive a bowl of milk.464 According to a letter dated February 1, 1714-5, “Within our fathers' memory, in Shropshire, in the villages near Wales, when someone passed away, notice was given to an old man (that’s what they called him), who would quickly go to where the deceased was and stand in front of the door. When some family members came out, they would offer him a stool to sit on, facing the door. They then gave him a groat, which he put in his pocket; a crust of bread, which he ate; and a full bowl of ale, which he drank in one gulp. After this, he would get up from the stool and, with a calm gesture, would wish ease and rest for the departed soul, for which he would offer his own soul. This I heard from the clever John Aubrey, Esq.”465 Recently, there has been some doubt cast on Aubrey's account of the custom.466 However, the practice is said to have continued in a valley not far from Llandebie until recent times. An instance reportedly happened about forty years ago.467 Aubrey's description is supported by similar customs in India. When the Rajah [pg 156] of Tanjore died in 1801, some of his bones and the bones of two wives, who were burned with his corpse, were ground to powder and eaten, mixed with boiled rice, by twelve Brahmans. It was believed that the sins of the deceased entered the bodies of the Brahmans, who were paid for this service.468 A Brahman, living in a village near Raipúr, claimed that he had eaten food (rice and milk) from the hand of the dead Rajah of Biláspúr, and as a result, he was placed on the throne for a year. After the year, he received gifts and was then expelled from the territory and forbidden to return. He became an outcast among his peers for having eaten from a dead man’s hand.469 A similar custom is believed to exist among the hill states around Kángrá and has likely resulted in a caste of "outsider" Brahmans. At the funeral of a Rání of Chambá, rice and ghí were eaten from the hands of the corpse by a Brahman hired for the purpose. Afterwards, a stranger caught outside the Chambá territory was given the costly wrappings of the corpse, told to leave, and never show his face in the country again.470 In Oude, when an infant was killed, it was buried in the room where it was born. On the thirteenth day afterward, the priest had to cook and eat his food in that room. By doing this, he was believed to take all the sin upon himself and cleanse the family of it.471 At Utch Kurgan in Turkistan, Mr. Schuyler saw an old man who was said [pg 157] to make a living by taking on the sins of the dead and thereafter dedicating his life to prayer for their souls.472
Removal of evils,
These examples illustrate the primitive principle of the transference of ills to another person, animal, or thing. In the instances cited the principle is applied for the benefit of individuals only. But analogous proceedings are employed by barbarous peoples to rid a whole community of all their troubles at a blow. The frame of mind which prompts such wholesale clearances of evil may be described in the language of Mr. Im Thurn, for though he wrote of the Indians of Guiana in particular, his description is capable of a much wider application. He says: “Thus the whole world of the Indian swarms with these [spiritual] beings. If by a mighty mental effort we could for a moment revert to a similar mental position we should find ourselves surrounded by a host of possibly hurtful beings, so many in number that to describe them as innumerable would fall ridiculously short of the truth. It is not therefore wonderful that the Indian fears to move beyond the light of his camp-fire after dark, or, if he is obliged to do so, carries a firebrand with him that he may at least see among what enemies he walks; nor is it wonderful that occasionally the air round the settlement seems to the Indian to grow so full of beings that a peaiman [sorcerer], who is supposed to have the power of temporarily driving them away, is employed to effect a [pg 158] general clearance of these beings, if only for a time.”473 Such general clearances of evil influences may be divided into two classes, according as the expelled evils are immaterial and invisible or are embodied in a material vehicle or scapegoat. The former may be called the direct or immediate expulsion of evils; the latter the indirect or mediate expulsion, or the expulsion by scapegoat. We begin with examples of the former.
These examples illustrate the basic idea of transferring problems to another person, animal, or object. In the cases mentioned, this principle is applied for the benefit of individuals only. However, similar practices are used by less developed communities to rid an entire group of their troubles all at once. The mindset that drives such large-scale removal of negativity can be explained using the words of Mr. Im Thurn. While he specifically wrote about the Indigenous peoples of Guiana, his description can be applied much more broadly. He says: The entire world of the Indian is filled with these [spiritual] beings. If we could make a significant mental effort to return to a similar state of mind, we would find ourselves surrounded by countless potentially harmful beings—so many that calling them countless would be a vast understatement. It's not surprising that the Indian is hesitant to step beyond the light of his campfire at night, or that if he must, he takes a burning stick with him to at least see the dangers he might face; it also makes sense that sometimes the air around the settlement feels so packed with beings that a peaiman [sorcerer], believed to have the power to temporarily drive them away, is called to clear the area, even if just for a little while.473 Such general clearances of negative influences can be divided into two categories, depending on whether the expelled evils are immaterial and invisible or take the form of a material object or scapegoat. The first can be called the direct or immediate expulsion of evils; the second, the indirect or mediate expulsion, or expulsion by scapegoat. We will start with examples of the former.
In the island of Rook, between New Guinea and New Britain, when any misfortune has happened, all the people run together, scream, curse, howl, and beat the air with sticks to drive away the devil (Marsába), who is supposed to be the author of the mishap. From the spot where the mishap took place they drive him step by step to the sea, and on reaching the shore they redouble their shouts and blows in order to expel him from the island. He generally retires to the sea or to the island of Lottin.474 The natives of New Britain ascribe sickness, drought, the failure of crops, and in short all misfortunes, to the influence of wicked spirits. So at times when many people sicken and die, as at the beginning of the rainy season, all the inhabitants of a district, armed with branches and clubs, go out by moonlight to the fields, where they beat and stamp on the ground with wild howls till morning, believing that this drives away the devils.475 When a village has been visited by a series of disasters or a severe epidemic, the Minahassa of Celebes lay the blame upon the devils who are infesting the village and must be expelled from it. Accordingly, early one [pg 159] morning all the people, men, women, and children, quit their homes, carrying their household goods with them, and take up their quarters in temporary huts which have been erected outside the village. Here they spend several days, offering sacrifices and preparing for the final ceremony. At last the men, some wearing masks, others with their faces blackened, and so on, but all armed with swords, guns, pikes, or brooms, steal cautiously and silently back to the deserted village. Then, at a signal from the priest, they rush furiously up and down the streets and into and under the houses (which are raised on piles above the ground), yelling and striking on walls, doors, and windows, to drive away the devils. Next, the priests and the rest of the people come with the holy fire and march nine times round each house and thrice round the ladder that leads up to it, carrying the fire with them. Then they take the fire into the kitchen, where it must burn for three days continuously. The devils are now driven away, and great and general is the joy.476 The Alfoers of Halmahera attribute epidemics to the devil who comes from other villages to carry them off. So, in order to rid the village of the disease, the sorcerer drives away the devil. From all the villagers he receives a costly garment and places it on four vessels, which he takes to the forest and leaves at the spot where the devil is supposed to be. Then with mocking words he bids the demon abandon the place.477 [pg 160] In the Key Islands, south of New Guinea, when sickness prevails, the people erect a stage on the shore and load it with meat and drink. Then the priest in presence of the people bans the spirits which are causing the disease, whereupon the people run back to the village at full speed, like fugitives.478
In the island of Rook, located between New Guinea and New Britain, whenever something bad happens, everyone gathers together, screams, curses, howls, and thrashes the air with sticks to chase away the devil (Marsába), who is believed to be responsible for the misfortune. They drive him step by step from the place of the incident to the sea, and when they reach the shore, they increase their shouting and hitting to expel him from the island. He usually retreats to the sea or to the island of Lottin. The natives of New Britain blame sickness, drought, crop failures, and all kinds of misfortunes on wicked spirits. So during times when many people fall ill and die, like at the beginning of the rainy season, all the residents of an area, armed with branches and clubs, go out under the moonlight to the fields where they beat and stomp on the ground with wild howls until morning, believing this drives away the devils. When a village has experienced a series of disasters or a severe epidemic, the Minahassa of Celebes attribute the blame to the devils infesting the village who must be expelled. Therefore, early one morning, all the people—men, women, and children—leave their homes, taking their belongings with them, and stay in temporary huts set up outside the village. They spend several days there, offering sacrifices and preparing for the final ceremony. Finally, the men, some wearing masks and others with their faces painted black, but all armed with swords, guns, pikes, or brooms, quietly sneak back to the empty village. Then, at a signal from the priest, they rush fiercely through the streets and into the houses (which are raised on stilts), yelling and banging on walls, doors, and windows to drive away the devils. Next, the priests and the rest of the people come with holy fire and march around each house nine times and around the ladder leading up to it three times, carrying the fire with them. They then bring the fire into the kitchen, where it must burn continuously for three days. The devils are now driven away, and there is a great and widespread joy. The Alfoers of Halmahera blame epidemics on a devil that comes from other villages to carry them away. So, to rid the village of the illness, the sorcerer drives away the devil. He receives an expensive garment from all the villagers and places it on four vessels, which he takes to the forest and leaves at the spot where the devil is believed to be. Then, with mocking words, he tells the demon to leave the place. In the Key Islands, south of New Guinea, when sickness is rampant, the people build a stage on the shore and fill it with food and drink. Then the priest, in front of the people, curses the spirits causing the illness, after which the people run back to the village as fast as they can, like fugitives.
In the island of Nias, when a man is seriously ill and other remedies have been tried in vain, the sorcerer proceeds to exorcise the devil who is causing the illness. A pole is set up in front of the house, and from the top of the pole a rope of palm-leaves is stretched to the roof of the house. Then the sorcerer mounts the roof with a pig, which he kills and allows to roll from the roof to the ground. The devil, anxious to get the pig, lets himself down hastily from the roof by the rope of palm-leaves, and a good spirit, invoked by the sorcerer, prevents him from climbing up again. If this remedy fails, it is believed that other devils must still be lurking in the house. So a general hunt is made after them. All the doors and windows in the house are closed, except a single dormer-window in the roof. The men, shut up in the house, hew and slash with their swords right and left to the clash of gongs and the rub-a-dub of drums. Terrified at this onslaught the devils escape by the dormer-window, and sliding down the rope of palm-leaves take themselves off. As all the doors and windows, except the one in the roof, are shut, the devils cannot get into the house again. In the case of an epidemic the proceedings are similar. All the gates of the village, except one, are closed; every voice is raised, every gong and drum beaten, [pg 161] every sword brandished. Thus the devils are driven out and the last gate is shut behind them. For eight days thereafter the village is in a state of siege, no one being allowed to enter it.479 When cholera has broken out in a Burmese village the able-bodied men scramble on the roofs and lay about them with bamboos and billets of wood, while all the rest of the population, old and young, stand below and thump drums, blow trumpets, yell, scream, beat floors, walls, tin-pans, everything to make a din. This uproar, repeated on three successive nights, is thought to be very effective in driving away the cholera demons.480 When small-pox first appeared amongst the Kumis of South-Eastern India, they thought it was a devil come from Arracan. The villages were placed in a state of siege, no one being allowed to leave or enter them. A monkey was killed by being dashed on the ground, and its body was hung at the village gate. Its blood, mixed with small river pebbles, was sprinkled on the houses, the threshold of every house was swept with the monkey's tail, and the fiend was adjured to depart.481 At Great Bassam, in Guinea, the French traveller Hecquard witnessed the exorcism of the evil spirit who was believed to make women barren. The women who wished to become mothers offered to the fetish wine-vessels or statuettes representing women suckling children. Then being assembled in the fetish hut, they were sprinkled with [pg 162] rum by the priest, while young men fired guns and brandished swords to drive away the demon.482 When sickness was prevalent in a Huron village, and all other remedies had been tried in vain, the Indians had recourse to the ceremony called Lonouyroya, “which is the principal invention and most proper means, so they say, to expel from the town or village the devils and evil spirits which cause, induce, and import all the maladies and infirmities which they suffer in body and mind.” Accordingly, one evening the men would begin to rush like madmen about the village, breaking and upsetting whatever they came across in the wigwams. They threw fire and burning brands about the streets, and all night long they ran howling and singing without cessation. Then they all dreamed of something, a knife, dog, skin, or whatever it might be, and when morning came they went from wigwam to wigwam asking for presents. These they received silently, till the particular thing was given them which they had dreamed about. On receiving it they uttered a cry of joy and rushed from the hut, amid the congratulations of all present. The health of those who received what they had dreamed of was believed to be assured; whereas those who did not get what they had set their hearts upon regarded their fate as sealed.483
In the island of Nias, when a man is seriously ill and other treatments have not worked, the sorcerer performs an exorcism to drive out the devil that's causing the illness. A pole is set up in front of the house, and a rope made of palm leaves is stretched from the top of the pole to the roof. The sorcerer then climbs onto the roof with a pig, which he kills and lets roll off the roof to the ground. The devil, eager to get the pig, quickly climbs down the rope of palm leaves, and a good spirit, called upon by the sorcerer, prevents the devil from coming back up. If this method doesn’t work, it's believed that other devils are still hiding in the house. So, a thorough search for them is conducted. All doors and windows in the house are closed except for a single dormer window in the roof. The men, trapped inside the house, swing their swords wildly to the sounds of gongs and drums. Frightened by this attack, the devils escape through the dormer window, sliding down the rope of palm leaves to flee. Since all the other doors and windows are closed, the devils can't get back into the house. In the case of an epidemic, the process is similar. All the village gates, except one, are shut; everyone makes noise, banging on gongs and drums, and brandishing swords. This way, the devils are driven out, and the last gate is slammed shut behind them. For the next eight days, the village is under siege, with no one allowed to enter it. When cholera breaks out in a Burmese village, the able-bodied men scramble onto the roofs, striking down with bamboo and logs, while everyone else—young and old—stands below, drumming, blowing trumpets, yelling, screaming, and banging on floors, walls, and tin pans to make a racket. This noise, repeated over three nights, is believed to effectively drive away the cholera demons. When smallpox first appeared among the Kumis of South-Eastern India, they thought it was a devil from Arracan. The villages were put under siege, preventing anyone from leaving or entering. A monkey was killed by being thrown to the ground, and its body was hung at the village gate. Its blood, mixed with small pebbles from the river, was sprinkled on the houses, the threshold of each house was swept with the monkey's tail, and the evil spirit was commanded to leave. At Great Bassam in Guinea, the French traveler Hecquard observed the exorcism of an evil spirit believed to make women barren. Women who wanted to become mothers presented the fetish with wine vessels or statuettes depicting women nursing children. After gathering in the fetish hut, they were sprinkled with rum by the priest, while young men fired guns and waved swords to scare away the demon. When sickness swept through a Huron village and all other remedies had failed, the Indians performed a ceremony called Lonouyroya, "which is the main invention and the most effective way, as they say, to expel the demons and evil spirits that cause all the physical and mental illnesses and ailments they experience." So, one evening, the men would start rushing wildly around the village, breaking and knocking over whatever they encountered in the wigwams. They tossed fire and burning torches into the streets, and all night long they howled and sang without stopping. The next morning, they each dreamed of something—be it a knife, a dog, a hide, or whatever it might be—and when morning came, they moved from wigwam to wigwam asking for gifts. They received them quietly until the specific item they dreamed about was given to them. Upon receiving it, they shouted in joy and rushed out of the hut, celebrated by everyone around. The health of those who received what they had dreamed of was believed to be guaranteed; those who didn’t get what they hoped for considered their fate sealed.
The observance of such ceremonies, from being [pg 163] occasional, tends to become periodic. It comes to be thought desirable to have a general riddance of evil spirits at fixed times, usually once a year, in order that the people may make a fresh start in life, freed from all the malignant influences which have been long accumulating about them. Some of the Australian blacks annually expelled the ghosts of the dead from their territory. The ceremony was witnessed by the Rev. W. Ridley on the banks of the river Barwan. “A chorus of twenty, old and young, were singing and beating time with boomerangs.... Suddenly, from under a sheet of bark darted a man with his body whitened by pipeclay, his head and face coloured with lines of red and yellow, and a tuft of feathers fixed by means of a stick two feet above the crown of his head. He stood twenty minutes perfectly still, gazing upwards. An aboriginal who stood by told me he was looking for the ghosts of dead men. At last he began to move very slowly, and soon rushed to and fro at full speed, flourishing a branch as if to drive away some foes invisible to us. When I thought this pantomime must be almost over, ten more, similarly adorned, suddenly appeared from behind the trees, and the whole party joined in a brisk conflict with their mysterious assailants.... At last, after some rapid evolutions in which they put forth all their strength, they rested from the exciting toil which they had kept up all night and for some hours after sunrise: they seemed satisfied that the ghosts were driven away for twelve months. They were performing the same ceremony at every station along the river, and I am told it is an annual custom.”484
The observance of such ceremonies, going from being [pg 163] occasional to becoming regular. It becomes desirable to have a general clearing of evil spirits at set times, typically once a year, so that people can start fresh in life, free from all the negative influences that have built up around them. Some of the Australian Aboriginals would annually remove the ghosts of the dead from their land. The ceremony was seen by Rev. W. Ridley on the banks of the Barwan River. A group of twenty people, both young and old, were singing and keeping rhythm with boomerangs. Suddenly, a man appeared from under a piece of bark, his body covered in white clay, his head and face painted with red and yellow lines, and a tuft of feathers fixed to a stick two feet above his head. He stood completely still for twenty minutes, looking up. An Aboriginal person next to me said he was searching for the ghosts of dead men. Finally, he started to move very slowly, then quickly took off at full speed, waving a branch as if to scare away some invisible enemies. Just when I thought the performance was about to end, ten more people, dressed similarly, suddenly came out from behind the trees, and the whole group got into a lively battle with their mysterious attackers. After some rapid movements where they gave it their all, they took a break from the intense action they had kept up all night and for several hours after sunrise: they seemed convinced that the ghosts were chased away for twelve months. They performed the same ceremony at every station along the river, and I’ve been told it’s an annual tradition.484
Certain seasons of the year mark themselves naturally out as appropriate moments for a general expulsion of devils. Such a moment occurs towards the close of an Arctic winter, when the sun reappears on the horizon after an absence of weeks or months. Accordingly, at Point Barrow, the most northerly extremity of Alaska, and nearly of America, the Eskimo choose the moment of the sun's reappearance to hunt the mischievous spirit Tuña from every house. The ceremony was witnessed a few years ago by the members of the United States Polar Expedition, who wintered at Point Barrow. A fire was built in front of the council-house, and an old woman was posted at the entrance to every iglu (Eskimo house). The men gathered round the council-fire, while the young women and girls drove the spirits out of every iglu with their knives, stabbing viciously under the bunk and deer-skins, and calling upon Tuña to leave the iglu. When they thought he had been driven out of every hole and corner, they thrust him down through the hole in the floor and chased him into the open air with loud cries and frantic gestures. Meanwhile the old woman at the entrance of the iglu made passes with a long knife in the air to keep him from returning. Each party drove the spirit towards the fire and invited him to go into it. All were by this time drawn up in a semicircle round the fire, when several of the leading men made specific charges against the spirit; and each after his speech brushed his clothes violently, calling on the spirit to leave him and go into the fire. Two men now stepped forward with rifles loaded with blank cartridges, while a third brought a vessel of urine and flung it on the fire. At the same time one of the men fired a shot into the fire; and as the cloud of steam rose it received the other shot, [pg 165] which was supposed to finish Tuña for the time being.485 In autumn, when heavy gales are raging, the Eskimo of Baffin Land think that the female spirit Sedna dwells amongst them, and the most powerful enchanter is employed to drive her out. Beside a small hole in the centre of the floor a line of seal-skin is coiled up. Holding a sealing-spear in his left hand the enchanter watches the hole in the floor. Another sorcerer sits in the rear of the hut chanting songs to attract Sedna. Now she is heard approaching under the floor of the hut. When she reaches the hole the enchanter strikes her with his harpoon and pays out the line. A severe struggle ensues, but ultimately Sedna flies to her country, Adlivun. The performance is cleverly managed. When the harpoon is drawn out of the hole it is covered with blood, and the heavy breathing of Sedna can be distinctly heard under the floor.486
Certain seasons of the year naturally stand out as ideal times for a general expulsion of spirits. One such moment happens towards the end of an Arctic winter, when the sun reappears on the horizon after being gone for weeks or months. At Point Barrow, the northernmost part of Alaska and nearly all of America, the Eskimo use the sun's return to drive out the troublesome spirit Tuña from every house. This ceremony was observed a few years ago by the members of the United States Polar Expedition, who spent the winter at Point Barrow. A fire was lit in front of the council-house, and an old woman was stationed at the entrance of every igloo (Eskimo house). The men gathered around the council-fire while the young women and girls forced the spirits out of each igloo using their knives, stabbing fiercely under the bunk and deer skins, and calling for Tuña to leave the igloo. Once they believed he had been driven out of every nook and cranny, they pushed him down through the floor hole and chased him into the open air with loud shouts and wild movements. Meanwhile, the old woman at the entrance of the igloo made sweeping motions with a long knife in the air to prevent his return. Each group drove the spirit toward the fire and urged him to enter it. By this time, everyone had gathered in a semicircle around the fire, where several leading men made accusations against the spirit; each, after his speech, brushed off his clothes vigorously, urging the spirit to leave him and go into the fire. Two men then stepped forward with rifles loaded with blank cartridges, while a third brought a vessel of urine and tossed it onto the fire. At the same moment, one of the men fired a shot into the fire, and as the steam billowed up, it was met with the other shot, [pg 165] which was meant to finish Tuña for the time being.485 In autumn, when fierce storms are raging, the Eskimo of Baffin Land believe that the female spirit Sedna is present among them, and the most powerful shaman is called upon to drive her out. Next to a small hole in the center of the floor, a coil of seal-skin is placed. Holding a sealing spear in his left hand, the shaman watches the hole. Another sorcerer sits at the back of the hut, chanting songs to attract Sedna. Soon, she can be heard approaching beneath the floor. When she gets to the hole, the shaman strikes her with his harpoon and pays out the line. A fierce struggle follows, but eventually, Sedna flees to her homeland, Adlivun. The performance is skillfully executed. When the harpoon is pulled out of the hole, it is covered in blood, and Sedna's heavy breathing can be clearly heard beneath the floor.486
The Iroquois inaugurated the new year in January, February, or March (the time varied) with a “festival of dreams” like that which the Hurons observed on special occasions.487 The whole ceremonies lasted several days, or even weeks, and formed a kind of Saturnalia. Men and women, variously disguised, went from wigwam to wigwam smashing and throwing down whatever they came across. It was a time of general licence; the people were supposed to be out of their senses, and therefore not to be responsible for what they did. Accordingly, many seized the opportunity of paying off old scores by belabouring obnoxious persons, drenching them with ice-cold water, and covering them with filth or hot ashes. [pg 166] Others seized burning brands or coals and flung them at the heads of the first persons they met. The only way of escaping from these persecutors was to guess what they had dreamed of. On one day of the festival the ceremony of driving away evil spirits from the village took place. Men clothed in the skins of wild beasts, their faces covered with hideous masks, and their hands with the shell of the tortoise, went from hut to hut making frightful noises; in every hut they took the fuel from the fire and scattered the embers and ashes about the floor with their hands. The general confession of sins which preceded the festival was probably a preparation for the public expulsion of evil influences; it was a way of stripping the people of their moral burdens, that these might be collected and cast out. This New Year festival is still celebrated by some of the heathen Iroquois, though it has been shorn of its former turbulence. A conspicuous feature in the ceremony is now the sacrifice of the White Dog, but this appears to have been added to the festival in comparatively modern times, and does not figure in the oldest descriptions of the ceremonies. We shall return to it later on.488 A great annual festival of the Cherokee Indians was the Propitiation, “Cementation,” or Purification festival. “It was celebrated shortly after the first new moon of autumn, and consisted of a multiplicity of rigorous rites, fastings, ablutions, and purifications. Among the most important functionaries on the occasion were seven [pg 167] exorcisers or cleansers, whose duty it was, at a certain stage of the proceedings, to drive away evil, and purify the town. Each one bore in his hand a white rod of sycamore. ‘The leader, followed by the others, walked around the national heptagon, and coming to the treasure or store-house to the west of it, they lashed the eaves of the roofs with their rods. The leader then went to another house, followed by the others, singing, and repeated the same ceremony until every house was purified.’ This ceremony was repeated daily during the continuance of the festival. In performing their ablutions they went into the water and allowed their old clothes to be carried away by the stream, by which means they supposed their impurities removed.”489
The Iroquois kicked off the new year in January, February, or March (the timing varied) with a "Dream Festival" similar to what the Hurons celebrated on special occasions.487 The whole ceremony lasted several days or even weeks and resembled a sort of Saturnalia. Men and women, dressed in various costumes, went from wigwam to wigwam smashing and knocking down anything they could find. It was a time of complete freedom; people were expected to be out of their minds, and therefore not responsible for their actions. Many took advantage of this to settle old scores by hitting annoying individuals, drenching them with ice-cold water, and covering them in filth or hot ashes. [pg 166] Others grabbed burning sticks or coals and threw them at the heads of the first people they encountered. The only way to escape these tormentors was to guess what they had dreamed about. During one day of the festival, they held a ceremony to drive away evil spirits from the village. Men dressed in the skins of wild animals, with their faces hidden behind frightening masks and their hands covered with turtle shells, went from hut to hut making awful noises; in each hut, they took fuel from the fire and scattered the embers and ashes on the floor with their hands. The general confession of sins that took place before the festival was likely a way to prepare for the public removal of evil influences; it was a method of relieving people of their moral burdens, so these could be collected and expelled. This New Year festival is still celebrated by some of the non-Christian Iroquois, though it no longer has the same wildness. A notable part of the ceremony now is the sacrifice of the White Dog, which seems to have been added in relatively recent times, as it does not appear in the oldest descriptions of the ceremonies. We will come back to it later.488 A major annual festival for the Cherokee Indians was the Propitiation, Cementing or Purification festival. "It was celebrated shortly after the first new moon of autumn and involved a series of strict rituals, fasting, washing, and purification. Key figures included seven exorcists or cleansers, whose role was to drive away evil and purify the town at a specific point in the ceremony. Each one carried a white rod made of sycamore. The leader, followed by the others, walked around the national heptagon, and when they reached the treasure or storehouse to the west of it, they whipped the edges of the roofs with their rods. The leader then went to another house, with the others following and singing, and repeated the same ceremony until every house was purified. This ceremony took place daily throughout the festival. During their washings, they would enter the water and let their old clothes be carried away by the current, believing this would cleanse them of their impurities."489
In September the Incas of Peru celebrated a festival called Situa, the object of which was to banish from the capital and its vicinity all disease and troubles. The festival fell in September because the rains begin about this time, and with the first rains there was generally much sickness. As a preparation for the festival the people fasted on the first day of the moon after the autumnal equinox. Having fasted during the day, and the night being come, they baked a coarse paste of maize. This paste was made of two sorts. One was kneaded with the blood of children aged five to ten years, the blood being obtained by bleeding the children between the eye-brows. These two kinds of paste were baked separately, because they were for different uses. Each family assembled at the house of the eldest brother to celebrate the feast; and those who had no elder brother went to [pg 168] the house of their next relation of greater age. On the same night all who had fasted during the day washed their bodies, and taking a little of the blood-kneaded paste, rubbed it over their head, face, breast, shoulders, arms, and legs. They did this in order that the paste might take away all their infirmities. After this the head of the family anointed the threshold with the same paste, and left it there as a token that the inmates of the house had performed their ablutions and cleansed their bodies. Meantime the High Priest performed the same ceremonies in the temple of the Sun. As soon as the Sun rose, all the people worshipped and besought him to drive all evils out of the city, and then they broke their fast with the paste that had been kneaded without blood. When they had paid their worship and broken their fast, which they did at a stated hour, in order that all might adore the Sun as one man, an Inca of the blood royal came forth from the fortress, as a messenger of the Sun, richly dressed, with his mantle girded round his body, and a lance in his hand. The lance was decked with feathers of many hues, extending from the blade to the socket, and fastened with rings of gold. He ran down the hill from the fortress brandishing his lance, till he reached the centre of the great square, where stood the golden urn, like a fountain, that was used for the sacrifice of chicha. Here four other Incas of the blood royal awaited him, each with a lance in his hand, and his mantle girded up to run. The messenger touched their four lances with his lance, and told them that the Sun bade them, as his messengers, drive the evils out of the city. The four Incas then separated and ran down the four royal roads which led out of the city to the four quarters of [pg 169] the world. While they ran, all the people, great and small, came to the doors of their houses, and with great shouts of joy and gladness shook their clothes, as if they were shaking off dust, while they cried, “Let the evils be gone. How greatly desired has this festival been by us. O Creator of all things, permit us to reach another year, that we may see another feast like this.” After they had shaken their clothes, they passed their hands over their heads, faces, arms, and legs, as if in the act of washing. All this was done to drive the evils out of their houses, that the messengers of the Sun might banish them from the city. This was done not only in the streets through which the Incas ran, but generally in all quarters of the city. Moreover, they all danced, the Inca himself amongst them, and bathed in the rivers and fountains, saying that their maladies would come out of them. Then they took great torches of straw, bound round with cords. These they lighted, and passed from one to the other, striking each other with them, and saying, “Let all harm go away.” Meanwhile the runners ran with their lances for a quarter of a league outside the city, where they found four other Incas ready, who received the lances from their hands and ran with them. Thus the lances were carried by relays of runners for a distance of five or six leagues, at the end of which the runners washed themselves and their weapons in rivers, and set up the lances, in sign of a boundary within which the banished evils might not return.490
In September, the Incas of Peru held a festival called Situa, aimed at driving away all diseases and troubles from the capital and surrounding areas. The festival took place in September because the rains typically start around this time, bringing sickness. To prepare, the people fasted on the first day after the autumn equinox. After fasting all day, they baked a coarse corn paste at night. There were two types of paste: one was mixed with the blood of children aged five to ten, collected by lightly bleeding them between the eyebrows. These two kinds of paste were baked separately for different uses. Each family gathered at the home of the oldest brother to celebrate the feast, while those without an elder brother went to the house of their next oldest relative. That same night, everyone who had fasted washed their bodies, and taking a bit of the blood-mixed paste, they rubbed it over their head, face, chest, shoulders, arms, and legs, hoping it would cleanse them of their ailments. Afterwards, the head of the family anointed the threshold with the same paste, leaving it there as proof that the household had performed their cleansing rituals. Meanwhile, the High Priest conducted the same ceremonies in the temple of the Sun. As soon as the Sun rose, everyone worshipped and asked him to banish all evils from the city, then broke their fast with the unbloodied paste. After worshiping and breaking their fast at a specific hour so everyone could honor the Sun together, a royal Inca emerged from the fortress as his messenger, dressed lavishly with his mantle wrapped around him and a lance in hand. The lance was adorned with colorful feathers from the blade to the socket, bound with gold rings. He ran down from the fortress, brandishing his lance until he reached the center of the great square, where the golden urn used for chicha sacrifice stood. Four other royal Incas were waiting for him there, each holding a lance and ready to run. The messenger touched their lances with his and told them that the Sun commanded them, as his messengers, to drive the evils out of the city. The four Incas then split up and ran down the four royal roads leading out of the city towards the four corners of the world. While they ran, everyone, big and small, came out of their houses, joyfully shaking their clothes as if dusting themselves off while shouting, “Let the evils be gone! We have longed for this festival. O Creator of all things, let us live to see another year, that we may celebrate another feast like this.” After shaking their clothes, they waved their hands over their heads, faces, arms, and legs as if washing. All this was done to expel the evils from their homes, ensuring the Sun's messengers could make them leave the city. This activity occurred not only in the streets the Incas ran through but throughout the entire city. They also danced, the Inca joining them, and bathed in rivers and fountains, believing their illnesses would wash away. Then, they took large straw torches, wrapped in cords, lit them, and passed them around, striking each other with them while saying, “Let all harm go away.” Meanwhile, the runners continued with their lances for about a quarter of a league outside the city, where they found four other Incas ready to take the lances and run. Thus, the lances were relayed by teams of runners for a distance of five or six leagues, at which point the runners washed themselves and their weapons in rivers and set up the lances as a boundary to ensure the evils would not return.
The negroes of Guinea annually banish the devil from all their towns with much ceremony. At Axim, on the Gold Coast, this annual expulsion is preceded by a feast of eight days, during which mirth and jollity reign, and “a perfect lampooning liberty is allowed, and scandal so highly exalted, that they may freely sing of all the faults, villanies, and frauds of their superiors as well as inferiors, without punishment, or so much as the least interruption.” On the eighth day they hunt out the devil with a dismal cry, running after him and pelting him with sticks, stones, and whatever comes to hand. When they have driven him far enough out of the town, they all return. In this way he is driven out of more than a hundred towns at the same time. To make sure that he does not return to their houses, the women wash and scour all their wooden and earthen vessels, “to free them from all uncleanness and the devil.”491 At Onitsha, on the Quorra River, Mr. J. C. Taylor witnessed the celebration of New Year's Day by the negroes. It fell on 20th December 1858. Every family brought a firebrand out into the street, threw it away, and exclaimed as they returned, “The gods of the new year! New Year has come round again.” Mr. Taylor adds, “The meaning of the custom seems to be that the fire is to drive away the old year with its sorrows and evils, and to embrace the new year with [pg 171] hearty reception.”492 Of all Abyssinian festivals that of Mascal or the Cross is celebrated with the greatest pomp. The eve of the festival witnesses a ceremony which doubtless belongs to the world-wide class of customs we are dealing with. At sunset a discharge of firearms takes place from all the principal houses. “Then every one provides himself with a torch, and during the early part of the night bonfires are kindled, and the people parade the town, carrying their lighted torches in their hands. They go through their houses too, poking a light into every dark corner in the hall, under the couches, in the stables, kitchen, etc., as if looking for something lost, and calling out, ‘Akho, akhoky! turn out the spinage, and bring in the porridge; Mascal is come!’.... After this they play, and poke fun and torches at each other.”493
The people of Guinea kick the devil out of their towns every year with a big ceremony. At Axim on the Gold Coast, this yearly expulsion starts with an eight-day feast filled with joy and celebration, where “People are completely free to mock others, and gossip is so appreciated that they can openly sing about the faults, tricks, and dishonesty of everyone from their bosses to their employees without facing punishment or even a moment of interruption.” On the eighth day, they chase the devil away with loud cries, throwing sticks, stones, and whatever else they can find. Once they’ve driven him far enough from the town, they all go back home. This way, over a hundred towns can expel the devil at once. To ensure he doesn't come back, the women clean and scrub all their wooden and clay pots, “to clean them of any impurities and evil.”491 In Onitsha, on the Quorra River, Mr. J. C. Taylor saw the New Year's celebration among the locals, which took place on December 20, 1858. Each family brought a brand of fire into the street, threw it away, and shouted as they returned, "The gods of the new year! It’s that time of year again." Mr. Taylor adds, “The purpose of this tradition appears to be that the fire is meant to drive away the troubles of the old year and to greet the new year with open arms.”492 Among Abyssinian festivals, the one for Mascal or the Cross is celebrated with the most grandeur. The night before the festival features a ceremony that clearly fits into the global customs we’re discussing. At sunset, gunfire erupts from all the main houses. "Then everyone picks up atorch, and early in the night, bonfires are lit as people walk through town carrying their torches. They go into their homes too, shining a light into every dark corner in the hall, under the couches, in the stable, kitchen, etc., as if looking for something lost, calling out, ‘Akho, akhoky! turn out the spinach, and bring in the porridge; Mascal is here!’.... After that, they play games, joke around, and tease each other with their torches."493
Sometimes the date of the annual expulsion of devils is fixed with reference to the agricultural seasons. Among the Hos of North-Eastern India the great festival of the year is the harvest home, held in January, when the granaries are full of grain, and the people, to use their own expression, are full of devilry. “They have a strange notion that at this period men and women are so overcharged with vicious propensities, that it is absolutely necessary for the safety of the person to let off steam by allowing for a time full vent to the passions.” The ceremonies open with a sacrifice to the village god of three fowls, two of which must be black. Along with them are offered flowers of the Palás tree, bread made from rice-flour, and sesamum seeds. These offerings are presented by the village priest, who prays that [pg 172] during the year about to begin they and their children may be preserved from all misfortune and sickness, and that they may have seasonable rain and good crops. Prayer is also made in some places for the souls of the dead. At this time an evil spirit is supposed to infest the place, and to get rid of it men, women, and children go in procession round and through every part of the village with sticks in their hands, as if beating for game, singing a wild chant, and shouting vociferously, till they feel assured that the evil spirit must have fled. Then they give themselves up to feasting and drinking rice-beer, till they are in a fit state for the wild debauch which follows. The festival now “becomes a saturnale, during which servants forget their duty to their masters, children their reverence for parents, men their respect for women, and women all notions of modesty, delicacy, and gentleness; they become raging bacchantes.” Usually the Hos are quiet and reserved in manner, decorous and gentle to women. But during this festival “their nature appears to undergo a temporary change. Sons and daughters revile their parents in gross language, and parents their children; men and women become almost like animals in the indulgence of their amorous propensities.” The Mundaris, kinsmen and neighbours of the Hos, keep the festival in much the same manner. “The resemblance to a Saturnale is very complete, as at this festival the farm labourers are feasted by their masters, and allowed the utmost freedom of speech in addressing them. It is the festival of the harvest home; the termination of one year's toil, and a slight respite from it before they commence again.”494
Sometimes the date for the annual expulsion of devils is determined by the agricultural seasons. Among the Hos in North-Eastern India, the biggest festival of the year is the harvest celebration, held in January, when the granaries are filled with grain and the people, as they say themselves, are full of mischief. “They think that during this time, men and women are so overwhelmed by negative impulses that it’s crucial for their safety to release some tension by fully expressing their emotions.” The ceremonies begin with a sacrifice to the village god of three chickens, two of which must be black. They also offer flowers from the Palás tree, rice-flour bread, and sesame seeds. These offerings are presented by the village priest, who prays that [pg 172] in the upcoming year, they and their children may be kept safe from all misfortune and illness, and that they may receive timely rain and good harvests. In some places, prayers are offered for the souls of the dead. During this time, it’s believed that an evil spirit haunts the area, so men, women, and children form a procession throughout the village, wielding sticks as if hunting, singing wild chants, and shouting loudly until they are convinced that the evil spirit has fled. Then they indulge in feasting and drinking rice beer until they are ready for the wild debauchery that follows. The festival now “turns into a Saturnalia, where servants neglect their duties to their masters, children disrespect their parents, men lose respect for women, and women throw away all notions of modesty, delicacy, and gentleness; they become wild partygoers.” Normally, the Hos are quiet and reserved, respectful and gentle toward women. But during this festival, "Their behavior appears to change briefly. Sons and daughters swear at their parents with rude language, and parents do the same to their kids; men and women let go of their inhibitions and behave almost like animals in their romantic pursuits." The Mundaris, relatives and neighbors of the Hos, celebrate the festival similarly. "The resemblance to a Saturnalia is really notable, as during this festival, farm workers are treated to feasts by their employers and given the freedom to speak openly with them. It’s the harvest home festival; the end of a year’s hard work and a short break before they begin again."494
Amongst some of the Hindoo Koosh tribes, as among the Hos and Mundaris, the expulsion of devils takes place after harvest. When the last crop of autumn has been got in, it is thought necessary to drive away evil spirits from the granaries. A kind of porridge called mool is eaten, and the head of the family takes his matchlock and fires it into the floor. Then, going outside, he sets to work loading and firing till his powder horn is exhausted, while all his neighbours are similarly employed. The next day is spent in rejoicings. In Chitral this festival is called “devil-driving.”495 On the other hand the Khonds of India expel the devils at seed-time instead of at harvest. At this time they worship Pitteri Pennu, the god of increase and of gain in every shape. On the first day of the festival a rude car is made of a basket set upon a few sticks, tied upon bamboo rollers for wheels. The priest takes this car first to the house of the lineal head of the tribe, to whom precedence is given in all ceremonies connected with agriculture. Here he receives a little of each kind of seed and some feathers. He then takes the car to all the other houses in the village, each of which contributes the same things. Lastly, the car is conducted to a field without the village, attended by all the young men, who beat each other and strike the air violently with long sticks. The seed thus carried out is called the share of the “evil spirits, spoilers of the seed.” “These are considered to be driven out with the car; and when it and its contents are abandoned to them, they are held to have no excuse for interfering with the rest of the seed-corn.” Next day each household kills a hog over the seed for the year, and prays to Pitteri Pennu. [pg 174] The elders then feast upon the hogs. The young men are excluded from the repast, but enjoy the privilege of waylaying and pelting with jungle fruit their elders as they return from the feast. Upon the third day the lineal head of the tribe goes out and sows his seed, after which all the rest may do so.496
Among some of the Hindu Kush tribes, like the Hos and Mundaris, the removal of evil spirits happens after the harvest. Once the last autumn crop has been collected, it's deemed necessary to get rid of bad spirits from the granaries. They eat a type of porridge called cash, and the head of the family takes his matchlock and fires it into the floor. Then, he goes outside and starts loading and shooting until his powder horn is empty, while all of his neighbors do the same. The following day is filled with celebrations. In Chitral, this festival is known as “rage driving.”495 Conversely, the Khonds of India drive out devils during seed time instead of harvest. During this period, they worship Pitteri Pennu, the god of increase and prosperity in all forms. On the first day of the festival, a makeshift cart is made from a basket set on a few sticks tied to bamboo rollers as wheels. The priest takes this cart first to the house of the tribe's lineal head, who is given priority in all agricultural ceremonies. Here, he receives a little of each type of seed and some feathers. He then takes the cart to all the other homes in the village, collecting the same items. Finally, the cart is taken to a field outside the village, accompanied by all the young men, who hit each other and strike the air vigorously with long sticks. The seeds taken out are referred to as the share of the "evil spirits, destroyers of the seed." “These are seen as being moved out with the cart; and when it and its contents are left for them, they are regarded as having no reason to meddle with the rest of the seed corn.” The next day, each household sacrifices a hog over the seed for the year and prays to Pitteri Pennu. [pg 174] The elders then feast on the hogs. The young men are excluded from the meal but take pleasure in ambushing and throwing jungle fruit at their elders as they return from the feast. On the third day, the lineal head of the tribe goes out and sows his seeds, after which everyone else can do the same. 496
The people of Bali, an island to the east of Java, have periodical expulsions of devils upon a great scale. Generally the time chosen for the expulsion is the day of the “dark moon” in the ninth month. When the demons have been long unmolested the country is said to be “warm,” and the priest issues orders to expel them by force, lest the whole of Bali should be rendered uninhabitable. On the day appointed the people of the village or district assemble at the principal temple. Here at a cross-road offerings are set out for the devils. After prayers have been recited by the priests, the blast of a horn summons the devils to partake of the meal which has been prepared for them. At the same time a number of men step forward and light their torches at the holy lamp which burns before the chief priest. Immediately afterwards, followed by the bystanders, they spread in all directions and march through the streets and lanes crying, “Depart! go away!” Wherever they pass, the people who have stayed at home hasten by a deafening knocking on doors, beams, rice-blocks, etc., to take their share in the expulsion of devils. Thus chased from the houses, the fiends flee to the banquet which [pg 175] has been set out for them; but here the priest receives them with curses which finally drive them from the district. When the last devil has taken his departure, the uproar is succeeded by a dead silence, which lasts during the next day also. The devils, it is thought, are anxious to return to their old homes, and in order to make them think that Bali is not Bali but some desert island, no one may stir from his own premises for twenty-four hours. Even ordinary household work, including cooking, is discontinued. Only the watchmen may show themselves in the streets. Wreaths of thorns and leaves are hung at all the entrances to warn strangers from entering. Not till the third day is this state of siege raised, and even then it is forbidden to work at the rice-fields or to buy and sell in the market. Most people still stay at home, striving to while away the time with cards and dice.497
The people of Bali, an island east of Java, periodically drive out demons on a large scale. Usually, this occurs on the day of the “new moon” in the ninth month. When the demons have been undisturbed for too long, the land is said to be "cozy," prompting the priest to order their expulsion to prevent Bali from becoming unlivable. On the designated day, the villagers gather at the main temple. At a crossroads, offerings are laid out for the demons. After the priests recite prayers, a horn's blast calls the demons to join in the feast prepared for them. Meanwhile, several men approach and light their torches at the holy lamp that burns before the chief priest. Immediately afterwards, along with onlookers, they spread out in all directions, marching through the streets and alleys shouting, “Leave! Go away!” As they pass by, those who stayed home respond with loud knocking on doors, beams, rice-blocks, and more, joining in the effort to drive away the demons. Chased from the houses, the fiends retreat to the banquet set for them; however, the priest meets them with curses that ultimately drive them from the area. When the last demon leaves, the chaos is replaced by an eerie silence that lasts into the next day. It is believed the demons wish to return to their previous homes, so to make them feel that Bali is merely an empty island, everyone must remain inside for twenty-four hours. Regular household tasks, including cooking, are halted. Only the watchmen are allowed to be seen in the streets. Wreaths of thorns and leaves are hung at all entrances to deter strangers from entering. This state of siege isn’t lifted until the third day, and even then, working in the rice fields or buying and selling in the market is still prohibited. Most people stay home, passing the time with cards and dice.497
In some parts of Fiji an annual ceremony took place which has much the aspect of an expulsion of devils. The time of its celebration was determined by the appearance of a certain fish or sea-slug (balolo) which swarms out in dense shoals from the coral reefs on a single day of the year, usually in the last quarter of the moon in November. The appearance of the sea-slugs was the signal for a general feast at those places where they were taken. An influential man ascended a tree and prayed to the spirit of the sky for good crops, fair winds, and so on. Thereupon a tremendous clatter, with drumming and shouting, was raised by all the people in their houses for about half an hour. This was followed by a dead quiet for four days, during [pg 176] which the people feasted on the sea-slug. All this time no work of any kind might be done, not even a leaf plucked nor the offal removed from the houses. If a noise was made in any house, as by a child crying, a forfeit was at once exacted by the chief. At daylight on the expiry of the fourth night the whole town was in an uproar; men and boys scampered about, knocking with clubs and sticks at the doors of the houses and crying “Sinariba.” This concluded the ceremony.498
In some areas of Fiji, an annual ceremony took place that resembled an exorcism. The timing of this event was based on the appearance of a specific fish or sea-slug (balolo) that swarmed out in large numbers from the coral reefs on a single day each year, usually during the last quarter of the moon in November. When the sea-slugs appeared, it signaled a big feast in those regions where they were caught. A respected leader would climb a tree and pray to the spirit of the sky for good harvests, favorable winds, and such. Following this, a huge commotion erupted, with drumming and shouting by all the people in their homes for about half an hour. This was then followed by complete silence for four days, during which the residents feasted on the sea-slug. During this time, no work could be done—no leaf could be picked, and no waste could be removed from the houses. If any noise was made in a house, such as a child crying, the chief would impose a fine immediately. At dawn on the last day of the four-night period, the entire town erupted into chaos; men and boys ran around, banging clubs and sticks against the doors of the houses and shouting “Sinariba.” This marked the end of the ceremony.498
On the night before spring begins the Japanese throw roasted beans against the walls and floors of their houses, crying thrice loudly, “Away from here, wicked spirit!” but adding softly, “Enter, O god of riches!”499 Amongst some of the Hindus of the Punjaub on the morning after Diwali or the festival of lamps (at which the souls of ancestors are believed to visit the house) the oldest woman of the family takes all the sweepings and rubbish of the family and throws them out, with the words, “Let all dirt and wretchedness depart from here, and all good fortune come in.”500 In Tonquin a theckydaw or general expulsion of malevolent spirits commonly took place once a year, especially if there was a great mortality amongst men or cattle, “the cause of which they attribute to the malicious spirits of such men as have been put to death for treason, rebellion, and conspiring the death of the king, general, or princes, and in that revenge of the punishment they have suffered, they are bent to destroy [pg 177] everything and commit horrible violence. To prevent which their superstition has suggested to them the institution of this theckydaw as a proper means to drive the devil away, and purge the country of evil spirits.” The day appointed for the ceremony was generally the 25th of February, one month after the commencement of the new year, which began on the 25th of January. The intermediate month was a season of feasting, merry-making of all kinds, and general licence. During the whole month the great seal was kept shut up in a box, face downwards, and the law was, as it were, laid asleep. All courts of justice were closed; debtors could not be seized; small crimes, such as petty larceny, fighting, and assault, escaped with impunity; only treason and murder were taken account of and the malefactors detained till the great seal should come into operation again. At the close of the saturnalia the wicked spirits were driven away. Great masses of troops and artillery having been drawn up with flying colours and all the pomp of war, “the general beginneth then to offer meat offerings to the criminal devils and malevolent spirits (for it is usual and customary likewise amongst them to feast the condemned before their execution), inviting them to eat and drink, when presently he accuses them in a strange language, by characters and figures, etc., of many offences and crimes committed by them, as to their having disquieted the land, killed his elephants and horses, etc., for all which they justly deserved to be chastised and banished the country. Whereupon three great guns are fired as the last signal; upon which all the artillery and musquets are discharged, that, by their most terrible noise the devils may be driven away; and they are so blind as to believe [pg 178] for certain, that they really and effectually put them to flight.”501
On the night before spring starts, the Japanese throw roasted beans against the walls and floors of their homes, shouting three times loudly, "Get out of here, evil spirit!" but quietly adding, "Come in, oh god of wealth!"499 Among some of the Hindus in Punjab, on the morning after Diwali, or the festival of lamps (when it is believed that the souls of ancestors visit the house), the oldest woman in the family gathers all the dust and trash and throws it out, saying, “May all dirt and misery exit this place, and may good fortune enter.”500 In Tonquin, a theckydaw, or general expulsion of evil spirits, usually happened once a year, especially after significant deaths among people or livestock, "they believe it's caused by the vengeful spirits of those who were executed for treason, rebellion, or plotting against the king, general, or princes. In retaliation for their punishment, these spirits seek to destroy [pg 177] everything and commit horrific violence. To stop this, their superstition has led them to create this theckydaw as a way to drive away the devil and purify the land of evil spirits." The date set for the ceremony was generally February 25th, one month after the new year began on January 25th. The month in between was a time for feasting, celebrations of all kinds, and general freedom. Throughout the entire month, the great seal was kept locked in a box, face down, and the law was essentially inactive. All courts of justice were closed; debtors could not be arrested; minor offenses like petty theft, fighting, and assault were overlooked; only treason and murder were prosecuted, and those accused were detained until the great seal was reinstated. At the end of this period of revelry, the wicked spirits were banished. Large groups of troops and artillery were assembled with flags and all the grandeur of war, The general then starts offering food to the criminal devils and evil spirits (it's a tradition to share a feast with the condemned before their execution), inviting them to eat and drink. He then suddenly accuses them in a strange language, using symbols and figures, of various offenses and crimes they committed, such as disturbing the land and killing his elephants and horses, for which they rightfully deserve punishment and to be exiled from the country. Then, three cannons are fired as a final signal; afterward, all the artillery and muskets are fired to create a loud noise in hopes of driving the devils away, and they are naive enough to genuinely believe [pg 178] that they successfully scare them off.501
In Cambodia the expulsion of evil spirits took place in March. Bits of broken statues and stones, considered as the abode of the demons, were collected and brought to the capital. Here as many elephants were collected as could be got together. On the evening of the full moon volleys of musketry were fired and the elephants charged furiously to put the devils to flight.502 In Siam the banishment of demons is annually carried into effect on the last day of the old year. A signal gun is fired from the palace; it is answered from the next station, and so on from station to station, till the firing has reached the outer gate of the city. Thus the demons are driven out step by step. As soon as this is done a consecrated rope is fastened round the circuit of the city walls to prevent the banished demons from returning. The rope is made of tough couch-grass and is painted in alternate stripes of red, yellow, and blue.503 The Shans of Southern China annually expel the fire-spirit. The ceremony was witnessed by the English Mission under Colonel Sladen on the 13th of August 1868. Bullocks and cows were slaughtered in the market-place; the meat was all sold, part of it was cooked and eaten, while the rest was fired out of guns [pg 179] at sundown. The pieces of flesh which fell on the land were supposed to become mosquitoes, those which fell in the water were believed to turn into leeches. In the evening the chief's retainers beat gongs and blew trumpets; and when darkness had set in torches were lit and a party, preceded by the musicians, searched the central court for the fire-spirit, who is supposed to lurk about at this season with evil intent. They then searched all the rooms and the gardens, throwing the light of the torches into every nook and corner where the evil spirit might find a hiding-place.504
In Cambodia, the expulsion of evil spirits happens in March. Fragments of broken statues and stones, which are thought to be the homes of demons, are collected and taken to the capital. There, as many elephants as possible are gathered. On the night of the full moon, volleys of gunfire are fired, and the elephants charge fiercely to drive the devils away.502 In Siam, the expulsion of demons is carried out every year on the last day of the old year. A signal gun is fired from the palace, which is echoed from station to station until the firing reaches the outer gate of the city. This way, the demons are driven out step by step. Once this is done, a blessed rope is tied around the city walls to prevent the banished demons from coming back. The rope is made from tough couch-grass and painted in alternating stripes of red, yellow, and blue.503 The Shans of Southern China expel the fire spirit every year. The English Mission led by Colonel Sladen witnessed the ceremony on August 13, 1868. Bullocks and cows were slaughtered in the marketplace; the meat was sold, some cooked and eaten, while the rest was shot out of guns [pg 179] at sundown. The pieces of meat that fell on land were believed to turn into mosquitoes, while those that fell in the water were thought to become leeches. In the evening, the chief's followers beat gongs and blew trumpets; when darkness fell, they lit torches and a group, led by musicians, searched the central court for the fire spirit, who is believed to hide around this time with malicious intent. They then checked all the rooms and gardens, shining their torches into every nook and cranny where the evil spirit might be hiding.504
Annual expulsions of demons or of evil influences are not unknown in Europe at the present day. Amongst the heathen Wotyaks, a Finnish people of Eastern Russia, all the young girls of the village assemble on the last day of the year or on New Year's Day armed with sticks, the ends of which are split in nine places. With these they beat every corner of the house and yard, saying, “We are driving Satan out of the village.” Afterwards the sticks are thrown into the river below the village, and as they float down stream Satan goes with them to the next village, from which he must be driven out in turn. In some villages the expulsion is managed otherwise. The unmarried men receive from every house in the village groats, flesh, and brandy. These they take to the field, light a fire under a fir-tree, boil the groats, and eat of the food they have brought with them, after pronouncing the words, “Go away into the wilderness, come not into the house.” Then they return to the village and enter every house where there are young women. They take hold of the young women and throw them into the snow, saying, “May the spirits of [pg 180] disease leave you.” The remains of the groats and the other food are then distributed among all the houses in proportion to the amount that each contributed, and each family consumes its share. According to a Wotyak of the Malmyz district the young men throw into the snow whomever they find in the houses, and this is called “driving out Satan;” moreover some of the boiled groats are thrown into the fire with the words, “O god, afflict us not with sickness and pestilence, give us not up as a prey to the spirits of the wood.” But the most antique form of the ceremony is that observed by the Wotyaks of the Kasan Government. First of all a sacrifice is offered to the Devil at noon. Then all the men assemble on horseback in the centre of the village, and decide with which house they shall begin. When this question, which often gives rise to hot disputes, is settled, they tether their horses to the paling, and arm themselves with whips, clubs of lime-wood, and bundles of lighted twigs. The lighted twigs are believed to have the greatest terrors for Satan. Thus armed, they proceed with frightful cries to beat every corner of the house and yard, then shut the door, and spit at the ejected fiend. So they go from house to house, till the Devil has been driven from every one. Then they mount their horses and ride out of the village, yelling wildly and brandishing their clubs in every direction. Outside of the village they fling away the clubs and spit once more at the Devil.505 The Cheremiss, another Finnish people of Eastern Russia, chase Satan from their dwellings by beating the walls with cudgels of lime-wood. When he has fled to the wood, they pelt [pg 181] the trees with some of the cheese-cakes and eggs which furnished the feast.506
Annual expulsion of demons or evil forces still happens in Europe today. Among the heathen Wotyaks, a Finnish group in Eastern Russia, all the young girls from the village gather on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day with sticks that are split into nine parts at the ends. They use these to hit every corner of their house and yard, chanting, "We are driving Satan out of the village." After this, they throw the sticks into the river below the village, and as they float downstream, Satan goes with them to the next village, where he must then be driven out too. In some villages, the expulsion happens differently. The single men collect groats, meat, and brandy from every household. They take this to the fields, light a fire under a fir tree, cook the groats, and eat from the food they brought while saying, "Go away to the wilderness, don't come into the house." Then they return to the village and enter each house with young women. They grab the young women and throw them into the snow, proclaiming, "May the spirits of [pg 180] illness abandon you." The leftover groats and food are then shared among all the homes based on what each contributed, and each family eats their portion. According to a Wotyak from the Malmyz district, the young men throw everyone they find in the houses into the snow, referring to this as "driving out the devil;" additionally, some boiled groats are thrown into the fire with the words, "O God, please don't burden us with illness and disease, and keep us safe from the spirits of the forest." However, the oldest version of the ceremony is observed by the Wotyaks in the Kasan Government. They start by making a sacrifice to the Devil at noon. Then all the men gather on horseback in the village center to decide which house to begin with. Once this often contentious decision is made, they tie their horses to the fence and arm themselves with whips, lime-wood clubs, and bundles of lighted twigs. The lit twigs are believed to scare Satan the most. Armed this way, they proceed to make terrifying noises as they beat every corner of the house and yard, then shut the door and spit at the expelled fiend. They continue this from house to house until the Devil has been driven from all of them. Then, they ride out of the village, shouting wildly and waving their clubs around. Outside the village, they toss away the clubs and spit at the Devil one last time.505 The Cheremiss, another Finnish group in Eastern Russia, drive Satan away from their homes by hitting the walls with lime-wood clubs. When he flees into the woods, they throw some of the cheese-cakes and eggs from the feast at the trees.506
In Albania on Easter Eve the young people light torches of resinous wood and march in procession, swinging them, through the village. At last they throw the torches into the river, crying, “Ha, Kore! we throw you into the river, like these torches, that you may never return.”507 In some villages of Calabria the month of March is inaugurated with the expulsion of the witches. It takes place at night to the sound of the church bells, the people running about the streets and crying, “March is come.” They say that the witches roam about in March, and the ceremony is repeated every Friday evening during the month.508 In the Tyrol the expulsion of witches takes place on the first of May. On a Thursday at midnight bundles are made up of resinous splinters, black and red spotted hemlock, caper-spurge, rosemary, and twigs of the sloe. These are kept and burned on May Day by men who must first have received plenary absolution from the church. On the last three days of April all the houses are cleansed and fumigated with juniper berries and rue. On May Day, when the evening bell has rung and the twilight is falling, the ceremony of “burning out the witches,” as it is called, begins. Men and boys make a racket with whips, bells, pots, and pans; the women carry censers; the dogs are unchained and run barking and yelping about. As soon as the church bells begin to ring, the bundles of twigs, fastened on poles, are set on fire and the incense [pg 182] is ignited. Then all the house-bells and dinner-bells are rung, pots and pans are clashed, dogs bark, every one must make a noise. And amid this hubbub all scream at the pitch of their voices,
In Albania on Easter Eve, young people light torches made of resinous wood and march in a procession, swinging them through the village. Finally, they throw the torches into the river, shouting, "Ha, Kore! We’ll throw you into the river, just like these torches, so you can never come back."507 In some villages of Calabria, the month of March begins with the expulsion of witches. This happens at night accompanied by the sound of church bells, as people run through the streets shouting, “March is here.” They believe that witches are out and about in March, and this ceremony takes place every Friday evening during the month.508 In the Tyrol, the expulsion of witches occurs on the first of May. At midnight on a Thursday, bundles are created from resinous splinters, black and red spotted hemlock, caper-spurge, rosemary, and sloe twigs. These are kept and burned on May Day by men who must first receive full absolution from the church. In the last three days of April, all houses are cleaned and fumigated with juniper berries and rue. On May Day, when the evening bell rings and twilight falls, the ceremony of "burning out the witches" begins. Men and boys create noise with whips, bells, pots, and pans; women carry censers; the dogs are let loose to bark and run around. As soon as the church bells start ringing, the bundles of twigs, tied to poles, are set on fire and the incense [pg 182] is lit. Then all the house bells and dinner bells ring, pots and pans clash, and the dogs bark as everyone makes noise. Amid this chaos, everyone screams at the top of their lungs,
Then they run seven times round the houses, the yards, and the village. So the witches are smoked out of their lurking-places and driven away.509 At Brunnen in Switzerland the boys go about in procession on Twelfth Night, carrying torches and lanterns, and making a great noise with horns, cow-bells, whips, etc. This is said to frighten away the two female spirits of the wood, Strudeli and Strätteli.510
Then they run seven times around the houses, yards, and the village. This drives the witches out of their hiding spots and sends them away. 509 In Brunnen, Switzerland, the boys march in a procession on Twelfth Night, carrying torches and lanterns, and making a lot of noise with horns, cowbells, whips, and more. It’s said that this scares off the two female spirits of the woods, Strudeli and Strätteli. 510
§ 15.—Scapegoats.
Thus far the examples cited have belonged to the class of direct or immediate expulsion of ills. It remains to illustrate the second class of expulsions, in which the evil influences are either embodied in a visible form or are at least supposed to be loaded upon a material medium, which acts as a vehicle to [pg 183] draw them off from the people, village, or town. The Pomos of California celebrate an expulsion of devils every seven years, at which the devils are represented by disguised men. “Twenty or thirty men array themselves in harlequin rig and barbaric paint, and put vessels of pitch on their heads; then they secretly go out into the surrounding mountains. These are to personify the devils. A herald goes up to the top of the assembly-house, and makes a speech to the multitude. At a signal agreed upon in the evening the masqueraders come in from the mountains, with the vessels of pitch flaming on their heads, and with all the frightful accessories of noise, motion, and costume which the savage mind can devise in representation of demons. The terrified women and children flee for life, the men huddle them inside a circle, and, on the principle of fighting the devil with fire, they swing blazing firebrands in the air, yell, whoop, and make frantic dashes at the marauding and bloodthirsty devils, so creating a terrific spectacle, and striking great fear into the hearts of the assembled hundreds of women, who are screaming and fainting and clinging to their valorous protectors. Finally the devils succeed in getting into the assembly-house, and the bravest of the men enter and hold a parley with them. As a conclusion of the whole farce, the men summon courage, the devils are expelled from the assembly-house, and with a prodigious row and racket of sham fighting are chased away into the mountains.”511 In spring, as soon as the willow leaves were full grown on the banks of the river, the Mandan Indians celebrated their great annual festival, one of the features of which was the expulsion of the devil. A man, painted black to [pg 184] represent the devil, entered the village from the prairie, chased and frightened the women, and acted the part of a buffalo bull in the buffalo dance, the object of which was to ensure a plentiful supply of buffaloes during the ensuing year. Finally he was chased from the village, the women pursuing him with hisses and gibes, beating him with sticks, and pelting him with dirt.512 On the last night of the year the palace of the Kings of Cambodia is purged of devils. Men painted as fiends are chased by elephants about the palace courts. When they have been expelled, a consecrated thread of cotton is stretched round the palace to keep them out.513 The Kasyas, a hill tribe of Assam, annually expel the demons. The ceremony takes place on a fixed month in the year, and part of it consists in a struggle between two bands of men who stand on opposite sides of a stream, each side tugging at the end of a rope which is stretched across the water. In this contest, which resembles the game of “French and English,” the men on one side probably represent the demons.514 At Carmona in Andalusia, [pg 185] on one day of the year, boys are stripped naked and smeared with glue in which feathers are stuck. Thus disguised, they run from house to house, the people trying to avoid them and to bar their houses against them.515 The ceremony is probably a relic of an annual expulsion of devils.
So far, the examples mentioned have dealt with the direct or immediate removal of evils. Now, let's look at the second type of expulsion, where the harmful influences are either represented in a visible form or are believed to be placed on a physical medium that acts as a means to draw them away from the people, village, or town. The Pomos of California hold a devil expulsion ceremony every seven years, during which the devils are portrayed by men in disguise. Twenty or thirty men dress in colorful harlequin costumes and bright paint, placing pitch containers on their heads. Then they sneak out into the nearby mountains. These men represent the devils. A herald climbs to the top of the assembly house and addresses the crowd. At a pre-arranged signal in the evening, the masked figures return from the mountains, with the pitch containers on their heads ablaze and all the terrifying sounds, movements, and outfits that a savage imagination can create to represent demons. The frightened women and children run for their lives, while the men surround them in a protective circle, using the tactic of fighting fire with fire as they swing flaming sticks, shout, whoop, and charge wildly at the marauding, bloodthirsty devils, creating an impressive spectacle that instills great fear in the hundreds of women, who scream, faint, and cling to their brave protectors. Eventually, the devils make their way into the assembly house, and the bravest men step forward to negotiate with them. To wrap up the entire event, the men muster their courage, the devils are driven out of the assembly house, and with a tremendous commotion and a mock battle, they are chased back into the mountains.511 In spring, once the willow leaves fully grow along the riverbanks, the Mandan Indians celebrate their big annual festival, one of the highlights being the expulsion of the devil. A man painted black to [pg 184] represent the devil enters the village from the prairie, scaring the women and acting as a buffalo bull in the buffalo dance, aimed at ensuring a good supply of buffalo for the coming year. Ultimately, he is chased from the village, with women pursuing him hissing and jeering, hitting him with sticks, and throwing dirt at him.512 On the last night of the year, the palace of the Kings of Cambodia is cleansed of devils. Men dressed as demons are chased around the palace grounds by elephants. Once they are driven out, a consecrated thread of cotton is tied around the palace to keep them away.513 The Kasyas, a hill tribe from Assam, expel demons every year. The ceremony occurs during a specific month and includes a struggle between two groups of men on opposite sides of a stream, each tugging at one end of a rope stretched across the water. This contest, which resembles the game of "French and English," likely sees the men on one side representing the demons.514 In Carmona, Andalusia, [pg 185] on one day each year, boys are stripped naked and covered in glue with feathers stuck to them. This disguise makes them run from house to house, with people trying to avoid them and keep their doors shut against them.515 This ceremony is probably a remnant of an annual devil expulsion.
Oftener, however, the expelled demons are not represented at all, but are understood to be present invisibly in the material and visible vehicle which conveys them away. Here, again, it will be convenient to distinguish between occasional and periodical expulsions. We begin with the former.
Oftener, however, the expelled demons aren’t shown at all, but are understood to be present invisibly in the material and visible vessel that carries them away. Here, again, it will be useful to distinguish between occasional and periodic expulsions. We begin with the former.
The vehicle which conveys away the demons may be of various kinds. A common one is a little ship or boat. Thus, in the southern district of the island of Ceram, when a whole village suffers from sickness, a small ship is made and filled with rice, tobacco, eggs, etc., which have been contributed by all the people. A little sail is hoisted on the ship. When all is ready, a man calls out in a very loud voice, “O all ye sicknesses, ye small-poxes, agues, measles, etc., who have visited us so long and wasted us so sorely, but who now cease to plague us, we have made ready this ship for you, and we have furnished you with provender sufficient for the voyage. Ye shall have no lack of food nor of siri nor of pinang nor of tobacco. Depart, and sail away from us directly; never come near us again, but go to a land which is far from here. Let all the tides and winds [pg 186] waft you speedily thither, and so convey you thither that for the time to come we may live sound and well, and that we may never see the sun rise on you again.” Then ten or twelve men carry the vessel to the shore, and let it drift away with the land-breeze, feeling convinced that they are free from sickness for ever, or at least till the next time. If sickness attacks them again, they are sure it is not the same sickness, but a different one, which in due time they dismiss in the same manner. When the demon-laden bark is lost to sight, the bearers return to the village, whereupon a man cries out, “The sicknesses are now gone, vanished, expelled, and sailed away.” At this all the people come running out of their houses, passing the word from one to the other with great joy, beating on gongs and on tinkling instruments.516
The vehicle that takes away the demons can be of different types. A common one is a small boat. For instance, in the southern part of the island of Ceram, when an entire village falls ill, they create a small boat and fill it with rice, tobacco, eggs, and other items contributed by the community. A small sail is raised on the boat. When everything is ready, a man shouts loudly, “Oh, all you diseases, smallpox, fevers, measles, and others that have troubled us for so long and caused us so much pain, it’s time for you to leave us alone. We have prepared this boat for you and provided enough supplies for your journey. You won’t lack for food, siri, pinang, or tobacco. Depart now, and sail far away from us; never come near us again, go to a distant land. May all the tides and winds [pg 186] carry you swiftly there, so that in the future we can live healthy and well, and never see the sun rise on you again.” Then ten or twelve men carry the boat to the shore and let it drift away with the breeze, believing they are free from illness forever, or at least until the next time. If they fall ill again, they are convinced it is a different sickness, which they also send away in the same way. Once the boat is out of sight, the bearers return to the village, and someone shouts, "The illnesses are gone, disappeared, expelled, and have sailed away." At this, everyone runs out of their houses, spreading the news to one another with great joy, beating on gongs and ringing instruments.516
Similar ceremonies are commonly resorted to in other East Indian islands. Thus in Timorlaut, to mislead the demons who are causing sickness, a small prao, containing the image of a man and provisioned for a long voyage, is allowed to drift away with wind and tide. As it is being launched, the people cry, “O sickness, go from here; turn back; what do you here in this poor land?” Three days after this ceremony a pig is killed, and part of the flesh is offered to Dudilaa, who lives in the sun. One of the oldest men says, “Old sir, I beseech you, make well the grandchildren, children, women, and men, that we may be able to eat pork and rice and to drink palm-wine. I will keep my promise. Eat your share, and make all the people in the village well.” If the prao is stranded at any inhabited spot, the sickness will break [pg 187] out there. Hence a stranded prao excites much alarm amongst the coast population, and they immediately burn it, because demons fly from fire.517 In the island of Buro the prao which carries away the demons of disease is about twenty feet long, rigged out with sails, oars, anchor, etc., and well stocked with provisions. For a day and a night the people beat gongs and drums, and rush about to frighten the demons. Next morning ten stalwart young men strike the people with branches, which have been previously dipped in an earthen pot of water. As soon as they have done so, they run down to the beach, put the branches on board the prao, launch another prao in great haste, and tow the disease-burdened prao far out to sea. There they cast it off, and one of them calls out, “Grandfather Small-pox, go away—go willingly away—go visit another land; we have made you food ready for the voyage, we have now nothing more to give.” When they have landed, all the people bathe together in the sea.518 In this ceremony the reason for striking the people with the branches is clearly to rid them of the disease-demons, which are then supposed to be transferred to the branches. Hence the haste with which the branches are deposited in the prao and towed away to sea. So in the inland districts of Ceram, when small-pox or other sickness is raging, the priest strikes all the houses with consecrated branches, which are then thrown into the river, to be carried down to the sea;519 exactly as amongst the Wotyaks of Russia the sticks which have been used for expelling the devils from the village are [pg 188] thrown into the river, that the current may sweep the baleful burden away. In Amboina, for a similar purpose, the whole body of the patient is rubbed with a live white cock, which is then placed on a little prao and committed to the waves;520 and in the Babar archipelago the bark which is to carry away to sea the sickness of a whole village contains a bowl of ashes taken from every kitchen in the village, and another bowl into which all the sick people have spat.521 The plan of putting puppets in the boat to represent sick persons, in order to lure the demons after them, is not uncommon.522
Similar ceremonies are often performed in other East Indian islands. In Timorlaut, to mislead the demons causing illness, a small prao with an image of a man and loaded for a long journey is set adrift with the current. As it's launched, the people shout, "O sickness, go away; turn back; what are you doing in this unfortunate place?" Three days after this ceremony, a pig is sacrificed, and part of its meat is offered to Dudilaa, who lives in the sun. One of the oldest men says, "Old sir, I ask you to heal the grandchildren, children, women, and men, so we can eat pork and rice and drink palm wine. I will keep my promise. Enjoy your portion, and help everyone in the village recover." If the prao washes ashore at any inhabited place, the sickness will break out there. So, a stranded prao causes a lot of concern among the coastal people, and they immediately burn it because demons flee from fire.517 On the island of Buro, the prao used to carry away the demons of disease is about twenty feet long, equipped with sails, oars, an anchor, etc., and well stocked with provisions. For a day and a night, the people beat gongs and drums and rush around to scare the demons. The next morning, ten strong young men hit the people with branches that have been dipped in an earthen pot of water. Once they're done, they rush to the beach, put the branches on board the prao, launch another prao in a hurry, and tow the disease-laden prao far out to sea. There, they release it, and one of them shouts, “Grandfather Small-pox, please leave—leave willingly—go to another place; we've packed food for your trip, and we have nothing else to provide.” Once they land, everyone bathes together in the sea.518 The purpose of hitting the people with branches in this ceremony is clearly to get rid of the disease-demons, which are thought to be transferred to the branches. This explains the quick way the branches are placed in the prao and taken out to sea. Similarly, in the inland areas of Ceram, when smallpox or other illnesses are widespread, the priest strikes all the houses with consecrated branches, which are then thrown into the river to be carried down to the sea;519 just like among the Wotyaks of Russia, the sticks used to drive evil spirits out of the village are [pg 188] thrown into the river so the current can wash away the harmful burden. In Amboina, for a similar purpose, the entire body of the patient is rubbed with a live white rooster, which is then placed on a small prao and set adrift;520 and in the Babar archipelago, the bark used to carry away the sickness of a whole village contains a bowl of ashes from every kitchen in the village and another bowl that sick people have spat into.521 The practice of putting puppets in the boat to represent sick individuals, in order to attract the demons after them, is not uncommon.522
The practice of sending away diseases in boats is known outside the limits of the East Indian Archipelago. Thus when the people of Tikopia, a small island in the Pacific, to the north of the New Hebrides, were attacked by an epidemic cough, they made a little canoe and adorned it with flowers. Four sons of the principal chiefs carried it on their shoulders all round the island, accompanied by the whole population, some of whom beat the bushes, while others uttered loud cries. On returning to the spot from which they had set out, they launched the canoe on the sea.523 In the Nicobar Islands, in the Bay of Bengal, when there is much sickness in a village or no fish are caught, the blame is laid upon the spirits. They [pg 189] must be propitiated with offerings. All relations and friends are invited, a huge pig is roasted, and the best of it is eaten, but some parts are offered to the shades. The heap of offerings remains in front of the house till it is carried away by the rising tide. Then the priests, their faces reddened with paint and swine's blood, pretend to catch the demon of disease, and, after a hand-to-hand struggle, force him into a model boat, made of leaves and decked with garlands, which is then towed so far to sea that neither wind nor tide is likely to drive it back to the shore.524
The practice of sending away sickness in boats isn't just found in the East Indian Archipelago. For example, when the people of Tikopia, a small island in the Pacific north of the New Hebrides, faced an outbreak of cough, they made a small canoe and decorated it with flowers. Four sons of the main chiefs carried it on their shoulders around the island, joined by the entire community, some of whom beat the bushes while others shouted loudly. When they returned to the spot where they started, they launched the canoe into the sea. 523 In the Nicobar Islands, located in the Bay of Bengal, when there's a lot of illness in a village or when fish aren’t being caught, the locals blame the spirits. They must be appeased with offerings. All relatives and friends are invited; a large pig is roasted, and the best parts are eaten while certain portions are given to the spirits. The pile of offerings stays in front of the house until the tide carries it away. The priests, with their faces painted with red and blood from the pig, act as if they are capturing the disease demon, and after a struggle, they force him into a small boat made of leaves and decorated with garlands, which is then towed far out to sea so that neither wind nor tide can bring it back to shore. 524
Often the vehicle which carries away the collected demons or ills of a whole community is an animal or scapegoat. In the Central Provinces of India, when cholera breaks out in a village, every one retires after sunset to his house. The priests then parade the streets, taking from the roof of each house a straw, which is burnt with an offering of rice, ghi, and turmeric, at some shrine to the east of the village. Chickens daubed with vermilion are driven away in the direction of the smoke, and are believed to carry the disease with them. If they fail, goats are tried, and last of all pigs.525 When cholera is very bad among the Bhárs, Malláns, and Kurmís of India, they take a goat or a buffalo—in either case the animal must be a female, and as black as possible—then they tie some grain, cloves, and red lead in a yellow cloth on its back, and turn it out of the village. It is conducted beyond the boundary, and is not allowed to return.526 The people of the city and cantonments of [pg 190] Sagar being afflicted with a violent influenza, “I had an application from the old Queen Dowager of Sagar to allow of a noisy religious procession, for the purpose of imploring deliverance from this great calamity. Men, women, and children in this procession were to do their utmost to add to the noise by 'raising their voices in psalmody,' beating upon their brass pots and pans with all their might, and discharging firearms where they could get them. Before the noisy crowd was to be driven a buffalo, which had been purchased by general subscription, in order that every family might participate in the merit. They were to follow it out eight miles, where it was to be turned loose for any man who would take it. If the animal returned the disease must return with it, and the ceremony be performed over again.... It was, however, subsequently determined that the animal should be a goat; and he was driven before the crowd accordingly. I have on several occasions been requested to allow of such noisy ceremonies in cases of epidemics.”527 Once, when influenza was raging in Pithuria, a man had a small carriage made, after a plan of his own, for a pair of scapegoats, which were harnessed to it and driven to a wood at some distance, where they were let loose. From that hour the disease entirely ceased in the town. The goats never returned; had they done so, “the disease must have come back with them.”528 The idea of the scapegoat is not uncommon in the hills of the Eastern Ghats. In 1886, during a severe outbreak of small-pox, the people of Jeypur made “puja” to a goat, marched it to the Ghats, and let it loose on [pg 191] the plains.529 In Southern Konkan, on the appearance of cholera, the villagers went in procession from the temple to the extreme boundaries of the village, carrying a basket of cooked rice covered with red powder, a wooden doll representing the pestilence, and a cock. The head of the cock was cut off at the village boundary, and the body was thrown away. When cholera was thus transferred from one village to another, the second village observed the same ceremony and passed on the scourge to its neighbours, and so on through a number of villages.530 When the Aymara Indians were suffering from a plague, they loaded a llama with the clothes of the plague-stricken people, and drove the animal into the mountains, hoping that it would take the plague away with it.531 Sometimes the scapegoat is a man. Some of the aboriginal tribes of China, as a protection against pestilence, select a man of great muscular strength to act the part of scapegoat. Having besmeared his face with paint, he performs many antics with the view of enticing all pestilential and noxious influences to attach themselves to him only. He is assisted by a priest. Finally the scapegoat, hotly pursued by men and women beating gongs and tom-toms, is driven with great haste out of the town or village.532 A Hindu cure for the murrain is to hire a man of the Chamár caste, turn his face away from the village, brand him with a red-hot sickle, and let him go out into the jungle, taking the murrain with him. He must not look back.533
Often, the vehicle that carries away the collective demons or problems of an entire community is an animal or scapegoat. In the Central Provinces of India, when cholera breaks out in a village, everyone retreats to their homes after sunset. The priests then parade through the streets, collecting a straw from the roof of each house, which is burned along with an offering of rice, ghi, and turmeric at a shrine located to the east of the village. Chickens smeared with vermilion are driven away towards the smoke, believed to carry the disease with them. If that fails, they try goats, and finally pigs.525 When cholera spreads widely among the Bhárs, Malláns, and Kurmís in India, they take a goat or a female buffalo, preferably black, tie some grain, cloves, and red lead in a yellow cloth on its back, and release it outside the village. It is led beyond the borders and is not allowed to return.526 The people in the city and cantonments of [pg 190] Sagar, suffering from a severe influenza, received a request from the old Queen Dowager of Sagar to permit a noisy religious procession aimed at seeking relief from this significant calamity. In this procession, men, women, and children were to do their best to create noise by 'raising their voices in song,' banging on their brass pots and pans, and firing guns where possible. In front of the noisy crowd was to be driven a buffalo, purchased through communal donations, so that every family could share in the merit. They planned to follow it for eight miles, where it would be released for anyone who wanted it. If the animal returned, the disease would return with it, requiring the ceremony to be repeated... However, it was later decided that the animal would be a goat; and one was driven before the crowd accordingly. I have been asked several times to allow such noisy ceremonies in cases of epidemics.”527 Once, during an influenza outbreak in Pithuria, a man had a small carriage made, according to his own design, for a pair of scapegoats which were harnessed to it and taken to a distant wood, where they were released. From that moment, the disease completely ceased in the town. The goats never came back; had they done so, "The disease must have returned with them."528 The concept of the scapegoat is not uncommon in the hills of the Eastern Ghats. In 1886, during a severe smallpox outbreak, the people of Jeypur performed "puja" for a goat, marched it to the Ghats, and released it on the [pg 191] plains.529 In Southern Konkan, when cholera appeared, villagers processed from the temple to the village's outermost boundaries, carrying a basket of cooked rice covered with red powder, a wooden doll symbolizing the plague, and a cock. At the village boundary, the rooster's head was cut off, and the body was discarded. When cholera was transferred from one village to another, the second village carried out the same ceremony and passed on the disease to its neighbors, continuing through multiple villages.530 When the Aymara Indians faced a plague, they loaded a llama with the clothes of the plague victims and drove it into the mountains, hoping it would take the plague with it.531 Sometimes, the scapegoat is a person. Some of the indigenous tribes in China, to protect against pestilence, choose a strong man to act as a scapegoat. After painting his face, he performs various antics to attract all harmful influences to himself. He is helped by a priest. In the end, the scapegoat, chased by people banging gongs and drums, is hurriedly driven out of the town or village.532 A Hindu remedy for murrain involves hiring a man from the Chamár caste, turning his back to the village, branding him with a red-hot sickle, and sending him into the jungle, taking the murrain with him, and he must not look back.533
The mediate expulsion of evils by means of a scapegoat or other material vehicle, like the immediate expulsion of them in invisible form, tends to become periodic, and for a like reason. Thus every year, generally in March, the people of Leti, Moa, and Lakor send away all their diseases to sea. They make a prao about six feet long, rig it with sails, oars, rudder, etc., and every family deposits in it some rice, fruit, a fowl, two eggs, insects that ravage the fields, etc. Then they let it drift away to sea, saying, “Take away from here all kinds of sickness, take them to other islands, to other lands, distribute them in places that lie eastward, where the sun rises.”534 The Biajas of Borneo annually send to sea a little bark laden with the sins and misfortunes of the people. The crew of any ship that falls in with the ill-omened bark at sea will suffer all the sorrows with which it is laden.535 At the beginning of the dry season, every year, the Nicobar islanders carry the model of a ship through their villages. The devils are chased out of the huts, and driven on board the little ship, which is then launched and suffered to sail away with the wind.536 At Sucla-Tirtha, in India, an earthen pot containing the accumulated sins of the people is (annually?) set adrift on the river. Legend says that the custom originated with a wicked priest who, after atoning for his guilt by a course of austerities and expiatory ceremonies, was directed to sail upon the river in a boat with white sails. If the white sails turned black, it would be a sign that his sins were forgiven him. They did so, and he joyfully allowed [pg 193] the boat to drift with his sins to sea.537 Amongst many of the aboriginal tribes of China, a great festival is celebrated in the third month of every year. It is held by way of a general rejoicing over what the people believe to be a total annihilation of the ills of the past twelve months. This annihilation is supposed to be effected in the following way. A large earthenware jar filled with gunpowder, stones, and bits of iron is buried in the earth. A train of gunpowder, communicating with the jar, is then laid; and a match being applied, the jar and its contents are blown up. The stones and bits of iron represent the ills and disasters of the past year, and the dispersion of them by the explosion is believed to remove the ills and disasters themselves. The festival is attended with much revelling and drunkenness.538 At Old Calabar, in Guinea, the devils are expelled once every two years. A number of figures called nabikems are made of sticks and bamboos, and fixed indiscriminately about the town. Some of them represent human beings, others birds, crocodiles, and so on. After three or four weeks the devils are expected to take up their abode in these figures. When the night comes for their general expulsion, the people feast and sally out in parties, beating at empty corners, and shouting with all their might. Shots are fired, the nabikems are torn up with violence, set in flames, and flung into the river. The orgies last till daybreak, and the town is considered to be rid of evil influences for two years to come.539 Mr. George Bogle, the English envoy sent to Tibet by Warren Hastings, witnessed the celebration of the Tibetan New Year's Day at Teshu Lumbo the capital [pg 194] of the Teshu Lama. “The figure of a man, chalked upon paper, was laid upon the ground. Many strange ceremonies, which to me who did not understand them appeared whimsical, were performed about it; and a great fire being kindled in a corner of the court, it was at length held over it, and being formed of combustibles, vanished with much smoke and explosion. I was told it was a figure of the devil.”540
The indirect removal of evils through a scapegoat or other physical means, similar to the direct removal of them in invisible form, tends to happen regularly for comparable reasons. Every year, usually in March, the people of Leti, Moa, and Lakor send all their diseases out to sea. They create a small boat about six feet long, equip it with sails, oars, a rudder, and so on, and each family adds some rice, fruit, a chicken, two eggs, pests that destroy crops, and more. Then they let it drift away, saying, "Remove all types of sickness from here, take them to other islands and lands, and spread them in places to the east, where the sun rises."534 The Biajas of Borneo also send a small boat to sea each year filled with the people’s sins and misfortunes. Any crew that encounters this ill-fated boat at sea will suffer all the troubles it carries.535 At the start of the dry season every year, the Nicobar islanders carry a ship model through their villages. They chase out the devils from their homes, driving them onto the little ship, which is then launched to sail away with the wind.536 In Sucla-Tirtha, India, an earthen pot filled with the community's sins is set adrift in the river every year. According to legend, this practice began with a wicked priest who, after atoning for his sins through austerities and rituals, was told to sail a boat with white sails on the river. If the sails turned black, it meant his sins were forgiven. They did turn black, and he happily let [pg 193] the boat drift away with his sins.537 Many indigenous tribes in China celebrate a major festival in the third month of every year. It’s a time of joy to mark what they believe to be the complete elimination of the misfortunes from the past twelve months. They achieve this by burying a large jar filled with gunpowder, stones, and metal scraps. A trail of gunpowder leading to the jar is created, and when lit, it causes the jar and its contents to explode. The stones and metal represent last year's troubles, and the explosion is believed to scatter these misfortunes away. The festival is marked by plenty of revelry and drinking.538 In Old Calabar, Guinea, the devils are expelled every two years. Figures called nabikems, made of sticks and bamboo, are placed around the town. Some represent people, while others depict birds, crocodiles, etc. After three or four weeks, it’s expected that the devils will inhabit these figures. On the night of their general expulsion, people gather for a feast and split into groups, making noise and shouting as they beat at empty corners. Shots are fired, the nabikems are violently destroyed, burned, and thrown into the river. The celebrations continue until dawn, and the community is considered free of evil influences for the next two years.539 Mr. George Bogle, the English envoy sent to Tibet by Warren Hastings, witnessed the Tibetan New Year's Day celebration in Teshu Lumbo, the capital [pg 194] of the Teshu Lama. A drawing of a man was put on the ground. Many unusual ceremonies, which struck me as odd, took place around it; after a big fire was started in one corner of the courtyard, the figure was eventually held over it, and since it was made of flammable materials, it vanished in a burst of smoke and explosion. I was told it stood for the devil.540
On one day of the year some of the people of the Western Himalayas take a dog, intoxicate him with spirits and bhang or hemp, and having fed him with sweetmeats, lead him round the village and let him loose. They then chase and kill him with sticks and stones, and believe that, when they have done so, no disease or misfortune will visit the village during the year.541 In some parts of Breadalbane it was formerly the custom on New Year's Day to take a dog to the door, give him a bit of bread, and drive him out, saying, “Get away you dog! Whatever death of men, or loss of cattle would happen in this house to the end of the present year, may it all light on your head!”542 It appears that the white dogs annually sacrificed by the Iroquois at their New Year Festival are, or have been, regarded as scapegoats. According to Mr. J. V. H. Clark, who witnessed the ceremony in January 1841, on the first day of the festival all the fires in the village were extinguished, the ashes scattered to the winds, and a new fire was kindled with flint and steel. On a subsequent day, men dressed in fantastic costumes [pg 195] went round the village, gathering the sins of the people. On the morning of the last day of the festival, two white dogs, decorated with red paint, wampum, feathers, and ribbons were led out. They were soon strangled, and hung on a ladder. Firing and yelling succeeded, and half an hour later the dogs were taken into a house, “where the peoples' sins were transferred to them.” The dogs were afterwards burnt on a pyre of wood.543 According to the Rev. Mr. Kirkland, who wrote last century, the ashes of the pyre upon which one of the white dogs was burned were carried through the village and sprinkled at the door of every house.544 Formerly, however, as we have seen, the Iroquois expulsion of evils was immediate and not by scapegoat.545 The Jews annually laid all the sins of the people upon the head of a goat and sent it away into the wilderness.546
On one day of the year, some people in the Western Himalayas take a dog, get it drunk on alcohol and bhang (hemp), and after treating it with sweets, lead it around the village before letting it go. They then chase and kill the dog using sticks and stones, believing that by doing this, no disease or misfortune will affect the village for the rest of the year.541 In some parts of Breadalbane, it used to be a custom on New Year's Day to take a dog to the door, give it a piece of bread, and drive it away, saying, "Get away, you dog! Whatever deaths of men or loss of livestock happen in this house for the rest of the year, let it all be on you!"542 It seems that the white dogs sacrificed annually by the Iroquois during their New Year Festival are considered scapegoats. According to Mr. J. V. H. Clark, who saw the ceremony in January 1841, on the first day of the festival, all the fires in the village were put out, the ashes scattered to the wind, and a new fire was started with flint and steel. On another day, men wearing elaborate costumes [pg 195] walked around the village, gathering the people's sins. On the last morning of the festival, two white dogs, decorated with red paint, wampum, feathers, and ribbons, were brought out. They were quickly strangled and hung on a ladder. After firing and shouting, about half an hour later, the dogs were taken into a house, "where the people's sins were passed onto them." The dogs were later burned on a wood pyre.543 According to Rev. Mr. Kirkland, who wrote in the last century, the ashes from the pyre where one of the white dogs was burned were carried through the village and sprinkled at every house's door.544 However, as we have seen, the Iroquois' method of expelling evils was direct and not through a scapegoat.545 The Jews would annually place all the people's sins on the head of a goat and send it away into the wilderness.546
The scapegoat upon whom the sins of the people are periodically laid, may also be a human being. At Onitsha, on the Quorra River, two human beings are annually sacrificed to take away the sins of the land. The victims are purchased by public subscription. All persons who, during the past year, have fallen into gross sins, such as incendiarism, theft, adultery, witchcraft, etc. are expected to contribute 28 ngugas, or a little over £2. The money thus collected is taken into the [pg 196] interior of the country and expended in the purchase of two sickly persons “to be offered as a sacrifice for all these abominable crimes—one for the land and one for the river.” A man from a neighbouring town is hired to put them to death. The sacrifice of one of these victims was witnessed by the Rev. J. C. Taylor on 27th February 1858. The sufferer was a woman, about nineteen or twenty years of age. She was dragged alive along the ground, face downwards, from the king's house to the river, a distance of two miles. The crowds who accompanied her cried “Wickedness! wickedness!” The intention was “to take away the iniquities of the land. The body was dragged along in a merciless manner, as if the weight of all their wickedness was thus carried away.”547 In Siam it was formerly the custom on one day of the year to single out a woman broken down by debauchery, and carry her on a litter through all the streets to the music of drums and hautboys. The mob insulted her and pelted her with dirt; and after having carried her through the whole city, they threw her on a dunghill or a hedge of thorns outside the ramparts, forbidding her ever to enter the walls again. They believed that the woman thus drew upon herself all the malign influences of the air and of evil spirits.548 The people of Nias offer either a red horse or a buffalo as a public sacrifice to purify the land and obtain the favour of the gods. Formerly, it is said, a man was bound to the same stake as the buffalo, and when the animal was killed, the man was driven away; no one might [pg 197] receive him, converse with him, or give him food.549 Doubtless he was supposed to carry away the sins and misfortunes of the people.
The scapegoat, who carries the sins of the people from time to time, can also be a person. In Onitsha, along the Quorra River, two people are sacrificed every year to remove the land's sins. The victims are bought through public donations. Everyone who has committed serious sins over the past year, like arson, theft, adultery, witchcraft, and so on, is expected to contribute 28 ngugas, which is just over £2. The collected money is taken inland and used to purchase two ill individuals “to be offered as a sacrifice for all these terrible crimes—one for the land and one for the river.” A man from a nearby town is hired to kill them. The Rev. J. C. Taylor witnessed the sacrifice of one of these victims on February 27, 1858. The victim was a woman, about nineteen or twenty years old. She was dragged alive along the ground, face down, for two miles from the king's house to the river. The crowd following her chanted “Evil! Evil!” The purpose was "to remove the wrongs of the land. The body was pulled along harshly, as if all their sins were being taken away."547 In Siam, it used to be traditional once a year to choose a woman who had fallen into debauchery and carry her on a litter through the streets, accompanied by drum and woodwind music. The crowd would insult her and throw dirt, and after parading her through the city, they would toss her onto a dunghill or a thorn hedge outside the city walls, forbidding her ever to return. They believed that this woman absorbed all the bad influences from the air and evil spirits.548 The people of Nias offer either a red horse or a buffalo as a public sacrifice to cleanse the land and gain the gods' favor. It is said that in the past, a man would be tied to the same stake as the buffalo, and when the animal was killed, the man would be driven away; no one could [pg 197] speak to him, feed him, or even acknowledge him.549 Presumably, he was thought to carry away the sins and misfortunes of the people.
In Tibet the ceremony of the scapegoat is marked by some peculiar features. The Tibetan New Year begins with the new moon, which appears about 15th February. For twenty-three days afterwards the government of Lhásá, the capital, is taken out of the hands of the ordinary rulers and entrusted to the monk of the Debang monastery who offers to pay the highest sum for the privilege. The successful bidder is called the Jalno, and he announces the fact in person through the streets of Lhásá, bearing a silver stick. Monks from all the neighbouring monasteries and temples assemble to pay him homage. The Jalno exercises his authority in the most arbitrary manner for his own benefit, as all the fines which he exacts are his by purchase. The profit he makes is about ten times the amount of the purchase money. His men go about the streets in order to discover any conduct on the part of the inhabitants that can be found fault with. Every house in Lhásá is taxed at this time, and the slightest fault is punished with unsparing rigour by fines. This severity of the Jalno drives all working classes out of the city till the twenty-three days are over. Meantime, all the priests flock from the neighbourhood to the Máchindránáth temple, where they perform religious ceremonies. The temple is a very large one, standing in the centre of the city, surrounded by bazaars and shops. The idols in it are richly inlaid with gold and precious stones. Twenty-four days [pg 198] after the Jalno has ceased to have authority, he assumes it again, and for ten days acts in the same arbitrary manner as before. On the first of the ten days the priests assemble as before at the Máchindránáth temple, pray to the gods to prevent sickness and other evils among the people, “and, as a peace-offering, sacrifice one man. The man is not killed purposely, but the ceremony he undergoes often proves fatal.550 Grain is thrown against his head, and his face is painted half white, half black.” On the tenth day, all the troops in Lhásá march to the temple and form in line before it. The victim is brought forth from the temple and receives small donations from the assembled multitude. He then throws dice with the Jalno. If the victim wins, much evil is foreboded; but if the Jalno wins, there is great rejoicing, for it is then believed that the victim has been accepted by the gods to bear all the sins of the people of Lhásá. Thereupon his face is painted half white and half black, a leathern coat is put on him, and he is marched to the walls of the city, followed by the whole populace, hooting, shouting, and firing volleys after him. When he is driven outside the city, the people return, and the victim is carried to the Sáme monastery. Should he die shortly afterwards, the people say it is an auspicious sign; but if not, he is kept a prisoner at the monastery for a whole year, after which he is allowed to return to Lhásá.551
In Tibet, the scapegoat ceremony has some unique characteristics. The Tibetan New Year starts with the new moon, which falls around February 15th. For twenty-three days afterward, the government of Lhásá, the capital, is taken out of the hands of the regular rulers and given to a monk from the Debang monastery who bids the highest amount for the privilege. The winning bidder is called the Jalno, and he announces his victory personally while walking through the streets of Lhásá, carrying a silver stick. Monks from nearby monasteries and temples gather to pay their respects. The Jalno uses his authority in a highly arbitrary manner for his own gain, as all the fines he imposes are his to keep. He typically makes about ten times the amount he paid. His men patrol the streets to find any faults in the behavior of the residents. Every house in Lhásá is taxed during this time, and the smallest infractions are punished harshly with fines. This strictness from the Jalno drives all workers out of the city until the twenty-three days are up. Meanwhile, priests flock to the Máchindránáth temple from the surrounding area to perform religious rituals. The temple is quite large, located in the center of the city and surrounded by markets and shops. The idols inside are lavishly inlaid with gold and precious stones. Twenty-four days [pg 198] after the Jalno's authority ends, he takes it back and for ten days acts as arbitrarily as before. On the first of those ten days, the priests gather again at the Máchindránáth temple to pray to the gods to protect the people from sickness and other misfortunes, "and, as a peace offering, sacrifice one man. The man isn't intentionally killed, but the ritual he goes through often ends up being deadly.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Grain is thrown at his head, and his face is painted half white and half black." On the tenth day, all the troops in Lhásá march to the temple and line up in front of it. The victim is brought out from the temple and receives small donations from the gathered crowd. He then plays dice with the Jalno. If the victim wins, it’s considered a bad omen; but if the Jalno wins, there’s great celebration, as it’s believed that the gods have accepted the victim to carry all the sins of the people of Lhásá. His face is painted half white and half black, he’s given a leather coat, and he is paraded to the city walls, followed by a crowd that jeers, shouts, and fires volleys in his wake. Once he’s driven out of the city, the people return, and the victim is taken to the Sáme monastery. If he dies shortly afterward, the people see it as a good sign; if not, he remains a prisoner at the monastery for a whole year, after which he’s allowed to return to Lhásá.551
Human scapegoats, as we shall see presently, were [pg 199] well known in classical antiquity, and even in mediæval Europe the custom seems not to have been wholly extinct. In the town of Halberstadt in Thüringen there was a church which was said to have been founded by Charlemagne. In this church every year a man was chosen, who was believed to be stained with heinous sins. On the first day of Lent he was brought to the church, dressed in mourning garb, with his head muffled up. At the close of the service he was turned out of the church. During the forty days of Lent he perambulated the city barefoot, neither entering the churches nor speaking to any one. The canons took it in turn to feed him. After midnight he was allowed to sleep on the streets. On the day before Good Friday, after the consecration of the holy oil, he was readmitted to the church and absolved from his sins. The people gave him money. He was called Adam, and was now believed to be in a state of innocence.552 At Entlebuch in Switzerland, down to the close of last century, the custom of annually expelling a scapegoat was preserved in the ceremony of driving “Posterli” from the village into the lands of the neighbouring village. “Posterli” was represented by a lad disguised as an old witch or as a goat or an ass. Amid a deafening noise of horns, clarionets, bells, whips, etc. he was driven out. Sometimes “Posterli” was represented by a puppet, which was drawn in a sledge and left in a corner of the neighbouring village. The ceremony took place on the Thursday evening of the last week but one before Christmas.553
Human scapegoats, as we will explore shortly, were well known in ancient times, and even in medieval Europe, the practice seems to have persisted. In the town of Halberstadt in Thüringen, there was a church that was said to have been founded by Charlemagne. Each year, a man was chosen, believed to be guilty of serious sins. On the first day of Lent, he was brought to the church dressed in mourning clothes with his head covered. At the end of the service, he was expelled from the church. During the forty days of Lent, he wandered the city barefoot, not entering churches or speaking to anyone. The canons took turns providing him with food. After midnight, he was allowed to sleep on the streets. On the day before Good Friday, after the holy oil was consecrated, he was welcomed back to the church and forgiven for his sins. The people gave him money. He was called Adam and was now believed to be innocent. At Entlebuch in Switzerland, until the end of the last century, the tradition of annually expelling a scapegoat continued with the ceremony of driving “Posterli” from the village into the land of the neighboring village. “Posterli” was represented by a boy dressed as an old witch or as a goat or a donkey. Amid a loud cacophony of horns, clarinets, bells, whips, and more, he was expelled. Sometimes “Posterli” was represented by a puppet, which was pulled in a sled and left in a corner of the neighboring village. This ceremony occurred on the Thursday evening of the penultimate week before Christmas.
Sometimes the scapegoat is a divine animal. The [pg 200] people of Malabar share the Hindu reverence for the cow, to kill and eat which “they esteem to be a crime as heinous as homicide or wilful murder.” Nevertheless “the Bramans transfer the sins of the people into one or more Cows, which are then carry'd away, both the Cows and the Sins wherewith these Beasts are charged, to what place the Braman shall appoint.”554 When the ancient Egyptians sacrificed a bull, they invoked upon its head all the evils that might otherwise befall themselves and the land of Egypt, and thereupon they either sold the bull's head to the Greeks or cast it into the river.555 Now, it cannot be said that in the times known to us the Egyptians worshipped bulls in general, for they seem to have commonly killed and eaten them.556 But a good many circumstances point to the conclusion that originally all cattle, bulls as well as cows, were held sacred by the Egyptians. For not only were all cows esteemed holy by them and never sacrificed, but even bulls might not be sacrificed unless they had certain natural marks; a priest examined every bull before it was sacrificed; if it had the proper marks, he put his seal on the animal in token that it might be sacrificed; and if a man sacrificed a bull which had not been sealed, he was put to death. Moreover, the worship of the black bulls Apis and Mnevis, especially the former, played an important part in Egyptian religion; all bulls that died a natural death were carefully buried in the suburbs of the cities, and their bones were afterwards collected from all parts of Egypt and buried in a single spot; and at the sacrifice of a bull in the great [pg 201] rites of Isis all the worshippers beat their breasts and mourned.557 On the whole, then, we are perhaps entitled to infer that bulls were originally, as cows were always, esteemed sacred by the Egyptians, and that the slain bull upon whose head they laid the misfortunes of the people was once a divine scapegoat. It seems not improbable that the lamb annually slain by the Madis of Central Africa is a divine scapegoat, and the same supposition may partly explain the Zuni sacrifice of the turtle.558
Sometimes the scapegoat is a sacred animal. The [pg 200] people of Malabar share the Hindu reverence for the cow; to kill and eat it “they view a crime as serious as homicide or intentional murder.” Still, "The Brahmins pass the people's sins onto one or more cows, which are then removed, along with the cows and the sins they bear, to a location chosen by the Brahmin."554 When the ancient Egyptians sacrificed a bull, they placed upon its head all the evils that might otherwise harm them and the land of Egypt, and then they either sold the bull's head to the Greeks or threw it into the river.555 Now, it can't be said that in known times the Egyptians worshipped bulls in general, as they usually killed and ate them.556 However, many circumstances suggest that initially all cattle, both bulls and cows, were considered sacred by the Egyptians. Not only were all cows regarded as holy and never sacrificed, but bulls could not be sacrificed unless they had specific natural marks; a priest would inspect every bull before it was sacrificed; if it had the right marks, he would seal the animal to indicate it could be sacrificed, and if someone sacrificed a bull without a seal, they would face execution. Additionally, the worship of the black bulls Apis and Mnevis, especially the former, was significant in Egyptian religion; all bulls that died naturally were respectfully buried on the outskirts of cities, and their bones were later collected from across Egypt and buried in a single location; during the sacrifice of a bull in the great [pg 201] rites of Isis, all worshippers would beat their breasts and mourn.557 Overall, we might conclude that bulls were originally, just like cows, seen as sacred by the Egyptians, and the slain bull upon whose head they laid the misfortunes of the people was once a divine scapegoat. It seems likely that the lamb annually sacrificed by the Madis of Central Africa is a divine scapegoat, and the same idea may partly explain the Zuni sacrifice of the turtle.558
Lastly, the scapegoat may be a divine man. Thus, in November the Gonds of India worship Ghansyam Deo, the protector of the crops, and at the festival the god himself is said to descend on the head of one of the worshippers, who is suddenly seized with a kind of fit and, after staggering about, rushes off into the jungle, where it is believed that, if left to himself, he would die mad. As it is, he is brought back, but does not recover his senses for one or two days. “The idea is, that one man is thus singled out as a scapegoat for the sins of the rest of the village.”559 In the temple of the Moon the Albanians of the Eastern Caucasus kept a number of sacred slaves, of whom many were inspired and prophesied. When one of these men exhibited more than usual symptoms of inspiration and wandered solitary up and down the woods, like the Gond in the jungle, the high priest had him bound with a sacred chain and maintained him in luxury for a year. At the end of the year he was anointed with unguents and led forth to be sacrificed. A man whose business it was to slay these human victims and to whom practice had [pg 202] given dexterity, advanced from the crowd and thrust a sacred spear into the victim's side, piercing his heart. From the manner in which the slain man fell, omens were drawn as to the welfare of the commonwealth. Then the body was carried to a certain spot where all the people stood upon it as a purificatory ceremony.560 This last circumstance clearly indicates that the sins of the people were transferred to the victim, just as the Jewish priest transferred the sins of the people to the scapegoat by laying his hand on the animal's head; and since the man was believed to be possessed by the divine spirit, we have here an undoubted example of a man-god slain to take away the sins and misfortunes of the people.
Lastly, the scapegoat may be a divine person. In November, the Gonds of India worship Ghansyam Deo, the protector of the crops. During the festival, it is believed that the god himself comes down and takes over the head of one of the worshippers, who suddenly goes into a kind of fit and, after stumbling around, runs off into the jungle, where it is thought that if left alone, he would go insane. As it is, he is brought back, but he doesn’t regain consciousness for a day or two. “The concept is that one person is selected as a scapegoat for the wrongdoings of the rest of the village.”559 In the temple of the Moon, the Albanians of the Eastern Caucasus kept several sacred slaves, some of whom were inspired and prophesied. When one of these men showed unusual signs of inspiration and wandered alone through the woods, like the Gond in the jungle, the high priest would bind him with a sacred chain and keep him in luxury for a year. At the end of the year, he was anointed with oils and led out to be sacrificed. A man whose job was to kill these human victims, and who had developed skill through practice, stepped forward from the crowd and pierced the victim's side with a sacred spear, hitting his heart. The way the slain man fell was interpreted as omens regarding the well-being of the community. The body was then taken to a specific spot where all the people stood on it as a purification ritual.560 This last detail clearly shows that the sins of the people were placed on the victim, much like the Jewish priest transferred the people's sins to the scapegoat by laying his hand on the animal's head; and since the man was believed to be possessed by the divine spirit, we have a clear example of a man-god sacrificed to take away the sins and misfortunes of the people.
The foregoing survey of the custom of publicly expelling the accumulated evils of a village or district suggests a few general observations. In the first place, it will not be disputed that what I have called the immediate and the mediate expulsions of evil are identical in intention; in other words, that whether the evils are conceived of as invisible or as embodied in a material form, is a circumstance entirely subordinate to the main object of the ceremony, which is simply to effect a total clearance of all the ills that have been infesting a people. If any link were wanting to connect the two kinds of expulsion, it would be furnished by such a practice as that of sending the evils away in a boat. For here, on the one hand, the evils are invisible and intangible; and, on the other hand, there is a visible and tangible vehicle to convey them away. And a scapegoat is nothing more than such a vehicle.
The overview of the practice of publicly getting rid of the accumulated problems in a village or area raises a few general points. First of all, it's clear that what I refer to as the immediate and mediated expulsion of evil have the same goal; in other words, whether the problems are seen as invisible or as taking a physical form is a secondary matter to the main purpose of the ceremony, which is simply to completely eliminate all the troubles affecting a community. If there were a need for a connection between the two types of expulsion, it would be illustrated by the practice of sending the problems away in a boat. Here, on one side, the problems are invisible and intangible; on the other side, there's a visible and tangible means to take them away. A scapegoat is just another example of such a means.
In the second place, when a general clearance of evils is resorted to periodically, the interval between the celebrations of the ceremony is commonly a year, and the time of year when the ceremony takes place usually coincides with some well-marked change of season—such as the close of winter in the arctic and temperate zones, and the beginning or end of the rainy season in the tropics. The increased mortality which such climatic changes are apt to produce, especially amongst ill-fed, ill-clothed, and ill-housed savages, is set down by primitive man to the agency of demons, who must accordingly be expelled. Hence, in New Britain and Peru, the devils are or were driven out at the beginning of the rainy season. When a tribe has taken to agriculture, the time for the general expulsion of devils is naturally made to agree with one of the great epochs of the agricultural year, as sowing or harvest; but, as these epochs themselves often coincide with changes of season, it does not follow that the transition from the hunting or pastoral to the agricultural life involves any alteration in the time of celebrating this great annual rite. Some of the agricultural communities of India and the Hindoo Koosh, as we have seen, hold their general clearance of demons at harvest, others at sowing-time. But, at whatever season of the year it is held, the general expulsion of devils commonly marks the beginning of the new year. For, before entering on a new year, people are anxious to rid themselves of the troubles that have harassed them in the past; hence the fact that amongst so many people—Iroquois, Tonquinese, Siamese, Tibetans, etc.—the beginning of the new year is inaugurated with a solemn and public banishment of evil spirits.
In the second place, when a general clearing of evils happens periodically, it usually takes place once a year, and the timing often aligns with a significant seasonal change—like the end of winter in the Arctic and temperate zones or the start or end of the rainy season in tropical regions. The increased deaths that these climate changes can cause, especially among poorly nourished, poorly clothed, and poorly housed communities, are attributed by primitive people to demons that need to be driven out. Therefore, in places like New Britain and Peru, devils are expelled at the beginning of the rainy season. In agricultural societies, the timing for the general expulsion of demons typically matches one of the key moments in the agricultural calendar, like planting or harvest; however, since these moments often coincide with seasonal changes, the shift from a hunting or pastoral lifestyle to an agricultural one doesn’t necessarily change when this important annual rite is celebrated. Some agricultural communities in India and the Hindu Kush, as we've noted, perform their general clearing of demons during harvest, while others do so at planting time. But regardless of when it occurs in the year, the general expulsion of devils usually marks the start of the new year. Before embarking on a new year, people want to free themselves of the troubles that have plagued them in the past; hence, among many cultures—Iroquois, Tonquinese, Siamese, Tibetans, etc.—the new year begins with a solemn and public banishment of evil spirits.
In the third place, it is to be observed that this public and periodic expulsion of devils is commonly preceded or followed by a period of general licence, during which the ordinary restraints of society are thrown aside, and all offences, short of the gravest, are allowed to pass unpunished. In Guinea and Tonquin the period of licence precedes the public expulsion of demons; and the suspension of the ordinary government in Lhásá previous to the expulsion of the scapegoat is perhaps a relic of a similar period of universal licence. Amongst the Hos the period of licence follows the expulsion of the devil. Amongst the Iroquois it hardly appears whether it preceded or followed the banishment of evils. In any case, the extraordinary relaxation of all ordinary rules of conduct on such occasions is doubtless to be explained by the general clearance of evils which precedes or follows it. On the one hand, when a general riddance of evil and absolution from all sin is in immediate prospect, men are encouraged to give the rein to their passions, trusting that the coming ceremony will wipe out the score which they are running up so fast. On the other hand, when the ceremony has just taken place, men's minds are freed from the oppressive sense, under which they generally labour, of an atmosphere surcharged with devils; and in the first revulsion of joy they overleap the limits commonly imposed by custom and morality. When the ceremony takes place at harvest-time, the elation of feeling which it excites is further stimulated by the state of physical wellbeing produced by an abundant supply of food.561
In the third place, it's important to note that this public and regular exorcism of demons is usually preceded or followed by a time of general indulgence, during which society's usual rules are ignored, and all offenses, except the most serious ones, go unpunished. In Guinea and Tonquin, this indulgent period comes before the public banishment of demons; and the temporary suspension of regular governance in Lhásá before the expulsion of the scapegoat might be a leftover from a similar time of total indulgence. Among the Hos, this period of indulgence happens after the devil is expelled. Among the Iroquois, it’s unclear whether it happened before or after the banishment of evils. In any case, the unusual relaxation of normal behavioral rules in these situations can certainly be explained by the overall removal of evils that happens before or after it. On one hand, when there’s an imminent opportunity to rid oneself of evil and be absolved of all sin, people feel encouraged to indulge their passions, believing that the upcoming ceremony will erase the debts they are quickly accumulating. On the other hand, right after the ceremony, people's minds are relieved from the heavy burden of living in an environment filled with devils; and in their initial burst of joy, they jump over the boundaries usually set by custom and morality. When this ceremony occurs during harvest time, the excitement it creates is even more heightened by the physical well-being from having plenty of food. 561
Fourthly, the employment of a divine man or animal as a scapegoat is especially to be noted; indeed, we are here directly concerned with the custom of banishing evils only in so far as these evils are believed to be transferred to a god who is afterwards slain. It may be suspected that the custom of employing a divine man or animal as a public scapegoat is much more widely diffused than appears from the examples cited. For, as has already been pointed out, the custom of killing a god dates from so early a period of human history that in later ages, even when the custom continues to be practised, it is liable to be misinterpreted. The divine character of the animal or man is forgotten, and he comes to be regarded merely as an ordinary victim. This is especially likely to be the case when it is a divine man who is killed. For when a nation becomes [pg 206] civilised, if it does not drop human sacrifices altogether, it at least selects as victims only such criminals as would be put to death at any rate. Thus, as in the Sacaean festival at Babylon, the killing of a god may come to be confounded with the execution of a criminal.
Fourth, the use of a god or animal as a scapegoat is particularly noteworthy; we are dealing here directly with the practice of driving away evils only to the extent that these evils are thought to be transferred to a god who is then killed. It can be suspected that the tradition of using a god or animal as a public scapegoat is much more widespread than the examples provided suggest. As already mentioned, the practice of killing a god has roots that go back to very early human history, so in later times, even when the custom is still observed, it can be easily misunderstood. The divine nature of the animal or person is often forgotten, and they come to be seen simply as regular victims. This is particularly likely when a divine person is executed. As a nation becomes more [pg 206] civilized, if it doesn't entirely abandon human sacrifices, it at least chooses victims who are criminals that would be executed anyway. Thus, similar to the Sacaean festival in Babylon, the killing of a god may be confused with the execution of a criminal.
If we ask why a dying god should be selected to take upon himself and carry away the sins and sorrows of the people, it may be suggested that in the practice of using the divinity as a scapegoat we have a combination of two customs which were at one time distinct and independent. On the one hand we have seen that it has been customary to kill the human or animal god in order to save his divine life from being weakened by the inroads of age. On the other hand we have seen that it has been customary to have a general expulsion of evils and sins once a year. Now, if it occurred to people to combine these two customs, the result would be the employment of the dying god as a scapegoat. He was killed, not originally to take away sin, but to save the divine life from the degeneracy of old age; but, since he had to be killed at any rate, people may have thought that they might as well seize the opportunity to lay upon him the burden of their sufferings and sins, in order that he might bear it away with him to the unknown world beyond the grave.
If we ask why a dying god is chosen to take on and carry away the sins and sorrows of the people, it might be suggested that this practice of using divinity as a scapegoat combines two customs that were once separate. On one hand, we’ve seen that it’s been typical to kill the human or animal god to save his divine life from weakening due to aging. On the other hand, there’s been a tradition of generally expelling evils and sins once a year. If people decided to merge these two customs, the outcome would be using the dying god as a scapegoat. He was killed not originally to take away sin but to preserve the divine life from the decline of old age; however, since he had to be killed anyway, people may have thought it made sense to take the opportunity to place the burden of their sufferings and sins on him, so he could carry them away to the unknown world beyond the grave.
The use of the divinity as a scapegoat clears up the ambiguity which, as we saw, appeared to hang about the European folk-custom of “carrying out Death.”562 Grounds have been shown for believing that in this ceremony the so-called Death was originally the spirit of vegetation, who was annually [pg 207] slain in spring, in order that he might come to life again with all the vigour of youth. But, as we saw, there are certain features in the ceremony which are not explicable on this hypothesis alone. Such are the marks of joy with which the effigy of Death is carried out to be buried or burnt, and the fear and abhorrence of it manifested by the bearers. But these features become at once intelligible if we suppose that the Death was not merely the dying god of vegetation, but also a public scapegoat, upon whom were laid all the evils that had afflicted the people during the past year. Joy on such an occasion is natural and appropriate; and if the dying god appears to be the object of that fear and abhorrence which are properly due not to himself, but to the sins and misfortunes with which he is laden, this arises merely from the difficulty of distinguishing or at least of marking the distinction between the bearer and the burden. When the burden is of a baleful character, the bearer of it will be feared and shunned just as much as if he were himself instinct with those dangerous properties of which, as it happens, he is only the vehicle. Similarly we have seen that disease-laden and sin-laden boats are dreaded and shunned by East Indian peoples.563 Again, the view that in these popular customs the Death is a scapegoat as well as a representative of the divine spirit of vegetation derives some support from the circumstance that its expulsion is always celebrated in spring and chiefly by Slavonic peoples. For the Slavonic year began in spring;564 and thus, in one of its aspects, the ceremony of “carrying out Death” would be an example of the widespread [pg 208] custom of expelling the accumulated evils of the past year before entering on a new one.
The use of divinity as a scapegoat clarifies the confusion that, as we noticed, surrounded the European folk custom of “carrying out a death sentence.”562 Evidence suggests that in this ceremony, the so-called Death was originally the spirit of vegetation, who was sacrificed in spring so that he could return with all the energy of youth. However, as we discussed, there are certain aspects of the ceremony that can’t be explained by this theory alone. For instance, the joy with which the effigy of Death is taken out to be buried or burned, along with the fear and revulsion shown by the participants. These aspects make sense if we assume that Death was not just the dying god of vegetation, but also a public scapegoat, who carried all the misfortunes that had affected the people over the past year. Joy during such an event is completely natural; if the dying god seems to inspire fear and disgust, it's not directed at him personally, but rather at the sins and sorrows he bears. This confusion stems from the challenge of distinguishing between the carrier and the burden. When the burden is harmful, the one bearing it will be feared and avoided just as if he possessed those dangerous qualities, even though he is merely a vessel. We have also noted that boats associated with disease or sin are similarly feared and rejected by East Indian communities.563 Furthermore, the idea that in these folk customs Death serves as both a scapegoat and a representation of the divine spirit of vegetation is supported by the fact that its removal is celebrated in spring, particularly among Slavic peoples. The Slavic year began in spring;564 thus, in one sense, the ceremony of "executing Death" serves as an example of the widespread custom of casting off the accumulated evils of the past year before welcoming a new one.
We are now prepared to notice the use of the scapegoat in classical antiquity. Every year on the 14th of March a man clad in skins was led in procession through the streets of Rome, beaten with long white rods, and driven out of the city. He was called Mamurius Veturius,565 that is, “the old Mars,”566 and as the ceremony took place on the day preceding the first full moon of the old Roman year (which began on 1st March), the skin-clad man must have represented the Mars of the past year, who was driven out at the beginning of a new one. Now Mars was originally not a god of war but of vegetation. For it was to Mars that the Roman husbandman prayed for the prosperity of his corn and his vines, his fruit-trees and his copses;567 it was to Mars that the priestly college of the Arval Brothers, whose business it was to sacrifice for the growth of the crops,568 addressed their petitions almost exclusively;569 and it was to Mars, as we saw,570 that a horse was sacrificed in October to secure an abundant harvest. Moreover, it was to Mars, under his title of [pg 209] “Mars of the woods” (Mars Silvanus) that farmers offered sacrifice for the welfare of their cattle.571 We have already seen that cattle are commonly supposed to be under the special patronage of tree-gods.572 Once more, the fact that the vernal month of March was dedicated to Mars seems to point him out as the deity of the sprouting vegetation. Thus the Roman custom of expelling the old Mars at the beginning of the New Year in spring is identical with the Slavonic custom of “carrying out Death,” if the view here taken of the latter custom is correct. The similarity of the Roman and Slavonic customs has been already remarked by scholars, who appear, however, to have taken Mamurius Veturius and the corresponding figures in the Slavonic ceremonies to be representatives of the old year rather than of the old god of vegetation.573 It is possible that ceremonies of this kind may have come to be thus interpreted in later times even by the people who practised them. But the personification of a period of time is too abstract an idea to be primitive. However, in the Roman, as in the Slavonic, ceremony, the representative of the god appears to have been treated not only as a deity of vegetation but also as a scapegoat. His expulsion implies this; for there is no reason why the god of vegetation, as such, should be expelled the city. But it is otherwise if he is also a scapegoat; it then becomes necessary to drive him beyond the boundaries, that he may carry his sorrowful burden away to other lands. And, in fact, Mamurius Veturius appears to have been [pg 210] driven away to the land of the Oscans, the enemies of Rome.574
We are now prepared to observe the use of the scapegoat in classical antiquity. Every year on March 14th, a man dressed in skins was led in a procession through the streets of Rome, beaten with long white rods, and driven out of the city. He was called Mamurius Veturius, which means “the old Mars,” and since the ceremony took place on the day before the first full moon of the old Roman year (which began on March 1st), the skin-clad man likely represented the Mars of the past year, who was driven out at the beginning of a new one. Originally, Mars was not a god of war but of vegetation. Farmers prayed to Mars for the success of their corn, vines, fruit trees, and woods; the priestly college of the Arval Brothers, whose duty was to sacrifice for the growth of crops, directed their petitions almost exclusively to Mars; and as we noticed, a horse was sacrificed to Mars in October to secure a good harvest. Moreover, it was to Mars, known as “Mars of the woods” (Mars Silvanus), that farmers offered sacrifices for the well-being of their cattle. We have already noted that cattle were commonly believed to be under the protection of tree gods. Additionally, the fact that the spring month of March was dedicated to Mars emphasizes his role as the deity of sprouting vegetation. Thus, the Roman practice of expelling the old Mars at the beginning of the New Year in spring parallels the Slavic custom of “carrying out Death,” assuming that our interpretation of the latter custom is correct. Scholars have already pointed out the similarities between Roman and Slavic customs, but they seem to have viewed Mamurius Veturius and the corresponding figures in Slavic ceremonies as representatives of the old year rather than the old god of vegetation. It’s possible that such ceremonies may have been reinterpreted over time, even by those who practiced them. However, the personification of time is too abstract a concept to be primitive. In both the Roman and Slavic ceremonies, the representative of the god seems to have been treated not only as a deity of vegetation but also as a scapegoat. His expulsion suggests this; there’s no reason for the god of vegetation to be expelled from the city unless he is also a scapegoat, which necessitates driving him beyond the borders so he can carry his burdens to other lands. Indeed, Mamurius Veturius was driven away to the land of the Oscans, enemies of Rome.
The ancient Greeks were also familiar with the use of a human scapegoat. At Plutarch's native town of Chaeronea in Boeotia, there was a ceremony of this kind performed by the chief magistrate at the Town Hall, and by each householder at his own home. It was called the “expulsion of hunger.” A slave was beaten with [pg 211] rods of the agnus castus, and turned out of doors with the words, “Out with hunger, and in with wealth and health.” When Plutarch held the office of chief magistrate of his native town he performed this ceremony at the Town Hall, and he has recorded the discussion to which the custom afterwards gave rise.575 The ceremony closely resembles the Japanese, Hindoo, and Highland customs already described.576
The ancient Greeks also knew about using a human scapegoat. In Plutarch's hometown of Chaeronea in Boeotia, there was a ceremony like this performed by the chief magistrate at the Town Hall, and by each householder at home. It was called the "ending hunger." A slave was beaten with [pg 211] rods made from the chaste tree, and driven out with the words, "Goodbye to hunger, and hello to wealth and health." When Plutarch was chief magistrate of his hometown, he performed this ceremony at the Town Hall, and he recorded the discussion that followed the custom.575 The ceremony closely resembles the customs of the Japanese, Hindus, and Highlanders that have already been described.576
But in civilised Greece the custom of the scapegoat took darker forms than the innocent rite over which the amiable and pious Plutarch presided. Whenever Marseilles, one of the busiest and most brilliant of Greek colonies, was ravaged by a plague, a man of the poorer classes used to offer himself as a scapegoat. For a whole year he was maintained at the public expense, being fed on choice and pure food. At the expiry of the year he was dressed in sacred garments, decked with holy branches, and led through the whole city, while prayers were uttered that all the evils of the people might fall on his head. He was then cast out of the city.577 The Athenians regularly maintained a number of degraded and useless beings at the public expense; and when any calamity, such as plague, drought, or famine befell the city, they sacrificed two of these outcasts as scapegoats. One of the victims was sacrificed for the men and the other for the women. The former wore round his neck a string of black, the latter a string of white figs. Sometimes, it seems, the victim slain on behalf of the women was a woman. They were led about the city and then sacrificed, apparently by being stoned to death outside the city.578 But such sacrifices were not confined to extraordinary occasions of public calamity; it appears that every year, at the festival of the Thargelia in May, two victims, one for the men and one for the women, were led out of Athens and stoned to death.579
But in civilized Greece, the tradition of the scapegoat took on darker aspects than the innocent ritual overseen by the kind and devout Plutarch. Whenever Marseilles, one of the most bustling and vibrant Greek colonies, suffered from a plague, a man from the lower classes would volunteer as a scapegoat. For an entire year, he was supported by public funds, eating high-quality and pure food. At the end of the year, he was dressed in sacred clothing, adorned with holy branches, and paraded through the city while prayers were said for all the people's misfortunes to be transferred to him. He was then expelled from the city.577 The Athenians regularly kept a number of disgraced and unproductive individuals on public support; when a disaster struck the city, like a plague, drought, or famine, they sacrificed two of these outcasts as scapegoats. One victim was sacrificed for the men and the other for the women. The man wore a necklace made of black figs, while the woman wore one made of white figs. Sometimes, it appears, the victim offered for the women was actually a woman. They were paraded around the city and then killed, seemingly by being stoned to death outside the city.578 However, these sacrifices weren't only reserved for extraordinary instances of public disaster; each year, during the festival of the Thargelia in May, two victims, one for the men and one for the women, were taken out of Athens and stoned to death.579
From the Lover's Leap, a white bluff at the southern end of their island, the Leucadians used annually to hurl a criminal into the sea as a scapegoat. But to lighten his fall they fastened live birds and feathers to him, and a flotilla of small boats waited below to catch him and convey him beyond the boundary.580 Doubtless these humane precautions were a mitigation of an earlier custom of flinging the scapegoat into the sea to drown. The custom of the scapegoat as practised by the Greeks of Asia Minor in the sixth century b.c. was as follows. When a city suffered from plague, famine, or other public calamity, an ugly or deformed person was chosen to take upon himself all the evils by which the city was afflicted. He was brought to a suitable place where dried figs, a barley loaf, and cheese were put into his hand. These he ate. Then he was beaten seven times upon his genital organs with squills and branches of the wild fig and other wild trees. Afterwards he was burned on a pyre constructed of the wood of forest trees; and his ashes were cast into the sea.581 A similar custom appears to have been annually celebrated by the Asiatic Greeks at the harvest festival of the Thargelia.582
From the Lover's Leap, a white cliff at the southern tip of their island, the Leucadians used to throw a criminal into the sea as a scapegoat every year. To soften his landing, they tied live birds and feathers to him, and a group of small boats waited below to catch him and take him away. Doubtless, these kind measures were a less severe version of an older practice of simply drowning the scapegoat. The scapegoat tradition as practiced by the Greeks of Asia Minor in the sixth century b.c. went like this: When a city faced a plague, famine, or other public disaster, they would select an ugly or deformed person to take on all the city's misfortunes. This person would be brought to a designated spot where dried figs, a barley loaf, and cheese were placed in his hand. He would eat these. Then he would be struck seven times on his genitals with squill and branches from wild fig and other wild trees. Finally, he would be burned on a pyre made from forest wood, and his ashes would be scattered into the sea. A similar ritual seemed to be performed annually by the Asiatic Greeks during the Thargelia harvest festival.
In the ritual just described the beating of the victim with squills, branches of the wild fig, etc., cannot have been intended to aggravate his sufferings, otherwise any stick would have been good enough to [pg 214] beat him with. The true meaning of this part of the ceremony has been explained by W. Mannhardt.583 He points out that the ancients attributed to squills a magical power of averting evil influences, and accordingly hung them up at the doors of their houses and made use of them in purificatory rites.584 Hence the Arcadian custom of beating the image of Pan with squills at a festival or whenever the hunters returned empty-handed,585 must have been meant, not to punish the god, but to purify him from the harmful influences which were impeding him in the exercise of his divine functions as a god who should supply the hunter with game. Similarly the object of beating the human scapegoat on the genital organs with squills, etc., must have been to release his reproductive energies from any restraint or spell under which they might be laid by demoniacal or other malignant agency; and as the Thargelia at which he was annually sacrificed was an early harvest festival,586 we must recognise in him a representative of the creative and fertilising god of vegetation. The representative of the god was annually slain for the purpose I have indicated, that of maintaining the divine life in perpetual vigour, untainted by the weakness of age; and before he was put to death it was not unnatural to stimulate his reproductive powers in order that these might be transmitted in full activity to his successor, the new god or new embodiment of the old god, who was doubtless supposed immediately to take the place of [pg 215] the one slain.587 Similar reasoning would lead to a similar treatment of the scapegoat on special occasions, such as drought or famine. If the crops did not answer to the expectation of the husbandman, this would be attributed to some failure in the generative powers of the god whose function it was to produce the fruits of the earth. It might be thought he was under a spell or was growing old and feeble. Accordingly he was slain in the person of his representative, with all the ceremonies already described, in order that, born young again, he might infuse his own youthful vigour into the stagnant energies of nature. On the same principle we can understand why Mamurius Veturius was beaten with rods, why the slave at the Chaeronean ceremony was beaten with the agnus castus (a tree to which magical properties were ascribed),588 why the effigy of Death in north Europe is assailed with sticks and stones, and why at Babylon the criminal who played the god was scourged before he was crucified. The purpose of the scourging was not to intensify the agony of the divine sufferer, but on the contrary to dispel any malignant influences by which at the supreme moment he might conceivably be beset.
In the ritual just described, the victim was beaten with squills, branches of wild fig, and other items, which weren’t meant to increase his suffering; otherwise, any stick would have sufficed to hit him with. The true purpose of this part of the ceremony has been clarified by W. Mannhardt. He points out that ancient people believed squills had magical powers to ward off evil, so they used to hang them at their doors and used them in purification rites. Thus, the Arcadian custom of beating the image of Pan with squills during a festival or when hunters returned empty-handed was not meant to punish the god but to purify him from harmful influences that hindered his divine duties of providing game for the hunters. Similarly, the act of beating the human scapegoat on the genitals with squills, etc., was likely meant to free his reproductive energies from any restraints or spells from demons or other malevolent forces. Given that the Thargelia, at which he was sacrificed annually, was an early harvest festival, we recognize him as a representative of the creative and fertilizing god of vegetation. The deity’s representative was sacrificed each year to maintain divine life in perpetual vigor, free from the frailty of age. Before his death, it was not unnatural to stimulate his reproductive powers so that these could be passed on in full force to his successor, the new god or embodiment of the old one, who was expected to take the place of the one that was slain. Similar reasoning explains the treatment of the scapegoat during special occasions like drought or famine. If the crops didn’t meet the farmer's expectations, it was thought to be due to some failure in the generative powers of the god responsible for producing earth's fruits. He might have been perceived as being under a spell or growing old and weak. Therefore, he was killed in the person of his representative, with all the ceremonies mentioned, so that, reborn young again, he could reinvigorate the stagnant energies of nature. Based on this reasoning, we can understand why Mamurius Veturius was beaten with rods, why the slave at the Chaeronean ceremony was struck with the agnus castus (a tree thought to have magical properties), why the effigy of Death in northern Europe is attacked with sticks and stones, and why in Babylon the criminal acting as the god was scourged before crucifixion. The purpose of the scourging wasn’t to increase the suffering of the divine figure but rather to dispel any malignant influences that might threaten him at the critical moment.
The interpretation here given to the custom of beating the human scapegoat with certain plants is supported by many analogies. With the same intention some of the Brazilian Indians beat themselves on the genital organs with an aquatic plant, the white aninga, three days before or after the new [pg 216] moon.589 We have already had examples of the custom of beating sick people with the leaves of certain plants or with branches in order to rid them of the noxious influences.590 At the autumn festival in Peru people used to strike each other with torches saying, “Let all harm go away.”591 Indians of the Quixos, in South America, before they set out on a long hunting expedition, cause their wives to whip them with nettles, believing that this renders them fleeter and helps them to overtake the peccaries. They resort to the same proceeding as a cure for sickness.592 At Mowat in New Guinea small boys are beaten lightly with sticks during December “to make them grow strong and hardy.”593 In Central Europe a similar custom is very commonly observed in spring. On the 1st of March the Albanians strike men and beasts with cornel branches, believing that this is very good for their health.594 On Good Friday and the two previous days people in Croatia and Slavonia take rods with them to church, and when the service is over they beat each other “fresh and healthy.”595 In some parts of Russia people returning from the church on Palm Sunday beat the children and servants who have stayed at home with palm branches, saying, “Sickness into the forest, health into the bones.”596 In Germany the custom is widely known as Schmeckostern, being observed at Eastertide. People beat each other, [pg 217] especially with fresh green twigs of the birch. The beating is supposed to bring good luck; the person beaten will, it is believed, be free of vermin during the summer, or will have no pains in his back or his legs for a year.597
The interpretation given here about the custom of hitting the human scapegoat with certain plants is backed by many parallels. With the same intention, some Brazilian Indians hit themselves on their genital areas with an aquatic plant, the white anhinga, three days before or after the new [pg 216] moon.589 We've already seen examples of the custom of hitting sick people with the leaves of certain plants or branches to cleanse them of harmful influences.590 During the autumn festival in Peru, people would hit each other with torches while saying, “Let all harm disappear.”591 The Quixos Indians in South America, before going on a long hunting trip, have their wives whip them with nettles, believing this makes them faster and helps them catch peccaries. They use the same practice as a remedy for illness.592 In Mowat, New Guinea, young boys are lightly beaten with sticks in December "to help them become strong and resilient."593 In Central Europe, a similar custom is commonly observed in spring. On March 1st, Albanians strike both men and animals with cornel branches, believing it’s good for their health.594 On Good Friday and the two days before it, people in Croatia and Slavonia bring rods to church, and when the service ends, they hit each other “fresh and healthy.”595 In some parts of Russia, people coming back from church on Palm Sunday hit the children and servants who stayed home with palm branches, saying, "Sickness goes into the forest, health goes into the bones."596 In Germany, the custom is well-known as Schmeckostern, celebrated at Easter. People hit each other, [pg 217] especially with fresh green birch twigs. This beating is thought to bring good luck, and it is believed that the person hit will be free of pests over the summer or have no back or leg pain for a year.597
If the view here taken of the Greek scapegoat is correct, it obviates an objection which might otherwise be brought against the main argument of this chapter. To the theory that the priest of Nemi was slain as a representative of the spirit of the grove, it might have been objected that such a custom has no analogy in classical antiquity. But reasons have now been given for believing that the human being periodically and occasionally slain by the Asiatic Greeks was regularly treated as an embodiment of a divinity. Probably the persons whom the Athenians kept to be sacrificed were similarly treated as divine. That they were social outcasts did not matter. On the primitive view a man is not chosen to be the mouth-piece or embodiment of a god on account of his high moral qualities or social standing. The divine afflatus descends equally on the good and the bad, the lofty and the lowly. If then the civilised Greeks of Asia and Athens habitually sacrificed men whom they regarded as incarnate gods, there can be no inherent improbability in the supposition that at the dawn of history a similar custom was observed by the semi-barbarous Latins in the Arician Grove.
If the perspective taken here on the Greek scapegoat is correct, it addresses an objection that could have been raised against the main argument of this chapter. To the theory that the priest of Nemi was killed as a representative of the spirit of the grove, it might have been argued that such a practice has no parallel in classical antiquity. However, reasons have now been provided to support the belief that the human being who was periodically and occasionally sacrificed by the Asiatic Greeks was consistently regarded as an embodiment of a divinity. It’s likely that the individuals whom the Athenians kept for sacrifice were similarly seen as divine. Their status as social outcasts was irrelevant. From a primitive perspective, a person is not chosen to be the spokesperson or embodiment of a god based on their moral qualities or social status. The divine inspiration comes equally to the good and the bad, the esteemed and the lowly. Therefore, if the civilized Greeks of Asia and Athens routinely sacrificed men whom they viewed as incarnate gods, there is no inherent unlikelihood in the idea that at the dawn of history, a similar practice was observed by the semi-barbarous Latins in the Arician Grove.
§ 16.—Killing the god in Mexico.
But the religion of ancient Mexico, as it was found and described by the Spanish conquerors in the sixteenth century, offers perhaps the closest parallels to the rule of the Arician priesthood, as I conceive that rule to have been originally observed. Certainly nowhere does the custom of killing the human representative of a god appear to have been carried out so systematically and on so extensive a scale as in Mexico. “They tooke a captive,” says Acosta, “such as they thought good; and afore they did sacrifice him unto their idolls, they gave him the name of the idoll, to whom hee should be sacrificed, and apparelled him with the same ornaments like their idoll, saying that he did represent the same idoll. And during the time that this representation lasted, which was for a yeere in some feasts, in others six moneths, and in others lesse, they reverenced and worshipped him in the same maner as the proper idoll; and in the meane time he did eate, drincke, and was merry. When hee went through the streetes the people came forth to worship him, and every one brought him an almes, with children and sicke folkes, that he might cure them, and bless them, suffering him to doe all things at his pleasure, onely hee was accompanied with tenne or twelve men lest he should flie. And he (to the end he might be reverenced as he passed) sometimes sounded upon a small flute, that the people might prepare to worship him. The feast being come, and hee growne fatte, they killed him, opened him, and eat him, making a solempne sacrifice [pg 219] of him.”598 For example, at the annual festival of the great god Tezcatlipoca, which fell about Easter or a few days later, a young man was chosen to be the living image of Tezcatlipoca for a whole year. He had to be of unblemished body, and he was carefully trained to sustain his lofty role with becoming grace and dignity. During the year he was lapped in luxury, and the king himself took care that the future victim was apparelled in gorgeous attire, “for already he esteemed him as a god.” Attended by eight pages clad in the royal livery, the young man roamed the streets of the capital day and night at his pleasure, carrying flowers and playing the flute. All who saw him fell on their knees before him and adored him, and he graciously acknowledged their homage. Twenty days before the festival at which he was to be sacrificed, four damsels, delicately nurtured, and bearing the names of four goddesses, were given him to be his brides. For five days before the sacrifice divine honours were showered on him more abundantly than ever. The king remained in his palace, while the whole court went after the destined victim. Everywhere there were solemn banquets and balls. On the last day the young man, still attended by his pages, was ferried across the lake in a covered barge to a small and lonely temple, which, like the Mexican temples in general, rose in the form of a pyramid. As he ascended the stairs of the temple he broke at every step one of the flutes on which he had played in the days of his glory. On reaching the summit he was seized and held down on a block of stone, while a priest cut open his breast with a stone knife, and plucking out his heart, offered it to the sun. [pg 220] His head was hung among the skulls of previous victims, and his legs and arms were cooked and prepared for the table of the lords. His place was immediately filled up by another young man, who for a year was treated with the same profound respect, and at the end of it shared the same fate.599
But the religion of ancient Mexico, as described by the Spanish conquerors in the sixteenth century, offers perhaps the closest parallels to the rule of the Arician priesthood as I imagine it to have originally been. Certainly, nowhere does the practice of killing a human representative of a god appear to have been carried out so systematically and extensively as in Mexico. "They captured someone," says Acosta, They chose someone they believed was suitable; then, before they offered him to their idols, they gave him the same name as the idol he would be sacrificed to and dressed him in the same adornments, claiming he represented that idol. During this period of representation, which lasted a year for some festivals, six months for others, and even less for some, they honored and worshipped him just like the actual idol; meanwhile, he ate, drank, and enjoyed himself. As he walked through the streets, people came out to worship him, bringing offerings, including children and sick individuals, seeking his healing and blessings. He was allowed to do as he pleased, always escorted by ten or twelve men to prevent him from escaping. To ensure he was revered as he passed, he occasionally played a small flute so people could get ready to worship him. When the festival arrived and he had become fattened up, they killed him, opened him up, and ate him, making a solemn sacrifice [pg 219].598 For example, at the annual festival of the great god Tezcatlipoca, which occurred around Easter or a few days later, a young man was selected to be the living image of Tezcatlipoca for an entire year. He had to be physically perfect, and he was carefully trained to fulfill his important role with appropriate grace and dignity. During that year, he was surrounded by luxury, and the king ensured that the future victim was dressed in beautiful attire, "because he already thought of him as a god." Accompanied by eight pages dressed in royal livery, the young man wandered the streets of the capital day and night at his pleasure, carrying flowers and playing the flute. Everyone who saw him fell to their knees before him and worshipped him, and he graciously acknowledged their reverence. Twenty days before the festival at which he was to be sacrificed, four delicately raised young women, each bearing the name of a goddess, were given to him as his brides. For five days before the sacrifice, he received more divine honors than ever. The king stayed in his palace while the entire court followed the chosen victim. There were solemn banquets and dances everywhere. On the final day, the young man, still accompanied by his pages, was ferried across the lake in a covered barge to a small and isolated temple, which, like most Mexican temples, was shaped like a pyramid. As he ascended the steps of the temple, he broke one of the flutes he had played during his glorious days at each step. When he reached the top, he was seized and held down on a stone block, while a priest cut open his chest with a stone knife and pulled out his heart, offering it to the sun. [pg 220] His head was hung among the skulls of previous victims, and his arms and legs were cooked and prepared for the lords' table. His place was immediately filled by another young man, who for a year received the same profound respect and ultimately shared the same fate.599
The idea that the god thus slain in the person of his representative comes to life again immediately, was graphically represented in the Mexican ritual by skinning the slain man-god and clothing in his skin a living man, who thus became the new representative of the godhead. Thus at an annual festival a woman was sacrificed who represented Toci or the Mother of the Gods. She was dressed with the ornaments, and bore the name of the goddess, whose living image she was believed to be. After being feasted and diverted with sham fights for several days, she was taken at midnight to the summit of a temple, and beheaded on the shoulders of a man. The body was immediately flayed, and one of the priests, clothing himself in the skin, became the representative of the goddess Toci. The skin of the woman's thigh was removed separately, and a young man who represented the god Cinteotl, the son of the goddess Toci, wrapt it round his face like a mask. Various ceremonies then followed, in which the two men, clad in the woman's skin, played the parts respectively of the god and goddess.600 Again, at the annual festival of the [pg 221] god Totec, a number of captives having been killed and skinned, a priest clothed himself in one of their skins, and thus became the image of the god Totec. Then wearing the ornaments of the god—a crown of feathers, golden necklaces and ear-rings, scarlet shoes, etc.—he was enthroned, and received offerings of the first fruits and first flowers of the season, together with bunches of the maize which had been kept for seed.601 Every fourth year the Quauhtitlans offered sacrifices in honour of the god of fire. On the eve of the festival they sacrificed two slaves, skinned them, and took out their thigh bones. Next day two priests clothed themselves in the skins, took the bones in their hands, and with solemn steps and dismal howlings descended the stairs of the temple. The people, who were assembled in crowds below, called out, “Behold, there come our gods.”602
The idea that the god killed in the form of his representative comes back to life right away was vividly shown in the Mexican ritual by skinning the slain man-god and dressing a living man in his skin, making him the new representative of the god. So, during an annual festival, a woman was sacrificed to represent Toci, the Mother of the Gods. She was adorned with jewelry and carried the name of the goddess she was believed to embody. After being entertained with mock battles for several days, she was taken at midnight to the top of a temple and beheaded on a man's shoulders. The body was immediately skinned, and one of the priests, putting on the skin, became the representative of the goddess Toci. The skin from the woman's thigh was removed separately, and a young man who represented Cinteotl, the son of Toci, wrapped it around his face like a mask. Various ceremonies followed, where the two men, dressed in the woman's skin, acted as the god and goddess. Again, at the annual festival of the god Totec, after multiple captives were executed and skinned, a priest wore one of their skins, becoming the image of Totec. Adorned with the god's decorations—a feather crown, gold necklaces and earrings, scarlet shoes, etc.—he was crowned and accepted offerings of the season's first fruits and flowers, along with ears of maize that had been saved for seed. Every four years, the Quauhtitlans performed sacrifices in honor of the fire god. On the eve of the festival, they sacrificed two slaves, skinned them, and removed their thigh bones. The next day, two priests dressed in the skins, holding the bones, and with solemn steps and mournful howls descended the temple stairs. The crowd gathered below called out, “Behold, there come our gods.”
Thus it appears that human sacrifices of the sort I suppose to have prevailed at Aricia were, as a matter of fact, systematically offered on a large scale by a people whose level of culture was probably not inferior, if indeed it was not distinctly superior, to that occupied by the Italian races at the early period to which the origin of the Arician priesthood must be referred. The positive and indubitable evidence of the prevalence of such sacrifices in one part of the world may reasonably be allowed to strengthen the probability of their prevalence in places for which the evidence is less full and trustworthy. Taken all together, the evidence affords a fair presumption that the custom of killing men whom their worshippers [pg 222] regard as divine has prevailed in many parts of the world. Whether the general explanation which I have offered of that custom is adequate, and whether the rule that the priest of Aricia had to die a violent death is, as I have tried to show, a particular instance of the general custom, are questions which I must now leave to the judgment of the reader.
Thus, it seems that human sacrifices like those I believe took place in Aricia were systematically made on a large scale by a people whose level of culture was likely not lower, and possibly even higher, than that of the Italian races during the early period associated with the origins of the Arician priesthood. The clear and undeniable evidence of such sacrifices happening in one part of the world can reasonably support the likelihood of their occurrence in other areas where the evidence is less complete and reliable. Overall, the evidence provides a solid assumption that the practice of killing men whom their worshippers consider divine has occurred in many parts of the world. Whether the general explanation I've provided for this custom is sufficient, and whether the requirement that the priest of Aricia had to die a violent death is, as I've attempted to show, a specific case of this general practice, are questions I will leave for the reader to decide.
Chapter IV—The Golden Bough.
§ 1.—Between the sky and land.
At the outset of this book two questions were proposed for answer; Why had the priest of Nemi (Aricia) to slay his predecessor? And why, before doing so, had he to pluck the Golden Bough? Of these two questions the first has now been answered. The priest of Nemi, if I am right, embodied in himself the spirit, primarily, of the woods and, secondarily, of vegetable life in general. Hence, according as he was well or ill, the woods, the flowers, and the fields were believed to flourish or fade; and if he were to die of sickness or old age, the plant world, it was supposed, would simultaneously perish. Therefore it was necessary that this priest of the woodlands, this sylvan deity incarnate in a man, should be put to death while he was still in the full bloom of his divine manhood, in order that his sacred life, transmitted in unabated force to his successor, might renew its youth, and thus by successive transmissions through a perpetual line of vigorous incarnations might remain eternally fresh and young, a pledge and security that [pg 224] the buds and blossoms of spring, the verdure of summer woods, and the mellow glories of autumn would never fail.
At the beginning of this book, two questions were asked: Why did the priest of Nemi (Aricia) have to kill his predecessor? And why did he need to take the Golden Bough before doing so? The first question has now been answered. The priest of Nemi represented, primarily, the spirit of the woods and, secondarily, the essence of plant life in general. Therefore, it was believed that as he thrived or struggled, the woods, flowers, and fields would either flourish or wither; if he died from illness or old age, it was thought that the plant world would also perish. Thus, it was essential for this priest of the woods, this embodiment of nature in a man, to be killed while he was still in the prime of his divine life, so that his sacred energy, passed down vigorously to his successor, could rejuvenate itself. This process of continuous transmission through a lasting line of strong incarnations was meant to keep it eternally vibrant and youthful, ensuring that the buds and blossoms of spring, the lushness of summer woods, and the rich colors of autumn would never fade.
But we have still to ask, What was the Golden Bough? and why had each candidate for the Arician priesthood to pluck it before he could slay the priest? These questions I will now try to answer.
But we still need to ask, what was the Golden Bough? and why did each candidate for the Arician priesthood have to pluck it before he could kill the priest? I will now attempt to answer these questions.
It will be well to begin by noticing two of those rules or taboos by which, as we have seen, the life of divine kings or priests is regulated. The first of the rules to which I desire to call the reader's attention is that the divine personage may not touch the ground with his foot. This rule was observed by the Mikado of Japan and by the supreme pontiff of the Zapotecs in Mexico. The latter “profaned his sanctity if he so much as touched the ground with his foot.”603 For the Mikado to touch the ground with his foot was a shameful degradation; indeed, in the sixteenth century, it was enough to deprive him of his office. Outside his palace he was carried on men's shoulders; within it he walked on exquisitely wrought mats.604 The king and queen of Tahiti might not touch the ground anywhere but within their hereditary domains; for the ground on which they trod became sacred. In travelling from place to place they were carried on the shoulders of sacred men. They were always accompanied by several pairs of these sacred men; and when it became necessary to change their bearers, the king and queen vaulted on to the shoulders of their new bearers without letting their feet touch the [pg 225] ground.605 It was an evil omen if the king of Dosuma touched the ground, and he had to perform an expiatory ceremony.606 The king of Persia was never seen on foot outside his palace.607
It’s important to start by pointing out two of the rules or taboos that govern the lives of divine kings or priests. The first rule I want to highlight is that a divine figure cannot touch the ground with their foot. This rule was followed by the Mikado of Japan and the supreme pontiff of the Zapotecs in Mexico. The latter “violated his sanctity if he even touched the ground with his foot.”603 For the Mikado, touching the ground was a disgrace; indeed, in the sixteenth century, it was enough to lose him his position. Outside his palace, he was carried on men’s shoulders; inside, he walked on beautifully crafted mats.604 The king and queen of Tahiti could only touch the ground within their hereditary lands; the ground they walked on became sacred. When traveling, they were carried on the shoulders of sacred men, always accompanied by several pairs of them. When it was time to switch bearers, the king and queen jumped onto the shoulders of their new bearers without letting their feet touch the [pg 225] ground.605 It was considered an ill omen if the king of Dosuma touched the ground, and he had to perform a purification ritual.606 The king of Persia was never seen walking outside his palace.607
The second rule to be here noted is that the sun may not shine upon the divine person. This rule was observed both by the Mikado and by the pontiff of the Zapotecs. The latter “was looked upon as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold, nor the sun to shine upon.”608 The Japanese would not allow that the Mikado “should expose his sacred person to the open air, and the sun is not thought worthy to shine on his head.”609 The heir to the throne of Bogota in Colombia, South America, had to undergo a severe training from the age of sixteen; he lived in complete retirement in a temple, where he might not see the sun nor eat salt nor converse with a woman.610 The heir to the kingdom of Sogamoso in Colombia, before succeeding to the crown, had to fast for seven years in the temple, being shut up in the dark and not allowed to see the sun or light.611 The prince who was to become Inca of Peru had to fast for a month without seeing light.612
The second rule to note is that the sun must not shine on the divine person. This rule was followed by both the Mikado and the pontiff of the Zapotecs. The latter “was regarded as a god who was not meant to walk the earth or to have the sun shine on.”608 The Japanese believed that the Mikado “should not reveal his sacred self to the open air, and the sun is not considered worthy to shine on his head.”609 The heir to the throne of Bogota in Colombia had to go through strict training starting at sixteen; he lived in complete seclusion in a temple, where he couldn't see the sun, eat salt, or talk to a woman.610 The heir to the kingdom of Sogamoso in Colombia had to fast for seven years in the temple, staying in darkness and not allowed to see the sun or any light.611 The prince destined to become the Inca of Peru had to fast for a month without seeing light.612
Now it is remarkable that these two rules—not to touch the ground and not to see the sun—are observed either separately or conjointly by girls at puberty in [pg 226] many parts of the world. Thus amongst the negroes of Loango girls at puberty are confined in separate huts, and they may not touch the ground with any part of their bare body.613 Amongst the Zulus and kindred tribes of South Africa, when the first signs of puberty show themselves “while a girl is walking, gathering wood, or working in the field, she runs to the river and hides herself among the reeds for the day so as not to be seen by men. She covers her head carefully with her blanket that the sun may not shine on it and shrivel her up into a withered skeleton, assured result from exposure to the sun's beams. After dark she returns to her home and is secluded” in a hut for some time.614
Now it’s interesting that these two rules—not touching the ground and not seeing the sun—are followed either separately or together by girls going through puberty in many parts of the world. For example, among the people of Loango, girls at puberty are kept in separate huts, and they aren’t allowed to touch the ground with any part of their bare body. In Zulu and similar tribes in South Africa, when the first signs of puberty appear, “while a girl is walking, gathering wood, or working in the field, she runs to the river and hides among the reeds for the day so no men can see her. She carefully covers her head with her blanket so the sun doesn’t shine on it and turn her into a withered skeleton, which is what happens if she’s exposed to the sun's rays. After dark, she goes back home and is secluded” in a hut for a while.
In New Ireland girls are confined for four or five years in small cages, being kept in the dark and not allowed to set foot on the ground. The custom has been thus described by an eye-witness. “I heard from a teacher about some strange custom connected with some of the young girls here, so I asked the chief to take me to the house where they were. The house was about twenty-five feet in length, and stood in a reed and bamboo enclosure, across the entrance to which a bundle of dried grass was suspended to show that it was strictly ‘tabu’. Inside the house were three conical structures about seven or eight feet in height, and about ten or twelve feet in circumference at the bottom, and for about four feet from the ground, at which point they tapered off to a point at the top. These cages were made of the broad leaves of the pandanus-tree, sewn quite close [pg 227] together so that no light, and little or no air could enter. On one side of each is an opening which is closed by a double door of plaited cocoa-nut tree and pandanus-tree leaves. About three feet from the ground there is a stage of bamboos which forms the floor. In each of these cages we were told there was a young woman confined, each of whom had to remain for at least four or five years, without ever being allowed to go outside the house. I could scarcely credit the story when I heard it; the whole thing seemed too horrible to be true. I spoke to the chief, and told him that I wished to see the inside of the cages, and also to see the girls that I might make them a present of a few beads. He told me that it was ‘tabu,’ forbidden for any men but their own relations to look at them; but I suppose the promised beads acted as an inducement, and so he sent away for some old lady who had charge, and who alone is allowed to open the doors.... She had to undo the door when the chief told her to do so, and then the girls peeped out at us, and, when told to do so, they held out their hands for the beads. I, however, purposely sat at some distance away and merely held out the beads to them, as I wished to draw them quite outside, that I might inspect the inside of the cages. This desire of mine gave rise to another difficulty, as these girls were not allowed to put their feet to the ground all the time they were confined in these places. However, they wished to get the beads, and so the old lady had to go outside and collect a lot of pieces of wood and bamboo, which she placed on the ground, and then going to one of the girls, she helped her down and held her hand as she stepped from one piece of wood to another until she came near enough to get the beads I held out to [pg 228] her. I then went to inspect the inside of the cage out of which she had come, but could scarcely put my head inside of it, the atmosphere was so hot and stifling. It was clean and contained nothing but a few short lengths of bamboo for holding water. There was only room for the girl to sit or lie down in a crouched position on the bamboo platform, and when the doors are shut it must be nearly or quite dark inside. The girls are never allowed to come out except once a day to bathe in a dish or wooden bowl placed close to each cage. They say that they perspire profusely. They are placed in these stifling cages when quite young, and must remain there until they are young women, when they are taken out and have each a great marriage feast provided for them.”615
In New Ireland, girls are kept confined for four or five years in small cages, kept in the dark and not allowed to touch the ground. An eye-witness described this practice: I heard from a teacher about a strange practice involving some of the young girls here, so I asked the chief to take me to the house where they were kept. The house was about twenty-five feet long and stood within a reed and bamboo enclosure, with a bundle of dried grass hung across the entrance to indicate it was strictly ‘tabu’. Inside the house were three conical structures, about seven or eight feet tall and about ten or twelve feet wide at the bottom, tapering to a point at the top. These cages were made from the broad leaves of the pandanus tree, tightly sewn together so no light and very little air could get in. On one side of each cage was an opening closed by a double door made of woven coconut and pandanus leaves. About three feet off the ground, a bamboo stage served as the floor. We were told each cage contained a young woman who had to stay there for at least four or five years without ever stepping outside. I could hardly believe the story; it seemed too horrifying to be real. I talked to the chief and expressed my desire to see inside the cages and the girls because I wanted to give them some beads. He told me it was ‘tabu’, forbidden for any men except their own relatives to look at them; however, I guess the promise of beads convinced him, and he called for an old woman who was in charge and the only one permitted to open the doors.... She unlocked the door when instructed by the chief, and the girls peeked out at us; when asked, they reached out their hands for the beads. I, however, chose to sit a little further away and held the beads out to them, hoping they would come outside so I could get a better look at the cages. This wish created another issue, as these girls weren't allowed to touch the ground while confined. Still, they wanted the beads, so the old woman went outside to gather a bunch of wood and bamboo, which she then laid on the ground. She then helped one girl down, guiding her hand as she stepped from piece to piece of wood until she was close enough to take the beads I offered [pg 228]. I went to check inside the cage she had come from but could barely fit my head inside; it was stifling and hot. It was clean but only had a few short pieces of bamboo for holding water. There was barely enough space for the girl to sit or lie down on the bamboo platform, and when the doors were closed it must have been nearly dark inside. The girls are only allowed out once a day to bathe in a dish or wooden bowl near each cage. They say they sweat a lot. They are kept in these suffocating cages while still very young and must stay there until they are young women, at which point they are taken out and given a big marriage feast.615
In some parts of New Guinea “daughters of chiefs, when they are about twelve or thirteen years of age, are kept indoors for two or three years, never being allowed, under any pretence, to descend from the house, and the house is so shaded that the sun cannot [pg 229] shine on them.”616 Among the Ot Danoms of Borneo girls at the age of eight or ten years are shut up in a little room or cell of the house and cut off from all intercourse with the world for a long time. The cell, like the rest of the house, is raised on piles above the ground, and is lit by a single small window opening on a lonely place, so that the girl is in almost total darkness. She may not leave the room on any pretext whatever, not even for the most necessary purposes. None of her family may see her all the time she is shut up, but a single slave woman is appointed to wait on her. During her lonely confinement, which often lasts seven years, the girl occupies herself in weaving mats or with other handiwork. Her bodily growth is stunted by the long want of exercise, and when, on attaining womanhood, she is brought out, her complexion is pale and wax-like. She is now shown the sun, the earth, the water, the trees, and the flowers, as if she were newly born. Then a great feast is made, a slave is killed, and the girl is smeared with his blood.617 In Ceram girls at puberty were formerly shut up by themselves in a hut which was kept dark.618
In some areas of New Guinea, "daughters of chiefs, when they are around twelve or thirteen years old, are kept indoors for two or three years, never allowed, under any circumstances, to leave the house, and the house is so shaded that the sun cannot shine on them." Among the Ot Danoms of Borneo, girls as young as eight or ten are locked in a small room or cell in the house and cut off from all contact with the outside world for a long time. The cell, like the rest of the house, is elevated on stilts and is lit by a single small window that looks out onto a desolate area, so the girl is in almost complete darkness. She cannot leave the room for any reason, not even for essential needs. Her family is not allowed to see her while she is confined, but a single slave woman is assigned to care for her. During her extended isolation, which often lasts seven years, the girl keeps herself busy weaving mats or doing other crafts. Her physical development is hindered by the prolonged lack of exercise, and when she reaches womanhood and is finally brought out, her complexion is pale and waxy. She is then shown the sun, the earth, the water, the trees, and the flowers, as if she is being born anew. Following this, a grand feast is held, a slave is sacrificed, and the girl is anointed with his blood. In Ceram, girls at puberty were previously isolated in a dark hut by themselves.
Amongst the Aht Indians of Vancouver Island, when girls reach puberty they are placed in a sort of gallery in the house “and are there surrounded completely with mats, so that neither the sun nor any fire can be seen. In this cage they remain for several days. Water is given them, but no food. The longer a girl remains in this retirement the greater [pg 230] honour is it to the parents; but she is disgraced for life if it is known that she has seen fire or the sun during this initiatory ordeal.”619 Amongst the Thlinkeet or Kolosh Indians of Alaska, when a girl shows signs of womanhood she is shut up in a little hut or cage, which is completely blocked up with the exception of a small air-hole. In this dark and filthy abode she had formerly to remain a year, without fire, exercise, or associates. Her food was put in at the small window; she had to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle. The time has now been reduced, at least in some places, to six months. The girl has to wear a sort of hat with long flaps, that her gaze may not pollute the sky; for she is thought unfit for the sun to shine upon.620 Amongst the Koniags, an Esquimaux people of Alaska, girls at puberty were placed in small huts in which they had to remain on their hands and knees for six months; then the hut was enlarged enough to let them kneel upright, and they had to remain in this posture for six months more.621
Among the Aht Indians of Vancouver Island, when girls hit puberty, they are placed in a sort of gallery in the house “and are there surrounded completely with mats, so that neither the sun nor any fire can be seen. In this cage, they remain for several days. They are given water, but no food. The longer a girl stays in this isolation, the greater honor it is for her parents; however, she is disgraced for life if it becomes known that she has seen fire or the sun during this initiation ordeal.” Among the Thlinkeet or Kolosh Indians of Alaska, when a girl begins to show signs of womanhood, she is confined in a small hut or cage, completely shut off from the outside except for a small air-hole. In this dark and filthy space, she used to have to remain for a year, without fire, exercise, or company. Her food was provided through a small window, and she had to drink from the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle. Now, in some places, the duration has been reduced to six months. The girl must wear a kind of hat with long flaps to prevent her gaze from polluting the sky, as she is considered unfit for the sun to shine upon. Among the Koniags, an Eskimo people of Alaska, girls at puberty were placed in small huts where they had to remain on their hands and knees for six months; then the hut was made larger so they could kneel upright, and they had to stay in that position for six more months.
When symptoms of puberty appeared on a girl for the first time, the Indians of the Rio de la Plata [pg 231] used to sew her up in her hammock as if she were dead, leaving only a small hole for her mouth to allow her to breathe. In this state she continued so long as the symptoms lasted.622 In similar circumstances the Chiriguanos of Bolivia hoisted the girl in her hammock to the roof, where she stayed for a month; the second month the hammock was let half way down from the roof; and in the third month old women, armed with sticks, entered the hut and ran about striking everything they met, saying they were hunting the snake that had wounded the girl. This they did till one of the women gave out that she had killed the snake.623 Amongst some of the Brazilian Indians, when a girl attained to puberty, her hair was burned or shaved off close to the head. Then she was placed on a flat stone and cut with the tooth of an animal from the shoulders all down the back, till she ran with blood. Then the ashes of a wild gourd were rubbed into the wounds; the girl was bound hand and foot, and hung in a hammock, being enveloped in it so closely that no one could see her. Here she had to stay for three days without eating or drinking. When the three days were over, she stepped out of the hammock upon the flat stone, for her feet might not touch the ground. If she had a call of nature, a female relation took the girl on her back and carried her out, taking with her a live coal to prevent evil influences from entering the girl's body. Being replaced in her hammock she was now allowed to get some flour, boiled roots, and water, but might not taste salt or flesh. Thus she continued to the end [pg 232] of the first monthly period, at the expiry of which she was gashed on the breast and belly as well as all down the back. During the second month she still stayed in her hammock, but her rule of abstinence was less rigid, and she was allowed to spin. The third month she was blackened with a certain pigment and began to go about as usual.624
When a girl first showed signs of puberty, the Indians of the Rio de la Plata [pg 231] would wrap her tightly in her hammock as if she were dead, leaving just a small opening for her mouth to breathe. She remained like this for the duration of the symptoms.622 In similar situations, the Chiriguanos of Bolivia would lift the girl in her hammock to the roof, where she would stay for a month; the second month, the hammock was lowered halfway; and in the third month, older women would come into the hut with sticks, running around and hitting everything, claiming they were hunting the snake that had harmed the girl. They wouldn’t stop until one of the women announced that she had killed the snake.623 Among some Brazilian Indians, when a girl reached puberty, her hair was either burned or shaved very close to her head. Then she was laid on a flat stone and scratched down her back with an animal's tooth until she bled. Ashes from a wild gourd were then rubbed into her wounds; the girl was bound up and hung in a hammock, wrapped so tightly that no one could see her. She had to stay like this for three days without eating or drinking. At the end of the three days, she would step out of the hammock onto the flat stone, as her feet were not allowed to touch the ground. If she needed to relieve herself, a female relative would carry her on her back and take with them a live coal to ward off any negative influences. Once back in her hammock, she could eat flour, boiled roots, and drink water, but she wasn’t allowed salt or meat. She continued this until the end [pg 232] of her first monthly period, at which point she would be marked on her chest and belly, as well as down her back. In the second month, she stayed in her hammock, but the rules were less strict, allowing her to spin. By the third month, she was painted with a specific pigment and began to move about normally.624
Amongst the Macusis of British Guiana, when a girl shows the first signs of puberty, she is hung in a hammock at the highest point of the hut. For the first few days she may not leave the hammock by day, but at night she must come down, light a fire, and spend the night beside it, else she would break out in sores on her neck, throat, etc. So long as the symptoms are at their height, she must fast rigorously. When they have abated, she may come down and take up her abode in a little compartment that is made for her in the darkest corner of the hut. In the morning she may cook her food, but it must be at a separate fire and in a vessel of her own. In about ten days the magician comes and undoes the spell by muttering charms and breathing on her and on the more valuable of the things with which she has come in contact. The pots and drinking vessels which she used are broken and the fragments buried. After her first bath, the girl must submit to be beaten by her mother with thin rods without uttering a cry. At the end of the second period she is again beaten, but not afterwards. She is now “clean,” and can mix again with people.625 Other Indians of Guiana, after keeping the girl in her [pg 233] hammock at the top of the hut for a month, expose her to certain large ants, whose bite is very painful.626 The custom of stinging the girl with ants or beating her with rods is intended, we may be sure, not as a punishment or a test of endurance, but as a purification, the object being to drive away the malignant influences with which a girl at such times is believed to be beset and enveloped. Examples of purification, both by beating and by stinging with ants, have already come before us.627 Probably, beating or scourging as a religious or ceremonial rite always originated with a similar intention. It was meant to wipe off and drive away a dangerous contagion (whether personified as demoniacal or not) which was supposed to be adhering physically, though invisibly, to the body of the sufferer.628 The pain inflicted on [pg 234] the person beaten was no more the object of the beating than it is of a surgical operation with us; it was a necessary accident, that was all. In later times such customs were interpreted otherwise, and the pain, from being an accident, became the prime object of the ceremony, which was now regarded either as a test of endurance imposed upon persons at critical epochs of life, or as a mortification of the flesh well pleasing to the god. But asceticism, under any shape or form, is never primitive. Amongst the Uaupes of Brazil a girl at puberty is secluded in the house for a month, and allowed only a small quantity of bread and water. Then she is taken out into the midst of her relations and friends, each of whom gives her four or five blows with pieces of sipo (an elastic climber), till she falls senseless or dead. If she recovers, the operation is repeated four times at intervals of six hours, and it is considered an offence to the parents not to strike hard. Meantime, pots of meats and fish have been made ready; the sipos are dipped into them and then given to the girl to lick, who is now considered a marriageable woman.629
Among the Macusis of British Guiana, when a girl starts showing the first signs of puberty, she is placed in a hammock at the highest point of the hut. For the first few days, she is not allowed to leave the hammock during the day, but at night, she must come down, light a fire, and spend the night beside it, or else she will develop sores on her neck, throat, and other areas. As long as the symptoms are strong, she must fast strictly. Once they subside, she can come down and stay in a small compartment made for her in the darkest corner of the hut. In the morning, she can cook her food, but it has to be at a separate fire and in her own pot. After about ten days, a magician comes and removes the spell by chanting charms and breathing on her and the more valuable items she has touched. The pots and drinking vessels she used are broken, and the pieces are buried. After her first bath, the girl must endure being beaten by her mother with thin rods without crying out. At the end of the second period, she is beaten again, but not afterward. She is now "clean" and can socialize again. Other Indians of Guiana, after keeping the girl in her [pg 233] hammock at the top of the hut for a month, expose her to certain large ants, whose bite is very painful. The practice of stinging the girl with ants or beating her with rods is, we can be sure, not meant as punishment or a test of endurance, but as a form of purification, aimed at driving away the negative influences that are believed to surround a girl during this time. We have already seen examples of purification through both beating and ant-stinging. It’s likely that beating or scourging as a religious or ceremonial rite always originated from a similar intention. It was meant to remove and drive away a dangerous contagion (whether seen as demonic or not) that was thought to be physically, though invisibly, sticking to the girl's body. The pain inflicted on [pg 234] the girl being beaten was not the goal of the beating itself, just as the pain during a surgical procedure is a necessary side effect. Over time, such practices were understood differently, and the pain shifted from being an accident to the main focus of the ceremony, which was viewed either as a test of endurance imposed on individuals during critical life stages or as a form of self-discipline favored by the divine. However, asceticism, in any form, is never primitive. Among the Uaupes of Brazil, a girl going through puberty is isolated in a house for a month, receiving only a small amount of bread and water. Then, she is brought out in front of her relatives and friends, each of whom gives her four or five hits with pieces of sipo (an elastic vine), until she either loses consciousness or dies. If she regains consciousness, the process is repeated four times at intervals of six hours, and it is considered disrespectful to the parents not to hit her hard. Meanwhile, pots of meat and fish are prepared; the sipos are dipped into them and then given to the girl to lick, making her now seen as eligible for marriage.
When a Hindoo maiden reaches maturity she is kept in a dark room for four days, and is forbidden to see the sun. She is regarded as unclean; no one is [pg 235] allowed to touch her. Her diet is restricted to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt.630 In Cambodia a girl at puberty is put to bed under a mosquito curtain, where she should stay a hundred days. Usually, however, four, five, ten, or twenty days are thought enough; and even this, in a hot climate and under the close meshes of the curtain, is sufficiently trying.631 According to another account, a Cambodian maiden at puberty is said to “enter into the shade.” During her retirement, which, according to the rank and position of her family, may last any time from a few days to several years, she has to observe a number of rules, such as not to be seen by a strange man, not to eat flesh or fish, and so on. She goes nowhere, not even to the pagoda. But this state of retirement is discontinued during eclipses; at such times she goes forth and pays her devotions to the monster who is supposed to cause eclipses by catching the heavenly bodies between his teeth.632 The fact that her retirement is discontinued during an eclipse seems to show how literally the injunction is interpreted which forbids maidens entering on womanhood to look upon the sun.
When a Hindu girl reaches maturity, she is kept in a dark room for four days and is not allowed to see the sun. She is considered unclean; no one is [pg 235] allowed to touch her. Her diet consists of boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt.630 In Cambodia, a girl at puberty is put to bed under a mosquito net, where she should stay for a hundred days. However, usually, four, five, ten, or twenty days are seen as enough; even this, in a hot climate and under the tight mesh of the curtain, is quite challenging.631 According to another account, a Cambodian girl at puberty is said to “step into the shade.” During her time of seclusion, which can last anywhere from a few days to several years depending on her family's status, she must follow a number of rules, such as not being seen by a strange man and not eating meat or fish. She doesn't go anywhere, not even to the pagoda. However, this period of seclusion is paused during eclipses; at those times, she goes out and pays her respects to the creature that is believed to cause eclipses by swallowing the celestial bodies.632 The fact that her seclusion is interrupted during an eclipse suggests that the rule forbidding maidens entering womanhood from looking at the sun is taken very seriously.
A superstition so widely diffused as this might be expected to leave traces in legends and folk-tales. And it has done so. In a modern Greek folk-tale [pg 236] the Fates predict that in her fifteenth year a princess must be careful not to let the sun shine on her, for if this were to happen she would be turned into a lizard.633 A Tyrolese story tells how it was the doom of a lovely maiden to be transported into the belly of a whale if ever a sunbeam fell on her.634 In another modern Greek tale the Sun bestows a daughter upon a childless woman on condition of taking the child back to himself when she is twelve years old. So, when the child was twelve, the mother closed the doors and windows, and stopped up all the chinks and crannies, to prevent the Sun from coming to fetch away her daughter. But she forgot to stop up the key-hole, and a sunbeam streamed through it and carried off the girl.635 In a Sicilian story a seer foretells that a king will have a daughter who, in her fourteenth year, will conceive a child by the Sun. So, when the child was born, the king shut her up in a lonely tower which had no window, lest a sunbeam should fall on her. When she was nearly fourteen years old, it happened that her parents sent her a piece of roasted kid, in which she found a sharp bone. With this bone she scraped a hole in the wall, and a sunbeam shot through the hole and impregnated her.636 [pg 237] The old Greek story of Danae, who was confined by her father in a subterranean chamber or a brazen tower, but impregnated by Zeus, who reached her in the shape of a shower of gold, perhaps belongs to the same class of tales. It has its counterpart in the legend which the Kirgis of Siberia tell of their ancestry. A certain Khan had a fair daughter, whom he kept in a dark iron house, that no man might see her. An old woman tended her; and when the girl was grown to maidenhood she asked the old woman, “Where do you go so often?”—“My child,” said the old dame, “there is a bright world. In that bright world your father and mother live, and all sorts of people live there. That is where I go.” The maiden said, “Good mother, I will tell nobody, but show me that bright world.” So the old woman took the girl out of the iron house. But when she saw the bright world, the girl tottered and fainted; and the eye of God fell upon her, and she conceived. Her angry father put her in a golden chest and sent her floating away (fairy gold can float in fairyland) over the wide sea.637 The shower of gold in the Greek story, and the eye of God in the Kirgis legend, probably stand for sunlight and the sun. The idea that women may be impregnated by the sun is not uncommon in legends,638 and there are even traces of it in marriage customs.639
A superstition this widespread is bound to leave traces in legends and folk tales. And it has. In a modern Greek folk tale [pg 236], the Fates warn that in her fifteenth year, a princess must be careful not to let the sun shine on her, because if it does, she will be turned into a lizard.633 A Tyrolese story tells how a beautiful maiden is doomed to be swallowed by a whale if a sunbeam ever touches her.634 In another modern Greek tale, the Sun gives a childless woman a daughter but insists that he must take the child back when she turns twelve. So, when the child turned twelve, the mother closed all the doors and windows and sealed every crack to keep the Sun from taking her daughter away. However, she forgot to block the keyhole, and a sunbeam slipped through it and took the girl.635 In a Sicilian story, a seer predicts that a king will have a daughter who, when she turns fourteen, will conceive a child by the Sun. So, when the child was born, the king locked her in a lonely tower with no windows to prevent any sunbeams from reaching her. As she neared her fourteenth birthday, her parents sent her a piece of roasted kid, which contained a sharp bone. With this bone, she scraped a hole in the wall, and a sunbeam shone through the hole and impregnated her.636 [pg 237] The old Greek story of Danae, who was locked away by her father in an underground chamber or a bronze tower, only to be impregnated by Zeus in the form of a shower of gold, likely falls into this same category of tales. It has a counterpart in the legend told by the Kirgis of Siberia about their ancestry. A certain Khan had a beautiful daughter whom he kept in a dark iron house so that no man could see her. An old woman took care of her, and when the girl grew up, she asked the old woman, "Where are you always going?"—"My kid," the old lady replied, "There is a vibrant world. In that vibrant world, your dad and mom live, and all kinds of people are there. That’s where I go." The maiden said, "Good mother, I won’t say a word to anyone, but please show me that shining world." So the old woman took the girl out of the iron house. But when she saw the bright world, the girl staggered and fainted; then the eye of God fell upon her, and she conceived. Her angry father placed her in a golden chest and sent her drifting away (fairy gold can float in fairyland) across the vast sea.637 The shower of gold in the Greek story and the eye of God in the Kirgis legend likely symbolize sunlight and the sun. The notion that women can be impregnated by the sun is not uncommon in legends,638 and there are even hints of it in marriage customs.639
The ground of this seclusion of girls at puberty lies in the deeply engrained dread which primitive man universally entertains of menstruous blood. Evidence of this has already been adduced,640 but a few more facts may here be added. Amongst the Australian blacks “the boys are told from their infancy that, if they see the blood, they will early become gray-headed, and their strength will fail prematurely.” Hence a woman lives apart at these times; and if a young man or boy approaches her she calls out, and he immediately makes a circuit to avoid her. The men go out of their way to avoid even crossing the tracks made by women at such times. Similarly the woman may not walk on any path frequented by men, nor touch anything used by men; she may not eat fish, or go near water at all, much less cross it; for if she did, the fish would be frightened, and the fishers would have no luck; she may not even fetch water for the camp; it is sufficient for her to say Thama to ensure her husband fetching the water himself. A severe beating, or even death, is the punishment inflicted on an Australian woman who breaks these rules.641 The Bushmen think that, by a glance of a girl's eye [pg 239] at the time when she ought to be kept in strict retirement, men become fixed in whatever position they happen to occupy, with whatever they were holding in their hands, and are changed into trees which talk.642 The Guayquiries of the Orinoco think that, when a woman has her courses, everything upon which she steps will die, and that if a man treads on the place where she has passed, his legs will immediately swell up.643 The Creek and kindred Indians of the United States compelled women at menstruation to live in separate huts at some distance from the village. There the women had to stay, at the risk of being surprised and cut off by enemies. It was thought “a most horrid and dangerous pollution” to go near the women at such times; and the danger extended to enemies who, if they slew the women, had to cleanse themselves from the pollution by means of certain sacred herbs and roots.644 Similarly, among the Chippeways and other Indians of the Hudson Bay Territory, women at such seasons are excluded from the camp, and take up their abode in huts of branches. They wear long hoods, which effectually conceal the head and breast. They may not touch the household furniture nor any objects used by men; for their touch “is supposed to defile them, so that their subsequent use would be followed by certain mischief or misfortune,” such as disease or death. They may not walk on the common paths nor cross the tracks of animals. They “are never permitted to walk on the ice of rivers or lakes, or near the part where the men are hunting beaver, or where [pg 240] a fishing-net is set, for fear of averting their success. They are also prohibited at those times from partaking of the head of any animal, and even from walking in or crossing the track where the head of a deer, moose, beaver, and many other animals have lately been carried, either on a sledge or on the back. To be guilty of a violation of this custom is considered as of the greatest importance; because they firmly believe that it would be a means of preventing the hunter from having an equal success in his future excursions.”645 So the Lapps forbid women at menstruation to walk on that part of the shore where the fishers are in the habit of setting out their fish.646
The reason for the seclusion of girls during puberty stems from the deep-seated fear that primitive people universally have of menstruating blood. Evidence of this has already been presented, but a few more facts can be added. Among the Aboriginal Australians, “boys are told from their childhood that if they see the blood, they will grow gray early, and their strength will leave them prematurely.” Because of this, women stay apart during their menstrual cycle; if a young man or boy approaches her, she shouts, and he quickly takes a detour to avoid her. The men go out of their way to avoid even crossing paths made by women during their periods. Similarly, women are not allowed to walk along paths used by men, nor touch anything men have used; they cannot eat fish or go near water at all, much less cross it, because doing so would scare the fish away, resulting in bad luck for the fishermen; they’re not even allowed to fetch water for the camp; it suffices for her to say Thama for her husband to fetch the water himself. A severe beating or even death is the punishment for an Australian woman who breaks these rules. The Bushmen believe that if a girl looks at a man when she should be kept in strict isolation, the men become fixed in their positions, holding whatever they had in their hands, and are turned into trees that talk. The Guayquiries of the Orinoco believe that when a woman is menstruating, everything she steps on will die, and if a man steps where she has walked, his legs will swell immediately. The Creek and related tribes in the United States forced women to live in separate huts away from the village during their menstruation. They had to remain there, risking surprise and attack by enemies. It was considered “a most horrid and dangerous pollution” to go near women at that time; the danger extended to enemies who, if they killed these women, had to purify themselves from the pollution using certain sacred herbs and roots. Similarly, among the Chippewa and other tribes in the Hudson Bay area, women are excluded from the camp during these times and live in huts made of branches. They wear long hoods to completely cover their heads and breasts. They cannot touch household items or anything used by men; their touch “is believed to defile these items, leading to certain harm or misfortune,” such as disease or death. They must not walk on common paths or cross animal tracks. They “are never allowed to walk on the ice of rivers or lakes, or near areas where men are hunting beaver or where a fishing net is set, for fear of ruining their success. At this time, they are also forbidden from eating the head of any animal, or crossing paths where the heads of deer, moose, beaver, and many other animals have recently been carried, either on sleds or on backs. Violating this custom is seen as extremely serious because they firmly believe it would prevent the hunter from achieving equal success in future outings.” Therefore, the Lapps prohibit women from walking in the areas on the shore where fishers usually set out their fish.
Amongst the civilised nations of Europe the superstitions which have prevailed on this subject are not less extravagant. In the oldest existing cyclopaedia—the Natural History of Pliny—the list of dangers apprehended from menstruation is longer than any furnished by savages. According to Pliny, the touch of a menstruous woman turned wine to vinegar, blighted crops, killed seedlings, blasted gardens, brought down the fruit from trees, dimmed mirrors, blunted razors, rusted iron and brass (especially at the waning of the moon), killed bees, or at least drove them from their hives, caused mares to miscarry, and so forth.647 Similarly, in various parts of Europe, it is still believed that if a woman in her courses enters a brewery the beer will turn sour; if she touches beer, wine, vinegar, or milk, it will go bad; if she makes [pg 241] jam, it will not keep; if she mounts a mare, it will miscarry; if she touches buds, they will wither; if she climbs a cherry-tree, it will die.648
Among the civilized nations of Europe, the superstitions surrounding this topic are equally outrageous. In the oldest existing encyclopedia—the Natural History of Pliny—the list of dangers associated with menstruation is longer than any provided by indigenous people. According to Pliny, the touch of a menstruating woman could turn wine into vinegar, damage crops, kill seedlings, ruin gardens, spoil fruit on trees, fog up mirrors, dull razors, rust iron and brass (especially during the waning moon), kill bees or at least make them leave their hives, cause mares to miscarry, and more.647 Similarly, in various parts of Europe, there are still beliefs that if a menstruating woman enters a brewery, the beer will go bad; if she touches beer, wine, vinegar, or milk, those will spoil; if she makes [pg 241] jam, it won’t preserve; if she rides a mare, it will miscarry; if she touches buds, they will wilt; and if she climbs a cherry tree, it will die.648
Thus the object of secluding women at menstruation is to neutralise the dangerous influences which are supposed to emanate from them at such times. That the danger is believed to be especially great at the first menstruation appears from the unusual precautions taken to isolate girls at this crisis. Two of these precautions have been illustrated above, namely, the rules that the girl may not touch the ground nor see the sun. The general effect of these rules is to keep the girl suspended, so to say, between heaven and earth. Whether enveloped in her hammock and slung up to the roof, as in South America, or elevated above the ground in a dark and narrow cage, as in New Ireland, she may be considered to be out of the way of doing mischief, since, being shut off both from the earth and from the sun, she can poison neither of these great sources of life by her deadly contagion. In short, she is rendered harmless by being, in electrical language, insulated. But the precautions thus taken to isolate or insulate the girl are dictated by a regard for her own safety as well as for the safety of others. For it is thought that the girl herself would suffer if she were to neglect the prescribed [pg 242] regimen. Thus Zulu girls, as we have seen, believe that they would shrivel to skeletons if the sun were to shine on them at puberty, and in some Brazilian tribes the girls think that a transgression of the rules would entail sores on the neck and throat. In short, the girl is viewed as charged with a powerful force which, if not kept within bounds, may prove the destruction both of the girl herself and of all with whom she comes in contact. To repress this force within the limits necessary for the safety of all concerned is the object of the taboos in question.
Thus, the reason for isolating women during their menstrual period is to neutralize the dangerous influences that are believed to come from them during these times. The perceived danger is thought to be especially significant at a girl's first menstruation, which is evident from the extra precautions taken to isolate them during this time. Two of these precautions, already mentioned, are that the girl should not touch the ground or see the sun. The overall effect of these rules is to keep the girl suspended, so to speak, between heaven and earth. Whether she is wrapped in a hammock and hung up to the roof, like in South America, or raised off the ground in a dark and narrow cage, as in New Ireland, she is considered to be safe from causing harm. Since she is separated from both the earth and the sun, she cannot poison these vital sources of life with her supposed harmful influence. In short, she becomes harmless by being, in electrical terms, insulated. However, the precautions taken to confine or insulate the girl are based on concern for her own safety as well as the safety of others. It is believed that she would suffer if she ignored the prescribed regimen. For instance, Zulu girls believe they would wither away if the sun were to shine on them during puberty, and in some Brazilian tribes, it is thought that breaking the rules would lead to sores on the neck and throat. Essentially, the girl is seen as possessing a powerful force that, if not kept under control, could lead to the demise of both herself and those around her. The purpose of these taboos is to contain this force within limits necessary for the safety of everyone involved.
The same explanation applies to the observance of the same rules by divine kings and priests. The uncleanness, as it is called, of girls at puberty and the sanctity of holy men do not, to the primitive mind, differ from each other. They are only different manifestations of the same supernatural energy which, like energy in general, is in itself neither good nor bad, but becomes beneficent or maleficent according to its application.649 Accordingly, if, like girls at puberty, divine personages may neither touch the ground nor see the sun, the reason is, on the one hand, a fear lest their divinity might, at contact with earth or heaven, discharge itself with fatal violence on either; and, on the other hand, an apprehension, that the divine being, thus drained of his ethereal virtue, might thereby be incapacitated for the future performance of those supernatural functions, upon the proper discharge of which the safety of the people and even of the world is believed to hang. Thus the rules in question fall under the head of the taboos which we examined in the second chapter; they are intended to preserve the life [pg 243] of the divine person and with it the life of his subjects and worshippers. Nowhere, it is thought, can his precious yet dangerous life be at once so safe and so harmless as when it is neither in heaven nor in earth, but, as far as possible, suspended between the two.650
The same explanation applies to how divine kings and priests follow the same rules. The so-called uncleanliness of girls at puberty and the holiness of holy men don’t seem different to the primitive mind. They are just different expressions of the same supernatural energy, which, like energy in general, isn't inherently good or bad, but becomes beneficial or harmful depending on how it's used. Therefore, if divine beings, like girls at puberty, shouldn’t touch the ground or see the sun, it’s for two reasons: first, the fear that their divinity might violently unleash when touching either earth or heaven; second, the concern that the divine being, drained of their special power, might not be able to perform the supernatural duties essential for the people's and even the world's safety. Thus, these rules are part of the taboos we discussed in the second chapter; they aim to protect the life of the divine being and, in turn, the lives of their followers and worshippers. It’s believed that their precious yet dangerous life is safest and least harmful when it’s neither fully in heaven nor on earth, but as suspended between the two as possible.
§ 2.—Balder.
A god whose life might in a sense be said to be neither in heaven nor earth but between the two, was the Norse Balder, the good and beautiful god. The story of his death is as follows: Once on a time Balder dreamed heavy dreams which seemed to forebode his death. Thereupon the gods held a council and resolved to make him secure against every danger. So the goddess Frigg took an oath from fire and water, iron and all metals, stones and earth, from trees, sicknesses and poisons, and from all four-footed beasts, birds, and creeping things, that they would not hurt Balder. When this was done Balder was deemed invulnerable; so the gods amused themselves by setting him in their midst, while some shot at him, others hewed at him, and others threw stones at him. But whatever they did, nothing could hurt him; and at this they were all glad. Only Loki, the mischief-maker, was displeased, and he went in the guise of an old woman to Frigg, who told him that the weapons of the gods could not wound Balder, since she had made them all swear not to hurt him. Then Loki asked, “Have all things sworn to spare Balder?” She answered, “East of Walhalla grows a plant called mistletoe; it seemed to me too [pg 245] young to swear.” So Loki went and pulled the mistletoe and took it to the assembly of the gods. There he found the blind god Hödur standing at the outside of the circle. Loki asked him, “Why do you not shoot at Balder?” Hödur answered, “Because I do not see where he stands; besides I have no weapon.” Then said Loki, “Do like the rest and show Balder honour, as they all do. I will show you where he stands, and do you shoot at him with this twig.” Hödur took the mistletoe and threw it at Balder, as Loki directed him. The mistletoe struck Balder and pierced him through and through, and he fell down dead. And that was the greatest misfortune that ever befel gods and men. For a while the gods stood speechless, then they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly. They took Balder's body and brought it to the sea-shore. There stood Balder's ship; it was called Ringhorn, and was the hugest of all ships. The gods wished to launch the ship and to burn Balder's body on it, but the ship would not stir. So they sent for a giantess called Hyrrockin. She came riding on a wolf and gave the ship such a push that fire flashed from the rollers and all the earth shook. Then Balder's body was taken and placed on the funeral pile upon his ship. When his wife Nanna saw that, her heart burst for sorrow and she died. So she was laid on the funeral pile with her husband, and fire was put to it. Balder's horse, too, with all its trappings, was burned on the pile.651
A god whose existence could be described as being neither in heaven nor on earth, but somewhere in between, was the Norse Balder, the good and beautiful god. The story of his death goes like this: One time, Balder had troubling dreams that seemed to predict his death. In response, the gods held a council and decided to make him safe from all dangers. The goddess Frigg made an oath with fire and water, iron and all metals, stones and earth, trees, sicknesses and poisons, as well as all four-footed animals, birds, and creeping things, ensuring they would not harm Balder. After this, Balder was thought to be invulnerable, and the gods entertained themselves by gathering around him while some shot arrows at him, others struck him with swords, and others threw stones at him. But no matter what they did, nothing could harm him, which made them all happy. Only Loki, the troublemaker, was unhappy, so he disguised himself as an old woman and approached Frigg, who told him that the gods' weapons couldn't hurt Balder because she had made them all promise not to injure him. Loki then asked, "Has everything promised to protect Balder?" She replied, "To the east of Walhalla, there's a plant called mistletoe; I thought it was too young to make an oath." So Loki went and grabbed the mistletoe and brought it to the gods’ gathering. There he found the blind god Hödur standing on the outer edge of the circle. Loki asked him, "Why aren't you shooting at Balder?" Hödur replied, "I can’t see him; plus, I don’t have a weapon." Then Loki said, "Just like everyone else, show Balder some respect. I’ll tell you where he’s standing, and you can shoot at him with this stick." Hödur took the mistletoe and threw it at Balder, following Loki’s instructions. The mistletoe struck Balder and pierced him through, and he fell down dead. And that was the greatest tragedy that ever befell gods and men. For a moment, the gods were speechless, then they raised their voices and wept bitterly. They took Balder's body and brought it to the seashore. There was Balder's ship, called Ringhorn, the largest of all ships. The gods wanted to launch the ship and burn Balder's body on it, but the ship wouldn't move. So they called for a giantess named Hyrrockin. She arrived riding a wolf and gave the ship such a push that sparks flew from the rollers and the entire earth shook. Then Balder's body was placed on the funeral pyre on his ship. When his wife Nanna saw this, her heart broke from grief, and she died. So she was laid on the pyre with her husband, and they set it ablaze. Balder's horse, along with all its equipment, was burned on the pyre. 651
The circumstantiality of this story suggests that it belongs to the extensive class of myths which are invented [pg 246] to explain ritual. For a myth is never so graphic and precise in its details as when it is a simple transcript of a ceremony which the author of the myth witnessed with his eyes. At all events, if it can be made probable that rites like those described in the Balder myth have been practised by Norsemen and by other European peoples, we shall be justified in inferring that the ritual gave birth to the myth, not the myth to the ritual. For while many cases can be shown in which a myth has been invented to explain a rite, it would be hard to point to a single case in which a myth has given rise to a rite. Ritual may be the parent of myth, but can never be its child.652
The circumstantial nature of this story indicates that it fits into the broader category of myths created to explain rituals. A myth is always more vivid and detailed when it directly reflects a ceremony that the myth's creator witnessed firsthand. Regardless, if we can reasonably argue that rituals similar to those described in the Balder myth were practiced by Norse people and other European communities, we can conclude that the ritual inspired the myth, not the other way around. While we can find many instances where a myth was created to explain a ritual, it is difficult to find a single example where a myth led to the creation of a ritual. Ritual may be the source of myth, but it can never be its product.
The main incidents in the myth of Balder's death are two; first, the pulling of the mistletoe, and second, the death and burning of the god. Now both these incidents appear to have formed parts of an annual ceremony once observed by Celts and Norsemen, probably also by Germans and Slavs.
The main incidents in the myth of Balder's death are two: first, the gathering of the mistletoe, and second, the death and cremation of the god. Both of these events seem to have been part of an annual ceremony once celebrated by Celts and Norsemen, and likely also by Germans and Slavs.
In most parts of Europe the peasants have been accustomed from time immemorial to kindle bonfires on certain days of the year, and to dance round them or leap over them. Customs of this kind can be traced back on historical evidence to the Middle Ages,653 and their analogy to similar customs observed in antiquity goes with strong internal evidence to prove that their origin must be sought in a period long [pg 247] prior to the spread of Christianity. Indeed the earliest evidence of their observance in Northern Europe is furnished by the attempts made by Christian synods in the eighth century to put them down as heathenish rites.654 Not uncommonly effigies are burned in these fires, or a pretence is made of burning a living person in them; and there are grounds for believing that anciently human beings were actually burned on these occasions. A brief review of the customs in question will bring out the traces of human sacrifice, and will serve at the same time to throw light on their meaning.655
In many parts of Europe, peasants have been lighting bonfires on specific days of the year for ages, often dancing around them or jumping over them. Historical evidence traces these customs back to the Middle Ages, and their similarity to ancient practices strongly suggests that their origins date back to a time well before the spread of Christianity. In fact, the earliest records of these traditions in Northern Europe come from Christian synods in the eighth century, which tried to ban them as pagan rituals. It’s not uncommon for effigies to be burned in these fires, or for there to be a pretense of burning a living person; there are reasons to believe that actual human sacrifices may have occurred in the past. A brief overview of these customs will reveal the traces of human sacrifice and help clarify their significance.
The seasons of the year at which these bonfires are most commonly lit are spring and midsummer, but in some places they are kindled at Hallow E'en (October 31st) and Christmas. In spring the first Sunday in Lent (Quadragesima) and Easter Eve are the days on which in different places the ceremony is observed. Thus in the Eifel Mountains, Rhenish Prussia, on the first Sunday in Lent young people used to collect straw and brushwood from house to house. These they carried to an eminence and piled them up round a tall, slim, beech-tree, to which a piece of wood was fastened at right angles to form a cross. The structure was known as the “hut” or “castle.” Fire was set to it and the young people marched round the blazing “castle” bareheaded, each carrying a lighted torch and praying aloud. Sometimes a straw man was burned in the “hut.” People observed the direction in which the smoke blew from the fire. If it blew towards the corn-fields, it was a sign that the [pg 248] harvest would be abundant. On the same day, in some parts of the Eifel, a great wheel was made of straw and dragged by three horses to the top of a hill. Thither the village boys marched at nightfall, set fire to the wheel, and sent it rolling down the slope. Two lads followed it with levers to set it in motion again, in case it should anywhere meet with a check.656 About Echternach the same ceremony is called “burning the witch.”657 At Voralberg in the Tyrol on the first Sunday in Lent a slender young fir-tree is surrounded with a pile of straw and fire-wood. At the top of the tree is fastened a human figure called the “witch”; it is made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder. At night the whole is set on fire and boys and girls dance round it, swinging torches and singing rhymes in which the words “corn in the winnowing-basket, the plough in the earth” may be distinguished.658 In Swabia on the first Sunday in Lent a figure called the “witch” or the “old wife” or “winter's grandmother” is made up of clothes and fastened to a pole. This is stuck in the middle of a pile of wood, to which fire is applied. While the “witch” is burning the young people throw blazing discs into the air. The discs are thin round pieces of wood, a few inches in diameter, with notched edges to imitate the rays of the sun or stars. They have a hole in the middle, by which they are attached to the end of a wand. Before the disc is thrown it is set on fire, the wand is swung to and fro, and the impetus thus communicated to the disc is augmented by dashing the rod sharply against a sloping board. The burning disc is thus thrown off, and mounting [pg 249] high into the air, describes a long curve before it reaches the ground. A single lad may fling up forty or fifty of these discs, one after the other. The object is to throw them as high as possible. The wand by which they are hurled must, at least in some parts of Swabia, be of hazel. Sometimes the lads also leap over the fire brandishing blazing torches of pine-wood. The charred embers of the burned “witch” and discs are taken home and planted in the flax-fields the same night, in the belief that they will keep vermin from the fields.659 In the Rhön Mountains, Bavaria, on the first Sunday in Lent the people used to march to the top of a hill or eminence. Children and lads carried torches, brooms daubed with tar, and poles swathed in straw. A wheel, wrapt in combustibles, was kindled and rolled down the hill; and the young people rushed about the fields with their burning torches and brooms, till at last they flung them in a heap, and standing round them, struck up a hymn or a popular song. The object of running about the fields with the blazing torches was to “drive away the wicked sower.” Or it was done in honour of the Virgin, that she might preserve the fruits of the earth throughout the year and bless them.660
The times of year when these bonfires are most often lit are spring and midsummer, but in some places, they are also started on Hallow E'en (October 31st) and Christmas. In spring, the first Sunday in Lent (Quadragesima) and Easter Eve are the days when this ceremony is celebrated in different locations. For example, in the Eifel Mountains, Rhenish Prussia, on the first Sunday in Lent, young people used to go door to door collecting straw and brushwood. They would carry it to a hilltop and stack it around a tall, slender beech tree, to which a piece of wood was attached at a right angle to create a cross. This structure was known as the cabin or “castle.” Fire was then set to it, and the young people danced around the blazing "castle" without their hats on, each holding a lit torch and praying out loud. Sometimes, a straw figure was burned inside the "cabin." People observed which way the smoke blew from the fire. If it blew toward the cornfields, it was a sign that the [pg 248] harvest would be plentiful. On the same day, in some parts of the Eifel, a large wheel made of straw was pulled by three horses to the top of a hill. There, the village boys would gather at nightfall, set fire to the wheel, and let it roll down the slope. Two boys followed it with levers to keep it moving in case it got stuck. Around Echternach, this same ceremony is called "executing the witch." In Vorarlberg, Tyrol, on the first Sunday in Lent, a slender young fir tree is surrounded by a pile of straw and firewood. At the top of the tree is a human figure called the "witch" made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder. At night, the whole thing is set on fire, and boys and girls dance around it, swinging torches and singing rhymes that include the words “corn in the winnowing basket, the plow in the ground.” In Swabia, on the first Sunday in Lent, a figure known as the "witch," the “old lady,” or "winter's grandma" is created from clothes and attached to a pole. This is stuck in the middle of a wood pile, which is then set on fire. While the "witch" burns, the young people throw burning discs into the air. These discs are thin, round pieces of wood a few inches in diameter, with notched edges that mimic the rays of the sun or stars. They have a hole in the middle through which they are attached to the end of a stick. Before each disc is thrown, it is lit on fire, and the stick is swung back and forth to give it momentum, which is intensified by hitting the rod sharply against a sloping board. The burning disc is then thrown, soaring high into the air before curving down to the ground. A single boy can throw up to forty or fifty of these discs in a row, aiming to get them as high as possible. The throwing rod must be made of hazel in some parts of Swabia. Sometimes, the boys also jump over the fire while waving burning torches made of pine wood. The charred remains of the burned "witch" and discs are taken home and buried in the flax fields that same night, believing that they will protect the crops from pests. In the Rhön Mountains of Bavaria, on the first Sunday in Lent, people would walk to the top of a hill or a high point. Children and boys carried torches, brooms dipped in tar, and poles wrapped in straw. A wheel covered in flammable materials was ignited and rolled down the hill; the young people would run around the fields with their torches and brooms until they finally piled them together and stood around singing a hymn or popular song. The purpose of running around with the burning torches was to “chase away the wicked sower.” Alternatively, it was done in honor of the Virgin, asking her to protect the earth's fruits throughout the year and bless them.
It seems hardly possible to separate from these bonfires, kindled on the first Sunday in Lent, the fires in which, about the same season, the effigy called Death is burned as part of the ceremony of “carrying out Death.” We have seen that at Spachendorf, [pg 250] Austrian Silesia, on the morning of Rupert's Day (Shrove Tuesday?) a straw-man, dressed in a fur coat and a fur cap, is laid in a hole outside the village and there burned, and that while it is blazing every one seeks to snatch a fragment of it, which he fastens to a branch of the highest tree in his garden or buries in his field, believing that this will make the crops to grow better. The ceremony is known as the “burying of Death.”661 Even when the straw-man is not designated as Death, the meaning of the observance is probably the same; for the name Death, as I have tried to show, does not express the original intention of the ceremony. At Cobern in the Eifel Mountains the lads make up a straw-man on Shrove Tuesday. The effigy is formally tried and accused of having perpetrated all the thefts that have been committed in the neighbourhood throughout the year. Being condemned to death, the straw-man is led through the village, shot, and burned upon a pyre. They dance round the blazing pile, and the last bride must leap over it.662 In Oldenburg on the evening of Shrove Tuesday people used to make long bundles of straw, which they set on fire, and then ran about the fields waving them, shrieking, and singing wild songs. Finally they burnt a straw-man on the field.663 In the district of Düsseldorf the straw-man burned on Shrove Tuesday was made of an unthreshed sheaf of corn.664 On the first Monday after the spring equinox the urchins of Zurich drag a straw-man on a little cart through the streets, while at the same time the girls [pg 251] carry about a May-tree. When vespers ring, the straw-man is burned.665 In the district of Aachen on Ash Wednesday a man used to be encased in peas-straw and taken to an appointed place. Here he slipped quietly out of his straw casing, which was then burned, the children thinking that it was the man who was being burned.666 In the Val di Ledro (Tyrol) on the last day of the Carnival a figure is made up of straw and brushwood and then burned. The figure is called the Old Woman, and the ceremony “burning the Old Woman.”667
It seems almost impossible to separate these bonfires, lit on the first Sunday in Lent, from the fires in which, around the same time, an effigy called Death is burned as part of the ceremony of “carrying out the death.” As we have seen in Spachendorf, [pg 250] Austrian Silesia, on the morning of Rupert's Day (Shrove Tuesday?), a straw figure, dressed in a fur coat and a fur cap, is placed in a hole outside the village and set on fire. While it burns, everyone tries to grab a piece of it to fasten to a branch of the tallest tree in their garden or bury in their field, believing this will help their crops grow better. This ceremony is known as the “burial of Death.” 661 Even when the straw figure isn’t specifically called Death, the meaning behind the ritual is likely the same; the name Death, as I’ve suggested, doesn’t truly reflect the original purpose of the ceremony. In Cobern, in the Eifel Mountains, boys create a straw figure on Shrove Tuesday. The effigy is put on trial and charged with all the thefts that have occurred in the area over the past year. After being sentenced to death, the straw figure is paraded through the village, shot, and burned on a pyre. They dance around the burning pile, and the last bride must jump over it. 662 In Oldenburg, on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, people used to make long bundles of straw, set them on fire, and run around the fields waving them while yelling and singing wild songs. Finally, they would burn a straw figure in the field. 663 In the Düsseldorf area, the straw figure burned on Shrove Tuesday was made from an unthreshed sheaf of corn. 664 On the first Monday after the spring equinox, kids in Zurich drag a straw figure on a little cart through the streets, while at the same time, the girls [pg 251] carry around a May-tree. When vespers ring, the straw figure is burned. 665 In the Aachen area on Ash Wednesday, a man used to be wrapped in pea straw and taken to a designated spot. There, he quietly escapes from his straw covering, which is then burned, with the children believing he’s the one being burned. 666 In the Val di Ledro (Tyrol) on the last day of Carnival, a figure made of straw and brushwood is burned. This figure is called the Old Woman, and the ceremony is known as "burning the Old Woman." 667
Another occasion on which these fire-festivals are held is Easter Eve, the Saturday before Easter Sunday. On that day it has been customary in Catholic countries to extinguish all the lights in the churches, and then to make a new fire, sometimes with flint and steel, sometimes with a burning-glass. At this fire is lit the Easter candle, which is then used to rekindle all the extinguished lights in the church. In many parts of Germany a bonfire is also kindled, by means of the new fire, on some open space near the church. It is consecrated, and the people bring sticks of oak, walnut, and beech, which they char in the fire, and then take home with them. Some of these charred sticks are thereupon burned at home in a newly-kindled fire, with a prayer that God will preserve the homestead from fire, lightning, and hail. Thus every house receives “new fire.” Some of the sticks are placed in the fields, gardens, and meadows, with a prayer that God will keep them from blight and hail. Such fields and gardens are thought to thrive more than others; the corn and the plants that grow in them are not beaten [pg 252] down by hail, nor devoured by mice, vermin, and beetles, no witch harms them, and the ears of corn stand close and full. The charred sticks are also applied to the plough. The ashes of the Easter bonfire, together with the ashes of the consecrated palm-branches, are mixed with the seed at sowing. A wooden figure called Judas is sometimes burned in the consecrated bonfire.668
Another time when these fire festivals take place is Easter Eve, the Saturday before Easter Sunday. On that day, it has been a tradition in Catholic countries to turn off all the lights in the churches, and then to create a new fire, sometimes using flint and steel, sometimes with a burning glass. This fire is used to light the Easter candle, which is then used to relight all the extinguished lights in the church. In many parts of Germany, a bonfire is also lit using the new fire in an open space near the church. It is consecrated, and people bring sticks of oak, walnut, and beech, which they char in the fire and then take home with them. Some of these charred sticks are then burned at home in a newly lit fire, along with a prayer asking God to protect the home from fire, lightning, and hail. This way, every house receives "new flame." Some of the sticks are placed in the fields, gardens, and meadows, with a prayer that God will protect them from blight and hail. Fields and gardens like this are believed to thrive more than others; the crops and plants grown there are not damaged by hail, nor eaten by mice, pests, or beetles, no witch harms them, and the ears of corn remain close and full. The charred sticks are also used on the plow. The ashes from the Easter bonfire, along with the ashes of the blessed palm branches, are mixed with the seeds at planting time. A wooden figure called Judas is sometimes burned in the blessed bonfire.668
Sometimes instead of the consecrated bonfire a profane fire used to be kindled on Easter Eve. In the afternoon the lads of the village collected firewood and carried it to a corn-field or to the top of a hill. Here they piled it together and fastened in the midst of it a pole with a cross-piece, all wrapt in straw, so that it looked like a man with outstretched arms. This figure was called the Easter-man, or the Judas. In the evening the lads lit their lanterns at the new holy fire in the church, and ran at full speed to the pile. The one who reached it first set fire to it and to the effigy. No women or girls might be present, though they were allowed to watch the scene from a distance. Great was the joy while the effigy was burning. The ashes were collected and thrown at sunrise into running water, or were scattered over the fields on Easter Monday. At the same time the palm branches which had been consecrated on Palm Sunday, and sticks which had been charred in the fire and consecrated on Good Friday, were also stuck up in the fields. The object was to preserve the fields from hail.669 In Münsterland, these Easter fires are always kindled upon [pg 253] certain definite hills, which are hence known as Easter or Pascal Mountains. The whole community assembles about the fire. Fathers of families form an inner circle round it. An outer circle is formed by the young men and maidens, who, singing Easter hymns, march round and round the fire in the direction of the sun, till the blaze dies down. Then the girls jump over the fire in a line, one after the other, each supported by two young men who hold her hands and run beside her. When the fire has burned out, the whole assemblage marches in solemn procession to the church, singing hymns. They march thrice round the church, and then break up. In the twilight boys with blazing bundles of straw run over the fields to make them fruitful.670 In Holland, also, Easter fires used to be kindled on the highest eminences, the people danced round them, and leaped through the flames.671 In Schaumburg, the Easter bonfires may be seen blazing on all the mountains around for miles. They are made with a tar barrel fastened to a pine-tree, which is wrapt in straw. The people dance singing round them.672 Easter bonfires are also common in the Harz Mountains and in Brunswick, Hanover, and Westphalia. They are generally lit upon particular heights and mountains which are hence called Easter Mountains. In the Harz the fire is commonly made by piling brushwood about a tree and setting it on fire, and blazing tar barrels are often rolled down into the valley. In Osterode, every one tries to snatch a brand from the bonfire and rushes about with it; the better it burns, the more lucky it is. In Grund there are torch [pg 254] races.673 In the Altmark, the Easter bonfires are composed of tar barrels, bee-hives, etc., piled round a pole. The young folk dance round the fire; and when it has died out, the old folk come and collect the ashes, which they preserve as a remedy for the ailments of bees. It is also believed that as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible, the corn will grow well throughout the year, and no conflagration will break out.674 In some parts of Bavaria, bonfires were kindled at Easter upon steep mountains, and burning arrows or discs of wood were shot high into the air, as in the Swabian custom already described. Sometimes, instead of the discs, an old waggon wheel was wrapt in straw, set on fire, and sent rolling down the mountain. The lads who hurled the discs received painted Easter eggs from the girls.675 In some parts of Swabia the Easter fires might not be kindled with iron or flint or steel; but only by the friction of wood.676 At Braunröde in the Harz Mountains it was the custom to burn squirrels in the Easter bonfire.677 In the Altmark, bones were burned in it.678
Sometimes, instead of the holy bonfire, an ordinary fire would be lit on Easter Eve. In the afternoon, the village boys would gather firewood and take it to a cornfield or the top of a hill. They would stack the wood and secure a pole with a crosspiece in the center, wrapping it in straw so that it resembled a man with outstretched arms. This figure was known as the Easter-man or Judas. In the evening, the boys would light their lanterns using the new holy fire from the church and race to the pile. The first one to arrive would set fire to it and the effigy. No women or girls were allowed to participate, although they could watch from a distance. There was great joy as the effigy burned. The ashes were collected and thrown into running water at sunrise, or scattered across the fields on Easter Monday. Palm branches blessed on Palm Sunday and sticks burned in the fire and blessed on Good Friday were also placed in the fields. The purpose was to protect the fields from hail. In Münsterland, these Easter fires are always lit on certain designated hills, referred to as Easter or Pascal Mountains. The whole community gathers around the fire. Fathers create an inner circle around it, while young men and women form an outer circle, singing Easter hymns as they march clockwise around the fire until it burns down. Then the girls jump over the fire one by one, each supported by two young men holding her hands and running alongside her. When the fire is completely out, everyone forms a solemn procession to the church, singing hymns. They march around the church three times before dispersing. In the twilight, boys with burning bundles of straw run through the fields to ensure a good harvest. In Holland, Easter fires were lit on the highest points, where people danced around them and leaped through the flames. In Schaumburg, you can see Easter bonfires blazing on hills for miles. They are made using a tar barrel secured to a pine tree, wrapped in straw. People dance and sing around them. Easter bonfires are also common in the Harz Mountains, as well as in Brunswick, Hanover, and Westphalia. They are typically lit on specific heights and mountains, known as Easter Mountains. In the Harz, the fires are often made by piling brushwood around a tree and igniting it, while flaming tar barrels are rolled down into the valleys. In Osterode, everyone tries to grab a brand from the bonfire and runs around with it; the better it burns, the luckier it is said to be. In Grund, there are torch races. In the Altmark, Easter bonfires consist of tar barrels, beehives, and other materials stacked around a pole. Young people dance around the fire, and after it has burned out, the older folks come to collect the ashes, which they keep as a remedy for bee ailments. It's also believed that as long as the bonfire is visible, crops will grow well throughout the year, and no fires will break out. In some areas of Bavaria, bonfires were lit at Easter on steep mountains, and burning arrows or wooden discs were shot into the air, as is done in the previously described Swabian tradition. Sometimes, instead of discs, an old wagon wheel wrapped in straw would be set on fire and rolled down the mountain. The boys who threw the discs received painted Easter eggs from the girls. In some parts of Swabia, Easter fires could not be ignited with iron, flint, or steel, but only through wood friction. In Braunröde in the Harz Mountains, it was customary to burn squirrels in the Easter bonfire. In the Altmark, bones were burned in it.
In the central Highlands of Scotland bonfires, known as the Beltane fires, were formerly kindled with great ceremony on the 1st of May, and the traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear and unequivocal. In the neighbourhood of Callander, in Perthshire, the custom lasted down to [pg 255] the close of last century. The fires were lit by the people of each hamlet on a hill or knoll round which their cattle were pasturing. Hence various eminences in the Highlands are known as “the hill of the fires,” just as in Germany some mountains take their name from the Easter fires which are kindled upon them. On the morning of May Day the people repaired to a hill or knoll and cut a round trench in the green sod, leaving in the centre a platform of turf large enough to contain the whole company. On this turf they seated themselves, and in the middle was placed a pile of wood or other fuel, which of old they kindled with tein-eigin—that is, forced fire or need-fire. The way of making the need-fire was this: “The night before, all the fires in the country were carefully extinguished, and next morning the materials for exciting this sacred fire were prepared. The most primitive method seems to be that which was used in the islands of Skye, Mull, and Tiree. A well-seasoned plank of oak was procured, in the midst of which a hole was bored. A wimble of the same timber was then applied, the end of which they fitted to the hole. But in some parts of the mainland the machinery was different. They used a frame of green wood, of a square form, in the centre of which was an axle-tree. In some places three times three persons, in others three times nine, were required for turning round, by turns, the axle-tree or wimble. If any of them had been guilty of murder, adultery, theft, or other atrocious crime, it was imagined either that the fire would not kindle, or that it would be devoid of its usual virtue. So soon as any sparks were emitted by means of the violent friction, they applied a species of agaric which grows on old birch-trees, [pg 256] and is very combustible. This fire had the appearance of being immediately derived from heaven, and manifold were the virtues ascribed to it. They esteemed it a preservative against witchcraft, and a sovereign remedy against malignant diseases, both in the human species and in cattle; and by it the strongest poisons were supposed to have their nature changed.” For many years, however, before the close of last century, the Beltane fires were kindled in the usual way. The fire being lit, the company prepared a custard of eggs and milk, which they ate. Afterwards they amused themselves a while by singing and dancing round the fire. Then “they knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted at the embers against a stone. After the custard is eaten up they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as possible to one another in size and shape, as there are persons in the company. They daub one of these portions all over with charcoal until it be perfectly black. They put all the bits of cake into a bonnet. Every one, blindfold, draws out a portion. He who holds the bonnet is entitled to the last bit. Whoever draws the black bit is the devoted person who is to be sacrificed to Baal, whose favour they mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast.” The victim thus selected “was called cailleach bealtine—i.e. the Beltane carline, a term of great reproach. Upon his being known, part of the company laid hold of him, and made a show of putting him into the fire; but, the majority interposing, he was rescued. And in some places they laid him flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him. Afterwards he was pelted with eggshells, and retained the odious appellation during the [pg 257] whole year. And, while the feast was fresh in people's memory, they affected to speak of the cailleach bealtine as dead.” He had to leap thrice through the flames, and this concluded the ceremony.679
In the central Highlands of Scotland, bonfires, known as the Beltane fires, were once lit with great ceremony on May 1st, and the evidence of human sacrifices at them was particularly clear and unmistakable. In the area around Callander in Perthshire, the tradition lasted until the end of the last century. The fires were ignited by the people of each village on a hill or knoll where their cattle were grazing. Consequently, various hills in the Highlands are referred to as “the hill of the fires,” similar to how some mountains in Germany are named after the Easter fires that are lit on them. On May Day morning, people would go to a hill or knoll and create a round trench in the grass, leaving a patch of turf in the center big enough for everyone to sit. They would gather on this turf, and in the middle, they placed a pile of wood or other fuel, which they used to ignite with tein-eigin—that is, forced fire or need-fire. The way to create the need-fire was as follows: “The night before, all the fires in the country were carefully put out, and the next morning, the items needed to create this sacred fire were prepared. The most basic method seems to be the one used in the islands of Skye, Mull, and Tiree. They would use a well-seasoned oak plank with a hole bored in the center. A wimble made from the same wood was then applied, with its end fitted into the hole. However, in some areas of the mainland, they had different setups. They used a frame made of green wood, shaped like a square, with an axle tree in the center. In some places, nine people were needed to take turns turning the axle tree or wimble. If any of them had committed murder, adultery, theft, or another serious crime, it was believed that the fire wouldn’t ignite or would lack its usual power. Once sparks were produced from the friction, they would use a fungus that grows on old birch trees, which is highly flammable. This fire was thought to come straight from heaven, and many benefits were associated with it. It was considered a protection against witchcraft and a miracle cure for serious diseases, both in humans and livestock; it was believed to change the properties of the strongest poisons.” For many years before the end of the last century, however, the Beltane fires were lit in the traditional way. Once the fire was started, the group would prepare a custard of eggs and milk, which they would eat. Afterwards, they entertained themselves by singing and dancing around the fire. Then, “they knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted against a stone in the embers. After the custard was finished, they divided the cake into pieces that were as similar as possible in size and shape to the number of people present. They covered one of these pieces in charcoal until it was completely black. They placed all the cake pieces into a hat. Everyone, blindfolded, would draw a piece. The person holding the hat got the last piece. Whoever picked the black piece was the chosen one who would be sacrificed to Baal, whose favor they sought to ensure a bountiful year for both people and animals.” The person chosen was referred to as “cailleach bealtine”—the Beltane carline, a term of great disdain. Once identified, some members of the group would grab him and pretend to throw him into the fire; however, the majority would intervene and rescue him. In some areas, they would lay him flat on the ground as if to quarter him. Later, he would be pelted with eggshells and would carry that insulting name for the entire year. While the festival was still fresh in people's minds, they would pretend to speak of the cailleach bealtine as if he were dead. He would have to jump through the flames three times, and that concluded the ceremony.679
Another account of the Beltane festival, written in the latter half of last century, is as follows: “On the 1st of May the herdsmen of every village hold their Beltien, a rural sacrifice. They cut a square trench on the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal, and milk, and bring, besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. The rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation; on that every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them; each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and, flinging it over his shoulder, says, ‘This I give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; and so on.’ After that they use the same ceremony to the noxious animals: ‘This I give to thee, O fox! spare thou my lambs; this to thee, O hooded crow! this to thee, O eagle!’ When the ceremony is over they dine on the caudle; and, after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons deputed for that purpose; but on the next Sunday they reassemble, and finish the reliques of the [pg 258] first entertainment.”680 The 1st of May is a great popular festival in the more midland and southern parts of Sweden. On the preceding evening huge bonfires, which should be lighted by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. Every large hamlet has its own fire, round which the young people dance in a ring. The old folk notice whether the flames incline to the north or to the south. In the former case the spring will be cold and backward; in the latter mild and genial.681
Another account of the Beltane festival, written in the latter half of last century, goes like this: On May 1st, the herdsmen from each village celebrate Beltien, a rural sacrifice. They dig a square trench in the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that, they build a fire from wood, where they cook a large caudle made of eggs, butter, oatmeal, and milk, and they also bring plenty of beer and whisky because everyone in the group has to contribute something. The rituals start with spilling some of the caudle on the ground as a libation; then everyone takes a cake of oatmeal that has nine square knobs on it, each dedicated to a specific being thought to protect their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal that poses a threat to them. Each person faces the fire, breaks off a knob, and tosses it over their shoulder, saying, ‘This I give to you, protect my horses; this to you, protect my sheep; and so on.’ Afterwards, they perform the same ritual for the harmful animals: ‘This I give to you, O fox! spare my lambs; this to you, O hooded crow! this to you, O eagle!’ When the ceremony is done, they eat the caudle; and once the feast is over, what's left is hidden by two people chosen for that task. Then, the following Sunday, they gather again to finish the leftovers of the [pg 258] first meal.680 May 1st is a major popular festival in the more midland and southern regions of Sweden. The night before, huge bonfires, which should be lit by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. Every large village has its own fire, around which the young people dance in a circle. The older folks observe whether the flames lean to the north or to the south. If they lean north, the spring will be cold and late; if they lean south, it will be mild and warm.681
But the season at which these fire-festivals are most generally held all over Europe is the summer solstice, that is, Midsummer Eve (23d June) or Midsummer Day (24th June). According to a mediæval writer the three great features of this festival were the bonfires, the procession with torches round the fields, and the custom of rolling a wheel. The writer adds that the smoke drives away harmful dragons which cause sickness, and he explains the custom of rolling the wheel to mean that the sun has now reached the highest point in the ecliptic, and begins thenceforward to descend.682 From his description, which is still applicable, we see that the main features of the midsummer fire-festival are identical with those which characterise the spring festivals. In Swabia lads and lasses, hand in hand, leap over the midsummer bonfire, praying that the hemp may grow three ells high, and they set fire to wheels of straw and send them rolling down the hill.683 In Lechrain bonfires are kindled on [pg 259] the mountains on Midsummer Day; and besides the bonfire a tall beam, thickly wrapt in straw, and surmounted by a cross-piece, is burned in many places. Round this cross, as it burns, the lads dance; and when the flames have subsided, the young people leap over the fire in pairs, a young man and a young woman together. It is believed that the flax will grow that year as high as they leap over the fire; and that if a charred billet be taken from the fire and stuck in a flax field it will promote the growth of the flax.684 At Deffingen, as they jumped over the midsummer bonfire, they cried out, “Flax, flax! may the flax this year grow seven ells high!”685 In Bohemia bonfires are kindled on many of the mountains on Midsummer Eve; boys and girls, hand in hand, leap over them; cart-wheels smeared with resin are ignited and sent rolling down the hill; and brooms covered with tar and set on fire are swung about or thrown high into the air. The handles of the brooms or embers from the fire are preserved and stuck in gardens to protect the vegetables from caterpillars and gnats. Sometimes the boys run down the hillside in troops, brandishing the blazing brooms and shouting. The bonfire is sometimes made by stacking wood and branches round the trunk of a tree and setting the whole on fire.686
But the time when these fire festivals are most commonly celebrated all over Europe is during the summer solstice, which is Midsummer Eve (June 23) or Midsummer Day (June 24). According to a medieval writer, the three main aspects of this festival were the bonfires, the procession with torches around the fields, and the tradition of rolling a wheel. The writer also notes that the smoke drives away harmful spirits that cause illness, and he interprets the custom of rolling the wheel as symbolizing that the sun has reached its highest point in the sky and will then start to descend. From his description, which still holds true today, we see that the key features of the midsummer fire festival are the same as those that characterize the spring festivals. In Swabia, boys and girls, hand in hand, leap over the midsummer bonfire, wishing for the hemp to grow three yards high, and they light straw wheels and send them rolling down the hill. In Lechrain, bonfires are lit on the mountains on Midsummer Day; in addition to the bonfire, a tall beam, heavily wrapped in straw and topped with a cross piece, is burned in many places. Around this cross, as it burns, the young men and women dance; and when the flames have died down, the young people jump over the fire in pairs, a young man and a young woman together. It is believed that the flax will grow as tall that year as they leap over the fire, and that if a charred piece from the fire is taken and placed in a flax field, it will encourage the growth of the flax. At Deffingen, as they jumped over the midsummer bonfire, they shouted, “Flax, flax! may the flax this year grow seven yards high!” In Bohemia, bonfires are lit on many of the mountains on Midsummer Eve; boys and girls, hand in hand, leap over them; cart-wheels smeared with resin are set on fire and sent rolling down the hill; and brooms covered in tar and ignited are swung around or thrown high into the air. The handles of the brooms or embers from the fire are kept and placed in gardens to protect the vegetables from caterpillars and gnats. Sometimes, the boys run down the hillside in groups, waving the burning brooms and yelling. The bonfire is sometimes made by stacking wood and branches around the trunk of a tree and igniting the whole thing.
In old farm-houses of the Surenthal and Winenthal a couple of holes or a whole row of them may sometimes be seen facing each other in the door-posts of the barn or stable. Sometimes the holes are smooth and round; sometimes they are deeply burnt and blackened. [pg 260] The explanation of them is this. About midsummer, but especially on Midsummer Day, two such holes are bored opposite each other, into which the extremities of a strong pole are fixed. The holes are then stuffed with tow steeped in resin and oil; a rope is looped round the pole, and two young men, who must be brothers or must have the same baptismal name, and must be of the same age, pull the ends of the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the pole revolve rapidly, till smoke and sparks issue from the two holes in the door-posts. The sparks are caught and blown up with tinder, and this is the new and pure fire, the appearance of which is greeted with cries of joy. Heaps of combustible materials are now ignited with the new fire, and blazing bundles are placed on boards and sent floating down the brook. The boys light torches at the new fire and run to fumigate the pastures. This is believed to drive away all the demons and witches that molest the cattle. Finally the torches are thrown in a heap on the meadow and allowed to burn out. On their way back the boys strew the ashes over the fields: this is supposed to make them fertile. If a farmer has taken possession of a new house, or if servants have changed masters, the boys fumigate the new abode and are rewarded by the farmer with a supper.687
In the old farmhouses of Surenthal and Winenthal, you might sometimes see a couple of holes or a whole row of them facing each other in the doorposts of the barn or stable. Sometimes the holes are smooth and round; other times they are charred and blackened. [pg 260] Here’s how it works: Around midsummer, especially on Midsummer Day, two holes are drilled opposite each other, into which the ends of a strong pole are inserted. The holes are then packed with tow soaked in resin and oil; a rope is looped around the pole, and two young men—who must be brothers or share the same first name and must be the same age—pull the ends of the rope back and forth to make the pole spin quickly, generating smoke and sparks from the two holes in the doorposts. The sparks are caught and fanned with tinder, creating the new and pure fire, which is celebrated with cheers. Piles of flammable materials are then ignited with this new fire, and flaming bundles are placed on boards and sent floating down the creek. The boys light torches from the new fire and rush to purify the pastures. This is believed to chase away any demons or witches that bother the cattle. Finally, they pile up the torches in the meadow and let them burn out. On their way back, the boys scatter the ashes over the fields, which is thought to make them more fertile. If a farmer has moved into a new house or if servants have switched masters, the boys will purify the new home and are rewarded with a supper from the farmer.
At Konz, on the Moselle, the midsummer fire-festival used to be celebrated as follows. A quantity of straw, contributed jointly by every house, was collected on the top of the Stromberg Hill. Here, towards evening, the men and boys assembled, while the women and girls took up their position at a certain well down below. On the top of the hill a huge wheel was completely covered with a portion of the [pg 261] collected straw, the remainder of which was made into torches. The mayor of Sierk, who always received a basket of cherries for his services, gave the signal, the wheel was ignited with a torch, and sent rolling down the hill amid shouts of joy. All the men and boys swung their torches in the air, some of them remained on the top of the hill, while others followed the fiery wheel on its course down the hillside to the Moselle. As it passed the women and girls at the well they raised cries of joy which were answered by the men on the top of the hill. The inhabitants of the neighbouring villages also stood on the banks of the river and mingled their voices with the general shout of jubilation. The wheel was often extinguished before it reached the water, but if it plunged blazing into the river the people expected an abundant vintage, and the inhabitants of Konz had the right to exact a waggon-load of white wine from the surrounding vineyards.688
At Konz, on the Moselle, the midsummer fire festival used to be celebrated like this. A bunch of straw, collected from every house, was gathered on top of Stromberg Hill. In the evening, the men and boys would gather there while the women and girls positioned themselves at a well down below. On the hilltop, a giant wheel was completely covered with some of the collected straw, and the rest was turned into torches. The mayor of Sierk, who always got a basket of cherries for his efforts, would give the signal to light the wheel with a torch, and it would be sent rolling down the hill to cheers of joy. All the men and boys waved their torches in the air; some stayed on top of the hill while others followed the fiery wheel down to the Moselle. As it passed the women and girls at the well, they shouted with joy, and the men on the hill responded. People from nearby villages also gathered along the riverbank, joining in the celebration. The wheel often went out before reaching the water, but if it plunged into the river still blazing, everyone believed it meant a good harvest, and the residents of Konz had the right to demand a wagon-load of white wine from the surrounding vineyards.688
In France the midsummer customs are similar. In Poitou a wheel enveloped in straw is set on fire, and people run with it through the fields, which are supposed to be fertilised thereby; also, the people leap thrice over the fire, holding in their hands branches of nut-trees, which are afterwards hung over the door of the cattle-stall. At Brest torches are brandished, and hundreds of them flung up into the air together.689 In Britanny midsummer fires blaze on the hills, the people dance round them, singing and leaping over the glowing embers. The bonfire is made by piling wood round a pole which is surmounted by a nosegay or crown.690 [pg 262] Sometimes, instead of rolling fiery wheels, discs of wood are ignited in the midsummer fires and thrown into the air in the manner already described.691 At Edersleben, near Sangerhausen, a high pole was planted in the ground and a tar barrel was hung from it by a chain which reached to the ground. The barrel was then set on fire and swung round the pole amid shouts of joy.692
In France, the midsummer traditions are quite similar. In Poitou, a wheel covered in straw is set on fire, and people run with it through the fields, which are believed to be fertilized by this act. Additionally, participants leap three times over the fire, holding branches from nut trees, which are later hung over the cattle-stall door. In Brest, people wave torches and throw hundreds of them into the air all at once. In Brittany, midsummer fires blaze on the hills, where people dance around them, singing and jumping over the glowing embers. The bonfire is created by stacking wood around a pole topped with a bouquet or crown. Sometimes, instead of rolling fiery wheels, wooden discs are ignited in the midsummer fires and tossed into the air as previously described. In Edersleben, near Sangerhausen, a tall pole is planted in the ground, and a tar barrel is hung from it by a chain that reaches down to the ground. The barrel is then set on fire and swung around the pole amidst shouts of joy.
In our own country the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer has prevailed extensively. In the North of England these fires used to be lit in the open streets. Young and old gathered round them; the former leaped over the fires and engaged in games, while the old people looked on. Sometimes the fires were kindled on the tops of high hills. The people also carried firebrands about the fields.693 In Herefordshire and Somersetshire people used to make fires in the fields on Midsummer Eve “to bless the apples.”694 In Devonshire the custom of leaping over the midsummer fires was also observed.695 In Cornwall bonfires were lit on Midsummer Eve and the people marched round them with lighted torches, which they also carried from village to village. On Whiteborough, a large tumulus near Launceston, a huge bonfire used to be kindled on Midsummer Eve; a tall summer pole with a large bush at the top was fixed in the centre of the bonfire.696 At Darowen in Wales small bonfires were lit on Midsummer Eve.697 On the same [pg 263] day people in the Isle of Man used to light fires to the windward of every field, so that the smoke might pass over the corn; and they folded their cattle and carried blazing furze or gorse round them several times.698
In our own country, the tradition of lighting bonfires at midsummer has been widespread. In the North of England, these fires would be lit in the open streets. Young and old gathered around them; the young would jump over the fires and play games, while the older folks watched. Sometimes the fires were set on top of high hills. People also carried burning torches around the fields.693 In Herefordshire and Somerset, people made bonfires in the fields on Midsummer Eve “to bless the apples.”694 In Devonshire, the tradition of jumping over the midsummer fires was also followed.695 In Cornwall, bonfires were lit on Midsummer Eve, and people marched around them with lighted torches, which they also carried from village to village. At Whiteborough, a large tumulus near Launceston, a huge bonfire was traditionally lit on Midsummer Eve; a tall summer pole with a large bush on top was placed in the center of the bonfire.696 In Darowen, Wales, small bonfires were set on Midsummer Eve.697 On the same [pg 263] day, people in the Isle of Man used to light fires upwind of every field so that the smoke would blow over the crops; they fenced in their cattle and walked around them several times with blazing furze or gorse.698
In Ireland, “on the Eves of St. John Baptist and St. Peter, they always have in every town a bonfire late in the evening, and carry about bundles of reeds fast tied and fired; these being dry, will last long, and flame better than a torch, and be a pleasing divertive prospect to the distant beholder; a stranger would go near to imagine the whole country was on fire.”699 Another writer says of the South of Ireland: “On Midsummer's Eve, every eminence, near which is a habitation, blazes with bonfires; and round these they carry numerous torches, shouting and dancing.”700 An author who described Ireland in the first quarter of last century says: “On the vigil of St. John the Baptist's nativity, they make bonfires, and run along the streets and fields with wisps of straw blazing on long poles to purify the air, which they think infectious by believing all the devils, spirits, ghosts, and hobgoblins fly abroad this night to hurt mankind.”701 Another writer states that he witnessed the festival in Ireland in 1782: “Exactly at midnight the fires began to appear, and taking advantage of going up to the leads of the house, which had a widely extended view, I saw on a radius of thirty miles, all around, the fires burning on every eminence which the country afforded. I had a further satisfaction in learning, from undoubted authority, that the people danced [pg 264]round the fires, and at the close went through these fires, and made their sons and daughters, together with their cattle, pass through the fire; and the whole was conducted with religious solemnity.”702 That the custom prevailed in full force as late as 1867 appears from a notice in the Liverpool Mercury, 29th June 1867, which runs thus: “The old pagan fire-worship still survives in Ireland, though nominally in honour of St. John. On Sunday night bonfires were observed throughout nearly every county in the province of Leinster. In Kilkenny fires blazed on every hillside at intervals of about a mile. There were very many in the Queen's county, also in Kildare and Wexford. The effect in the rich sunset appeared to travellers very grand. The people assemble and dance round the fires, the children jump through the flames, and in former times live coals were carried into the corn-fields to prevent blight.”703
In Ireland, "On the nights before St. John the Baptist and St. Peter, towns always light bonfires late in the evening and carry around tightly bound bundles of reeds that are on fire. Since these reeds are dry, they burn for a long time and create a better flame than a torch, making a beautiful sight for anyone watching from afar; a stranger might easily think the whole country was on fire."699 Another writer describes the South of Ireland: "On Midsummer's Eve, every hill near a home is lit up with bonfires; people gather around these, waving lots of torches, shouting and dancing."700 An author who wrote about Ireland in the early 20th century says: “On the night before St. John the Baptist's birthday, bonfires are lit, and people run through the streets and fields with burning bundles of straw on long poles to cleanse the air, which they believe is polluted since they think all the devils, spirits, ghosts, and hobgoblins roam freely tonight to harm humans.”701 Another writer recounts witnessing the festival in Ireland in 1782: At exactly midnight, the fires started to light up, and since I was on the roof of the house, which offered a wide view, I could see fires burning on every hill within a thirty-mile radius. I was also glad to hear from reliable sources that people danced [pg 264]around the fires, and in the end, they went through the fires themselves, making their sons and daughters, along with their livestock, pass through the flames; the whole event was conducted with a sense of religious solemnity.702 That this custom was still very much alive as late as 1867 is evident from a notice in the Liverpool Mercury, 29th June 1867, which states: The old pagan fire-worship is still alive in Ireland, although it's officially in honor of St. John. On Sunday night, bonfires were spotted in nearly every county in the province of Leinster. In Kilkenny, fires blazed on every hillside about a mile apart. There were many in Queen's County, as well as in Kildare and Wexford. The view against the vibrant sunset was very striking for travelers. People gather and dance around the fires, children leap through the flames, and in the past, live coals were taken into the cornfields to protect against blight.703
In Scotland the traces of midsummer fires are few. In reference to the parish of Mongahitter it is said: “The Midsummer Eve fire, a relic of Druidism, was kindled in some parts of this country.”704 Moresin states that on St. Peter's Day (29th June) the Scotch ran about with lighted torches on mountains and high grounds;705 and at Loudon in Ayrshire it appears that down to the close of last century the custom still prevailed for herdsmen and young people to kindle fires on high grounds on St. Peter's Day.706 In the Perthshire Highlands on Midsummer Day the cowherd used to go three times round the fold, according to the [pg 265] course of the sun, with a burning torch in his hand. This was believed to purify the flocks and herds and prevent diseases.707
In Scotland, the evidence of midsummer fires is limited. Regarding the parish of Mongahitter, it's noted: “The Midsummer Eve fire, a leftover from Druidism, was lit in some areas of this country.”704 Moresin mentions that on St. Peter's Day (June 29th), the Scots would run around with lit torches on mountains and high ground; 705 and in Loudon, Ayrshire, it seems that until the end of the last century, herdsmen and young people still had the tradition of lighting fires on high ground on St. Peter's Day.706 In the Perthshire Highlands on Midsummer Day, the cowherd would walk three times around the fold, following the [pg 265] path of the sun, holding a burning torch. This was thought to purify the flocks and prevent disease.707
In Slavonic countries also the midsummer festival is celebrated with similar rites. In Russia fires are lighted and young people, crowned with flowers, jump through them and drive their cattle through them. In Little Russia a stake is driven into the ground on St. John's Night, wrapt in straw, and set on fire. As the flames rise the peasant women throw birch-tree boughs into them, saying, “May my flax be as tall as this bough!”708 “In Ruthenia the bonfires are lighted by a flame procured from wood by friction, the operation being performed by the elders of the party, amid the respectful silence of the rest. But as soon as the fire is ‘churned,’ the bystanders break forth with joyous songs, and when the bonfires are lit the young people take hands, and spring in couples through the smoke, if not through the flames, and after that the cattle in their turn are driven through it.”709 In many parts of Prussia and Lithuania great fires are kindled on the Eve of St. John (Midsummer Eve). All the heights are ablaze with them, as far as the eye can see. The fires are supposed to be a protection against thunder, hail, and cattle disease, especially if next morning the cattle are driven over the places where the fires burned.710 In some parts of Masuren it is the custom on the evening of Midsummer Day to put out all the fires in the village. Then an oaken stake is driven into the ground, a wheel is fixed on it as on an axle [pg 266] and is made to revolve rapidly, till the friction produces fire. Every one takes home a light from the new fire and rekindles the fire on the domestic hearth.711 In Bohemia the cows used to be driven over the midsummer fires to protect them from witchcraft.712 In Servia on Midsummer Eve herdsmen light torches of birch bark and march round the sheepfolds and cattle-stalls; then they climb the hills and there allow the torches to burn out.713
In Slavic countries, the midsummer festival is celebrated with similar rituals. In Russia, fires are lit and young people, wearing crowns of flowers, jump through them and lead their cattle through the flames. In Little Russia, a stake is driven into the ground on St. John's Night, wrapped in straw and set on fire. As the flames rise, the peasant women toss birch tree branches into them, saying, "May my flax grow as tall as this branch!"708 "In Ruthenia, the bonfires are started with a flame made by friction, done by the elders while everyone else watches in respectful silence. Once the fire is ‘churned,’ the spectators start singing joyful songs. When the bonfires are roaring, the young people hold hands and jump in pairs through the smoke, if not through the flames, and then the cattle are led through it too."709 In many areas of Prussia and Lithuania, large fires are lit on the Eve of St. John (Midsummer Eve). The hills are lit up with them as far as the eye can see. These fires are believed to protect against thunder, hail, and diseases in livestock, especially if the next morning the cattle are walked over the spots where the fires burned.710 In some parts of Masuria, it’s customary on Midsummer Day evening to extinguish all the fires in the village. Then, an oak stake is driven into the ground, a wheel is mounted on it like an axle [pg 266] and spun quickly until friction ignites it. Everyone takes home a flame from the new fire to rekindle their own hearth fire.711 In Bohemia, cattle were driven over the midsummer fires to protect them from witchcraft.712 In Serbia on Midsummer Eve, herdsmen light birch bark torches and march around the sheep pens and cattle stalls, then climb the hills where they allow the torches to burn out.713
In Greece the women light fires on St. John's Eve and jump over them crying, “I leave my sins behind me.”714 Italy must also have had its midsummer bonfires, since at Orvieto they were specially excepted from the prohibition directed against bonfires in general.715 We have seen that they are still lighted in Sardinia.716 In Corsica on the Eve of St. John the people set fire to the trunk of a tree or to a whole tree, and the young men and maidens dance round the blaze, which is called fucaraja.717 Midsummer fires are, or were formerly, lighted in Spain.718 Even the Mohammedans of Algeria and Morocco are reported to have kindled great midsummer bonfires of straw, into which they kept throwing incense and spices the whole night, invoking the divine blessing on their fruit-trees.719
In Greece, women light fires on St. John's Eve and jump over them, shouting, "I let go of my sins."714 Italy must have also had its midsummer bonfires, as evidenced by the fact that in Orvieto, they were specifically exempted from the general ban on bonfires.715 We have seen that they are still lit in Sardinia.716 In Corsica, on the Eve of St. John, people set fire to the trunk of a tree or a whole tree, and the young men and women dance around the fire, which is known as fucaraja.717 Midsummer fires are, or were once, lit in Spain.718 Even the Muslims of Algeria and Morocco are said to have lit huge midsummer bonfires of straw, throwing in incense and spices throughout the night while invoking divine blessings on their fruit trees.719
It remains to show that the burning of effigies of human beings in the midsummer fires was not uncommon. At Rottenburg in Würtemberg, down [pg 267] to the beginning of the present century, a ceremony was observed on Midsummer Day which was called “beheading the angel-man.” A stump was driven into the ground, wrapt with straw, and fashioned into the rude likeness of a human figure, with arms, head, and face. This was the angel-man; round about him wood was piled up. The boys, armed with swords, assembled in crowds, covered the figure completely over with flowers, and eagerly awaited the signal. When the pile of wood was fired and the angel-man burst into a blaze, the word was given and all the boys fell upon him with their swords and hewed the burning figure in pieces. Then they leaped backwards and forwards over the fire.720 In some parts of the Tyrol a straw-man is carted about the village on Midsummer Day and then burned. He is called the Lotter, which has been corrupted into Luther.721 In French Flanders down to 1789 a straw figure representing a man was always burned in the midsummer bonfire, and the figure of a woman was burned on St. Peter's Day, 29th June.722 At Grätz on the 23d June the common people used to make a puppet called the Tatermann, which they dragged to the bleaching-ground, and pelted with burning besoms till it took fire.723 In some parts of Russia a figure of Kupalo is burned or thrown into a stream on St. John's Night.724 The Russian custom of carrying the straw effigy of Kupalo over the midsummer bonfire has been already described.725
It’s important to show that burning effigies of people during midsummer fires wasn’t uncommon. In Rottenburg, Württemberg, up until the early 2000s, there was a ceremony on Midsummer Day known as “beheading the angel-man.” They would drive a stump into the ground, wrap it in straw, and shape it into a rough representation of a human figure, with arms, a head, and a face. This was the angel-man; they piled wood around him. Boys, armed with swords, gathered in crowds, completely covered the figure with flowers, and eagerly waited for the signal. When the wood pile was lit and the angel-man caught fire, the signal was given, and all the boys went at him with their swords, hacking the burning figure into pieces. Then they jumped back and forth over the fire. In some areas of Tyrol, a straw effigy is paraded around the village on Midsummer Day before being burned. It’s called the Lotter, a name that has been changed into Luther. In French Flanders, up until 1789, a straw figure representing a man was always burned in the midsummer bonfire, while a figure of a woman was burned on St. Peter’s Day, June 29. In Grätz on June 23, common people would make a puppet called the Tatermann, drag it to the bleaching ground, and pelt it with burning brooms until it caught fire. In some parts of Russia, a figure of Kupalo is burned or thrown into a stream on St. John's Night. The Russian tradition of carrying the straw effigy of Kupalo over the midsummer bonfire has already been described.
The best general explanation of these European [pg 268] fire-festivals seems to be the one given by Mannhardt, namely, that they are sun-charms or magical ceremonies intended to ensure a proper supply of sunshine for men, animals, and plants. We have seen that savages resort to charms for making sunshine,726 and we need not wonder that primitive man in Europe has done the same. Indeed, considering the cold and cloudy climate of Europe during a considerable part of the year, it is natural that sun-charms should have played a much more prominent part among the superstitious practices of European peoples than among those of savages who live nearer the equator. This view of the festivals in question is supported by various considerations drawn partly from the rites themselves, partly from the influence which they are believed to exert upon the weather and on vegetation. For example, the custom of rolling a burning wheel down a hillside, which is often observed on these occasions, seems a very natural imitation of the sun's course in the sky, and the imitation is especially appropriate on Midsummer Day when the sun's annual declension begins. Not less graphic is the imitation of his apparent revolution by swinging a burning tar-barrel round a pole.727 The custom of throwing blazing discs, shaped like suns, into the air is probably also a piece of imitative magic. In these, as in so many cases, the magic force is supposed to take effect through mimicry or sympathy; by imitating the desired result you actually produce it; by counterfeiting the sun's progress through the heavens you really help the luminary to pursue his celestial journey with punctuality and despatch. The name “fire of heaven,” by which the [pg 269] midsummer fire is sometimes popularly known,728 clearly indicates a consciousness of the connection between the earthly and the heavenly flame.
The best general explanation of these European [pg 268] fire festivals seems to be the one given by Mannhardt, which is that they are sun-charms or magical ceremonies meant to ensure a good supply of sunshine for people, animals, and plants. We've seen that people in primitive societies use charms to create sunshine, and it’s no surprise that early Europeans did the same. In fact, given Europe’s cold and cloudy climate for much of the year, it makes sense that sun-charms would have been more important among European traditions than among those of people living closer to the equator. This perspective on the festivals is backed by various factors derived partly from the rituals themselves and partly from their believed effects on the weather and plant life. For instance, the practice of rolling a burning wheel down a hill, which is often seen during these events, appears to mimic the sun's path across the sky, and this imitation is particularly fitting on Midsummer Day when the sun starts to decline for the year. Equally vivid is the imitation of the sun's apparent orbit by swinging a burning tar barrel around a pole. The tradition of tossing blazing discs shaped like suns into the air likely also represents imitative magic. In these instances, as in many others, the magical power is thought to work through mimicry or sympathy; by imitating the desired outcome, you actually bring it about; by replicating the sun's journey through the sky, you genuinely assist it in completing its celestial path on time. The term "heavenly fire," which is sometimes used to refer to the [pg 269] midsummer fire, clearly shows an awareness of the link between the earthly and the heavenly flame.
Again, the manner in which the fire appears to have been originally kindled on these occasions favours the view that it was intended to be a mock-sun. For, as various scholars have seen,729 it is highly probable that originally at these festivals fire was universally obtained by the friction of two pieces of wood. We have seen that this is still the case in some places both at the Easter and midsummer fires, and that it is expressly stated to have been formerly the case at the Beltane fires.730 But what makes it almost certain that this was once the invariable mode of kindling the fire at these periodic festivals is the analogy of the need-fires. Need-fires are kindled, not at fixed periods, but on occasions of special distress, particularly at the outbreak of a murrain, and the cattle are driven through the need-fire, just as they are sometimes driven through the midsummer fires.731 Now, the need-fire has always been produced by the friction of wood and sometimes by the revolution of a wheel; in Mull, for example, it was made by turning an oaken wheel over nine oaken spindles from east to west, that is, in the direction of the sun. It is a plausible conjecture that the wheel employed to produce the need-fire represents the sun;732 and if the spring and midsummer fires were originally produced in the same way, it would be a confirmation [pg 270] of the view that they were originally sun-charms. In point of fact there is, as Kuhn has pointed out,733 some evidence to show that the midsummer fire was originally thus produced. For at Obermedlingen in Swabia the “fire of heaven,” as it was called, was made on St. Vitus's Day (15th June) by igniting a cart-wheel, which, smeared with pitch and plaited with straw, was fastened on a pole twelve feet high, the top of the pole being inserted in the nave of the wheel. This fire was made on the summit of the mountain, and as the flame ascended, the people uttered a set form of words, with eyes and arms directed heaven-ward.734 Here the fact of a wheel being fixed on the top of a pole and ignited makes it probable that originally the fire was produced, as in the need-fire, by the revolution of a wheel. The day on which the ceremony takes place (15th June) is near midsummer; and we have seen that in Masuren fire is (or was) actually made on Midsummer Day by turning a wheel rapidly about an oaken pole, though it is not said that the new fire so produced is used to light a bonfire.
Again, the way the fire seems to have originally started on these occasions supports the idea that it was meant to represent a mock sun. As various scholars have noted, it’s very likely that at these festivals, fire was typically created by rubbing two pieces of wood together. We’ve seen that this is still done in some places during the Easter and midsummer fires, and that it was specifically mentioned to have been the case at the Beltane fires. However, what strongly suggests that this was once the standard method of starting the fire at these seasonal festivals is the similarity to need-fires. Need-fires are lit, not on a regular schedule, but during times of special distress, especially when there’s a disease outbreak among livestock, and cattle are driven through the need-fire, just like they are sometimes driven through the midsummer fires. Now, need-fires have always been created by rubbing wood together and sometimes by spinning a wheel; for example, in Mull, it was made by rolling an oak wheel over nine oak spindles from east to west, which is the direction of the sun. It’s a reasonable guess that the wheel used to create the need-fire symbolizes the sun; and if the spring and midsummer fires were originally created in a similar way, it would support the idea that they were originally sun charms. In fact, as Kuhn has pointed out, there’s some evidence suggesting that the midsummer fire was originally made this way. In Obermedlingen, Swabia, the “fire of heaven,” as it was called, was created on St. Vitus's Day (15th June) by lighting a cart-wheel, which was coated with pitch and woven with straw, attached to a pole twelve feet high, with the top of the pole inserted into the wheel’s hub. This fire was lit on top of a mountain, and as the flames rose, the people recited a specific set of words, with their eyes and arms directed toward the sky. Here, the fact that a wheel was fixed on top of a pole and set on fire makes it likely that the fire was originally created, like in the need-fire, by spinning a wheel. The day the ceremony takes place (15th June) is close to midsummer; and we've seen that in Masuren, fire is (or was) actually made on Midsummer Day by quickly spinning a wheel around an oak pole, though it’s not mentioned that the new fire produced is used to ignite a bonfire.
Once more, the influence which these bonfires are supposed to exert on the weather and on vegetation, goes to show that they are sun-charms, since the effects ascribed to them are identical with those of sunshine. Thus, in Sweden the warmth or cold of the coming season is inferred from the direction in which the flames of the bonfire are blown; if they blow to the south, it will be warm, if to the north, cold. No doubt at present the direction of the flames is regarded merely as an augury of the weather, not as a mode of influencing it. But we may be pretty sure that this is one of the cases in which magic has [pg 271] dwindled into divination. So in the Eifel Mountains, when the smoke blows towards the corn-fields, this is an omen that the harvest will be abundant. But doubtless the older view was, not merely that the smoke and flames prognosticated, but that they actually produced an abundant harvest, the heat of the flames acting like sunshine on the corn. Indeed, this older view must still have been held by people in the Isle of Man when they lit fires to windward of their fields in order that the smoke might blow over them. Again, the idea that the corn will grow well as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible, is certainly a remnant of the belief in the quickening and fertilising power of the bonfires. The same belief reappears in the notion that embers taken from the bonfires and inserted in the fields will promote the growth of the crops, and again it plainly underlies the custom of mixing the ashes of the bonfire with the seed-corn at sowing, or of scattering the ashes by themselves over the field. The belief that the flax will grow as high as the people leap over the bonfire belongs clearly to the same class of ideas. Once more, we saw that at Konz, on the banks of the Moselle, if the blazing wheel which was trundled down the hillside reached the river without being extinguished, this was hailed as a proof that the vintage would be abundant. So firmly was this belief held that the successful performance of the ceremony entitled the villagers to levy a tax upon the owners of the neighbouring vineyards. Here the unextinguished wheel meant an unclouded sun, and this in turn meant an abundant vintage. So the waggon-load of white wine which the villagers received from the vineyards round about was in fact a payment for the sunshine which they had procured for the grapes.
Once again, the influence that these bonfires are believed to have on the weather and vegetation shows that they are sun-charms, because the effects attributed to them are just like those of sunlight. In Sweden, people predict the warmth or cold of the upcoming season based on the direction the flames of the bonfire are blown; if the flames blow to the south, it will be warm, and if to the north, it will be cold. Nowadays, the direction of the flames is seen merely as a sign of the weather, not as a way to change it. However, it's likely that this is a case where magic has shifted into divination. Similarly, in the Eifel Mountains, when smoke blows toward the fields, it’s considered a sign of a bountiful harvest. But it’s clear that the older belief was not just that the smoke and flames predicted the harvest but that they actually guaranteed a plentiful yield, with the heat of the flames acting like sunshine on the crops. Indeed, it seems that people in the Isle of Man still believed this when they lit fires upwind of their fields so that the smoke would drift over them. Moreover, the idea that corn will grow well as far as the bonfire's light can be seen is definitely a leftover from the belief in the energizing and fertilizing power of the bonfires. This belief resurfaces in the practice of taking embers from the bonfires and placing them in the fields to boost crop growth, as well as in the customs of mixing bonfire ashes with the seed corn when sowing or scattering the ashes alone over the field. The belief that flax will grow as high as the people jump over the bonfire clearly belongs to the same set of ideas. Furthermore, we learned that in Konz, along the banks of the Moselle, if the blazing wheel rolled down the hillside and reached the river without being put out, it was seen as proof of an abundant vintage. This belief was so strong that the successful completion of the ceremony allowed the villagers to impose a tax on the owners of nearby vineyards. Here, the unextinguished wheel represented a clear sky, which in turn indicated a plentiful harvest. Thus, the wagonload of white wine that the villagers received from the surrounding vineyards was essentially a payment for the sunshine they had secured for the grapes.
The interpretation of these fire-customs as charms for making sunshine is confirmed by a parallel custom observed by the Hindoos of Southern India at the Pongol or Feast of Ingathering. The festival is celebrated in the early part of January, when, according to Hindoo astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of Capricorn, and the chief event of the festival coincides with the passage of the sun. For some days previously the boys gather heaps of sticks, straw, dead leaves, and everything that will burn. On the morning of the first day of the festival the heaps are fired. Every street and lane has its bonfire. The young folk leap over the fire or pile on fresh fuel. This fire is an offering to Sûrya, the sun-god, or to Agni, the deity of fire; it “wakes him from his sleep, calling on him again to gladden the earth with his light and heat.”735 To say that the fires awaken the sun-god from his sleep is only a metaphorical and perhaps modernised expression of the belief that they actually help to rekindle the sun's light and heat.
The interpretation of these fire customs as charms for creating sunlight is supported by a similar tradition observed by the Hindus of Southern India during the Pongal or Festival of Harvest. This festival takes place in early January, when, according to Hindu astrologers, the sun moves into the tropic of Capricorn, and the main event of the festival aligns with the sun's passage. In the days leading up to the festival, boys gather piles of sticks, straw, dead leaves, and anything else that will burn. On the morning of the first day of the festival, these piles are set on fire. Every street and alley has its bonfire. Young people jump over the flames or add more fuel. This fire is an offering to Sûrya, the sun-god, or to Agni, the fire deity; it "wakes him from his sleep, urging him once more to brighten the earth with his light and warmth."735 Saying that the fires awaken the sun-god from his sleep is just a metaphorical and maybe modernized way of expressing the belief that they actually help to revive the sun's light and warmth.
The custom of leaping over the fire and driving cattle through it may be intended, on the one hand, to secure for man and beast a share of the vital energy of the sun, and, on the other hand, to purify them from all evil influences; for to the primitive mind fire is the most powerful of all purificatory agents. The latter idea is obviously uppermost in the minds of Greek women when they leap over the midsummer fire, saying, “I leave my sins behind me.” So in Yucatan at a New Year's festival the people used to light a huge bonfire and pass through it, in the belief that this was a means of [pg 273] ridding themselves of their troubles.736 The custom of driving cattle through a fire is not confined to Europe. At certain times the Hottentots make a fire of chips, dry branches, and green twigs, so as to raise a great smoke. Through this fire they drive their sheep, dragging them through by force, if necessary. If the sheep make their escape without passing through the fire, it is reckoned a heavy disgrace and a very bad omen. But if they pass readily through or over the fire, the joy of the Hottentots is indescribable.737
The practice of jumping over fire and driving cattle through it might be aimed at ensuring both people and animals receive a portion of the sun's vital energy, as well as purifying them from all negative influences; to early humans, fire is seen as the strongest purifying force. This belief is clearly evident among Greek women when they jump over the midsummer fire, saying, "I'm leaving my sins behind." Similarly, during a New Year's festival in Yucatan, the people would light a massive bonfire and walk through it, believing it helped them [pg 273] get rid of their troubles.736 The tradition of driving cattle through fire isn’t limited to Europe. At certain times, the Hottentots create a fire with chips, dry branches, and green twigs to generate a lot of smoke. They force their sheep through this fire, pulling them if necessary. If the sheep manage to escape without going through the fire, it’s considered a serious disgrace and a very bad sign. However, if they pass easily through or over the fire, the Hottentots experience immeasurable joy.737
The procession or race with burning torches, which so often forms a part of these fire-festivals, appears to be simply a means of diffusing far and wide the genial influence of the bonfire or of the sunshine which it represents. Hence on these occasions lighted torches are very frequently carried over the fields, sometimes with the avowed intention of fertilising them;738 and with the same intention live coals from the bonfire are sometimes placed in the field “to prevent blight.” The custom of trundling a burning wheel over the fields, which is practised for the express purpose of fertilising them, embodies the same idea in a still more graphic form; since in this way the mock-sun itself, not merely its light and heat represented by torches, is made actually to pass over the ground which is to receive its quickening and kindly influence. Again, the custom of carrying lighted brands round the cattle is plainly [pg 274] equivalent to driving the animals through the fire. It is quite possible that in these customs the idea of the quickening power of fire may be combined with the conception of it as a purgative agent for the expulsion or destruction of evil beings. It is certainly sometimes interpreted in the latter way by persons who practise the customs; and this purgative use of fire comes out very prominently, as we have seen, in the general expulsion of demons from towns and villages. But in the present class of cases this aspect of it is perhaps secondary, if indeed it is more than a later misinterpretation of the custom.
The procession or race with burning torches, which often takes place during these fire festivals, seems to be simply a way to spread the warm influence of the bonfire or the sunshine it represents. Therefore, on these occasions, lit torches are frequently carried across the fields, sometimes with the stated goal of fertilizing them; 738 and for the same reason, live coals from the bonfire are sometimes placed in the fields "to prevent decay." The practice of rolling a burning wheel over the fields, specifically to fertilize them, captures the same idea in a more vivid way; this method allows the mock-sun itself, not just its light and heat as represented by the torches, to actually pass over the ground that will benefit from its nourishing and warm influence. Additionally, the practice of carrying lit brands around the cattle is clearly similar to leading the animals through fire. It's possible that these customs combine the idea of fire as a source of vitality with its role as a cleansing force to rid or destroy evil entities. This purifying aspect of fire is sometimes interpreted in that way by those who follow the customs; and this use of fire stands out notably, as we've seen, in the general exorcism of demons from towns and villages. However, in the cases we’re discussing now, this aspect may be secondary or simply a later misinterpretation of the tradition.
It remains to ask, What is the meaning of burning an effigy in these bonfires? The effigies so burned, as was remarked above, can hardly be separated from the effigies of Death which are burned or otherwise destroyed in spring; and grounds have been already given for regarding the so-called effigies of Death as really representations of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. Are the other effigies, which are burned in the spring and midsummer bonfires, susceptible of the same explanation? It would seem so. For just as the fragments of the so-called Death are stuck in the fields to make the crops grow, so the charred embers of the figure burned in the spring bonfires are sometimes placed in the fields in the belief that they will keep vermin from the crop. Again, the rule that the last married bride must leap over the fire in which the straw-man is burned on Shrove Tuesday, is probably intended to make her fruitful. But, as we have seen, the power of blessing women with offspring is a special attribute of tree-spirits;739 it is therefore a fair presumption that the burning [pg 275] effigy over which the bride must leap is a representative of the fertilising tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. This character of the effigy, as representative of the spirit of vegetation, is almost unmistakable when the effigy is composed of an unthreshed sheaf of corn or is covered from head to foot with flowers.740 Again, it is to be noted that instead of an effigy living trees are sometimes burned both in the spring and midsummer bonfires.741 Now, considering the frequency with which the tree-spirit is represented in human shape, it is hardly rash to suppose that when sometimes a tree and sometimes an effigy is burned in these fires, the effigy and the tree are regarded as equivalent to each other, each being a representative of the tree-spirit. This, again, is confirmed by observing, first, that sometimes the effigy which is to be burned is carried about simultaneously with a May-tree, the former being carried by the boys, the latter by the girls;742 and, second, that the effigy is sometimes tied to a living tree and burned with it.743 In these cases, we can scarcely doubt, the tree-spirit is represented, as we have found it represented before, in duplicate, both by the tree and by the effigy. That the true character of the effigy as a representative of the beneficent spirit of vegetation should sometimes be forgotten, is natural. The custom of burning a beneficent god is too foreign to later modes of thought to escape misinterpretation. Naturally enough the people who continued to burn his image came in time to identify it as the effigy of persons, whom, on various grounds, they considered objectionable, such as Judas Iscariot, Luther, and a witch.
It remains to ask, what does it mean to burn an effigy in these bonfires? The effigies that are burned, as noted earlier, are closely linked to the effigies of Death that are burned or destroyed in the spring. There are already reasons to consider the so-called effigies of Death as actual representations of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. Can the other effigies that are burned in the spring and midsummer bonfires be explained in the same way? It seems so. Just as the remnants of the so-called Death are placed in the fields to promote crop growth, the charred embers of the figure burned in the spring bonfires are sometimes scattered in the fields with the belief that they will protect the crops from pests. Additionally, the tradition that the last married bride must leap over the fire where the straw-man is burned on Shrove Tuesday likely aims to ensure her fertility. As we have observed, the ability to bless women with children is a special trait of tree-spirits; therefore, it makes sense to assume that the effigy over which the bride must jump represents the fertilizing tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. This aspect of the effigy, as a symbol of the spirit of vegetation, becomes almost undeniable when the effigy consists of an unthreshed sheaf of corn or is completely adorned with flowers. Furthermore, it’s important to note that instead of an effigy, living trees are sometimes burned in the spring and midsummer bonfires. Given how often the tree-spirit is represented in human form, it isn’t unreasonable to think that when a tree is burned in one instance and an effigy in another, they are seen as interchangeable, each symbolizing the tree-spirit. This notion is further supported by the fact that occasionally the effigy to be burned is carried around along with a May-tree, with boys carrying the effigy and girls carrying the tree; and also that the effigy is sometimes tied to a living tree and burned alongside it. In these situations, we can hardly doubt that the tree-spirit is represented, as we have previously noted, in dual form, both by the tree and the effigy. It’s understandable that the true nature of the effigy as a symbol of the benevolent spirit of vegetation might sometimes be overlooked. The practice of burning a benevolent god is so foreign to later ways of thinking that it is likely to be misinterpreted. Naturally, the people who continued to burn his image eventually came to associate it with the effigies of individuals they found objectionable for various reasons, such as Judas Iscariot, Luther, and a witch.
The general reasons for killing a god or his [pg 276] representative have been examined in the preceding chapter. But when the god happens to be a deity of vegetation, there are special reasons why he should die by fire. For light and heat are necessary to vegetable growth; and, on the principle of sympathetic magic, by subjecting the personal representative of vegetation to their influence, you secure a supply of these necessaries for trees and crops. In other words, by burning the spirit of vegetation in a fire which represents the sun, you make sure that, for a time at least, vegetation shall have plenty of sun. It may be objected that, if the intention is simply to secure enough sunshine for vegetation, this end would be better attained, on the principles of sympathetic magic, by merely passing the representative of vegetation through the fire instead of burning him. In point of fact this is sometimes done. In Russia, as we have seen, the straw figure of Kupalo is not burned in the midsummer fire, but merely carried backwards and forwards across it.744 But, for the reasons already given, it is necessary that the god should die; so next day Kupalo is stripped of her ornaments and thrown into a stream. In this Russian custom, therefore, the passage of the image through the fire is a sun-charm pure and simple; the killing of the god is a separate act, and the mode of killing him—by drowning—is probably a rain-charm. But usually people have not thought it necessary to draw this fine distinction; for the various reasons already assigned, it is advantageous, they think, to expose the god of vegetation to a considerable degree of heat, and it is also advantageous to kill him, and they combine these advantages in a rough-and-ready way by burning him.
The general reasons for killing a god or his [pg 276] representative have been discussed in the previous chapter. However, when the god is a deity of vegetation, there are specific reasons for him to die by fire. Light and heat are essential for plant growth; and based on the principle of sympathetic magic, by placing the personal representative of vegetation under their influence, you ensure a supply of these necessities for trees and crops. In other words, by burning the spirit of vegetation in a fire that symbolizes the sun, you guarantee that, at least for a time, plants will receive ample sunlight. One might argue that if the goal is simply to secure enough sunshine for plants, this could be better achieved, through the principles of sympathetic magic, by just passing the representative of vegetation through the fire instead of burning him. In fact, this is sometimes done. In Russia, as we have seen, the straw figure of Kupalo is not burned in the midsummer fire but merely carried back and forth across it. But, for the reasons already mentioned, it is essential that the god should die; so the next day, Kupalo is stripped of her decorations and thrown into a stream. In this Russian tradition, then, passing the image through the fire serves as a sun-charm, while killing the god is a separate act, and the method of killing him—by drowning—likely serves as a rain-charm. Nonetheless, people often do not see the need to make this fine distinction; for the various reasons previously given, they believe it is beneficial to expose the god of vegetation to a significant amount of heat, and it is also seen as advantageous to kill him, so they combine these benefits in a straightforward way by burning him.
Finally, we have to ask, were human beings formerly burned as representatives of the tree-spirit or deity of vegetation? We have seen reasons for believing that living persons have often acted as representatives of the tree-spirit, and have suffered death as such. There is no reason, therefore, why they should not have been burned, if any special advantages were likely to be attained by putting them to death in that way. The consideration of human suffering is not one which enters into the calculations of primitive man. It would have been surprising if it did, when we remember the record of Christian Europe. Now, in the fire-festivals which we are discussing, the pretence of burning people is sometimes carried so far that it seems reasonable to regard it as a mitigated survival of an older custom of actually burning them. Thus in Aachen, as we saw, the man clad in peas-straw acts so cleverly that the children really believe he is being burned. And at the Beltane fires the pretended victim was seized, and a show made of throwing him into the fire, and for some time afterwards people affected to speak of him as dead. In the following customs Mannhardt is probably right in recognising traces of an old custom of burning a leaf-clad representative of the spirit of vegetation. At Wolfeck, in Austria, on Midsummer Day, a boy completely clad in green fir branches goes from house to house, accompanied by a noisy crew, collecting wood for the bonfire. As he gets the wood he sings—
Finally, we have to ask, were human beings once burned as symbols of the tree spirit or god of vegetation? We've seen reasons to believe that living people often acted as representatives of the tree spirit and suffered death as such. There's no reason they couldn't have been burned if doing so had some special benefit. The idea of human suffering doesn’t factor into the calculations of primitive people. It would be surprising if it did, considering the history of Christian Europe. Now, in the fire festivals we're discussing, the act of pretending to burn people is sometimes taken to such an extent that it seems reasonable to view it as a softened version of an older tradition of actually burning them. For example, in Aachen, as we saw, the man dressed in pea straw performs so convincingly that the children genuinely believe he is being burned. And at the Beltane fires, the fake victim was seized, and a show was made of throwing him into the fire, with people continuing to refer to him as if he were dead for some time afterward. In the following customs, Mannhardt is likely correct to identify traces of an older practice of burning a leaf-clad representative of the spirit of vegetation. In Wolfeck, Austria, on Midsummer Day, a boy fully dressed in green fir branches travels from house to house, accompanied by a noisy group, collecting wood for the bonfire. As he gathers the wood, he sings—
In some parts of Bavaria, also, the boys who go from house to house collecting fuel for the midsummer bonfire envelop one of their number from head to foot in green branches of firs, and lead him by a rope through the whole village.746 At Moosheim, in Würtemberg, the festival of St. John's Fire usually lasted for fourteen days, ending on the second Sunday after Midsummer Day. On this last day the bonfire was left in charge of the children, while the older people retired to a wood. Here they encased a young fellow in leaves and twigs, who, thus disguised, went to the fire, scattered it, and trod it out. All the people present fled at the sight of him.747
In some areas of Bavaria, the boys who go from house to house collecting fuel for the midsummer bonfire wrap one of their friends completely in green fir branches and lead him around the village on a rope. 746 In Moosheim, Würtemberg, the St. John's Fire festival typically lasted for fourteen days, ending on the second Sunday after Midsummer Day. On that final day, the bonfire was watched over by the children while the adults went to a nearby woods. There, they covered a young man in leaves and twigs, and he, dressed up like this, went to the fire, scattered it, and stomped it out. Everyone present fled in fear at the sight of him. 747
But it seems possible to go farther than this. Of human sacrifices offered on these occasions the most unequivocal traces, as we have seen, are those which, about a hundred years ago, still lingered at the Beltane fires in the Highlands of Scotland, that is, among a Celtic people who, situated in a remote corner of Europe, enjoying practical independence, and almost completely isolated from foreign influence, had till then conserved their old heathenism better than any other people in the West of Europe. It is significant, therefore, that human sacrifices by fire are known, on unquestionable evidence, to have been systematically practised by the Celts. The earliest description of these sacrifices is by Julius Caesar. As conqueror of the hitherto independent Celts of Gaul, Caesar had ample opportunity of observing the national Celtic religion and manners, while these were still fresh and crisp from the native mint and had not yet been fused in the melting-pot of Roman civilisation. With [pg 279] his own notes Caesar appears to have incorporated the observations of a Greek explorer, by name Posidonius, who travelled in Gaul about fifty years before Caesar carried the Roman arms to the English Channel. The Greek geographer Strabo and the historian Diodorus seem also to have derived their descriptions of the Celtic sacrifices from the work of Posidonius, but independently of each other and of Caesar, for each of the three derivative accounts contains some details which are not to be found in either of the others. By combining them, therefore, we can restore the original account of Posidonius with some certainty, and thus obtain a picture of the sacrifices offered by the Celts of Gaul at the close of the second century b.c.748 The following seem to have been the main outlines of the custom. Condemned criminals were reserved by the Celts in order to be sacrificed to the gods at a great festival which took place once in every five years. The more there were of such victims, the greater was believed to be the fertility of the land.749 When there were not enough criminals to furnish victims, captives taken in war were sacrificed to supply the deficiency. When the time came the victims were sacrificed by the Druids or priests. Some were shot down with arrows, some were impaled, and some were burned alive in the following manner. Colossal images of wicker-work or of wood and grass were constructed; these were filled with live men, cattle, and animals of other kinds; fire was then applied to the images, and they were burned with their living contents.
But it seems possible to go even further than this. The most clear evidence of human sacrifices offered on these occasions, as we've seen, comes from about a hundred years ago at the Beltane fires in the Highlands of Scotland. This was among a Celtic group that, located in a remote part of Europe, enjoyed practical independence and was almost entirely isolated from foreign influence. They had preserved their old pagan beliefs better than any other people in Western Europe. It's significant, therefore, that human sacrifices by fire were known, with undeniable evidence, to have been systematically practiced by the Celts. The earliest account of these sacrifices is by Julius Caesar. As the conqueror of the previously independent Celts of Gaul, Caesar had plenty of opportunity to observe the national Celtic religion and customs while they were still fresh and hadn't yet blended with Roman civilization. Along with his notes, Caesar seems to have included observations from a Greek explorer named Posidonius, who traveled in Gaul about fifty years before Caesar brought Roman forces to the English Channel. The Greek geographer Strabo and the historian Diodorus also appear to have based their descriptions of the Celtic sacrifices on Posidonius's work, but independently of one another and Caesar, since each of the three accounts has some details not found in the others. By combining them, we can recreate Posidonius's original account with some confidence and thus gain a picture of the sacrifices made by the Celts of Gaul at the end of the second century B.C. The main outlines of the custom seem to have been as follows: the Celts reserved condemned criminals to be sacrificed to the gods at a major festival that occurred every five years. The more victims there were, the greater the believed fertility of the land. When there weren't enough criminals to provide victims, captives taken in war were sacrificed to make up for the shortfall. When the time came, the victims were sacrificed by the Druids or priests. Some were shot with arrows, some were impaled, and some were burned alive in the following way: massive images made of wicker, wood, and grass were built; these were filled with live men, cattle, and other animals; then fire was set to the images, burning them along with their living contents.
Such were the great festivals held once every five years. But besides these quinquennial festivals, celebrated on so grand a scale and with, apparently, so large an expenditure of human life, it seems reasonable to suppose that festivals of the same sort, only on a lesser scale, were held annually, and that from these annual festivals are lineally descended some at least of the fire-festivals which, with their traces of human sacrifices, are still celebrated year by year in many parts of Europe. The gigantic images constructed of osiers or covered with grass in which the Druids enclosed their victims remind us of the leafy framework in which the human representative of the tree-spirit is still so often encased.750 Considering, therefore, that the fertility of the land was apparently supposed to depend upon the due performance of these sacrifices, Mannhardt is probably right in viewing the Celtic victims, cased in osiers and grass, as representatives of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. These wicker giants of the Druids seem to have still their representatives at the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe. At Douay a procession takes place annually on the Sunday nearest to the 7th of July. The great feature of the procession is a colossal figure made of osiers, and called “the giant,” which is moved through the streets by means of rollers and ropes worked by men who are enclosed within the figure. The wooden head of the giant is said to have been carved and painted by Rubens. The figure is armed as a knight with lance and sword, helmet and shield. Behind him march his wife and his three children, all constructed of osiers on the same principle, but on a smaller scale.751 At Dunkirk the giant is forty [pg 281] to fifty feet high, being made of basket-work and canvas, properly painted and dressed. It contains a great many living men within it, who move it about. Wicker giants of this sort are common in the towns of Belgium and French Flanders; they are led about at the Carnival in spring. The people, it is said, are much attached to these grotesque figures, speak of them with patriotic enthusiasm, and never weary of gazing at them.752 In England artificial giants seem to have been a standing feature of the midsummer festival. A writer of the sixteenth century speaks of “Midsommer pageants in London, where, to make the people wonder, are set forth great and uglie gyants, marching as if they were alive, and armed at all points, but within they are stuffed full of browne paper and tow, which the shrewd boyes, underpeeping, do guilefully discover, and turne to a greate derision.”753 The Mayor of Chester in 1599 “altered many antient customs, as the shooting for the sheriff's breakfast; the going of the Giants at Midsommer, etc.”754 In these cases the giants only figure in the processions. But sometimes they are burned in the spring or summer bonfires. Thus the people of the Rue aux Ours in Paris used annually to make a great wicker-work figure, dressed as a soldier, which they promenaded up and down the streets for several days, and solemnly burned on the 3d of July, the crowd of spectators singing Salve Regina. The burning fragments of the image were scattered among the people, who eagerly scrambled for them. The [pg 282] custom was abolished in 1743.755 In Brie, Isle de France, a wicker-work giant, eighteen feet high, was annually burned on Midsummer Eve.756
Such were the great festivals held once every five years. But besides these quinquennial festivals, celebrated on such a grand scale and with, apparently, such a large expenditure of human life, it seems reasonable to think that similar festivals, just on a smaller scale, were held annually, and that some of the fire-festivals, which still include traces of human sacrifices, are directly descended from these annual ones that are still celebrated year after year in many parts of Europe. The gigantic figures made of willows or covered with grass in which the Druids enclosed their victims remind us of the leafy structures in which the human representative of the tree spirit is still often encased.750 Given that the fertility of the land was believed to depend on the proper performance of these sacrifices, Mannhardt is likely correct in seeing the Celtic victims, enclosed in willows and grass, as representations of the tree spirit or spirit of vegetation. These wicker giants of the Druids seem to still have their counterparts at the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe. In Douay, a procession takes place each year on the Sunday closest to July 7th. The main feature of the procession is a colossal figure made of willows, called “the giant,” which is rolled through the streets using rollers and ropes operated by men hidden inside the figure. The wooden head of the giant is said to have been carved and painted by Rubens. The figure is equipped as a knight with lance, sword, helmet, and shield. Behind him march his wife and three children, all made of willows in the same style, but on a smaller scale.751 At Dunkirk, the giant stands forty [pg 281] to fifty feet tall, constructed from basket-work and canvas, properly painted and dressed. Many living men move within it. Wicker giants like this are common in towns of Belgium and French Flanders; they are paraded during the Carnival in spring. People are reportedly very fond of these quirky figures, speak of them with national pride, and never grow tired of watching them.752 In England, artificial giants seem to have been a staple of the midsummer festival. A 16th-century writer talks about “Midsummer festivals in London feature giant, hideous figures meant to amaze the crowd. These giants march as if they’re alive, fully armored, but inside they’re just filled with brown paper and tow. Mischievous boys sneak peeks and make fun of them, leading to lots of laughter.”753 The Mayor of Chester in 1599 “changed many old traditions, including the shooting for the sheriff's breakfast, the appearance of the Giants at Midsummer, and so on.”754 In these instances, the giants only appear in processions. But sometimes they are burned in spring or summer bonfires. For example, the people of the Rue aux Ours in Paris used to create a large wicker figure dressed as a soldier each year, which they paraded around the streets for several days and then solemnly burned on July 3rd, while the crowd sang Hail, Queen. The burned fragments of the figure were scattered among the crowd, who eagerly scrambled to grab them. The [pg 282] custom was ended in 1743.755 In Brie, Isle de France, a wicker giant, eighteen feet tall, was burned each year on Midsummer Eve.756
Again, the Druidical custom of burning live animals, enclosed in wicker-work, has its counterpart at the spring and midsummer festivals. At Luchon in the Pyrenees on Midsummer Eve “a hollow column, composed of strong wicker-work, is raised to the height of about sixty feet in the centre of the principal suburb, and interlaced with green foliage up to the very top; while the most beautiful flowers and shrubs procurable are artistically arranged in groups below, so as to form a sort of background to the scene. The column is then filled with combustible materials, ready for ignition. At an appointed hour—about 8 p.m.—a grand procession, composed of the clergy, followed by young men and maidens in holiday attire, pour forth from the town chanting hymns, and take up their position around the column. Meanwhile, bonfires are lit, with beautiful effect, in the surrounding hills. As many living serpents as could be collected are now thrown into the column, which is set on fire at the base by means of torches, armed with which about fifty boys and men dance around with frantic gestures. The serpents, to avoid the flames, wriggle their way to the top, whence they are seen lashing out laterally until finally obliged to drop, their struggles for life giving rise to enthusiastic delight among the surrounding spectators. This is a favourite annual ceremony for the inhabitants of Luchon and its neighbourhood, and local tradition assigns to it a heathen origin.”757 In the midsummer [pg 283] fires formerly kindled on the Place de Grève at Paris it was the custom to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats; sometimes a fox was burned. The people collected the embers and ashes of the fire and took them home, believing that they brought good luck.758 At Metz midsummer fires were lighted on the Esplanade, and six cats were burned in them.759 In Russia a white cock was sometimes burned in the midsummer bonfire;760 in Meissen or Thüringen a horse's head used to be thrown into it.761 Sometimes animals are burned in the spring bonfires. In the Vosges cats were burned on Shrove Tuesday; in Elsass they were thrown into the Easter bonfire.762 We have seen that squirrels were sometimes burned in the Easter fire.
Again, the Druid custom of burning live animals in wicker cages is mirrored in the spring and midsummer festivals. At Luchon in the Pyrenees on Midsummer Eve, a hollow column made of strong wickerwork is raised to about sixty feet high in the center of the main suburb, decorated with green leaves up to the top. Beautiful flowers and shrubs are arranged below to create a backdrop for the scene. The column is then filled with flammable materials, ready to be ignited. At a set time—around 8 p.m.—a grand procession of clergy, followed by young men and women in festive clothing, emerges from the town singing hymns and gathers around the column. Meanwhile, bonfires are lit in the surrounding hills, creating a stunning effect. As many living snakes as could be gathered are thrown into the column, which is ignited at the base by torches; about fifty boys and men dance around with wild movements. The snakes, trying to escape the flames, wriggle to the top, where they can be seen thrashing around until they have no choice but to fall, their struggle for survival delighting the spectators. This is a beloved annual event for the people of Luchon and the nearby area, and local tradition claims it has pagan roots. In the midsummer fires that were once lit on the Place de Grève in Paris, it was customary to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats; sometimes a fox was burned as well. The people collected the embers and ashes, believing they brought good luck. In Metz, midsummer fires were lit on the Esplanade, where six cats were burned. In Russia, a white rooster was sometimes burned in the midsummer bonfire; in Meissen or Thüringen, a horse's head was tossed into it. Sometimes animals are burned in the spring bonfires. In the Vosges, cats were burned on Shrove Tuesday, and in Elsass, they were thrown into the Easter bonfire. We have seen that squirrels were occasionally burned in the Easter fire.
If the men who were burned in wicker frames by the Druids represented the spirit of vegetation, the animals burned along with them must have had the same meaning. Amongst the animals burned by the Druids or in modern bonfires have been, as we saw, cattle, cats, foxes, and cocks; and all of these creatures are variously regarded by European peoples as embodiments of the corn-spirit.763 I am not aware of any certain evidence that in Europe serpents have been regarded as representatives of the tree-spirit or corn-spirit;764 as victims at the midsummer festival in Luchon they may [pg 284] have replaced animals which really had this representative character. When the meaning of the custom was forgotten, utility and humanity might unite in suggesting the substitution of noxious reptiles as victims in room of harmless and useful animals.
If the men who were burned in wicker frames by the Druids symbolized the spirit of vegetation, the animals burned alongside them likely held the same significance. As we previously noted, among the animals burned by the Druids or in modern bonfires have been cattle, cats, foxes, and roosters; all of these creatures are seen by various European peoples as representations of the corn spirit. I’m not aware of any conclusive evidence that serpents have been viewed in Europe as symbols of the tree spirit or corn spirit; as sacrifices at the midsummer festival in Luchon, they may have replaced animals that truly had this symbolic role. Once the original meaning of the custom was forgotten, practicality and compassion may have led to the choice of harmful reptiles as sacrifices instead of harmless and beneficial animals.
Thus it appears that the sacrificial rites of the Celts of ancient Gaul can be traced in the popular festivals of modern Europe. Naturally it is in France, or rather in the wider area comprised within the limits of ancient Gaul, that these rites have left the clearest traces in the customs of burning giants of wicker-work and animals enclosed in wicker-work or baskets. These customs, it will have been remarked, are generally observed at or about midsummer. From this we may infer that the original rites of which these are the degenerate successors were solemnised at midsummer. This inference harmonises with the conclusion suggested by a general survey of European folk-custom, that the midsummer festival must on the whole have been the most widely diffused and the most solemn of all the yearly festivals celebrated by the primitive Aryans in Europe. And in its application to the Celts this general conclusion is corroborated by the more or less perfect vestiges of midsummer fire-festivals which we have found lingering in all those westernmost promontories and islands which are the last strongholds of the Celtic race in Europe—Britanny, Cornwall, Wales, the Isle of Man, Scotland, and Ireland. In Scotland, it is true, the chief Celtic fire-festivals certainly appear to have been held at Beltane (1st May) and Hallow E'en; but this was exceptional.
Thus, it seems that the sacrificial rituals of the ancient Celts in Gaul can be seen in the popular festivals of modern Europe. Naturally, it is in France, or more accurately in the broader region that used to be ancient Gaul, where these rituals have left the most noticeable marks in the customs of burning wickerwork giants and animals enclosed in wickerwork or baskets. These customs are typically observed around midsummer. From this, we can deduce that the original rituals, from which these are later versions, were celebrated at midsummer. This deduction aligns with the conclusion drawn from a general overview of European folk customs, suggesting that the midsummer festival was likely the most widespread and significant of all the annual festivals celebrated by the early Aryans in Europe. In relation to the Celts, this overall conclusion is supported by the various remnants of midsummer fire festivals that we have found lingering in the westernmost areas and islands that are the last bastions of the Celtic race in Europe—Brittany, Cornwall, Wales, the Isle of Man, Scotland, and Ireland. In Scotland, it is true, the main Celtic fire festivals seem to have been held at Beltane (May 1st) and Hallowe’en; however, this was the exception.
To sum up: the combined evidence of ancient writers and of modern folk-custom points to the conclusion that amongst the Celts of Gaul an annual [pg 285] festival was celebrated at midsummer, at which living men, representing the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation, were enclosed in wicker-frames and burned. The whole rite was designed as a charm to make the sun to shine and the crops to grow.
To sum up: the combined evidence from ancient writers and modern folk customs suggests that among the Celts of Gaul, an annual [pg 285] festival was celebrated at midsummer, where living men, representing the tree spirit or spirit of vegetation, were enclosed in wicker frames and burned. The entire ritual aimed to ensure the sun would shine and the crops would grow.
But another great feature of the Celtic midsummer festival appears to have been the gathering of the sacred mistletoe by the Druids. The ceremony has been thus described by Pliny in a passage which has often been quoted. After enumerating the different kinds of mistletoe he proceeds: “In treating of this subject, the admiration in which the mistletoe is held throughout Gaul ought not to pass unnoticed. The Druids, for so they call their wizards, esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree on which it grows, provided only that the tree is an oak. But apart from this they choose oak-woods for their sacred groves and perform no sacred rites without oak-leaves; so that the very name of Druids may be regarded as a Greek appellation derived from their worship of the oak.765 For they believe that whatever grows on these trees is sent from heaven, and is a sign that the tree has been chosen by the god himself. The mistletoe is very rarely to be met with; but when it is found, they gather it with solemn ceremony. This they do especially in the sixth month (the beginnings of their months and years are determined by the moon) and after the tree has passed the thirtieth year of its age, [pg 286] because by that time it has plenty of vigour, though it has not attained half its full size. After due preparations have been made for a sacrifice and a feast under the tree, they hail it as the universal healer and bring to the spot two white bulls, whose horns have never been bound before. A priest clad in a white robe climbs the tree and with a golden766 sickle cuts the mistletoe, which is caught in a white cloth. Then they sacrifice the victims, praying that God may make his own gift to prosper with those upon whom he has bestowed it. They believe that a potion prepared from mistletoe will make barren animals to bring forth, and that the plant is a remedy against all poison.”767
But another great feature of the Celtic midsummer festival seems to have been the gathering of sacred mistletoe by the Druids. Pliny described this ceremony in a frequently quoted passage. After listing the different types of mistletoe, he continues: When discussing this topic, the importance of mistletoe in Gaul should not be missed. The Druids, as they refer to their priests, hold nothing more sacred than mistletoe and the tree it grows on, provided that tree is an oak. They prefer oak forests for their sacred groves and perform no rituals without oak leaves, which is why the name Druids can be seen as a Greek term stemming from their reverence for the oak.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ They believe that anything growing on these trees is a divine gift, indicating that the tree has been chosen by the god himself. Mistletoe is quite rare, but when they find it, they gather it with a formal ceremony. They particularly do this in the sixth month (as their months and years begin with the moon) and after the tree has reached thirty years of age, [pg 286] since by that time it has substantial strength, even though it hasn't fully grown. After making the necessary preparations for a sacrifice and a feast under the tree, they honor it as a universal healer and bring two white bulls to the location, whose horns have never been tied. A priest in a white robe climbs the tree and, using a golden__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__ sickle, cuts the mistletoe, which is caught in a white cloth. Then they sacrifice the animals, praying that God may bless his own gift to those who receive it. They believe that a potion made from mistletoe can help barren animals conceive and that the plant acts as an antidote to all poisons.767
In saying that the Druids cut the mistletoe in the sixth month Pliny must have had in his mind the Roman calendar, in which the sixth month was June. Now, if the cutting of the mistletoe took place in June, we may be almost certain that the day which witnessed the ceremony was Midsummer Eve. For in many places Midsummer Eve, a day redolent of a thousand decaying fancies of yore, is still the time for culling certain magic plants, whose evanescent virtue can be secured at this mystic season alone. For example, on Midsummer Eve the fern is believed to burst into a wondrous bloom, like fire or burnished gold. Whoever [pg 287] catches this bloom, which very quickly fades and falls off, can make himself invisible, can understand the language of animals, and so forth. But he must not touch it with his hand; he must spread a white cloth under the fern, and the magic bloom (or seed) will fall into it.768 Again, St. John's wort (Hypericum perforatum), a herb which is believed to heal all kinds of wounds and to drive away witches and demons, is gathered on Midsummer Eve (Eve of St. John), and is worn as an amulet or hung over doors and windows on that day.769 Again, mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) is believed to possess magic qualities provided it be gathered on St. John's Eve. Hence in France it is called the herb of St. John. People weave themselves a girdle of the plant, believing that it will protect them against ghosts, magic, misfortune, and disease, throughout the year. Or they weave garlands of it on St. John's Eve, and look through them at the midsummer bonfire or put them on their heads. Whoever does this will suffer no aches in his eyes or head that year. Sometimes the plant is thrown into the midsummer bonfire.770 The superstitious association of fern-seed, St. John's wort, and mugwort with Midsummer Eve is widely diffused over Europe. The following associations seem to be more local. In England the orpine (Sedum telephium) is popularly called Midsummer [pg 288] Men, because it has been customary to gather it on Midsummer Eve for the purpose of using it to ascertain the fate of lovers;771 and in England sprigs of red sage are sometimes gathered on Midsummer Eve for the same purpose.772 In Bohemia poachers fancy they can make themselves invulnerable by means of fir-cones gathered before sunrise on St. John's Day.773 Again, in Bohemia wild thyme gathered on Midsummer Day is used to fumigate the trees on Christmas Eve, in order that they may grow well.774 In Germany and Bohemia a plant called St. John's Flower or St. John's Blood (Hieracium pilosella) is gathered on Midsummer Eve. It should be rooted up with a gold coin. The plant is supposed to bring luck and to be especially good for sick cattle.775
In saying that the Druids cut mistletoe in the sixth month, Pliny must have been referring to the Roman calendar, where the sixth month is June. Now, if the cutting of the mistletoe happened in June, we can be almost certain that the day of the ceremony was Midsummer Eve. In many places, Midsummer Eve—a day filled with old, fading traditions—is still the time for gathering certain magical plants, whose fleeting power can only be captured at this mystical time. For example, on Midsummer Eve, the fern is believed to bloom beautifully, like fire or shiny gold. Whoever catches this bloom, which fades and falls off very quickly, can become invisible, understand animal speech, and so on. But they must not touch it with their hand; they need to place a white cloth under the fern, and the magical bloom (or seed) will drop onto it.768 Also, St. John's wort (Hypericum perforatum), a herb thought to heal various wounds and ward off witches and demons, is collected on Midsummer Eve (the Eve of St. John) and is worn as a charm or hung over doors and windows on that day.769 Additionally, mugwort (Mugwort) is believed to have magical properties if picked on St. John's Eve. Therefore, in France, it is known as St. John's herb. People make a belt from the plant, believing it will protect them from ghosts, magic, bad luck, and illness all year long. They also weave garlands of it on St. John's Eve and look through them at the midsummer bonfire or wear them on their heads. Anyone who does this will not have eye or head pain for that year. Sometimes the plant is tossed into the midsummer bonfire.770 The superstitious links of fern-seed, St. John's wort, and mugwort with Midsummer Eve are common throughout Europe. The following associations appear to be more local. In England, orpine (Sedum telephium) is commonly referred to as Midsummer Men, as it has been customary to gather it on Midsummer Eve to predict the fates of lovers; 771 and in England, sprigs of red sage are sometimes collected on Midsummer Eve for the same purpose.772 In Bohemia, poachers believe they can render themselves invulnerable by gathering fir cones before sunrise on St. John's Day.773 Again, in Bohemia, wild thyme picked on Midsummer Day is used to fumigate trees on Christmas Eve so they will grow well.774 In Germany and Bohemia, a plant called St. John's Flower or St. John's Blood (Mouse-ear Hawkweed) is harvested on Midsummer Eve. It should be uprooted with a gold coin. The plant is believed to bring good luck and is particularly beneficial for sick cattle.775
These facts by themselves would suffice to raise a strong presumption that, if the Druids cut the mistletoe in June, as we learn from Pliny that they did, the day on which they cut it could have been no other than Midsummer Eve or Midsummer Day. This presumption is converted into practical certainty when we find it to be still a rule of folk-lore that the mistletoe should be cut on Midsummer Eve.776 Further, the peasants of Piedmont and Lombardy still go out on Midsummer morning to search the oak-leaves for the “oil of St. John,” which is supposed to heal all wounds made with cutting instruments.777 Originally no doubt the “oil of St. John” was simply the mistletoe, or a decoction made [pg 289] from it. For in Holstein the mistletoe, especially oak-mistletoe, is still regarded as a panacea for green wounds;778 and if, as is alleged, “all-healer” is an epithet of the mistletoe in the modern Celtic speech of Britanny, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland,779 this can be nothing but a survival of the name by which, as we have seen, the Druids addressed the oak, or rather, perhaps, the mistletoe.
These facts alone would be enough to create a strong assumption that if the Druids cut the mistletoe in June, as Pliny tells us they did, the day they did it could only have been Midsummer Eve or Midsummer Day. This assumption becomes practically certain when we observe that it is still a tradition that mistletoe should be cut on Midsummer Eve.776 Additionally, the peasants of Piedmont and Lombardy still go out on Midsummer morning to look for oak leaves for the “St. John's oil,” which is believed to heal all wounds made by cutting instruments.777 Originally, the “St. John's Wort oil” was likely just the mistletoe or a preparation made from it. In Holstein, mistletoe, particularly oak-mistletoe, is still seen as a cure for green wounds;778 and if, as claimed, "healer" is a term for mistletoe in modern Celtic languages of Brittany, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland,779 this must be a remnant of the name the Druids used for the oak, or perhaps, more accurately, for the mistletoe.
Thus it appears that the two main features of the Balder myth—the pulling of the mistletoe and the burning of the god—were reproduced in the great midsummer festival of the Celts. But in Scandinavia itself, the home of Balder, both these features of his myth can still be traced in the popular celebration of midsummer. For in Sweden on Midsummer Eve mistletoe is “diligently sought after, they believing it to be, in a high degree, possessed of mystic qualities; and that if a sprig of it be attached to the ceiling of the dwelling-house, the horse's stall, or the cow's crib, the ‘Troll’ will then be powerless to injure either man or beast.”780 And in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark huge bonfires are kindled on hills and eminences on Midsummer Eve.781 It does not appear, indeed, that any effigy is burned in these bonfires; but the burning of an effigy is a feature which might easily drop out after its meaning was forgotten. And the name of Balder's bale-fires (Balder's Bălar), by which these midsummer fires were formerly known in Sweden,782 puts their connection with Balder beyond the reach of doubt, and makes it certain that in [pg 290] former times either a living representative or an effigy of Balder must have been annually burned in them. Midsummer was the season sacred to Balder, and the fact that the Swedish poet Tegner, in his Frithiofssaga, places the burning of Balder at midsummer783 may perhaps be allowed as evidence of a Swedish tradition to that effect. From this double coincidence of the Balder myth, on the one hand with the midsummer festival of Celtic Gaul and on the other with the midsummer festival in Scandinavia, we may safely conclude that the myth is not a myth pure and simple, that is, a mere description of physical phenomena in imagery borrowed from human life; it must undoubtedly be a ritualistic myth, that is a myth based on actual observation of religious ceremonies and purporting to explain them. Now, the standing explanation which myth gives of ritual is that the ritual in question is a periodic commemoration of some remarkable transaction in the past, the actors in which may have been either gods or men. Such an explanation the Balder myth would seem to offer of the annual fire-festivals which, as we saw, must have played so prominent a part in the primitive religion of the Aryan race in Europe. Balder must have been the Norse representative of the being who was burnt in effigy or in the person of a living man at the fire-festivals in question. But if, as I have tried to show, the being so burnt was the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation, it follows that Balder also must have been a tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation.
It seems that the two main aspects of the Balder myth—the pulling of the mistletoe and the burning of the god—were reflected in the grand midsummer festival of the Celts. However, in Scandinavia, Balder's homeland, both these aspects of his myth can still be seen in the popular celebration of midsummer. In Sweden, on Midsummer Eve, mistletoe is "People actively seek it out because they believe it has powerful mystical properties; and if a sprig of it is hung from the ceiling of the house, the horse's stable, or the cow's crib, the ‘Troll’ won't be able to harm either people or animals."780 In Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, large bonfires are lit on hills and elevated areas on Midsummer Eve.781 There doesn't seem to be any effigy burned in these bonfires; however, the burning of an effigy might have easily been lost over time after its significance was forgotten. The name of Balder's bale-fires (Balder's Bălar), which these midsummer fires were previously called in Sweden,782 clearly connects them with Balder and suggests that in earlier times, either a living representation or an effigy of Balder must have been burned annually in them. Midsummer was the season dedicated to Balder, and the fact that the Swedish poet Tegner, in his Frithiof's Saga, depicts the burning of Balder at midsummer783 might serve as evidence of a Swedish tradition in that regard. From this dual connection between the Balder myth, on one hand, and the midsummer festival of Celtic Gaul and the midsummer festival in Scandinavia, on the other, we can reasonably conclude that the myth isn't simply a straightforward myth, but rather a ritualistic myth, one based on the actual observation of religious ceremonies and intended to explain them. The common explanation that myth provides for rituals is that the specific ritual is a periodic commemoration of some significant event in the past, in which the participants could have been gods or humans. This explanation seems to apply to the Balder myth in relation to the annual fire festivals, which, as we noted, must have played an essential role in the primitive religion of the Aryan race in Europe. Balder must have represented the Norse figure that was burned, either in effigy or as a living person, during the mentioned fire festivals. If, as I've tried to demonstrate, the being burned was a tree spirit or a spirit of vegetation, it follows that Balder must have also been a tree spirit or spirit of vegetation.
But it is desirable to determine, if we can, the [pg 291] particular kind of tree or trees, of which a personal representative was burned at the fire-festivals. For we may be quite sure that it was not as a representative of vegetation in general that the victim suffered death. The conception of vegetation in general is too abstract to be primitive. Most probably the victim at first represented a particular kind of sacred tree. Now of all European trees none has such claims as the oak to be considered as pre-eminently the sacred tree of the Aryans. Its worship is attested for all the great branches of the Aryan stock in Europe. We have seen that it was not only the sacred tree, but the principal object of worship of both Celts and Slavs.784 According to Grimm, the oak ranked first among the holy trees of the Germans, and was indeed their chief god. It is certainly known to have been adored by them in the age of heathendom, and traces of its worship have survived in various parts of Germany almost to the present day.785 Amongst the ancient Italians, according to Preller, the oak was sacred above all other trees.786 The image of Jupiter on the Capitol at Rome seems to have been originally nothing but a natural oak-tree.787 At Dodona, perhaps the oldest of all Greek sanctuaries, Zeus was worshipped as immanent in the sacred oak, and the rustling of its leaves in the wind was his voice.788 If, then, the great god of both Greeks and Romans was represented in some of his oldest shrines under the form of an oak, and if the oak was the principal object of worship of Celts, Germans, and Slavs, we may [pg 292] certainly conclude that this tree was one of the chief, if not the very chief divinity of the Aryans before the dispersion; and that their primitive home must have lain in a land which was clothed with forests of oak.789
But it’s important to figure out, if we can, the specific type of tree or trees that a personal representative was burned during the fire festivals. We can be pretty sure that the victim didn’t die as a representative of vegetation in general. The idea of vegetation as a whole is too abstract to be primitive. Most likely, the victim initially represented a specific kind of sacred tree. Among all European trees, none is more deserving than the oak to be seen as the sacred tree of the Aryans. Its worship is confirmed across all major branches of the Aryan people in Europe. We have seen that it was not only the sacred tree but the main object of worship for both Celts and Slavs. According to Grimm, the oak was the most revered of the holy trees for the Germans and was indeed their primary god. It is well-established that they worshipped it during pagan times, and remnants of its worship can still be seen in various parts of Germany almost to this day. Among the ancient Italians, as noted by Preller, the oak was considered the most sacred tree. The statue of Jupiter on the Capitol in Rome seems to have originally just been a natural oak tree. At Dodona, possibly the oldest Greek sanctuary, Zeus was worshipped as present in the sacred oak, and the rustling of its leaves in the wind was considered his voice. So, if the great god of both the Greeks and Romans was represented in some of his earliest shrines as an oak, and if the oak was the main object of worship for Celts, Germans, and Slavs, we can definitively conclude that this tree was one of the most important, if not the most important, deity of the Aryans before they dispersed; and that their original home must have been in a land covered with oak forests.
Now, considering the primitive character and remarkable similarity of the fire-festivals observed by all the branches of the Aryan race in Europe, we may infer that these festivals form part of the common stock of religious observances which the various peoples carried with them in their wanderings from their original home. But, if I am right, an essential feature of those primitive fire-festivals was the burning of a man who represented the tree-spirit. In view, then, of the place occupied by the oak in the religion of the Aryans, the presumption is that the tree so represented at the fire-festivals must originally have been the oak. So far as the Celts and Slavs are concerned, this conclusion will perhaps hardly be contested. But both for them and for the Germans it is confirmed by a remarkable piece of religious conservatism. The most primitive method known to man of producing fire is by rubbing two pieces of wood against each other till they ignite; and we have seen that this method is still used in Europe for kindling sacred fires such as the [pg 293] need-fire, and that most probably it was formerly resorted to at all the fire-festivals under discussion. Now it is sometimes prescribed that the need-fire, or other sacred fire, must be made by the friction of a particular kind of wood; and wherever the kind of wood is prescribed, whether among Celts, Germans, or Slavs, that wood is always the oak. Thus we have seen that amongst the Slavs of Masuren the new fire for the village is made on Midsummer Day by causing a wheel to revolve rapidly round an axle of oak till the axle takes fire.790 When the perpetual fire which the ancient Slavs used to maintain chanced to go out, it was rekindled by the friction of a piece of oak-wood, which had been previously heated by being struck with a gray (not a red) stone.791 In Germany the need-fire was regularly kindled by the friction of oak-wood;792 and in the Highlands of Scotland, both the Beltane and the need-fires were lighted by similar means.793 Now, if the sacred fire was regularly kindled by the friction of oak-wood, we may infer that originally the fire was also fed with the same material. In point of fact, the perpetual fire which burned under the sacred oak at the great Slavonian sanctuary of Romove was fed with oak-wood;794 and that oak-wood was formerly the fuel [pg 294] burned in the midsummer fires may perhaps be inferred from the circumstance that in many mountain districts of Germany peasants are still in the habit of making up their cottage fire on Midsummer Day with a heavy block of oak-wood. The block is so arranged that it smoulders slowly and is not finally reduced to charcoal till the expiry of a year. Then upon next Midsummer Day the charred embers of the old log are removed to make room for the new one, and are mixed with the seed-corn or scattered about the garden. This is believed to promote the growth of the crops and to preserve them from blight and vermin.795 It may be remembered that at the Boeotian festival of the Daedala, the analogy of which to the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe has been already pointed out, the great feature was the felling and burning of an oak.796 The general conclusion is, that at those periodic or occasional ceremonies, of which the object was to cause the sun to shine, and the fruits of the earth to grow, the ancient Aryans both kindled and fed the fire with the sacred oak-wood.
Now, considering the primitive nature and striking resemblance of the fire festivals celebrated by all branches of the Aryan race in Europe, we can assume that these festivals are part of the shared set of religious practices that the various peoples took with them during their migrations from their original homeland. If I'm correct, a key aspect of those early fire festivals was the burning of a man who represented the tree spirit. Given the significance of the oak in Aryan religion, it’s likely that the tree symbolized at the fire festivals was originally the oak. This conclusion will likely face little disagreement among the Celts and Slavs. For both these groups and the Germans, it’s supported by a notable tradition of religious preservation. The most basic method known for producing fire is by rubbing two pieces of wood together until they ignite; this method is still used in Europe to start sacred fires like the [pg 293] need-fire, and likely was used at all the fire festivals we’re discussing. Often, it’s specified that the need-fire or other sacred fire must be created by the friction of a particular type of wood; and wherever this specification exists—whether among Celts, Germans, or Slavs—that wood is always oak. For instance, we’ve noted that among the Slavs of Masuren, the new fire for the village is created on Midsummer Day by making a wheel spin quickly around an oak axle until the axle ignites.790 When the eternal fire that the ancient Slavs maintained accidentally went out, it was reignited by rubbing a piece of oak wood, which had been pre-heated by striking it with a gray (not red) stone.791 In Germany, the need-fire was consistently lit using the friction of oak wood;792 and in the Highlands of Scotland, both the Beltane and need-fires were ignited using similar methods.793 Now, if the sacred fire was consistently ignited using oak wood, we can infer that originally the fire was also fed with the same material. In fact, the eternal fire that burned beneath the sacred oak at the major Slavic sanctuary of Romove was fueled by oak wood;794 and it can be inferred that the oak wood used in the midsummer fires was traditional, as in many mountain regions of Germany, peasants still make their cottage fire on Midsummer Day using a heavy block of oak wood. The block is set up so it smolders slowly and isn’t completely reduced to charcoal until a year later. Then, on the next Midsummer Day, the charred remains of the old log are cleared away to make space for the new one, and they are mixed with the seed corn or scattered in the garden. This is thought to encourage crop growth and protect them from disease and pests.795 It’s worth noting that at the Boeotian festival of the Daedala, which bears a resemblance to the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe, the main event was the cutting down and burning of an oak.796 The overall conclusion is that at these periodic or occasional ceremonies aimed at invoking sunlight and promoting earth's fruits, the ancient Aryans both ignited and sustained the fire with sacred oak wood.
But if at these solemn rites the fire was regularly made of oak-wood, it follows that the man who was burned in it as a personification of the tree-spirit could have represented no tree but the oak. The sacred oak was thus burned in duplicate; the wood of the tree was consumed in the fire, and along with it was consumed a living man as a personification of the oak-spirit. The conclusion thus drawn for the European Aryans in general is confirmed in its special application to the Celts and Scandinavians by the relation in which, amongst these peoples, the mistletoe stood to the burning of the victim in the midsummer fire. We have [pg 295] seen that among Celts and Scandinavians it has been customary to gather the mistletoe at midsummer. But so far as appears on the face of this custom, there is nothing to connect it with the midsummer fires in which human victims or effigies of them were burned. Even if the fire, as seems probable, was originally always made with oak-wood, why should it have been necessary to pull the mistletoe? The last link between the midsummer customs of gathering the mistletoe and lighting the bonfires is supplied by Balder's myth, which certainly cannot be disjoined from the customs in question. The myth shows that a vital connection must once have been believed to subsist between the mistletoe and the human representative of the oak who was burned in the fire. According to the myth, Balder could be killed by nothing in heaven or earth except the mistletoe; and so long as the mistletoe remained on the oak, he was not only immortal, but invulnerable. Now, as soon as we see that Balder was the oak, the origin of the myth becomes plain. The mistletoe was viewed as the seat of life of the oak, and so long as it was uninjured nothing could kill or even wound the oak. The conception of the mistletoe as the seat of life of the oak would naturally be suggested to primitive people by the observation that while the oak is deciduous, the mistletoe which grows on it is evergreen. In winter the sight of its fresh foliage among the bare branches must have been hailed by the worshippers of the tree as a sign that the divine life which had ceased to animate the branches yet survived in the mistletoe, as the heart of a sleeper still beats when his body is motionless. Hence when the god had to be killed—when the sacred tree had to be burnt—it was necessary to begin by breaking off [pg 296] the mistletoe. For so long as the mistletoe remained intact, the oak (so people thought) was invulnerable; all the blows of their knives and axes would glance harmless from its surface. But once tear from the oak its sacred heart—the mistletoe—and the tree nodded to its fall. And when in later times the spirit of the oak came to be represented by a living man, it was logically necessary to suppose that, like the tree he personated, he could neither be killed nor wounded so long as the mistletoe remained uninjured. The pulling of the mistletoe was thus at once the signal and the cause of his death.
But if during these solemn ceremonies the fire was consistently made from oak wood, it follows that the man who was burned in it, representing the tree spirit, could only symbolize the oak tree. The sacred oak was thus burned twice; the wood of the tree was consumed in the fire, and along with it, a living man was consumed as a representation of the oak spirit. The conclusion drawn for the European Aryans in general is confirmed, particularly for the Celts and Scandinavians, by the relationship between these cultures and the mistletoe's role in the burning of the victim during the midsummer fire. We have [pg 295] seen that among the Celts and Scandinavians, it has been customary to gather mistletoe at midsummer. However, on the surface of this custom, there seems to be no connection to the midsummer fires where human victims or effigies were burned. Even if the fire, which seems likely, was originally always made with oak wood, why would it have been necessary to pick the mistletoe? The last link between the midsummer traditions of gathering mistletoe and igniting bonfires is provided by Balder's myth, which certainly cannot be separated from these customs. The myth indicates that a significant connection was once believed to exist between the mistletoe and the human representative of the oak who was burned in the fire. According to the myth, Balder could be killed by nothing in heaven or earth except mistletoe; as long as the mistletoe remained on the oak, he was not only immortal but also invulnerable. Now, once we realize that Balder represented the oak, the origin of the myth becomes clear. The mistletoe was seen as the source of life of the oak, and as long as it was unharmed, nothing could kill or even injure the oak. The idea of mistletoe as the source of the oak's life would naturally emerge for primitive people by noticing that while the oak is deciduous, mistletoe, which grows on it, is evergreen. In winter, the sight of its fresh leaves among the bare branches must have been celebrated by the worshippers of the tree as a sign that the divine life that had ceased to animate the branches still lived on in the mistletoe, like a heart of a sleeper still beating when the body is motionless. Therefore, when the god had to be killed—when the sacred tree had to be burned—it was essential to start by breaking off [pg 296] the mistletoe. As long as the mistletoe remained intact, the oak (or so people believed) was invulnerable; all the blows from their knives and axes would bounce harmlessly off its surface. But once the sacred heart—the mistletoe—was torn from the oak, the tree acknowledged its fate. And when later on, the spirit of the oak was represented by a living man, it made sense to think that, like the tree he embodied, he could not be killed or wounded as long as the mistletoe remained unharmed. Thus, the picking of the mistletoe was both the signal and the cause of his death.
But since the idea of a being whose life is thus, in a sense, outside itself, must be strange to many readers, and has, indeed, not yet been recognised in its full bearing on primitive superstition, it will be worth while to devote a couple of sections to the subject. The result will be to show that, in assuming this idea as the explanation of the relation of Balder to the mistletoe, I assume a principle which is deeply engraved on the mind of primitive man.
But since the idea of a being whose life is, in a way, outside itself must seem strange to many readers and has not yet been fully recognized in its relation to primitive superstition, it’s worth taking a couple of sections to explore this subject. The outcome will demonstrate that by adopting this idea to explain the connection between Balder and the mistletoe, I am assuming a principle that is deeply rooted in the thinking of primitive people.
§ 3.—The external soul in folk tales.
In a former chapter we saw that, in the opinion of primitive people, the soul may temporarily absent itself from the body without causing death. Such temporary absences of the soul are often believed to involve considerable risk, since the wandering soul is liable to a variety of mishaps at the hands of enemies, and so forth. But there is another aspect to this power of externalising the soul. If only the safety of the soul can be ensured during its absence from the body, there [pg 297] is no reason why the soul should not continue absent for an indefinite time; indeed a man may, on a pure calculation of personal safety, desire that his soul should never return to his body. Unable to conceive of life abstractly as a “permanent possibility of sensation” or a “continuous adjustment of internal arrangements to external relations,” the savage thinks of it as a concrete material thing of a definite bulk, capable of being seen and handled, kept in a box or jar, and liable to be bruised, fractured, or smashed in pieces. It is not needful that the life, so conceived, should be in the man; it may be absent from his body and still continue to animate him, by virtue of a sort of sympathy or “action at a distance.” So long as this object which he calls his life or soul remains unharmed, the man is well; if it is injured, he suffers; if it is destroyed, he dies. Or, to put it otherwise, when a man is ill or dies, the fact is explained by saying that the material object called his life or soul, whether it be in his body or out of it, has either sustained injury or been destroyed. But there may be circumstances in which, if the life or soul remains in the man, it stands a greater chance of sustaining injury than if it were stowed away in some safe and secret place. Accordingly, in such circumstances, primitive man takes his soul out of his body and deposits it for security in some safe place, intending to replace it in his body when the danger is past. Or if he should discover some place of absolute security, he may be content to leave his soul there permanently. The advantage of this is that, so long as the soul remains unharmed in the place where he has deposited it, the man himself is immortal; nothing can kill his body, since his life is not in it.
In an earlier chapter, we discussed how primitive people believe that the soul can temporarily leave the body without causing death. These temporary absences of the soul are often thought to come with significant risks because the wandering soul can encounter various dangers from enemies and other threats. However, there's another side to this ability to externalize the soul. As long as the soul's safety is guaranteed during its time away from the body, there's no reason for it not to stay absent indefinitely; in fact, someone might, based purely on personal safety concerns, prefer that their soul never returns. Unable to see life in more abstract terms, like a "permanent possibility of sensation" or a "continuous adjustment of internal arrangements to external relations," a primitive person perceives it as a tangible object of a specific size, which can be seen and handled, stored in a box or jar, and can be damaged or broken. It’s not necessary for this concept of life to be physically within a person; it might be absent from the body yet still give them life through a kind of sympathy or "action at a distance." As long as the object they refer to as their life or soul remains unharmed, the person is healthy; if it gets hurt, they suffer; if it is destroyed, they die. Alternatively, when someone is ill or dies, it’s often attributed to the idea that the material object known as their life or soul, whether inside or outside their body, has either been damaged or destroyed. Yet, there may be times when keeping the soul within the person makes it more vulnerable to harm than if it were safely hidden away. In such cases, primitive individuals will remove their soul from their body and securely store it in a safe place, planning to return it once the threat has passed. If they find a completely secure location, they might choose to leave their soul there for good. The benefit of this is that as long as the soul remains safe where it has been placed, the person themselves is immortal; nothing can harm their body since their life isn’t contained within it.
Evidence of this primitive belief is furnished by a class of folk-tales of which the Norse story of “The giant who had no heart in his body” is perhaps the best-known example. Stories of this kind are widely diffused over the world, and from their number and the variety of incident and of details in which the leading idea is embodied, we may infer that the conception of an external soul is one which has had a powerful hold on the minds of men at an early stage of history. For folk-tales are a faithful reflection of the world as it appeared to the primitive mind; and we may be sure that any idea which commonly occurs in them, however absurd it may seem to us, must once have been an ordinary article of belief. This assurance, so far as it concerns the supposed power of externalising the soul for a longer or shorter time, is amply corroborated by a comparison of the folk-tales in question with the actual beliefs and practices of savages. To this we shall return after some specimens of the tales have been given. The specimens will be selected with a view of illustrating both the characteristic features and the wide diffusion of this class of tales.
Evidence of this primitive belief can be found in a category of folk tales, with the Norse story of “The giant who didn’t have a heart in his body” being one of the most famous examples. Stories like this are spread across the globe, and the sheer number of them, along with the variety of plots and details in which the central idea is represented, suggests that the idea of an external soul has significantly influenced human thought since early history. Folk tales reflect how the world appeared to primitive minds, and we can be confident that any idea frequently found in these tales, no matter how ridiculous it may seem to us now, must have once been a widely accepted belief. This assertion, especially regarding the supposed ability to externalize the soul temporarily, is strongly supported by comparing these folk tales with the actual beliefs and practices of primitive peoples. We will come back to this after presenting some examples of the tales. The examples will be chosen to highlight both the distinctive features and the widespread presence of this type of tale.
In the first place, the story of the external soul is told, in various forms, by all Aryan peoples from Hindustan to the Hebrides. A very common form of it is this: A warlock, giant, or other fairyland being is invulnerable and immortal because he keeps his soul hidden far away in some secret place; but a fair princess, whom he holds enthralled in his enchanted castle, wiles his secret from him and reveals it to the hero, who seeks out the warlock's soul, heart, life, or death (as it is variously called), and, by destroying it, simultaneously kills the warlock. Thus a Hindoo story tells how a magician called Punchkin held a [pg 299] queen captive for twelve years, and would fain marry her, but she would not have him. At last the queen's son came to rescue her, and the two plotted together to kill Punchkin. So the queen spoke the magician fair, and pretended that she had at last made up her mind to marry him. “ ‘And do tell me,’ she said, ‘are you quite immortal? Can death never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?’ ... ‘It is true,’ he said, ‘that I am not as others. Far, far away—hundreds of thousands of miles from this—there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm-trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six chattees full of water, piled one above another; below the sixth chattee is a small cage, which contains a little green parrot—on the life of the parrot depends my life—and if the parrot is killed I must die. It is, however,’ he added, ‘impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the country, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround the palm-trees, and kill all who approach the place.’ ” But the queen's young son overcame all difficulties, and got possession of the parrot. He brought it to the door of the magician's palace, and began playing with it. Punchkin, the magician, saw him, and, coming out, tried to persuade the boy to give him the parrot. “ ‘Give me my parrot!’ cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the parrot and tore off one of his wings; and as he did so the magician's right arm fell off. Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, ‘Give me my parrot!’ The prince pulled off the parrot's second wing, and the magician's left arm tumbled off. ‘Give me my parrot!’ cried he, and fell on his knees. The [pg 300] prince pulled off the parrot's right leg, the magician's right leg fell off; the prince pulled off the parrot's left leg, down fell the magician's left. Nothing remained of him except the lifeless body and the head; but still he rolled his eyes, and cried, ‘Give me my parrot!’ ‘Take your parrot, then,’ cried the boy; and with that he wrung the bird's neck, and threw it at the magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted round, and, with a fearful groan, he died!”797 In another Hindoo tale an ogre is asked by his daughter, “ ‘Papa, where do you keep your soul?’ ‘Sixteen miles away from this place,’ said he, ‘is a tree. Round the tree are tigers, and bears, and scorpions, and snakes; on the top of the tree is a very great fat snake; on his head is a little cage; in the cage is a bird; and my soul is in that bird.’ ” The end of the ogre is like that of the magician in the previous tale. As the bird's wings and legs are torn off, the ogre's arms and legs drop off; and when its neck is wrung he falls down dead.798
In the first place, the story of the external soul is shared in various ways by all Aryan peoples from India to the Hebrides. A very common version goes like this: A warlock, giant, or other fairy-tale being is invulnerable and immortal because he keeps his soul hidden far away in some secret place; but a beautiful princess, whom he has trapped in his enchanted castle, tricks him into revealing his secret, and she tells the hero, who then seeks out the warlock's soul, heart, life, or death (as it is variously named), and by destroying it, simultaneously kills the warlock. For example, a Hindu story tells how a magician named Punchkin held a queen captive for twelve years and wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't accept him. Finally, the queen's son came to rescue her, and they plotted together to kill Punchkin. So the queen spoke sweetly to the magician, pretending that she had finally decided to marry him. "And do tell me," she said, "are you really immortal? Can death never touch you? And are you too powerful an enchanter to ever feel human suffering?" ... "It's true," he said, "that I'm not like others. Far, far away—hundreds of thousands of miles from here—there's a desolate land covered in thick jungle. In the middle of the jungle is a circle of palm trees, and at the center of that circle are six containers filled with water, stacked one on top of another; below the sixth container is a small cage that holds a little green parrot—my life depends on that parrot—and if the parrot dies, I must die too. However," he added, "it's impossible for the parrot to be harmed, both because of the inaccessibility of the land and because, by my order, countless genies surround the palm trees and kill anyone who approaches." But the queen's young son overcame all obstacles and got hold of the parrot. He brought it to the door of the magician's palace and started playing with it. Punchkin saw him and came out, trying to convince the boy to give him the parrot. "Give me my parrot!" yelled Punchkin. The boy grabbed the parrot and tore off one of its wings; as he did, the magician's right arm fell off. Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, shouting, "Give me my parrot!" The prince removed the parrot's second wing, and the magician's left arm dropped off. "Give me my parrot!" he cried, falling on his knees. The prince pulled off the parrot's right leg, causing the magician's right leg to come off; then he pulled off the parrot's left leg, and down fell the magician's left. All that was left of him was his lifeless body and his head; but he still rolled his eyes and cried, "Give me my parrot!" "Take your parrot, then," said the boy; and with that, he wrung the bird's neck and tossed it at the magician; as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted around, and with a terrible groan, he died! In another Hindu tale, an ogre is asked by his daughter, "Papa, where do you keep your soul?" "Sixteen miles away from here," he replied, "there's a tree. Surrounding the tree are tigers, bears, scorpions, and snakes; on top of the tree is a very large fat snake; on its head is a small cage; inside the cage is a bird; and my soul is in that bird." The end of the ogre is the same as that of the magician in the previous story. As the bird's wings and legs are torn off, the ogre's arms and legs fall off; and when its neck is wrung, he collapses dead.
In another Hindoo story a princess called Sodewa Bai is born with a golden necklace about her neck, and the astrologer told her parents, “This is no common child; the necklace of gold about her neck contains your daughter's soul; let it, therefore, be guarded with the utmost care; for if it were taken off and worn by another person, she would die.” So her mother caused it to be firmly fastened round the child's neck, and, as soon as the child was old enough to understand, she told her its value, and warned her never to let it be taken off. In course of time Sodewa Bai was married to a prince who had another wife living. The [pg 301] first wife, jealous of her young rival, persuaded a negress to steal from Sodewa Bai the golden necklace which contained her soul. The negress did so, and, as soon as she put the necklace round her own neck, Sodewa Bai died. All day long the negress used to wear the necklace; but late at night, on going to bed, she would take it off and put it by till morning; and whenever she took it off, Sodewa Bai's soul returned to her and she lived. But when morning came, and the negress put on the necklace, Sodewa Bai died again. At last the prince discovered the treachery of his elder wife and restored the golden necklace to Sodewa Bai.799 In another Hindoo story a holy mendicant tells a queen that she will bear a son, adding, “As enemies will try to take away the life of your son, I may as well tell you that the life of the boy will be bound up in the life of a big boal-fish which is in your tank in front of the palace. In the heart of the fish is a small box of wood, in the box is a necklace of gold, that necklace is the life of your son.” The boy was born and received the name of Dalim. His mother was the Suo or younger queen. But the Duo or elder queen hated the child, and learning the secret of his life, she caused the boal-fish, with which his life was bound up, to be caught. Dalim was playing near the tank at the time, but “the moment the boal-fish was caught in the net, that moment Dalim felt unwell; and when the fish was brought up to land, Dalim fell down on the ground, and made as if he was about to breathe his last. He was immediately taken into his mother's room, and the king was astonished on hearing of the sudden illness of his son and heir. The fish was by the order of the physician taken into the room of the Duo queen, and [pg 302] as it lay on the floor striking its fins on the ground, Dalim in his mother's room was given up for lost. When the fish was cut open, a casket was found in it; and in the casket lay a necklace of gold. The moment the necklace was worn by the queen, that very moment Dalim died in his mother's room.” The queen used to put off the necklace every night, and whenever she did so, the boy came to life again. But every morning when the queen put on the necklace, he died again.800
In another Hindu story, a princess named Sodewa Bai is born with a golden necklace around her neck, and the astrologer tells her parents, “This is no ordinary child; the gold necklace she’s wearing holds your daughter’s soul; it must be protected at all costs. If it’s taken off and worn by someone else, she will die.” So her mother has it securely fastened around the child's neck, and as soon as the child is old enough to understand, she explains its significance and warns her never to let anyone remove it. Eventually, Sodewa Bai marries a prince who already has another wife. The [pg 301] first wife, feeling jealous of her younger rival, convinces a woman of color to steal the golden necklace that holds Sodewa Bai's soul. The woman does this, and as soon as she puts the necklace on herself, Sodewa Bai dies. The woman wears the necklace all day; however, late at night, when she goes to bed, she takes it off and sets it aside until morning, and whenever she removes it, Sodewa Bai's soul returns to her, allowing her to live. But when morning comes and the woman puts the necklace back on, Sodewa Bai dies again. Eventually, the prince discovers the betrayal of his first wife and gives Sodewa Bai her golden necklace back. 799 In another Hindu tale, a holy beggar tells a queen she will have a son, adding, "Since enemies will attempt to take your son's life, I need to inform you that his life is tied to a large boal-fish in the tank in front of your palace. Inside the fish's heart is a small wooden box, and inside that box is a golden necklace—the necklace symbolizes your son's life." The boy is born and named Dalim. His mother is the younger queen. But the elder queen, Duo, hates the child, and upon discovering the secret of his life, she has the boal-fish, whose life is linked to Dalim, captured. Dalim is playing near the tank at the time, but The moment the boal-fish is caught in the net, Dalim instantly feels sick; and when the fish is taken ashore, Dalim collapses, as if he’s about to breathe his last. He is quickly taken to his mother’s room, and the king is shocked by his son and heir's sudden illness. The fish is brought, following the physician's orders, into the Duo queen's room, and [pg 302] as it lies on the floor, flapping its fins, Dalim is pronounced lost in his mother’s room. When the fish is cut open, a casket is found inside it, and in the casket is a golden necklace. The moment the queen puts on the necklace, at that very instant, Dalim dies in his mother’s room. The queen takes the necklace off every night, and whenever she does, the boy comes back to life again. But every morning, when the queen puts the necklace on, he dies once more. 800
In a Cashmeer story a lad visits an old ogress, pretending to be her grandson, the son of her daughter who had married a king. So the old ogress took him into her confidence and showed him seven cocks, a spinning-wheel, a pigeon, and a starling. “These seven cocks,” said she, “contain the lives of your seven uncles, who are away for a few days. Only as long as the cocks live can your uncles hope to live; no power can hurt them as long as the seven cocks are safe and sound. The spinning-wheel contains my life; if it is broken, I too shall be broken, and must die; but otherwise I shall live on for ever. The pigeon contains your grandfather's life, and the starling your mother's; as long as these live, nothing can harm your grandfather or your mother.” So the lad killed the seven cocks and the pigeon and the starling, and smashed the spinning-wheel; and at the moment he did so the ogres and ogresses perished.801 In another story from Cashmeer an ogre cannot die unless a particular pillar in the verandah of his palace be broken. Learning the secret, a prince struck the [pg 303] pillar again and again till it was broken in pieces. And it was as if each stroke had fallen on the ogre, for he howled lamentably and shook like an aspen every time the prince hit the pillar, until at last, when the pillar fell down, the ogre also fell down and gave up the ghost.802 In another Cashmeer tale an ogre is represented as laughing very heartily at the idea that he might possibly die. He said that “he should never die. No power could oppose him; no years could age him; he should remain ever strong and ever young, for the thing wherein his life dwelt was most difficult to obtain.” It was in a queen bee, which was in a honeycomb on a tree. But the bees in the honeycomb were many and fierce, and it was only at the greatest risk that any one could catch the queen. But the hero achieved the enterprise and crushed the queen bee; and immediately the ogre fell stone dead to the ground, so that the whole land trembled with the shock.803 In some Bengalee tales the life of a whole tribe of ogres is described as concentrated in two bees. The secret was thus revealed by an old ogress to a captive princess who pretended to fear lest the ogress should die. “Know, foolish girl,” said the ogress, “that we ogres never die. We are not naturally immortal, but our life depends on a secret which no human being can unravel. Let me tell you what it is that you may be comforted. You know yonder tank; there is in the middle of it a crystal pillar, on the top of which in deep water are two bees. If any human being can dive into the water and bring up the two bees from the pillar in one breath, and destroy them so that not a drop of their [pg 304] blood falls to the ground, then we ogres shall certainly die; but if a single drop of blood falls to the ground, then from it will start up a thousand ogres. But what human being will find out this secret, or, finding it, will be able to achieve the feat? You need not, therefore, darling, be sad; I am practically immortal.” As usual, the princess reveals the secret to the hero, who kills the bees, and that same moment all the ogres drop down dead, each on the spot where he happened to be standing.804 In another Bengalee story it is said that all the ogres dwell in Ceylon, and that all their lives are in a single lemon. A boy cuts the lemon in pieces, and all the ogres die.805
In a Cashmeer story, a young man visits an old ogress, pretending to be her grandson, the son of her daughter who married a king. The old ogress confided in him and showed him seven roosters, a spinning wheel, a pigeon, and a starling. “These seven chickens,” she said, “Take care of the lives of your seven uncles, who are gone for a few days. As long as the roosters are alive, your uncles have a chance to survive; no force can hurt them while the seven roosters are safe. The spinning wheel represents my life; if it breaks, I too will be broken and must die; but as long as it’s intact, I will live on forever. The pigeon represents your grandfather’s life, and the starling represents your mother’s; as long as they are alive, nothing can harm your grandfather or your mother.” So the young man killed the seven roosters, the pigeon, and the starling, and smashed the spinning wheel; at that moment, the ogres and ogresses perished.801 In another story from Cashmeer, an ogre cannot die unless a specific pillar in the verandah of his palace is broken. Learning the secret, a prince struck the [pg 303] pillar again and again until it shattered into pieces. It was as if each blow had struck the ogre, for he howled in misery and shook like a leaf every time the prince hit the pillar, until at last, when the pillar fell, the ogre also collapsed and died.802 In another Cashmeer tale, an ogre is shown laughing heartily at the idea that he might die. He claimed that "He would never die. No power could challenge him; no years could age him; he would always be strong and forever young, because the thing that sustained his life was incredibly hard to get." It was in a queen bee, which was in a honeycomb on a tree. But the bees in the honeycomb were many and fierce, and it was only at great risk that anyone could catch the queen. Yet the hero succeeded in the task and killed the queen bee; immediately, the ogre fell dead to the ground, shaking the entire land with the impact.803 In some Bengalee tales, the life of an entire tribe of ogres is said to be concentrated in two bees. An old ogress revealed this secret to a captive princess who pretended to fear that the ogress might die. "Listen, silly girl," said the ogress, "that we ogres never die. We’re not naturally immortal, but our life depends on a secret that no human can uncover. Let me share it with you so you can feel reassured. You see that tank? In the center is a crystal pillar, and at the top, in the deep water, are two bees. If any human can dive down and bring up the two bees from the pillar in one breath, and destroy them so that not a drop of their [pg 304] blood falls to the ground, then we ogres will definitely die; but if even a single drop of blood touches the ground, then a thousand ogres will be born from it. But what human could ever figure out this secret, or even if they did, could actually succeed? So, sweetheart, you don’t need to be sad; I’m practically immortal." As usual, the princess tells the hero the secret, who then kills the bees, and at that moment, all the ogres drop dead, each in the spot where they stood.804 In another Bengalee story, it is said that all the ogres live in Ceylon, and that all their lives are in a single lemon. A boy cuts the lemon into pieces, and all the ogres die.805
In a Siamese or Cambodian story, probably derived from India, we are told that Thossakan or Ravana, the King of Ceylon, was able by magic art to take his soul out of his body and leave it in a box at home, while he went to the wars. Thus he was invulnerable in battle. When he was about to give battle to Rama, he deposited his soul with a hermit called Fire-eye, who was to keep it safe for him. So in the fight Rama was astounded to see that his arrows struck the king without wounding him. But one of Rama's allies, knowing the secret of the king's invulnerability, transformed himself by magic into the likeness of the king, and going to the hermit asked back his soul. On receiving it he soared up into the air and flew to Rama, brandishing the box and squeezing it so hard that all the breath left the King of Ceylon's body, and he died.806 In a Bengalee [pg 305] story a prince going into a far country planted with his own hands a tree in the courtyard of his father's palace, and said to his parents, “This tree is my life. When you see the tree green and fresh, then know that it is well with me; when you see the tree fade in some parts, then know that I am in an ill case; and when you see the whole tree fade, then know that I am dead and gone.”807 In another Indian tale a prince, setting forth on his travels, left behind him a barley plant with instructions that it should be carefully tended and watched, for if it flourished, he would be alive and well, but if it drooped, then some mischance was about to happen to him. And so it fell out. For the prince was beheaded, and as his head rolled off, the barley plant snapped in two and the ear of barley fell to the ground.808 In the legend of the origin of Gilgit there figures a fairy king whose soul is in the snows and who can only perish by fire.809
In a Siamese or Cambodian story, likely originating from India, we learn that Thossakan or Ravana, the King of Ceylon, had the magical ability to separate his soul from his body and keep it in a box at home while he went off to war. This made him invincible in battle. When he was about to fight Rama, he entrusted his soul to a hermit known as Fire-eye for safekeeping. During the battle, Rama was shocked to find that his arrows hit the king without inflicting any wounds. However, one of Rama's allies, aware of the king's secret invulnerability, magically transformed into the likeness of the king and approached the hermit to retrieve the soul. Once he got it, he soared into the sky and flew to Rama, waving the box and squeezing it so tightly that all the life left the body of the King of Ceylon, resulting in his death.806 In a Bengalee [pg 305] story, a prince going to a distant land planted a tree in the courtyard of his father's palace with his own hands and told his parents, "This tree is my life. When you see the tree green and healthy, know that I'm doing well; when you see the tree struggling, know that I'm in trouble; and when the entire tree is dead, know that I'm gone."807 In another Indian tale, a prince embarking on his journey left behind a barley plant with the instruction that it should be looked after carefully, as if it thrived, he would be alive and well, but if it wilted, it meant he was in danger. Tragically, this came true. The prince was beheaded, and as his head fell, the barley plant snapped in half, and the ear of barley dropped to the ground.808 In the legend of the origin of Gilgit, there’s a fairy king whose soul resides in the snows, and he can only perish by fire.809
In Greek tales, ancient and modern, the idea of an external soul is not uncommon. When Meleager was seven days old, the Fates appeared to his mother and told her that Meleager would die when the brand which was blazing on the hearth had burnt down. So his mother snatched the brand from the fire and kept it in a box. But in after years, being enraged at her son for slaying her brothers, she burnt the brand in the fire and Meleager at once expired.810 Again, Nisus King of Megara, had a purple or golden hair on the middle of his head, and it was fated that whenever the hair was pulled out the king should die. When Megara was besieged by the Cretans, the king's [pg 306] daughter Scylla fell in love with Minos, their King, and pulled out the fatal hair from her father's head. So he died.811 Similarly Poseidon made Pterelaus immortal by giving him a golden hair on his head. But when Taphos, the home of Pterelaus, was besieged by Amphitryon, the daughter of Pterelaus fell in love with Amphitryon and killed her father by plucking out the golden hair with which his life was bound up.812 In a modern Greek folk-tale a man's strength lies in three golden hairs on his head. When his mother pulls them out, he grows weak and timid and is slain by his enemies.813 In another modern Greek story the life of an enchanter is bound up with three doves which are in the belly of a wild boar. When the first dove is killed, the magician grows sick, when the second is killed, he grows very sick, and when the third is killed, he dies.814 In another Greek story of the same sort an ogre's strength is in three singing birds which are in a wild boar. The hero kills two of the birds, and then coming to the ogre's house finds him lying on the ground in great pain. He shows the third bird to the ogre, who begs that the hero will either let it fly away or give it to him to eat. But the hero wrings the bird's neck and the ogre dies on the spot.815 In a variant of the latter story the [pg 307] monster's strength is in two doves, and when the hero kills one of them, the monster cries out, “Ah, woe is me! Half my life is gone. Something must have happened to one of the doves.” When the second dove is killed, he dies.816 In another Greek story the incidents of the three golden hairs and the three doves are artificially combined. A monster has three golden hairs on his head which open the door of a chamber in which are three doves; when the first dove is killed, the monster grows sick, when the second is killed, he grows worse, and when the third is killed, he dies.817 In another Greek tale an old man's strength is in a ten-headed serpent. When the serpent's heads are being cut off, he feels unwell, and when the last head is struck off, he expires.818 In another Greek story a dervish tells a queen that she will have three sons, that at the birth of each she must plant a pumpkin in the garden, and that in the fruit borne by the pumpkins will reside the strength of the children. In due time the infants are born and the pumpkins planted. As the children grow up the pumpkins grow with them. One morning the eldest son feels sick, and on going into the garden they find that the largest pumpkin is gone. Next night the second son keeps watch in a summer-house in the garden. At midnight a negro appears and cuts the second pumpkin. At once the boy's strength goes out of him and he is unable to pursue the negro. The youngest son, however, succeeds in slaying the negro and recovering the lost pumpkins.819
In Greek stories, both ancient and modern, the concept of an external soul is quite common. When Meleager was just seven days old, the Fates visited his mother and told her that he would die when the brand on the hearth burned out. So she snatched the brand from the fire and kept it in a box. However, later on, angered by her son's killing of her brothers, she burned the brand, and as a result, Meleager died instantly.810 Similarly, Nisus, the King of Megara, had a purple or golden hair on his head, and it was prophesied that his death would come when that hair was pulled out. When Cretans laid siege to Megara, the king's daughter Scylla fell in love with their King Minos and pulled out the fateful hair from her father's head. Consequently, he died.811 In a similar fashion, Poseidon made Pterelaus immortal by granting him a golden hair on his head. But when Taphos, the home of Pterelaus, was attacked by Amphitryon, Pterelaus's daughter fell in love with Amphitryon and ended her father's life by plucking out the golden hair that held his life.812 In a modern Greek folk tale, a man's strength is tied to three golden hairs on his head. When his mother pulls them out, he becomes weak and timid and is killed by his enemies.813 In another modern Greek story, an enchanter's life is linked to three doves within the belly of a wild boar. When the first dove is killed, the magician gets sick; when the second is killed, he becomes very sick, and when the third is killed, he dies.814 Another Greek story follows a similar theme where an ogre's power is contained in three singing birds located in a wild boar. The hero kills two of the birds and then finds the ogre in great pain. He shows the third bird to the ogre, who pleads for either its release or for him to eat it. Instead, the hero breaks the bird's neck and the ogre dies immediately.815 In a variation of that story, the monster's strength is connected to two doves, and when the hero kills one, the monster exclaims, "Ah, poor me! Half my life is over. Something must have happened to one of the doves." When the second dove is killed, he dies.816 In a different Greek tale, the motifs of the three golden hairs and the three doves are combined. A monster has three golden hairs on his head that unlock a chamber containing three doves; when the first dove is killed, the monster feels ill, when the second is killed, his condition worsens, and when the third is killed, he dies.817 In yet another Greek tale, an old man's strength relies on a ten-headed serpent. When the serpent's heads are chopped off, he feels weak, and when the last head is severed, he dies.818 Additionally, a different Greek story tells of a dervish who tells a queen that she will have three sons and that for each birth she must plant a pumpkin in the garden. The strength of the children will be contained in the pumpkins. When the children are born, the pumpkins are planted, and as they grow up, the pumpkins flourish alongside them. One morning, the eldest son feels ill and discovers that the largest pumpkin has vanished. The next night, the second son keeps watch in a garden pavilion. At midnight, a black man appears and cuts down the second pumpkin. Immediately, the boy loses his strength and can't catch the man. However, the youngest son manages to kill the man and recover the lost pumpkins.819
Ancient Italian legend furnishes a close parallel to the Greek story of Meleager. Silvia, the young wife [pg 308] of Septimius Marcellus, had a child by the god Mars. The god gave her a spear, with which he said that the fate of the child would be bound up. When the boy grew up he quarrelled with his maternal uncles and slew them. So in revenge his mother burned the spear on which his life depended.820 In one of the stories of the Pentamerone a certain queen has a twin brother, a dragon. The astrologers declared at her birth that she would live just as long as the dragon and no longer, the death of the one involving the death of the other. If the dragon were killed, the only way to restore the queen to life would be to smear her temples, breast, pulses, and nostrils with the blood of the dragon.821 In a modern Roman version of “Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp,” the magician tells the princess whom he holds captive in a floating rock in mid-ocean that he will never die. The princess reports this to the prince her husband, who has come to rescue her. The prince replies, “It is impossible but that there should be some one thing or other that is fatal to him; ask him what that one fatal thing is.” So the princess asked the magician and he told her that in the wood was a hydra with seven heads; in the middle head of the hydra was a leveret, in the head of the leveret was a bird, in the bird's head was a precious stone, and if this stone were put under his pillow he would die. The prince procured the stone and the princess laid it under the magician's pillow. No sooner did the enchanter lay his head on the pillow than he gave [pg 309] three terrible yells, turned himself round and round three times, and died.822
Ancient Italian legend has a strong similarity to the Greek story of Meleager. Silvia, the young wife of Septimius Marcellus, had a child with the god Mars. The god gave her a spear, saying that the child's fate would be tied to it. As the boy grew up, he had a conflict with his uncles and killed them. In retaliation, his mother burned the spear, which was crucial to his life.820 In one tale from the The Pentamerone, a certain queen has a twin brother who is a dragon. Astrologers predicted at her birth that she would live as long as the dragon and no longer; the death of one meant the death of the other. If the dragon died, the only way to bring the queen back to life would be to smear her forehead, chest, wrists, and nostrils with the dragon's blood.821 In a modern Roman version of “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp,” the magician tells the princess he has captured, while floating in a rock in the ocean, that he will never die. The princess tells her husband, the prince, who has come to rescue her. The prince responds, “There has to be something that can kill him; ask him what it is.” So the princess asks the magician, and he reveals that in the woods is a hydra with seven heads; inside the center head of the hydra is a leveret, in the head of the leveret is a bird, and in the bird's head is a precious stone. If the stone is placed under his pillow, he would die. The prince obtains the stone, and the princess puts it under the magician's pillow. As soon as the enchanter lays his head down, he lets out three terrible screams, spins around three times, and dies.822
Stories of the same sort are current among Slavonic peoples. Thus in a Russian tale a warlock called Koshchei the Deathless is asked where his death is. “My death,” he answered, “is in such and such a place. There stands an oak, and under the oak is a casket, and in the casket is a hare, and in the hare is a duck, and in the duck is an egg, and in the egg is my death.” A prince obtained the egg and squeezed it, whereupon Koshchei the Deathless bent double. But when the prince shivered the egg in pieces, the warlock died.823 “In one of the descriptions of Koshchei's death, he is said to be killed by a blow on the forehead inflicted by the mysterious egg—that last link in the magic chain by which his life is darkly bound. In another version of the same story, but told of a snake, the fatal blow is struck by a small stone found in the yolk of an egg, which is inside a duck, which is inside a hare, which is inside a stone, which is on an island.”824 In another variant the prince shifts the fatal egg from one hand to the other, and as he does so Koshchei rushes wildly from side to side of the room. At last the prince smashes the egg, and Koshchei drops dead.825 In another Russian story the death of an enchantress is in a blue rose-tree in a blue forest. Prince Ivan uproots the rose-tree, whereupon the enchantress straightway sickens. He brings the rose-tree to her house and finds her at the point of death. Then he throws it into the cellar, crying, “Behold her death!” and at once the whole building [pg 310] shakes, “and becomes an island, on which are people who had been sitting in Hell, and who offer up thanks to Prince Ivan.”826 In another Russian story a prince is grievously tormented by a witch who has got hold of his heart, and keeps it seething in a magic cauldron.827 In a Bohemian tale a warlock's strength lies in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a stag, which is under a tree. A seer finds the egg and sucks it. Then the warlock grows as weak as a child, “for all his strength had passed into the seer.”828 In a Serbian story a fabulous being called True Steel declares, “Far away from this place there is a very high mountain, in the mountain there is a fox, in the fox there is a heart, in the heart there is a bird, and in this bird is my strength.” The fox is caught and killed and its heart is taken out. Out of the fox's heart is taken the bird, which is then burnt, and that very moment True Steel falls dead.829 In a South Slavonian story a dragon tells an old woman, “My strength is a long way off, and you cannot go thither. Far in another empire under the emperor's city is a lake, in that lake is a dragon, and in the dragon a boar, and in the boar a pigeon, and in that is my strength.”830
Stories of the same type are common among Slavic people. In a Russian tale, a warlock named Koshchei the Deathless is asked where his death is. “My passing,” he replied, “is in a specific location. There’s an oak tree, and underneath it is a casket, and inside the casket is a hare, and inside the hare is a duck, and inside the duck is an egg, and inside the egg is my death.” A prince got hold of the egg and squeezed it, causing Koshchei the Deathless to double over in pain. But when the prince broke the egg into pieces, the warlock died.823 In one version of Koshchei's death, he is said to be killed by a blow to the forehead from the mysterious egg—the final link in the magical chain that binds his life. In another version of the same tale, involving a snake, the deadly blow comes from a small stone found in the yolk of an egg, which is inside a duck, which is inside a hare, which is inside a stone, which is on an island.824 In another variation, the prince switches the egg from one hand to the other, and as he does, Koshchei wildly rushes from side to side of the room. Finally, the prince breaks the egg, and Koshchei drops dead.825 In another Russian story, the death of an enchantress is located in a blue rosebush in a blue forest. Prince Ivan uproots the rosebush, causing the enchantress to immediately fall ill. He brings the rosebush to her house and finds her on the brink of death. Then he throws it into the cellar, exclaiming, “Here’s her death!” and suddenly the entire building [pg 310] shakes, “and becomes an island, where people who had been in Hell thank Prince Ivan.”826 In another Russian tale, a prince suffers intensely because a witch has taken his heart and keeps it boiling in a magical cauldron.827 In a Bohemian story, a warlock's power is contained in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a stag, which is under a tree. A seer discovers the egg and sucks it. As a result, the warlock becomes as weak as a child, "since all his strength has gone into the seer."828 In a Serbian tale, a mythical being named True Steel states, "Not far from here, there's a tall mountain. In that mountain, there's a fox. Inside the fox, there's a heart. Within that heart, there's a bird, and in that bird is my strength." The fox is trapped and killed, and its heart is removed. From the fox's heart, the bird is taken out and then burned, and at that moment True Steel falls dead.829 In a South Slavic story, a dragon tells an old woman, "My strength is far away, and you can't touch it. Deep in another kingdom, beneath the emperor's city, there's a lake. In that lake is a dragon, within the dragon is a boar, inside the boar is a pigeon, and that's where my strength lies."830
Amongst peoples of the Teutonic stock stories of the external soul are not wanting. In a tale told by the Saxons of Transylvania it is said that a young man shot at a witch again and again. The bullets went clean through her but did her no harm, and she only laughed and mocked at him. “Silly earthworm,” [pg 311] she cried, “shoot as much as you like. It does me no harm. For know that my life resides not in me but far, far away. In a mountain is a pond, on the pond swims a duck, in the duck is an egg, in the egg burns a light, that light is my life. If you could put out that light, my life would be at an end. But that can never, never be.” However, the young man got hold of the egg, smashed it, and put out the light, and with it the witch's life went out also.831 In a German story a cannibal called Soulless keeps his soul in a box, which stands on a rock in the middle of the Red Sea. A soldier gets possession of the box and goes with it to Soulless, who begs the soldier to give him back his soul. But the soldier opens the box, takes out the soul, and flings it backward over his head. At the same moment the cannibal drops down stone dead.832 In an Oldenburg story a king has three sons and a daughter, and for each child there grows a flower in the king's garden. Each of the flowers is a life flower; it blooms and flourishes while the child lives, but when the child dies it withers away.833 In another German story an old warlock lives with a damsel all alone in the midst of a vast and gloomy wood. She fears that being old he may die and leave her alone in the forest. But he reassures her. “Dear child,” he said, “I cannot die, and I have no heart in my breast.” But she importuned him to tell her where his heart was. So he said, “Far, far from here in an unknown and lonesome land stands a great church. The church is well secured with iron doors, and round about it flows [pg 312] a broad deep moat. In the church flies a bird and in the bird is my heart. So long as that bird lives, I live. It cannot die of itself, and no one can catch it; therefore I cannot die, and you need have no anxiety.” However, the young man, whose bride the damsel was to have been before the warlock spirited her away, contrived to reach the church and catch the bird. He brought it to the damsel, who stowed him and it away under the warlock's bed. Soon the old warlock came home. He was ailing, and said so. The girl wept and said, “Alas, daddy is dying; he has a heart in his breast after all.” “Child,” replied the warlock, “hold your tongue. I can't die. It will soon pass over.” At that the young man under the bed gave the bird a gentle squeeze; and as he did so, the old warlock felt very unwell and sat down. Then the young man gripped the bird tighter, and the warlock fell senseless from his chair. “Now squeeze him dead,” cried the damsel. Her lover obeyed, and when the bird was dead, the old warlock also lay dead on the floor.834
Among the Germanic peoples, stories about the external soul are common. In a tale told by the Saxons of Transylvania, a young man keeps shooting at a witch, but the bullets pass right through her without causing any harm, and she just laughs and mocks him. “Funny earthworm,” [pg 311] she says, "Shoot as much as you want. It doesn't hurt me at all. My life isn't in me but far, far away. On a mountain, there's a pond; on the pond, a duck swims; inside the duck, there's an egg; inside the egg, a light burns, and that light is my life. If you could put out that light, my life would end. But that will never happen." Nevertheless, the young man manages to find the egg, breaks it, and extinguishes the light, and with it, the witch's life also comes to an end.831 In a German story, a cannibal named Soulless keeps his soul in a box that sits on a rock in the middle of the Red Sea. A soldier takes the box to Soulless, who begs the soldier to return his soul. However, the soldier opens the box, takes out the soul, and throws it backward over his head. At that moment, the cannibal falls down dead.832 In an Oldenburg tale, a king has three sons and a daughter, and in the king's garden, a flower grows for each child. Each flower represents a life; it blooms and thrives while the child is alive, but when the child dies, the flower wilts.833 In another German story, an old warlock lives with a girl alone in a vast, gloomy forest. She worries that if he dies, she will be left alone in the woods. But he reassures her. "Dear child," he says, "I can't die, and I don't have a heart in my chest." She presses him to tell her where his heart is, so he replies, “In a distant and unfamiliar place, there is a large church. The church is locked with iron doors, and a deep moat surrounds it. Inside the church, there’s a bird, and my heart is in that bird. As long as that bird is alive, I am alive. It can’t die on its own, and no one can catch it; so I can’t die, and you don’t need to worry about anything.” Yet, the young man who was supposed to marry the girl before the warlock took her away manages to reach the church and catch the bird. He brings it back to the girl, who hides it under the warlock's bed. Soon, the old warlock returns home. He is unwell and admits it. The girl cries, saying, “Oh no, Dad is dying; he really has a heart in his chest.” "Kid," the warlock replies, "Be quiet. I can’t die. This will be over soon." At that moment, the young man under the bed gives the bird a gentle squeeze, and as he does, the old warlock starts feeling very unwell and sits down. Then, he grips the bird tighter, and the warlock collapses unconscious from his chair. “Now squeeze him to death,” the damsel urges. Her lover obeys, and when the bird dies, the old warlock also lays dead on the floor.834
In the Norse tale of “the giant who had no heart in his body,” the giant tells the captive princess, “Far, far away in a lake lies an island, on that island stands a church, in that church is a well, in that well swims a duck, in that duck there is an egg, and in that egg there lies my heart.” The hero of the tale obtains the egg and squeezes it, at which the giant screams piteously and begs for his life. But the hero breaks the egg in pieces and the giant at once bursts.835 In another Norse story a hill-ogre tells the captive princess that she will never be able to return home unless she finds the [pg 313] grain of sand which lies under the ninth tongue of the ninth head of a certain dragon; but if that grain of sand were to come over the rock in which the ogres live, they would all burst “and the rock itself would become a gilded palace, and the lake green meadows.” The hero finds the grain of sand and takes it to the top of the high rock in which the ogres live. So all the ogres burst and the rest falls out as one of the ogres had foretold.836 In an Icelandic parallel to the story of Meleager, the spae-wives or sybils come and foretell the high destiny of the infant Gestr as he lies in his cradle. Two candles were burning beside the child, and the youngest of the spae-wives, conceiving herself slighted, cried out, “I foretell that the child shall live no longer than this candle burns.” Whereupon the chief sybil put out the candle and gave it to Gestr's mother to keep, charging her not to light it again until her son should wish to die. Gestr lived three hundred years; then he kindled the candle and expired.837
In the Norse tale of "the giant who had no heart inside him," the giant tells the captive princess, "A long way off in a lake, there's an island. On that island, there's a church. Inside that church, there's a well. In that well, there's a duck swimming. Inside that duck, there's an egg, and in that egg lies my heart." The hero of the story gets the egg and squeezes it, causing the giant to scream and beg for his life. However, the hero shatters the egg, and the giant immediately bursts. 835 In another Norse story, a hill-ogre tells the captive princess that she will never be able to return home unless she finds the [pg 313] grain of sand that lies under the ninth tongue of the ninth head of a specific dragon; but if that grain of sand were to come over the rock where the ogres live, they would all burst, “and the rock would turn into a golden palace, and the lake would have lush green meadows.” The hero finds the grain of sand and takes it to the top of the high rock where the ogres live. All the ogres burst, just as one of the ogres had predicted. 836 In an Icelandic version of the story of Meleager, the spae-wives or sybils come and predict the great destiny of the infant Gestr as he lies in his cradle. Two candles were burning beside the child, and the youngest of the spae-wives, feeling overlooked, exclaimed, "I predict that the child will live no longer than this candle burns." Then the chief sybil extinguished the candle and gave it to Gestr's mother to keep, instructing her not to light it again until her son wished to die. Gestr lived for three hundred years; then he lit the candle and died. 837
In a Celtic tale a giant says, “There is a great flagstone under the threshold. There is a wether under the flag. There is a duck in the wether's belly, and an egg in the belly of the duck, and it is in the egg that my soul is.” The egg is crushed, and the giant falls down dead.838 In another Celtic tale, a sea beast has carried off a king's daughter, and an old smith declares that there is no way of killing the beast but one. “In the island that is in the midst of the loch is Eillid Chaisthion—the white-footed hind, of the [pg 314] slenderest legs, and the swiftest step, and, though she should be caught, there would spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there would spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the beast is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, the beast is dead.” As usual the egg is broken and the beast dies.839 In a Breton story there figures a giant whom neither fire nor water nor steel can harm. He tells a princess whom he has just married, “I am immortal, and no one can hurt me, unless he crushes on my breast an egg which is in a pigeon, which is in the belly of a hare; this hare is in the belly of a wolf, and this wolf is in the belly of my brother, who dwells a thousand leagues from here. So I am quite easy on that score.” A soldier gets the egg and crushes it on the breast of the giant, who immediately expires.840 In another Breton tale a giant is called Body-without-Soul because his life does not reside in his body. It resides in an egg, the egg is in a dove, the dove is in a hare, the hare is in a wolf, and the wolf is in an iron chest at the bottom of the sea. The hero kills the animals one after another, and at the death of each animal the giant grows weaker, as if he had lost a limb. When at last the hero comes to the giant's castle bearing the egg in his hand, he finds Body-without-Soul stretched on his bed at the point of death. So he dashes the egg against the giant's forehead, the egg breaks, and the giant straightway dies.841
In a Celtic story, a giant says, "There's a large flagstone at the entrance. There's a ram underneath the flagstone. Inside the ram's belly, there's a duck, and inside the duck's belly, there's an egg, and my soul is in that egg." The egg gets crushed, and the giant falls down dead.838 In another Celtic tale, a sea monster has kidnapped a king's daughter, and an old blacksmith states that there's only one way to kill the beast. "On the island in the middle of the lake is Eillid Chaisthion—the white-footed deer with the slenderest legs and the fastest speed. Even if she gets caught, a hoodie will come out of her, and if the hoodie gets caught, a trout will leap from her. But there's an egg in the trout's mouth, and the beast's soul is in the egg. If the egg breaks, the beast dies." As usual, the egg gets broken, and the beast dies.839 In a Breton tale, there's a giant who can’t be harmed by fire, water, or steel. He tells a princess he just married, “I’m immortal, and no one can hurt me, unless they crush an egg on my chest that’s inside a pigeon, which is in the belly of a hare; that hare is in the belly of a wolf, and that wolf is in the belly of my brother, who lives a thousand leagues away. So, I’m pretty safe from that.” A soldier finds the egg and crushes it on the giant's chest, who immediately falls dead.840 In another Breton tale, there’s a giant named Body-without-Soul because his life isn’t in his body. It’s in an egg, which is in a dove, the dove is in a hare, the hare is in a wolf, and the wolf is in an iron chest at the bottom of the sea. The hero kills the animals one by one, and with each animal's death, the giant grows weaker, as if he were losing a limb. When the hero finally arrives at the giant’s castle with the egg in his hand, he finds Body-without-Soul lying on his bed at death’s door. So he smashes the egg against the giant's forehead, the egg breaks, and the giant instantly dies.841
The notion of an external soul has now been traced in folk-tales told by Aryan peoples from India to [pg 315] Brittany and the Hebrides. We have still to show that the same idea occurs commonly in the popular stories of non-Aryan peoples. In the first place it appears in the ancient Egyptian story of “The Two Brothers.” This story was written down in the reign of Rameses II, about 1300 years b.c. It is therefore older than our present redaction of Homer, and far older than the Bible. The outline of the story, so far as it concerns us here, is as follows: Once upon a time there were two brethren; the name of the elder was Anupu and the name of the younger was Bitiu. Now Anupu had a house and a wife, and his younger brother dwelt with him as his servant. It was Anupu who made the garments, and every morning when it grew light he drove the kine afield. As he walked behind them they used to say to him, “The grass is good in such and such a place,” and he heard what they said and led them to the good pasture that they desired. So his kine grew very sleek and multiplied greatly. One day when the two brothers were at work in the field the elder brother said to the younger, “Run and fetch seed from the village.” So the younger brother ran and said to the wife of his elder brother, “Give me seed that I may run to the field, for my brother sent me saying, tarry not.” She said, “Go to the barn and take as much as you desire.” He went and filled a jar full of wheat and barley, and came forth bearing it on his shoulders. When the woman saw him her heart went out to him, and she laid hold of him and said, “Come, let us rest an hour together.” But he said, “Thou art to me as a mother, and my brother is to me as a father.” So he would not hearken to her, but took the load on his back and went away to the field. In the evening, when the elder brother was returning from the field, [pg 316] his wife feared for what she had said. So she took soot and made herself as one who has been beaten. And when her husband came home, she said, “When thy younger brother came to fetch seed, he said to me, Come, let us rest an hour together. But I would not, and he beat me.” Then the elder brother became like a panther of the south; he sharpened his knife and stood behind the door of the cow-house. And when the sun set and the younger brother came laden with all the herbs of the field, as was his wont every day, the cow that walked in front of the herd said to him, “Behold, thy elder brother stands with a knife to kill thee. Flee before him.” When he heard what the cow said, he looked under the door of the cow-house and saw the feet of his elder brother standing behind the door, his knife in his hand. So he fled and his brother pursued him with the knife. But the younger brother cried for help to the Sun, and the Sun heard him and caused a great water to spring up between him and his elder brother, and the water was full of crocodiles. The two brothers stood, the one on the one side of the water and the other on the other, and the younger brother told the elder brother all that had befallen. So the elder brother repented him of what he had done and he wept aloud. But he could not come at the farther bank by reason of the crocodiles. His younger brother called to him and said, “Go home and tend the cattle thyself. For I will dwell no more in the place where thou art. I will go to the Valley of the Acacia. But this is what thou shalt do for me. Thou shalt come and care for me, if evil befalls me, for I will enchant my heart and place it on the top of the flower of the Acacia; and if they cut the Acacia and my heart falls to the ground, thou shalt come and seek [pg 317] it, and when thou hast found it thou shalt lay it in a vessel of fresh water. Then I shall come to life again. But this is the sign that evil has befallen me; the pot of beer in thine hand shall bubble.” So he went away to the Valley of the Acacia, but his brother returned home with dust on his head and slew his wife and cast her to the dogs.
The idea of an external soul has now been found in folk tales shared by Aryan peoples from India to [pg 315] Brittany and the Hebrides. We still need to show that the same concept appears frequently in the popular stories of non-Aryan peoples. First, it shows up in the ancient Egyptian tale of “The Two Brothers.” This story was recorded during the reign of Rameses II, around 1300 years b.c., making it older than our current version of Homer and much older than the Bible. The essence of the story, as it relates to us, goes like this: Once there were two brothers; the elder was named Anupu and the younger Bitiu. Anupu had a house and a wife, and his younger brother lived with him as his servant. Anupu took care of the clothing, and every morning at dawn, he would take the cows out to the fields. As he walked behind them, they would say to him, "The grass is nice in this particular area," and he listened to them and led them to the desired pasture. As a result, his cows became very healthy and multiplied a lot. One day while they were working in the field, the elder brother asked the younger, "Go and get some seeds from the village." So the younger brother ran and asked his elder brother’s wife, "Give me some seeds so I can head to the field, because my brother advised me not to waste any time." She replied, "Head to the barn and take as much as you like." He went and filled a jar with wheat and barley, carrying it on his shoulders. When the woman saw him, her heart went out to him, and she grabbed him and said, "Come, let’s take an hour to relax together." But he replied, "You feel like a mother to me, and my brother feels like a father." So he didn’t listen to her, took the load on his back, and went back to the field. In the evening, as the elder brother was coming back from the field, [pg 316] his wife became anxious about what she had said. So she took soot and made herself look like someone who had been beaten. When her husband arrived, she said, "When your younger brother came to get seeds, he said to me, ‘Come, let’s rest for an hour together.’ But I declined, and he hit me." The elder brother became furious and sharpened his knife, hiding behind the door of the cowhouse. When the sun set and the younger brother returned, carrying the herbs from the field as he did every day, the lead cow called out to him, "Hey, your older brother is waiting with a knife to kill you. Get out of here!" When he heard what the cow said, he peered under the cowhouse door and saw his elder brother's feet standing there, knife in hand. So he ran, and his brother chased him with the knife. But the younger brother cried out for help to the Sun, and the Sun heard him and created a large body of water between the two brothers, filled with crocodiles. The two brothers stood on either side of the water, and the younger brother explained everything that had happened. The elder brother regretted his actions and wept loudly. But he couldn't get across because of the crocodiles. The younger brother called out, "Go home and take care of the cattle yourself. I won't stay where you are anymore. I'm going to the Valley of the Acacia. But here’s what you need to do for me. You must come and check on me if anything goes wrong, because I'll enchant my heart and place it on top of the Acacia flower; and if they cut down the Acacia and my heart falls to the ground, you need to come and find [pg 317] it, and when you find it, you must put it in a container of fresh water. Then I will come back to life. The sign that something bad has happened to me is that the pot of beer in your hand will start to bubble." So he left for the Valley of the Acacia, while his brother went home with dust on his head and killed his wife, throwing her to the dogs.
For many days afterwards the younger brother dwelt alone in the Valley of the Acacia. By day he hunted the beasts of the field, but at evening he came and laid him down under the Acacia, on the top of whose flower was his heart. And many days after that he built himself a house in the Valley of the Acacia. But the gods were grieved for him; and the Sun said to Khnum, “Make a wife for Bitiu, that he may not dwell alone.” So Khnum made him a woman to dwell with him, who was perfect in her limbs more than any woman on earth, for all the gods were in her. So she dwelt with him. But one day a lock of her hair fell into the river and floated down to the land of Egypt, to the house of Pharaoh's washerwomen. The fragrance of the lock perfumed Pharaoh's raiment, and the washerwomen were blamed, for it was said, “An odour of perfume in the garments of Pharaoh!” So the heart of Pharaoh's chief washerman was weary of the complaints that were made every day, and he went to the quay, and there in the water he saw the lock of hair. He sent one down into the river to fetch it, and, because it smelt sweetly, he took it to Pharaoh. Then Pharaoh's magicians were sent for and they said, “This lock of hair belongs to a daughter of the Sun, who has in her the essence of all the gods. Let messengers go forth to all foreign lands to seek her.” So the woman was brought from the Valley of the Acacia with chariots [pg 318] and archers and much company, and all the land of Egypt rejoiced at her coming, and Pharaoh loved her. But when they asked her of her husband, she said to Pharaoh, “Let them cut down the Acacia and let them destroy him.” So men were sent with tools to cut down the Acacia. They came to it and cut the flower upon which was the heart of Bitiu; and he fell down dead in that evil hour. But the next day, when the elder brother of Bitiu was entered into his house and had sat down, they brought him a pot of beer and it bubbled, and they gave him a jug of wine and it grew turbid. Then he took his staff and his sandals and hied him to the Valley of the Acacia, and there he found his younger brother lying dead in his house. So he sought for the heart of his brother under the Acacia. For three years he sought in vain, but in the fourth year he found it in the berry of the Acacia. So he threw the heart into a cup of fresh water. And when it was night and the heart had sucked in much water, Bitiu shook in all his limbs and revived. Then he drank the cup of water in which his heart was, and his heart went into its place, and he lived as before.842
For many days after that, the younger brother lived alone in the Valley of the Acacia. During the day, he hunted the animals in the field, but in the evening, he lay down under the Acacia, where his heart was atop its flower. Many days later, he built himself a house in the Valley of the Acacia. But the gods felt sorry for him, and the Sun said to Khnum, “Create a wife for Bitiu, so he won’t be lonely.” So Khnum created a woman for him, perfect in her features, more so than any woman on earth, for all the gods were within her. She lived with him. One day, a lock of her hair fell into the river and floated down to Egypt, to the house of Pharaoh's washerwomen. The fragrance of the lock scenting Pharaoh's clothing caused the washerwomen to be blamed, as it was said, "Pharaoh's clothes smell like perfume!" Tired of the daily complaints, Pharaoh’s chief washerman went to the quay, where he spotted the lock of hair in the water. He sent someone into the river to retrieve it, and because it smelled so sweet, he brought it to Pharaoh. Pharaoh’s magicians were summoned, and they declared, “This lock of hair belongs to a daughter of the Sun, who represents all the gods. Send messengers to all distant lands to locate her.” So the woman was brought from the Valley of the Acacia with chariots [pg 318] and archers, along with a large company, and all of Egypt celebrated her arrival, and Pharaoh fell in love with her. However, when they inquired about her husband, she told Pharaoh, "Have them cut down the Acacia and let them take him out." So men were sent with tools to cut down the Acacia. They arrived and cut down the flower that held Bitiu's heart; he collapsed and died in that terrible moment. The next day, when Bitiu's older brother entered his house and sat down, they brought him a pot of beer that bubbled, and a jug of wine that became murky. He then took his staff and sandals and headed to the Valley of the Acacia, where he found his younger brother dead in his house. He searched for his brother's heart beneath the Acacia. For three years he searched in vain, but in the fourth year, he found it in the berry of the Acacia. He tossed the heart into a cup of fresh water. When night fell and the heart absorbed much water, Bitiu trembled in all his limbs and came back to life. Then he drank the water from the cup containing his heart, and it returned to its place, and he lived as he had before.842
In the story of Seyf-el-Mulook in the Arabian Nights, the Jinnee declares, “When I was born, the astrologers declared that the destruction of my soul would be effected by the hand of one of the sons of the human kings. I therefore took my soul, and put it into the crop of a sparrow, and I imprisoned the sparrow in a little box, and put this into another small box, and this I put within seven other small boxes, and I put these within seven chests, and the chests I put into a coffer of marble within the verge of this circumambient ocean; for this part is remote from the countries of [pg 319] mankind, and none of mankind can gain access to it.” But Seyf-el-Mulook got possession of the sparrow and strangled it, and the Jinnee fell upon the ground a heap of black ashes.843 In a modern Arabian tale a king marries an ogress, who puts out the eyes of the king's forty wives. One of the blinded queens gives birth to a son whom she names Mohammed the Prudent. But the ogress queen hated him and compassed his death. So she sent him on an errand to the house of her kinsfolk the ogres. In the house of the ogres he saw some things hanging from the roof, and on asking a female slave what they were, she said, “That is the bottle which contains the life of my lady the queen, and the other bottle beside it contains the eyes of the queens whom my mistress blinded.” A little afterwards he spied a beetle and rose to kill it. “Don't kill it,” cried the slave, “for that is my life.” But Mohammed the Prudent watched the beetle till it entered a chink in the wall; and when the female slave had fallen asleep, he killed the beetle in its hole, and so the slave died. Then Mohammed took down the two bottles and carried them home to his father's palace. There he presented himself before the ogress queen and said, “See, I have your life in my hand, but I will not kill you till you have replaced the eyes which you took from the forty queens.” The ogress did as she was bid, and then Mohammed the Prudent said, “There, take your life.” But the bottle slipped from his hand and fell, the life of the ogress escaped from it, and she died.844
In the story of Seyf-el-Mulook from the Arabian Nights, the Jinnee says, "When I was born, the astrologers foretold that I would die at the hands of one of the sons of human kings. So, I took my soul and placed it inside the crop of a sparrow. I then locked the sparrow in a small box, which I put into another small box, and that into seven more small boxes. I locked these in seven chests and stored them inside a marble coffer at the edge of this vast ocean; this place is far from human lands, and no human can reach it." But Seyf-el-Mulook managed to get the sparrow and strangled it, causing the Jinnee to fall to the ground as a pile of black ashes.843 In a modern Arabian tale, a king marries an ogress, who then blinds the king's forty wives. One of the blinded queens gives birth to a son named Mohammed the Prudent. However, the ogress queen despised him and plotted to kill him. She sent him on a task to the house of her ogre relatives. In the ogres' house, he noticed some items hanging from the ceiling, and when he asked a female slave what they were, she replied, "That's the bottle that holds my lady the queen's life, and the other bottle next to it contains the eyes of the queens my mistress blinded." Shortly after, he spotted a beetle and aimed to kill it. “Don't kill it,” shouted the slave, "because that is my life." But Mohammed the Prudent kept an eye on the beetle until it crawled into a crack in the wall; and when the female slave fell asleep, he killed the beetle in its hideout, and thus the slave died. Then Mohammed took the two bottles and brought them back to his father's palace. He appeared before the ogress queen and said, “Listen, I hold your life in my hands, but I won’t kill you until you give back the eyes you stole from the forty queens.” The ogress complied, and after she did, Mohammed the Prudent said, “Take your life, here.” But the bottle slipped from his hand and fell, the ogress's life escaped from it, and she died.844
In a Kabyl story an ogre declares that his fate is far away in an egg, which is in a pigeon, which is in a camel, which is in the sea. The hero procures the egg and crushes it between his hands, and the ogre dies.845 In a Magyar folk-tale, an old witch detains a young prince called Ambrose in the bowels of the earth. At last she confided to him that she kept a wild boar in a silken meadow, and if it were killed, they would find a hare inside, and inside the hare a pigeon, and inside the pigeon a small box, and inside the box one black and one shining beetle: the shining beetle held her life, and the black one held her power; if these two beetles died, then her life would come to an end also. When the old hag went out, Ambrose killed the wild boar, took out the hare, from the hare he took the pigeon, from the pigeon the box, and from the box the two beetles; he killed the black beetle, but kept the shining one alive. So the witch's power left her immediately, and when she came home, she had to take to her bed. Having learned from her how to escape from his prison to the upper air, Ambrose killed the shining beetle, and the old hag's spirit left her at once.846 In another Hungarian story the safety [pg 321] of the Dwarf-king resides in a golden cockchafer, inside a golden cock, inside a golden sheep, inside a golden stag, in the ninety-ninth island. The hero overcomes all these golden animals and so recovers his bride, whom the Dwarf-king had carried off.847 A Samoyed story tells how seven warlocks killed a certain man's mother and carried off his sister, whom they kept to serve them. Every night when they came home the seven warlocks used to take out their hearts and place them in a dish, which the woman hung on the tent-poles. But the wife of the man whom they had wronged stole the hearts of the warlocks while they slept, and took them to her husband. By break of day he went with the hearts to the warlocks, and found them at the point of death. They all begged for their hearts; but he threw six of their hearts to the ground, and six of the warlocks died. The seventh and eldest warlock begged hard for his heart, and the man said, “You killed my mother. Make her alive again, and I will give you back your heart.” The warlock said to his wife, “Go to the place where the dead woman lies. You will find a bag there. Bring it to me. The woman's spirit is in the bag.” So his wife brought the bag; and the warlock said to the man, “Go to your dead mother, shake the bag and let the spirit breathe over her bones; so she will come to life again.” The man did as he was bid, and his mother was restored to life. Then he hurled the seventh heart to the ground, and the seventh warlock died.848
In a Kabyl story, an ogre claims that his fate is hidden in an egg, which is inside a pigeon, which is inside a camel, which is in the sea. The hero gets the egg and crushes it in his hands, causing the ogre to die. 845 In a Magyar folk tale, an old witch keeps a young prince named Ambrose trapped deep underground. Eventually, she reveals that she has a wild boar in a silk meadow, and if it’s killed, they would find a hare inside, and inside the hare a pigeon, and inside the pigeon a small box, containing one black and one shiny beetle: the shiny beetle holds her life, and the black one holds her power; if both beetles die, her life will end too. When the old witch steps out, Ambrose kills the wild boar, takes out the hare, gets the pigeon, opens the box, and retrieves the two beetles; he kills the black beetle but keeps the shiny one alive. Immediately, the witch loses her powers and has to go to bed when she returns home. Learning how to escape his prison to the surface, Ambrose then kills the shiny beetle, and the witch's spirit leaves her at once. 846 In another Hungarian story, the safety of the Dwarf-king is found in a golden cockchafer, inside a golden cock, inside a golden sheep, inside a golden stag, located on the ninety-ninth island. The hero defeats all these golden creatures and rescues his bride, whom the Dwarf-king had taken. 847 A Samoyed story tells how seven warlocks killed a man's mother and kidnapped his sister to serve them. Every night, the seven warlocks would remove their hearts and place them in a dish that the woman would hang on the tent-poles. However, the man's wife stole the warlocks' hearts while they slept and took them to her husband. At dawn, he went to the warlocks with the hearts and found them near death. They all pleaded for their hearts back; he threw six of them to the ground, causing six of the warlocks to die. The seventh and oldest warlock begged desperately for his heart, and the man responded, “You killed my mom. Bring her back to life, and I'll give you your heart back.” The warlock told his wife, "Go to where the dead woman is. You'll find a bag there. Bring it to me. Her spirit is in the bag." So his wife brought the bag; and the warlock instructed the man, “Go to your deceased mother, shake the bag, and let the spirit breathe over her bones; then she will be revived.” The man followed his instructions, and his mother was revived. Then he threw the seventh heart to the ground, and the seventh warlock died. 848
In a Tartar poem two heroes named Ak Molot and Bulat engage in mortal combat. Ak Molot pierces his foe through and through with an arrow, grapples [pg 322] with him, and dashes him to the ground, but all in vain, Bulat could not die. At last when the combat has lasted three years, a friend of Ak Molot sees a golden casket hanging by a white thread from the sky, and bethinks him that perhaps this casket contains Bulat's soul. So he shot through the white thread with an arrow, and down fell the casket. He opened it, and in the casket sat ten white birds, and one of the birds was Bulat's soul. Bulat wept when he saw that his soul was found in the casket. But one after the other the birds were killed, and then Ak Molot easily slew his foe.849 In another Tartar poem, two brothers going to fight two other brothers take out their souls and hide them in the form of a white herb with six stalks in a deep pit. But one of their foes sees them doing so and digs up their souls, which he puts into a golden ram's horn, and then puts the ram's horn in his quiver. The two warriors whose souls have thus been stolen know that they have no chance of victory, and accordingly make peace with their enemies.850 In another Tartar poem a terrible demon sets all the gods and heroes at defiance. At last a valiant youth fights the demon, binds him hand and foot, and slices him with his sword. But still the demon is not slain. So the youth asked him, “Tell me, where is your soul hidden? For if your soul had been hidden in your body, you must have been dead long ago.” The demon replied, “On the saddle of my horse is a bag. In the bag is a serpent with twelve heads. In the serpent is my soul. When you have killed the serpent, you have killed me also.” So the youth took the saddle-bag from the horse and killed the twelve-headed serpent, whereupon the demon [pg 323] expired.851 In another Tartar poem a hero called Kök Chan deposits with a maiden a golden ring, in which is half his strength. Afterwards when Kök Chan is wrestling long with a hero and cannot kill him, a woman drops into his mouth the ring which contains half his strength. Thus inspired with fresh force he slays his enemy.852
In a Tartar poem, two heroes named Ak Molot and Bulat face off in a deadly fight. Ak Molot shoots Bulat with an arrow, wrestles with him, and throws him to the ground, but it’s all for nothing—Bulat just won’t die. Finally, after three years of fighting, a friend of Ak Molot spots a golden box hanging by a white thread from the sky and wonders if it might contain Bulat's soul. He shoots the white thread with an arrow, causing the box to fall. When he opens it, he finds ten white birds inside, and one of them is Bulat's soul. Bulat cries when he realizes his soul has been found in the box. However, one by one, the birds are killed, and then Ak Molot easily defeats his enemy. In another Tartar poem, two brothers preparing to fight two other brothers take out their souls and hide them in the form of a white herb with six stalks in a deep pit. But one of their enemies catches them in the act and digs up their souls, placing them in a golden ram's horn, which he then puts in his quiver. The two warriors whose souls have been stolen know they can't win, so they make peace with their enemies. In yet another Tartar poem, a fearsome demon challenges all the gods and heroes. Eventually, a brave young man confronts the demon, ties him up, and cuts him with his sword, yet the demon still doesn’t die. The young man then asks him, “Tell me, where is your soul hidden? If your soul were in your body, you would have died long ago.” The demon replies, “On my horse's saddle, there’s a bag. Inside the bag is a twelve-headed serpent. My soul is in the serpent. When you kill the serpent, you kill me too.” So the young man takes the bag from the horse and slays the twelve-headed serpent, resulting in the demon’s death. In another Tartar poem, a hero named Kök Chan gives a maiden a golden ring that holds half of his strength. Later, when Kök Chan is wrestling with another hero and struggling to defeat him, a woman drops the ring into his mouth. Revitalized by its power, he manages to kill his foe.
In a Mongolian story the hero Joro gets the better of his enemy the lama Tschoridong in the following way. The lama, who is an enchanter, sends out his soul in the form of a wasp to sting Joro's eyes. But Joro catches the wasp in his hand, and by alternately shutting and opening his hand he causes the lama alternately to lose and recover consciousness.853 In a Tartar poem two youths cut open the body of an old witch and tear out her bowels, but all to no purpose, she still lives. On being asked where her soul is, she answers that it is in the middle of her shoe-sole in the form of a seven-headed speckled snake. So one of the youths slices her shoe-sole with his sword, takes out the speckled snake, and cuts off its seven heads. Then the witch dies.854 Another Tartar poem describes how the hero Kartaga grappled with the Swan-woman. Long they wrestled. Moons waxed and waned and still they wrestled; years came and went, and still the struggle went on. But the piebald horse and the black horse knew that the Swan-woman's [pg 324] soul was not in her. Under the black earth flow nine seas; where the seas meet and form one, the sea comes to the surface of the earth. At the mouth of the nine seas rises a rock of copper; it rises to the surface of the ground, it rises up between heaven and earth, this rock of copper. At the foot of the copper rock is a black chest, in the black chest is a golden casket, and in the golden casket is the soul of the Swan-woman. Seven little birds are the soul of the Swan-woman; if the birds are killed the Swan-woman will die straightway. So the horses ran to the foot of the copper rock, opened the black chest, and brought back the golden casket. Then the piebald horse turned himself into a bald-headed man, opened the golden casket, and cut off the heads of the seven birds. So the Swan-woman died.855 In a Tartar story a chief called Tash Kan is asked where his soul is. He answers that there are seven great poplars, and under the poplars a golden well; seven Maralen (?) come to drink the water of the well, and the belly of one of them trails on the ground; in this Maral is a golden box, in the golden box is a silver box, in the silver box are seven quails, the head of one of the quails is golden and its tail silver; that quail is Tash Kan's soul. The hero of the story gets possession of the seven quails and wrings the necks of six of them. Then Tash Kan comes running and begs the hero to let his soul go free. But the hero wrings the quail's neck, and Tash Kan drops dead.856 In another Tartar poem the hero, pursuing his sister who has driven away his cattle, is warned to desist from the pursuit because his sister has carried away his soul in a golden sword and a golden arrow, and if he pursues [pg 325] her she will kill him by throwing the golden sword or shooting the golden arrow at him.857
In a Mongolian story, the hero Joro defeats his enemy, the lama Tschoridong, in a clever way. The lama, who is an enchanter, sends his soul out as a wasp to sting Joro's eyes. However, Joro catches the wasp in his hand and by alternately closing and opening his hand, he makes the lama lose and regain consciousness. 853 In a Tartar poem, two young men cut open the body of an old witch and pull out her insides, but it does no good; she still lives. When asked where her soul is, she replies that it is located in the middle of her shoe-sole, in the form of a seven-headed speckled snake. One of the young men then slices open her shoe-sole with his sword, takes out the speckled snake, and decapitates it. This causes the witch to die. 854 Another Tartar poem tells of the hero Kartaga wrestling with the Swan-woman. They wrestle for a long time. Moons wax and wane, yet they continue to struggle; years pass, and still, the battle goes on. But the piebald horse and the black horse know that the Swan-woman's [pg 324] soul is not within her. Beneath the black earth flow nine seas; where the seas meet and merge, the water rises to the surface of the earth. At the confluence of the nine seas, a copper rock emerges; it rises from the ground, standing tall between heaven and earth. At the base of the copper rock is a black chest, inside which is a golden casket, and within that casket is the soul of the Swan-woman. The soul is represented by seven little birds; if any of the birds are killed, the Swan-woman will die immediately. So the horses race to the base of the copper rock, open the black chest, and retrieve the golden casket. Then, the piebald horse transforms into a bald-headed man, opens the golden casket, and beheads the seven birds. As a result, the Swan-woman dies. 855 In a Tartar tale, a chief named Tash Kan is asked where his soul is. He replies that there are seven tall poplars, and beneath them lies a golden well; seven Maralen (?) come to drink from the well, and the belly of one trails on the ground. Inside this Maral is a golden box, inside which is a silver box, and within the silver box are seven quails. One of the quails has a golden head and a silver tail; that quail is Tash Kan's soul. The hero of the story manages to get hold of the seven quails and snaps the necks of six of them. Tash Kan then comes rushing in, pleading with the hero to free his soul. But the hero continues to wring the quail's neck, causing Tash Kan to drop dead. 856 In another Tartar poem, the hero, chasing after his sister who has taken his cattle, is warned to stop, as his sister has taken his soul with a golden sword and a golden arrow. If he continues his pursuit, [pg 325] she will kill him by throwing the golden sword or shooting the golden arrow at him. 857
A Malay poem relates how once upon a time in the city of Indrapoera there was a certain merchant who was rich and prosperous, but he had no children. One day as he walked with his wife by the river they found a baby girl, fair as an angel. So they adopted the child and called her Bidasari. The merchant caused a golden fish to be made, and into this fish he transferred the soul of his adopted daughter. Then he put the golden fish in a golden box full of water, and hid it in a pond in the midst of his garden. In time the girl grew to be a lovely woman. Now the King of Indrapoera had a fair young queen, who lived in fear that the king might take to himself a second wife. So, hearing of the charms of Bidasari, the queen resolved to put her out of the way. So she lured the girl to the palace and tortured her cruelly; but Bidasari could not die, because her soul was not in her. At last she could stand the torture no longer and said to the queen, “If you wish me to die, you must bring the box which is in the pond in my father's garden.” So the box was brought and opened, and there was the golden fish in the water. The girl said, “My soul is in that fish. In the morning you must take the fish out of the water, and in the evening you must put it back into the water. Do not let the fish lie about, but bind it round your neck. If you do this, I shall soon die.” So the queen took the fish out of the box and fastened it round her neck; and no sooner had she done so, than Bidasari fell into a swoon. But in the evening, when the fish was put back into the water, Bidasari came to herself again. Seeing that she thus [pg 326] had the girl in her power, the queen sent her home to her adopted parents. To save her from further persecution her parents resolved to remove their daughter from the city. So in a lonely and desolate spot they built a house and brought Bidasari thither. Here she dwelt alone, undergoing vicissitudes that corresponded with the vicissitudes of the golden fish in which was her soul. All day long, while the fish was out of the water, she remained unconscious; but in the evening, when the fish was put into the water, she revived. One day the king was out hunting, and coming to the house where Bidasari lay unconscious, was smitten with her beauty. He tried to waken her, but in vain. Next day, towards evening, he repeated his visit, but still found her unconscious. However, when darkness fell, she came to herself and told the king the secret of her life. So the king returned to the palace, took the fish from the queen, and put it in water. Immediately Bidasari revived, and the king took her to wife.858
A Malay poem tells the story of a wealthy merchant in the city of Indrapoera who had no children. One day, while walking with his wife by the river, they discovered a baby girl who was as beautiful as an angel. They decided to adopt her and named her Bidasari. The merchant had a golden fish made and transferred his adopted daughter’s soul into it. He placed the golden fish in a golden box filled with water and hid it in a pond in his garden. As time passed, the girl grew into a beautiful woman. The King of Indrapoera had a lovely young queen who feared that the king might take another wife. Learning about Bidasari’s beauty, the queen plotted to eliminate her. She lured Bidasari to the palace and tortured her terribly, but Bidasari couldn’t die because her soul wasn’t in her body. Eventually, she could no longer endure the pain and said to the queen, “If you want me to die, you need to bring the box from the pond in my dad's garden.” The box was retrieved and opened, revealing the golden fish in the water. The girl said, "My soul is in that fish. In the morning, you need to take the fish out of the water, and in the evening, you have to put it back. Don’t let the fish be alone; instead, wear it around your neck. If you do this, I will soon die." The queen took the fish from the box and wore it around her neck; as soon as she did, Bidasari fainted. But in the evening, when the fish was returned to the water, Bidasari came back to consciousness. Realizing she had power over the girl, the queen sent her back to her adopted parents. To protect their daughter from more trouble, her parents decided to move her away from the city. They built a house in a lonely, deserted area and brought Bidasari there. She lived in isolation, experiencing the ups and downs that mirrored the fate of the golden fish containing her soul. All day, when the fish was out of the water, she remained unconscious, but in the evening, when the fish was placed back into the water, she revived. One day, while hunting, the king happened upon the house where Bidasari lay unconscious and was captivated by her beauty. He tried to wake her but without success. The next day, in the evening, he returned but still found her unresponsive. However, when night came, she regained her senses and shared the secret of her life with the king. He went back to the palace, took the fish from the queen, and placed it in water. Immediately, Bidasari revived, and the king took her as his wife. 858
The last story of an external soul which I shall notice comes from Nias, an island to the west of Sumatra, which we have visited more than once in the course of this book. Once on a time a chief was captured by his enemies, who tried to put him to death but failed. Water would not drown him nor fire burn him nor steel pierce him. At last his wife revealed the secret. On his head he had a hair as hard as a copper wire; and with this wire his life was bound up. So the hair was plucked out, and with it his spirit fled.859
The last story about an external soul that I'll mention comes from Nias, an island to the west of Sumatra, which we've visited more than once in this book. Once upon a time, a chief was captured by his enemies, who tried to kill him but failed. Water wouldn’t drown him, fire wouldn’t burn him, and steel couldn’t pierce him. Finally, his wife revealed the secret. He had a hair on his head as strong as a copper wire, and his life was tied to it. So, the hair was pulled out, and with it, his spirit left.859
§ 4.—The external soul in folk customs.
Thus the idea that the soul may be deposited for a longer or shorter time in some place of security outside the body, or at all events in the hair, is found in the popular tales of many races. It remains to show that the idea is not a mere figment devised to adorn a tale, but is a real article of primitive faith, which has given rise to a corresponding set of customs.
Thus, the belief that the soul can be stored for a longer or shorter period in a safe place outside the body, or at least in the hair, appears in the folklore of many cultures. It’s important to demonstrate that this belief isn't just a fanciful addition to a story, but a genuine aspect of ancient belief systems that has led to a corresponding set of customs.
We have seen that in the tales the hero, as a preparation for battle, sometimes removes his soul from his body, in order that his body may be invulnerable and immortal in the combat. With a like intention the savage removes his soul from his body on various occasions of real or imaginary danger. Thus we have seen that among the Minahassa of Celebes, when a family moves into a new house, a priest collects the souls of the whole family in a bag, and afterwards restores them to their owners, because the moment of entering a new house is supposed to be fraught with supernatural danger.860 In Southern Celebes when a woman is brought to bed the messenger who fetches the doctor or the midwife always carries with him a piece of iron, which he delivers to the doctor. The doctor must keep it in his house till the confinement is over, when he gives it back, receiving a fixed sum of money for doing so. The piece of iron represents the woman's soul, which at this critical time is believed to be safer out of her body than in it. Hence the doctor must take great care of [pg 328] the piece of iron; for if it were lost, the woman's soul would assuredly, it is supposed, be lost with it.861
We have seen that in the stories, the hero sometimes separates his soul from his body before a battle so that his body can be invulnerable and immortal during the fight. Similarly, a warrior removes his soul from his body on various occasions of real or imagined danger. For example, among the Minahassa people of Celebes, when a family moves into a new house, a priest collects all the family's souls in a bag and then returns them to their owners, because entering a new house is thought to come with supernatural risks. In Southern Celebes, when a woman is about to give birth, the messenger who goes to get the doctor or midwife always carries a piece of iron, which he hands to the doctor. The doctor must keep it in his house until the birth is over, at which point he returns it in exchange for a set fee. This piece of iron symbolizes the woman’s soul, which is believed to be safer outside of her body during this critical time. Therefore, the doctor must take great care of [pg 328] the piece of iron; if it were lost, it is thought that the woman's soul would also be lost with it.
Again, we have seen that in folk-tales a man's soul or strength is sometimes represented as bound up with his hair, and that when his hair is cut off he dies or grows weak. So the natives of Amboina used to think that their strength was in their hair and would desert them if it were shorn. A criminal under torture in a Dutch Court of that island persisted in denying his guilt till his hair was cut off, when he immediately confessed. One man who was tried for murder endured without flinching the utmost ingenuity of his torturers till he saw the surgeon standing with a pair of shears. On asking what this was for, and being told that it was to cut his hair, he begged they would not do it, and made a clean breast. In subsequent cases, when torture failed to wring a confession from a prisoner, the Dutch authorities made a practice of cutting off his hair.862 In Ceram it is still believed that if young people have their hair cut they will be weakened and enervated thereby.863 In Zacynthus people think that the whole strength of the ancient Greeks resided in three hairs on their breasts, and vanished whenever these hairs were cut; but if the hairs were allowed to grow again, their strength returned.864
Again, we've seen that in folk tales, a person's soul or strength is sometimes linked to their hair, and when their hair is cut off, they either die or become weak. The people of Amboina believed their strength was in their hair and that they would lose it if it were cut. A criminal being tortured in a Dutch court on that island kept denying his guilt until his hair was cut off, at which point he immediately confessed. One man tried for murder endured the most extreme methods of his torturers without flinching until he saw the surgeon with a pair of shears. When he asked what it was for and learned it was to cut his hair, he begged them not to do it and confessed. In later cases, when torture failed to get a confession from a prisoner, the Dutch authorities started routinely cutting off his hair.862 In Ceram, it's still believed that if young people have their hair cut, they will become weak and drained.863 In Zacynthus, people think that the entire strength of the ancient Greeks was in three hairs on their chests, which disappeared whenever those hairs were cut; but if the hairs were allowed to grow back, their strength returned.864
Again, we have seen that in folk-tales the life of a person is sometimes so bound up with the life of a plant that the withering of the plant will immediately follow or be followed by the death of the person.865 Similarly among the M'Bengas in Western Africa, about the [pg 329] Gaboon, when two children are born on the same day, the people plant two trees of the same kind and dance round them. The life of each of the children is believed to be bound up with the life of one of the trees; and if the tree dies or is thrown down, they are sure that the child will soon die.866 In the Cameroons, also, the life of a person is believed to be sympathetically bound up with that of a tree.867 Some of the Papuans unite the life of a new-born child sympathetically with that of a tree by driving a pebble into the bark of the tree. This is supposed to give them complete mastery over the child's life; if the tree is cut down, the child will die.868 After a birth the Maoris used to bury the navel-string in a sacred place and plant a young sapling over it. As the tree grew, it was a tohu oranga or sign of life for the child; if it flourished, the child would prosper; if it withered and died, the parents augured the worst for their child.869 In Southern Celebes, when a child is born, a cocoa-nut is planted, and is watered with the water in which the after-birth and navel-string have been washed. As it grows up, the tree is called the “contemporary” of the child.870 So in Bali a cocoa-palm is planted at the birth of a child. It is believed to grow up equally with the child, and is called its “life-plant.”871 On certain occasions the Dyaks of Borneo plant a palm-tree, which is believed to be a complete index of their fate. If it flourishes, they reckon on good fortune; but if it withers or dies, they [pg 330] expect misfortune.872 It is said that there are still families in Russia, Germany, England, France, and Italy who are accustomed to plant a tree at the birth of a child. The tree, it is hoped, will grow with the child, and it is tended with special care.873 The custom is still pretty general in the canton of Aargau in Switzerland; an apple-tree is planted for a boy and a pear-tree for a girl, and the people think that the child will flourish or dwindle with the tree.874 In Mecklenburg the after-birth is thrown out at the foot of a young tree, and the child is then believed to grow with the tree.875 In England persons are sometimes passed through a cleft tree as a cure for rupture, and thenceforward a sympathetic connection is believed to exist between them and the tree. “Thomas Chillingworth, son of the owner of an adjoining farm, now about thirty-four years of age, was, when an infant of a year old, passed through a similar tree, now perfectly sound, which he preserves with so much care that he will not suffer a single branch to be touched, for it is believed that the life of the patient depends on the life of the tree; and the moment that it is cut down, be the patient ever so distant, the rupture returns, and a mortification ensues.”876 When Lord Byron first visited his ancestral estate of Newstead “he planted, it seems, a young oak in some part of the grounds, and had an idea that as it flourished so should he.”877
Again, we have seen that in folk tales, a person's life can be closely tied to the life of a plant, so much so that when the plant withers, it often leads to the person's death. Similarly, among the M'Bengas in Western Africa, near the Gaboon, when two children are born on the same day, the community plants two trees of the same kind and dances around them. It's believed that each child's life is linked to one of the trees; if a tree dies or is cut down, they anticipate the child's imminent death. In the Cameroons, people also believe that an individual's life is symbiotically tied to that of a tree. Some Papuans intertwine the life of a newborn child with that of a tree by driving a pebble into its bark, which they think gives them full control over the child's life—if the tree is cut down, the child will die. After a birth, the Maoris used to bury the navel string in a sacred location and plant a young sapling above it. As the tree grew, it symbolized life for the child; if the tree thrived, so would the child, but if it withered and died, the parents feared for their child's future. In Southern Celebes, when a child is born, a coconut is planted and watered with the water used to wash the afterbirth and navel string. As it grows, the tree is considered the child's "contemporary." Similarly, in Bali, a cocoa-palm is planted at a child's birth, believed to grow alongside the child, and is referred to as its "life-plant." On certain occasions, the Dyaks of Borneo plant a palm tree, believed to represent their fate. If it thrives, they expect good fortune; if it withers or dies, they anticipate misfortune. It's said that there are still families in Russia, Germany, England, France, and Italy that plant a tree at a child's birth, hoping it will grow with the child, which is given special care. This custom is still quite common in the canton of Aargau in Switzerland, where an apple tree is planted for a boy and a pear tree for a girl, with the belief that the child will either thrive or suffer as the tree grows. In Mecklenburg, the afterbirth is placed at the base of a young tree, and it's believed the child will grow along with it. In England, people are sometimes passed through a split tree as a cure for hernias, establishing a believed sympathetic connection with the tree. “Thomas Chillingworth, the son of the owner of a nearby farm, now about thirty-four years old, was passed through a similar tree when he was just a year old, which he takes great care of, making sure no branch is touched, as it's believed his health depends on the tree's well-being; the minute it's cut down, no matter how far away he is, his hernia returns, leading to severe complications." When Lord Byron first visited his ancestral estate of Newstead, “he planted, it seems, a young oak in some part of the grounds, believing that as it thrived, so would he.”
But in practice, as in folk-tales, it is not merely [pg 331] with trees and plants that the life of an individual is occasionally believed to be united by a bond of physical sympathy. The same bond, it is supposed, may exist between a man and an animal or a thing, so that the death or destruction of the animal or thing is immediately followed by the death of the man. The Emperor Romanus Lecapenus was once informed by an astronomer that the life of Simeon prince of Bulgaria was bound up with a certain column in Constantinople, so that if the capital of the column were removed Simeon would immediately die. The Emperor took the hint and removed the capital, and at the same hour, as the emperor learned by inquiry, Simeon died of heart disease in Bulgaria.878 Amongst the Karens of Burma “the knife with which the navel-string is cut is carefully preserved for the child. The life of the child is supposed to be in some way connected with it, for if lost or destroyed it is said the child will not be long-lived.”879 The Malays believe that “the soul of a person may pass into another person or into an animal, or rather that such a mysterious relation can arise between the two that the fate of the one is wholly dependent on that of the other.”880 In the Banks Islands “some people connect themselves with an object, generally an animal, as a lizard or a snake, or with a stone, which they imagine to have a certain very close natural relation to themselves. This, at Mota, is called tamaniu—likeness. This word at Aurora is used for the ‘atai’ [i.e. soul] of Mota. Some fancy dictates the choice of a tamaniu; or it may be [pg 332] found by drinking the infusion of certain herbs and heaping together the dregs. Whatever living thing is first seen in or upon the heap is the tamaniu. It is watched, but not fed or worshipped. The natives believe that it comes at call. The life of the man is bound up with the life of his tamaniu. If it dies, gets broken or lost, the man will die. In sickness they send to see how the tamaniu is, and judge the issue accordingly. This is only the fancy of some.”881
But in practice, as in folk tales, it’s not just trees and plants that people believe are linked to an individual through a bond of physical sympathy. The same connection is thought to exist between a person and an animal or object, so that if the animal or object dies or is destroyed, it’s believed the person will die shortly after. Once, the Emperor Romanus Lecapenus was told by an astronomer that the life of Simeon, the prince of Bulgaria, was tied to a certain column in Constantinople, and that if the column's capital were removed, Simeon would die. The Emperor took the hint and removed the capital, and at the same hour, as he learned through inquiry, Simeon died of heart disease in Bulgaria. Among the Karens of Burma, “the knife used to cut the navel string is carefully kept for the child. The child’s life is thought to be connected to it, because if it’s lost or destroyed, it’s said the child won’t live long.” The Malays believe that “a person’s soul may pass into another person or an animal, or rather that a mysterious relationship can form between them so that one’s fate is completely dependent on the other.” In the Banks Islands, “some people connect with an object, usually an animal, like a lizard or snake, or with a stone, which they think has a special close natural bond with them. This, in Mota, is called tamaniu—likeness. This word in Aurora refers to the ‘atai’ [i.e., soul] of Mota. A personal choice may dictate which tamaniu to connect with, or it might be found by drinking the infusion of certain herbs and gathering the dregs. The first living thing seen in or on the heap is the tamaniu. It is observed, but not fed or worshipped. The natives believe it comes when called. The life of the person is intertwined with the life of their tamaniu. If it dies, breaks, or is lost, the person will die. In sickness, they check on the tamaniu and interpret the outcome accordingly. This is just a belief held by some.”
But what among the Banks Islanders and the Malays is irregular and occasional, among other peoples is systematic and universal. The Zulus believe that every man has his ihlozi, a kind of mysterious serpent, “which specially guards and helps him, lives with him, wakes with him, sleeps and travels with him, but always under ground. If it ever makes its appearance, great is the joy, and the man must seek to discover the meaning of its appearance. He who has no ihlozi must die. Therefore if any one unintentionally kills an ihlozi serpent, the man whose ihlozi it was dies, but the serpent comes to life again.”882 Amongst the Zapotecs of Central America, when a woman was about to be confined, her relations assembled in the hut, and began to draw on the floor figures of different animals, rubbing each one out as soon as it was completed. This went on till the moment of birth, and the figure that then remained sketched upon the ground was called the child's tona or second self. “When the child grew old enough he procured the animal that represented him and took care of it, as it [pg 333] was believed that health and existence were bound up with that of the animal's, in fact that the death of both would occur simultaneously,” or rather that when the animal died the man would die.883 Among the Indians of Guatemala the nagual or naual is an “animate or inanimate object, generally an animal, which stands in a parallel relation to a particular man, so that the weal and woe of the man depend on the fate of the animal.” Among the Chontal Indians who inhabit the part of Honduras bordering on Guatemala and in point of social culture stand very close to the Pipil Indians of Guatemala, the nagual used to be obtained as follows. The young Indian went into the forest to a lonely place by a river or to the top of a mountain, and prayed with tears to the gods that they would vouchsafe to him what his forefathers had possessed before him. After sacrificing a dog or a bird he laid himself down to sleep. Then in a dream or after awakening from sleep there appeared to him a jaguar, puma, coyote (prairie-wolf), crocodile, serpent, or bird. To this visionary animal the Indian offered blood drawn from his tongue, his ears, and other parts of his body, and prayed for an abundant yield of salt and cacao. Then the animal said to him, “On such and such a day you shall go out hunting, and the first animal that meets you will be myself, who will always be your companion and nagual.” A man who had no nagual could never grow rich. The Indians were persuaded that the death of their nagual would entail their own. Legend affirms that in the first battles with the Spaniards on [pg 334] the plateau of Quetzaltenango the naguals of the Indian chiefs fought in the form of serpents. The nagual of the highest chief was especially conspicuous, because it had the form of a great bird, resplendent in green plumage. The Spanish general Pedro de Alvarado killed the bird with his lance, and at the same moment the Indian chief fell dead to the ground.884
But what is occasional and irregular among the Banks Islanders and Malays is systematic and universal among other peoples. The Zulus believe that every man has his ihlozi, a mysterious serpent that “watches over and helps him, lives with him, wakes with him, sleeps and travels with him, but always underground. If it ever shows itself, there is great joy, and the man must try to understand the meaning of its appearance. Someone who has no ihlozi must die. Therefore, if someone accidentally kills an ihlozi serpent, the man whose ihlozi it was dies, but the serpent comes back to life.”882 Among the Zapotecs of Central America, when a woman was about to give birth, her relatives gathered in the hut and started drawing animal figures on the floor, erasing each one as soon as it was done. This continued until the moment of birth, and the figure that remained on the ground was called the child's tona or second self. “When the child was old enough, he obtained the animal that represented him and took care of it, as it was believed that health and existence were connected to the animal's, meaning that the death of both would occur simultaneously,” or rather that when the animal died, the man would die.883 Among the Indians of Guatemala, the nagual or naual is an “animate or inanimate object, usually an animal, that is linked to a specific person, so the well-being and misfortune of the person depend on the fate of the animal.” Among the Chontal Indians in the region of Honduras bordering Guatemala, who are culturally similar to the Pipil Indians of Guatemala, the nagual was obtained through the following method: the young Indian would go into a remote area by a river or to the top of a mountain, and he would pray with tears to the gods for what his ancestors had before him. After sacrificing a dog or a bird, he would lie down to sleep. Then in a dream or upon waking, a jaguar, puma, coyote (prairie-wolf), crocodile, serpent, or bird would appear to him. To this visionary animal, the Indian would offer blood drawn from his tongue, ears, and other parts of his body, praying for a plentiful yield of salt and cacao. Then the animal would tell him, “On such and such a day, you shall go out hunting, and the first animal you encounter will be me, who will always be your companion and nagual.” A man without a nagual could never get rich. The Indians believed that the death of their nagual would also lead to their own death. Legend has it that during the first battles with the Spaniards on the plateau of Quetzaltenango, the naguals of the Indian chiefs fought in the form of serpents. The nagual of the highest chief was particularly striking, taking the form of a large bird with brilliant green feathers. The Spanish general Pedro de Alvarado killed the bird with his lance, and at that moment, the Indian chief fell dead to the ground.884
In many of the Australian tribes each sex regards a particular species of animals in the same way that a Central American Indian regards his nagual, but with this difference, that whereas the Indian apparently knows the individual animal with which his life is bound up, the Australians only know that each of their lives is bound up with some one animal of the species, but they cannot say with which. The result naturally is that every man spares and protects all the animals of the species with which the lives of the men are bound up; and every woman spares and protects all the animals of the species with which the lives of the women are bound up; because no one knows but that the death of any animal of the respective species might entail his or her own; just as the killing of the green bird was immediately followed by the death of the Indian chief, and the killing of the parrot by the death of Punchkin in the fairy tale. Thus, for example, the Wotjobaluk tribe of South Eastern Australia “held that ‘the life of Ngŭnŭngŭnŭt (the Bat) is the life of a man and the life of Yártatgŭrk (the Nightjar) is the life of a woman,’ and that when either of these creatures is killed the life of some man or of some woman is shortened. In such a case every man or every woman [pg 335] in the camp feared that he or she might be the victim, and from this cause great fights arose in this tribe. I learn that in these fights, men on one side and women on the other, it was not at all certain which would be victorious, for at times the women gave the men a severe drubbing with their yamsticks while often women were injured or killed by spears.”885 The particular species of animals with which the lives of the sexes were believed to be respectively bound up varied somewhat from tribe to tribe. Thus whereas among the Wotjobaluk the bat was the animal of the men, at Gunbower Creek on the lower Murray the bat seems to have been the animal of the women, for the natives would not kill it for the reason that “if it was killed, one of their lubras [women] would be sure to die in consequence.”886 But the belief itself and the fights to which it gave rise are known to have extended over a large part of South Eastern Australia, and probably they extended much farther.887 The belief is a very serious one, and so consequently are the fights which spring from it. Thus where the bat is the men's animal they “protect it against injury, even to the half-killing of their wives for its sake;” and where the fern owl or large goatsucker (a night bird) is the women's animal, “it is jealously protected by them. If a man kills one, they are as much enraged as if it was one of their children, and will strike him with their long poles.”888
In many Australian tribes, each gender has a specific animal species that they connect with, similar to how a Central American Indian relates to his nagual. However, there's a key difference: the Indian seems to know the specific animal tied to his life, while Australians understand that their lives are linked to an animal of a given species, but they can't identify which one it is. As a result, every man protects all animals of that species linked to men's lives, and every woman protects all animals of that species linked to women's lives, since none can be sure that the death of any animal won't affect their own life. This is akin to the way the killing of the green bird led to the death of the Indian chief, or how the parrot's death preceded Punchkin’s demise in a fairy tale. For instance, the Wotjobaluk tribe of South Eastern Australia “stated that ‘the life of Ngŭnŭngŭnŭt (the Bat) represents the life of a man and the life of Yártatgŭrk (the Nightjar) represents the life of a woman,’ and that when either of these creatures is killed, the life of a man or a woman is diminished.” In such cases, every man and woman in the camp feared they could be the next victim, leading to significant conflicts within the tribe. I’ve learned that in these fights, men fought on one side and women on the other, and victory wasn't guaranteed for either side. At times, women severely beat men with their yamsticks, while other times women were hurt or killed by spears.885 The specific animal species regarded as life-linked varied among tribes. For example, while in the Wotjobaluk tribe, the bat was considered the animal for men, at Gunbower Creek on the lower Murray, the bat seems to have been associated with women, as the natives wouldn’t kill it because "If it was killed, one of their women would definitely die as a result."886 Nevertheless, the belief and the resulting fights were widespread across a significant part of South Eastern Australia, and likely extended even further.887 This belief is taken very seriously, and so are the fights it incites. Where the bat is considered the male’s animal, they "protect it from harm, even to the point of nearly killing their wives for its sake;" and where the fern owl or large goatsucker (a night bird) is seen as the female’s animal, "It is fiercely protected by them. If a man kills one, they become as angry as if it were one of their children, and will hit him with their long poles."888
The jealous protection thus afforded by Australian men and women to bats and owls respectively (for bats [pg 336] and owls seem to be the creatures usually allotted to men and women respectively) is not based upon purely selfish considerations. For each man believes that not only his own life, but the lives of his father, brothers, sons, etc., are bound up with the lives of particular bats, and that therefore in protecting the bat species he is protecting the lives of all his male relations as well as his own. Similarly, each woman believes that the lives of her mother, sisters, daughters, etc., equally with her own, are bound up with the lives of particular owls, and that in guarding the owl species she is guarding the lives of all her female relations in addition to her own. Now, when men's lives are thus supposed to be contained in certain animals, it is obvious that the animals can hardly be distinguished from the men, or the men from the animals. If my brother John's life is in a bat, then, on the one hand, the bat is my brother as well as John; and, on the other hand, John is in a sense a bat, since his life is in a bat. Similarly, if my sister Mary's life is in an owl, then the owl is my sister and Mary is an owl. This is a natural enough conclusion, and the Australians have not failed to draw it. When the bat is the man's animal, it is called his brother; and when the owl is the woman's animal, it is called her sister. And conversely a man addresses a woman as an owl, and she addresses him as a bat.889 So with the other animals allotted to the sexes respectively in other tribes. For example, among the Kurnai all Emu Wrens were “brothers” of the men, and all the men were Emu Wrens; all Superb Warblers were “sisters” of the women, and all the women were Superb Warblers.890
The protective jealousy that Australian men and women show towards bats and owls, respectively (since bats [pg 336] are usually associated with men and owls with women), isn't just rooted in selfish reasons. Each man thinks that not only his own life but also the lives of his father, brothers, and sons are connected to specific bats, so by protecting bat species, he feels he's also safeguarding the lives of all his male relatives and his own. In the same way, each woman believes that the lives of her mother, sisters, and daughters, just like her own, are intertwined with certain owls, and in protecting the owl species, she believes she’s looking after the lives of all her female family members as well as her own. When men believe their lives are linked to certain animals, it becomes clear that the humans and animals are almost indistinguishable from one another. If my brother John’s life is tied to a bat, then, on one hand, the bat is both my brother and John; on the other, John can be seen as a bat since his life is linked to one. Similarly, if my sister Mary's life is tied to an owl, then the owl is my sister and Mary is an owl. This conclusion makes sense, and Australians acknowledge this connection. When a bat is a man's animal, it's referred to as his brother; when an owl is a woman's animal, it's known as her sister. Conversely, a man calls a woman an owl, and she refers to him as a bat.889 The same goes for other animals related to each gender in different tribes. For instance, among the Kurnai, all Emu Wrens were considered "bros" to the men, and all the men were seen as Emu Wrens; all Superb Warblers were "sisters" to the women, and all the women were regarded as Superb Warblers.890
But when a savage names himself after an animal, calls it his brother, and refuses to kill it, the animal is said to be his totem. Accordingly the bat and the owl, the Emu Wren and the Superb Warbler, may properly be described as totems of the sexes. But the assignation of a totem to a sex is comparatively rare, and has hitherto been discovered nowhere but in Australia. Far more commonly the totem is appropriated not to a sex, but to a tribe or clan, and is hereditary either in the male or female line. The relation of an individual to the tribal totem does not differ in kind from his relation to the sex totem; he will not kill it, he speaks of it as his brother, and he calls himself by its name.891 Now if the relations are similar, the explanation which holds good of the one ought equally to hold good of the other. Therefore the reason why a tribe revere a particular species of animals or plants (for the tribal totem may be a plant) and call themselves after it, must be a belief that the life of each individual of the tribe is bound up with some one animal or plant of the species, and that his or her death would be the consequence of killing that particular animal, or destroying that particular plant. This explanation of totemism squares very well with Sir George Grey's definition of a totem or kobong in Western Australia. He says, “A certain mysterious connection exists between a family and its kobong, so that a member of the family will never kill an animal of the species to which his kobong belongs, should he find it asleep; indeed he always kills it reluctantly, and never without affording it a chance to escape. This arises from the family belief that some one individual of the species is their nearest friend, to [pg 338] kill whom would be a great crime, and to be carefully avoided. Similarly, a native who has a vegetable for his kobong may not gather it under certain circumstances, and at a particular period of the year.”892 Here it will be observed that though each man spares all the animals or plants of the species, they are not all equally precious to him; far from it, out of the whole species there is only one which is specially dear to him; but as he does not know which the dear one is, he is obliged to spare them all from fear of injuring the one. Again, this explanation of the tribal totem harmonises with the supposed effect of killing one of the totem species. “One day one of the blacks killed a crow. Three or four days afterwards a Boortwa (crow) [i.e. a man of the Crow clan or tribe] named Larry died. He had been ailing for some days, but the killing of his wingong [totem] hastened his death.”893 Here the killing of the crow caused the death of a man of the Crow clan, exactly as, in the case of the sex totems, the killing of a bat causes the death of a Bat man, or the killing of an owl causes the death of an Owl woman. Similarly, the killing of his nagual causes the death of a Central American Indian, the killing of his ihlozi causes the death of a Zulu, the killing of his tamaniu causes the death of a Banks Islander, and the killing of the animal in which his life is stowed away causes the death of the giant or warlock in the fairy tale.
But when someone from a tribal society names themselves after an animal, refers to it as their brother, and refuses to kill it, that animal is considered their totem. Thus, the bat and the owl, the Emu Wren and the Superb Warbler can be seen as totems for different sexes. However, assigning a totem to a sex is relatively rare and has only been found in Australia. More often, the totem is linked not to a sex, but to a tribe or clan, and is passed down through either the male or female lineage. An individual’s relationship with the tribal totem is similar to their relationship with their sex totem; they do not kill it, refer to it as a brother, and call themselves by its name. Now, if these relationships are alike, the explanation that applies to one should also apply to the other. Therefore, the reason a tribe honors a specific type of animal or plant (since a tribal totem can also be a plant) and identifies with it is likely rooted in the belief that each person's life is intrinsically linked to a specific animal or plant within that species, and that killing that specific animal or destroying that plant would lead to their own death. This understanding of totemism aligns well with Sir George Grey's definition of a totem or kobong in Western Australia. He states, "There is a mysterious connection between a family and its kobong, which means a family member will never kill an animal of the species associated with their kobong, even if they find it sleeping. They always kill it reluctantly and never without giving it a chance to escape. This belief comes from the idea that a specific individual of the species is their closest friend, and killing it would be a serious crime to be avoided at all costs. Similarly, a native with a plant as their kobong may not collect it under certain conditions and during specific times of the year." Here, it is noted that while each person spares all members of the species, not all are equally valuable to them; in fact, only one is especially precious. However, since they don’t know which one it is, they must spare them all to avoid harming the beloved one. Additionally, this explanation of the tribal totem aligns with the believed consequences of killing a totem species. “One day, one of the Indigenous people killed a crow. Three or four days later, a Boortwa (crow) [i.e. a man from the Crow clan or tribe] named Larry passed away. He had been sick for a few days, but the killing of his wingong [totem] sped up his death.” Here, the crow’s death led to the death of a man from the Crow clan, just as the killing of a bat causes a Bat man to die or the killing of an owl causes an Owl woman to die. Similarly, the killing of a person's nagual results in the death of a Central American Indian, the killing of their ihlozi results in the death of a Zulu, the killing of their tamaniu results in the death of a Banks Islander, and the killing of the animal in which their life is hidden leads to the death of the giant or warlock in the fairy tale.
Thus it appears that the story of “The giant who had no heart in his body” furnishes the key to the religious aspect of totemism, that is, to the relation which is supposed to subsist between a man and his totem. The totem, if I am right, is simply the receptacle [pg 339] in which a man keeps his life, as Punchkin kept his life in a parrot, and Bidasari kept her soul in a golden fish. It is no valid objection to this view that when a savage has both a sex totem and a tribal totem his life must be bound up with two different animals, the death of either of which would entail his own. If a man has more vital places than one in his body, why, the savage may think, should he not have more vital places than one outside it? Why, since he can externalise his life, should he not transfer one portion of it to one animal and another to another? The divisibility of life, or, to put it otherwise, the plurality of souls, is an idea suggested by many familiar facts, and has commended itself to philosophers like Plato as well as to savages. It is only when the notion of a soul, from being a quasi-scientific hypothesis, becomes a theological dogma that its unity and indivisibility are insisted upon as essential. The savage, unshackled by dogma, is free to explain the facts of life by the assumption of as many souls as he thinks necessary. Hence, for example, the Caribs supposed that there was one soul in the head, another in the heart, and other souls at all the places where an artery is felt pulsating.894 Some of the Hidatsa Indians explain the phenomena of gradual death, when the extremities appear dead first, by supposing that man has four souls, and that they quit the body, not simultaneously, but one after the other, dissolution being only complete when all four have departed.895 The Laos suppose that the body is the seat of thirty spirits, which reside in the hands, the feet, the mouth, the eyes, etc.896 Hence, [pg 340] from the primitive point of view, it is perfectly possible that a savage should have one soul in his sex totem, and another in his tribal totem. However, as I have observed, sex totems occur nowhere but in Australia; so that as a rule the savage who practises totemism need not have more than one soul out of his body at a time.
Thus it seems that the story of "The giant who had no heart in his body." provides insight into the religious aspect of totemism, specifically the relationship believed to exist between a person and their totem. The totem, if I'm correct, is simply the container [pg 339] where a person keeps their life, just like Punchkin kept his life in a parrot and Bidasari kept her soul in a golden fish. It's not a valid objection to this idea that when a person has both a sex totem and a tribal totem, their life must be connected to two different animals, and the death of either could mean their own. If a person has more than one vital area in their body, why should a person not think they could have multiple vital spots outside of it? Since they can externalize their life, why wouldn't they transfer one part of it to one animal and another part to a different one? The notion of life's divisibility, or in other words, the idea of having multiple souls, is supported by many familiar observations and has been recognized by philosophers like Plato as well as by indigenous people. It's only when the concept of a soul, moving from a quasi-scientific hypothesis to a theological doctrine, that its unity and indivisibility are seen as essential. The indigenous person, free from dogma, is at liberty to interpret the facts of life by assuming as many souls as they deem necessary. For instance, the Caribs believed that one soul resided in the head, another in the heart, and other souls were located wherever an artery was felt beating. Some of the Hidatsa Indians explain the gradual process of dying—when the extremities seem to lose life first—by suggesting that a person has four souls that leave the body one after the other, with complete dissolution happening only when all four have departed. The Laos believe that the body holds thirty spirits, which are situated in the hands, feet, mouth, eyes, and so on. [pg 340] From a primitive perspective, it is entirely plausible that an indigenous person could have one soul in their sex totem and another in their tribal totem. However, as I've noted, sex totems are only found in Australia; therefore, as a rule, the indigenous person practicing totemism does not typically need to have more than one soul outside their body at any given time.
If this explanation of the totem as a receptacle in which a man keeps his soul or one of his souls is correct, we should expect to find some totemistic tribes of whom it is expressly stated that every man amongst them is believed to keep at least one soul permanently out of his body, and that the destruction of this external soul is supposed to entail the death of its owner. Such a tribe are the Battas of Sumatra. The Battas are divided into exogamous clans (margas) with descent in the male line; and each clan is forbidden to eat the flesh of a particular animal. One clan may not eat the tiger, another the ape, another the crocodile, another the dog, another the cat, another the dove, another the white buffalo. The reason given by members of a clan for abstaining from the flesh of the particular animal is either that they are descended from animals of that species, and that their souls after death may transmigrate into the animals, or that they or their forefathers have been under certain obligations to the animals. Sometimes, but not always, the clan bears the name of the animal.897 Thus the Battas have [pg 341] totemism in full. But, further, each Batta believes that he has seven or, on a more moderate computation, three souls. One of these souls is always outside the body, but nevertheless whenever it dies, however far away it may be at the time, that same moment the man dies also.898 The writer who mentions this belief says nothing about the Batta totems; but on the analogy of the Australian and Central American evidence we can scarcely avoid concluding that the external soul, whose death entails the death of the man, must be housed in the totem animal or plant.
If this explanation of the totem as a container where a person keeps their soul or one of their souls is accurate, we should expect to find some totemic tribes that specifically believe every man among them keeps at least one soul permanently outside their body, and that the destruction of this external soul is thought to lead to the death of its owner. One such tribe is the Battas of Sumatra. The Battas are divided into exogamous clans (margas) that trace their lineage through the male line, and each clan is not allowed to eat the flesh of a specific animal. One clan may not eat tiger, another ape, another crocodile, another dog, another cat, another dove, and another white buffalo. The reason given by clan members for avoiding the flesh of that specific animal is either that they are descendants of animals of that species and that their souls after death may reincarnate in those animals, or that they or their ancestors have had certain obligations to those animals. Sometimes, but not always, the clan is named after the animal. 897 Therefore, the Battas fully practice totemism. Moreover, each Batta believes that he has seven or, on a more moderate estimate, three souls. One of these souls is always outside the body, and whenever it dies, no matter how far away it is at the time, that moment the man dies as well.898 The author who talks about this belief does not mention the Batta totems; however, based on the similarities with evidence from Australia and Central America, we can hardly avoid concluding that the external soul, whose death causes the man's death, must be housed in the totem animal or plant.
Against this view it can hardly be thought to militate that the Batta does not in set terms affirm his external soul to be in his totem, but alleges other, though hardly contradictory, grounds for respecting the sacred animal or plant of his clan. For if a savage seriously believes that his life is bound up with an external object, it is in the last degree unlikely that he will let any stranger into the secret. In all that touches his inmost life and beliefs the savage is exceedingly suspicious and reserved; Europeans have resided among savages for years without discovering some of their capital articles of faith, and in the end the discovery has often been the result of accident. Above all, the savage lives in an intense and perpetual dread of assassination by sorcery; the most trifling relics of his person—the clippings of his hair and nails, his spittle, the remnants of his food, his very name—all these may, he fancies, be turned by the sorcerer to his destruction, and he is therefore anxiously careful to conceal or destroy them. But if in matters such as [pg 342] these, which are but the outposts and outworks of his life, he is shy and secretive to a degree, how close must be the concealment, how impenetrable the reserve in which he enshrouds the inner keep and citadel of his being! When the princess in the fairy tale asks the giant where he keeps his soul, he generally gives false or evasive answers, and it is only after much coaxing and wheedling that the secret is at last wrung from him. In his jealous reticence the giant resembles the timid and furtive savage; but whereas the exigencies of the story demand that the giant should at last reveal his secret, no such obligation is laid on the savage; and no inducement that can be offered is likely to tempt him to imperil his soul by revealing its hiding-place to a stranger. It is therefore no matter for surprise that the central mystery of the savage's life should so long have remained a secret, and that we should be left to piece it together from scattered hints and fragments and from the recollections of it which linger in fairy tales.
Against this view, it’s hard to argue that the Batta doesn't explicitly claim that his external soul resides in his totem, but instead presents other, though not entirely contradictory, reasons for honoring the sacred animal or plant of his clan. If a person genuinely believes their life is connected to an external object, it’s extremely unlikely they would share that secret with a stranger. When it comes to his deepest beliefs and inner life, a person of a tribal culture tends to be very suspicious and reserved; Europeans have lived among such communities for years without uncovering some of their fundamental beliefs, and often these discoveries happen by chance. Furthermore, this person lives in constant, intense fear of being harmed by sorcery; the most trivial remnants of themselves—like bits of hair and nails, saliva, leftover food, even their name—could potentially be used by a sorcerer to bring them harm, so they are careful to hide or destroy these items. But if they are this shy and secretive about these aspects of their life, which are merely the outer layers, how much more guarded must they be about the deeper, core aspects of their being! In fairy tales, when a princess asks a giant where he keeps his soul, he typically gives false or evasive answers, and it often takes a lot of coaxing for him to finally reveal the truth. In his cautiousness, the giant is similar to the shy and secretive individual of tribal culture; however, the story necessitates that the giant eventually discloses his secret, while no such obligation exists for the tribal person; no amount of persuasion is likely to lead them to risk revealing the hiding place of their soul to a stranger. Therefore, it's no surprise that the central mystery of their life has remained hidden for so long, leaving us to piece it together from fragments, hints, and traces reflected in fairy tales.
This view of totemism throws light on a class of religious rites of which no adequate explanation, so far as I am aware, has yet been offered. Amongst many savage tribes, especially such as are known to practise totemism, it is customary for lads at puberty to undergo certain initiatory rites, of which one of the commonest is a pretence of killing the lad and bringing him to life again. Such rites become intelligible if we suppose that their substance consists in extracting the youth's soul in order to transfer it to his totem. For the extraction of his soul would naturally be supposed to kill the youth or, at least, to throw him into a death-like trance, which the savage hardly distinguishes from death. His recovery would then be attributed either [pg 343] to the gradual recovery of his system from the violent shock which it had received, or, more probably, to the infusion into him of fresh life drawn from the totem. Thus the essence of these initiatory rites, so far as they consist in a simulation of death and resurrection, would be an exchange of life or souls between the man and his totem. The primitive belief in the possibility of such an exchange of souls comes clearly out in the story of the Basque hunter who affirmed that he had been killed by a bear, but that the bear had, after killing him, breathed its own soul into him, so that the bear's body was now dead, but he himself was a bear, being animated by the bear's soul.899 This revival of the dead hunter as a bear is exactly analogous to what, if I am right, is supposed to take place in the totemistic ceremony of killing a lad at puberty and bringing him to life again. The lad dies as a man and comes to life again as an animal; the animal's soul is now in him, and his human soul is in the animal. With good right, therefore, does he call himself a Bear or a Wolf, etc., according to his totem; and with good right does he treat the bears or the wolves, etc., as his brethren, since in these animals are lodged the souls of himself and his kindred.
This perspective on totemism sheds light on a type of religious ritual for which I haven't seen a satisfactory explanation. In many tribal cultures, especially those known for practicing totemism, it's common for boys at puberty to undergo specific initiation rites, one of the most typical being a performance where they pretend to be killed and then brought back to life. These rituals make sense if we assume they involve extracting the boy's soul to transfer it to his totem. The extraction of his soul would likely be thought to kill him or at least put him into a death-like state, which the tribespeople often can't distinguish from real death. His revival would then be attributed to either his body slowly recovering from the shock or, more likely, the infusion of new life from the totem. Thus, the core of these initiation rites, as they simulate death and resurrection, involves an exchange of life or souls between the person and his totem. The primitive belief in the possibility of such a soul exchange is exemplified in the story of a Basque hunter who claimed that a bear killed him, but after doing so, the bear breathed its own soul into him, meaning that while the bear's body was dead, he now lived as a bear, animated by the bear’s soul. This revival of the deceased hunter as a bear closely resembles what I believe happens in the totemic ceremony of killing a boy at puberty and bringing him back to life. The boy dies as a human and is reborn as an animal; the animal's soul is now in him, and his human soul resides in the animal. Therefore, he rightly calls himself a Bear or a Wolf, etc., depending on his totem, and he has every reason to treat bears or wolves, etc., as his brothers, since within these animals are the souls of himself and his relatives.
Examples of this supposed death and resurrection at initiation are the following. Among some of the Australian tribes of New South Wales, when lads are initiated, it is thought that a being called Thuremlin takes each lad to a distance, kills him, and sometimes cuts him up, after which he restores him to life and knocks out a tooth.900 In one part of Queensland the [pg 344] humming sound of the Bullroarer, which is swung at the initiatory rites, is said to be the noise made by the wizards in swallowing the boys and bringing them up again as young men. “The Ualaroi of the Upper Darling River say that the boy meets a ghost which kills him and brings him to life again as a man.”901 This resurrection appears to be represented at the initiatory rites by the following ceremony. An old man, disguised with stringy bark fibre, lies down in a grave, and is lightly covered up with sticks and earth, and as far as possible the natural appearance of the ground is restored, the excavated earth being carried away. The buried man holds a small bush in his hand; it appears to be growing in the soil, and other bushes are stuck in the soil to heighten the effect. The novices are then brought to the edge of the grave, and a song is sung, in which the only words used are the “class-name” of the buried man and the word for stringy bark fibre. Gradually, as the song continues, the bush held by the buried man begins to quiver and then to move more and more, and finally the man himself starts up from the grave.902 Similarly, Fijian lads at initiation were shown a row of apparently dead men, covered with blood, their bodies seemingly cut open, and their entrails protruding. But at a yell from the [pg 345] priest the pretended dead men sprang to their feet and ran to the river to cleanse themselves from the blood and entrails of pigs with which they had been besmeared.903
Examples of this supposed death and resurrection during initiation are the following. Among some of the Australian tribes in New South Wales, when boys are initiated, it's believed that a being called Thuremlin takes each boy away, kills him, and sometimes dismembers him. After that, Thuremlin brings him back to life and knocks out a tooth. In one part of Queensland, the humming sound of the Bullroarer, which is swung during the initiation rites, is said to be the noise made by the wizards as they consume the boys and bring them back as men. “The Ualaroi of the Upper Darling River say that the boy meets a ghost that kills him and then brings him back to life as a man.” This resurrection seems to be represented at the initiation rites by the following ceremony: an old man, disguised with stringy bark fiber, lies down in a grave and is lightly covered with sticks and dirt while trying to restore the ground to its natural look, with the dug-out earth being removed. The buried man holds a small bush, which looks like it’s growing in the soil, while other bushes are added to enhance the effect. The novices are then brought to the edge of the grave, and a song is sung, using only the "class-name" of the buried man and the word for stringy bark fiber. As the song continues, the bush held by the buried man begins to shudder, moves increasingly, and eventually, the man himself rises from the grave. Similarly, Fijian boys during initiation were shown a line of seemingly dead men, covered in blood, their bodies appearing to be cut open with their entrails hanging out. But at a shout from the priest, the supposedly dead men jumped to their feet and ran to the river to wash off the blood and entrails of the pigs that had been smeared on them.
In the valley of the Congo initiatory rites of this sort are common. In some places they are called Ndembo. “In the practice of Ndembo the initiating doctors get some one to fall down in a pretended fit, and in that state he is carried away to an enclosed place outside the town. This is called ‘dying Ndembo.’ Others follow suit, generally boys and girls, but often young men and women.... They are supposed to have died. But the parents and friends supply food, and after a period varying, according to custom, from three months to three years, it is arranged that the doctor shall bring them to life again.... When the doctor's fee has been paid, and money (goods) saved for a feast, the Ndembo people are brought to life. At first they pretend to know no one and nothing; they do not even know how to masticate food, and friends have to perform that office for them. They want everything nice that any one uninitiated may have, and beat them if it is not granted, or even strangle and kill people. They do not get into trouble for this, because it is thought that they do not know better. Sometimes they carry on the pretence of talking gibberish, and behaving as if they had returned from the spirit-world. After this they are known by another name, peculiar to those who have ‘died Ndembo.’ ... We hear of the custom far along on the upper river, as well as in the cataract region.”904 The following account of [pg 346] the rites, as practised in this part of Africa, was given to Bastian by an interpreter. “In the land of Ambamba every one must die once, and when the fetish priest shakes his calabash against a village, all the men and lads whose hour is come fall into a state of lifeless torpidity, from which they generally awake after three days. But if the fetish loves a man he carries him away into the bush and buries him in the fetish house, often for many years. When he comes to life again, he begins to eat and drink as before, but his understanding is gone and the fetish man must teach him and direct him in every motion, like the smallest child. At first this can only be done with a stick, but gradually his senses return, so that it is possible to talk with him, and when his education is complete, the priest brings him back to his parents. They would seldom recognise their son but for the express assurances of the fetish priest, who moreover recalls previous events to their memory. He who has not gone through the ceremony of the new birth in Ambamba is universally looked down upon and is not admitted to the dances.” During the period of initiation the novice is sympathetically united to the fetish by which his life is henceforward determined.905 The novice, plunged in the magic sleep or death-like trance within the sacred hut, “beholds a bird or other object with which his existence is thenceforward sympathetically bound up, just as the life of the young Indian is bound up with the animal which he sees in his dreams at puberty.”906
In the Congo valley, initiation rites like these are common. In some places, they are called Ndembo. During Ndembo, the initiating doctors have someone pretend to have a seizure, and they carry that person to a secluded spot outside the town. This is known as ‘dying Ndembo.’ Others, typically boys and girls but sometimes young men and women, follow along.... They are believed to be dead. However, their parents and friends provide food, and after a period that varies by tradition from three months to three years, arrangements are made for the doctor to bring them back to life.... Once the doctor’s fee is paid and money (or goods) is set aside for a feast, the Ndembo people are revived. At first, they pretend to have no memory of anyone or anything; they don’t even remember how to chew, so friends have to help them with that. They demand everything nice that anyone uninitiated may possess, and they will beat, strangle, or even kill if those demands aren’t met. They don’t face consequences for this because it’s believed they don’t know any better. Sometimes they pretend to speak nonsense and act as if they’ve returned from the spirit world. After this, they are referred to by another name specific to those who have ‘died Ndembo.’ ... We hear about this custom along the upper river and in the cataract region.904 The following account of [pg 346] the rites, as practiced in this part of Africa, was shared with Bastian by an interpreter. In the land of Ambamba, everyone has to die once. When the fetish priest shakes his calabash over a village, all the men and boys whose time has come fall into a lifeless stupor, from which they usually wake after three days. However, if the fetish favors a man, it takes him into the bush and buries him in the fetish house, often for many years. When he comes back to life, he resumes eating and drinking as before, but his understanding is lost. The fetish priest must teach and guide him in every action, like a young child. At first, this is done with a stick, but gradually his senses return, allowing them to communicate. Once his education is complete, the priest brings him back to his parents. They would rarely recognize their son without the explicit assurances of the priest, who also helps refresh their memories of past events. Anyone who hasn’t gone through the ceremony of rebirth in Ambamba is generally looked down upon and isn’t allowed to join the dances. During the initiation period, the novice is sympathetically linked to the fetish that will determine his life from that point on.905 The novice, immersed in the magical sleep or deathlike trance within the sacred hut, “sees a bird or another object with which his life is then emotionally connected, just like the life of a young Indian is tied to the animal he sees in his dreams during puberty.”906
Rites of this sort were formerly observed in Quoja, on the west coast of Africa, to the north of the Congo. They are thus described by an old writer:—“They have another ceremony which they call Belli-Paaro, but it is not for everybody. For it is an incorporation in the assembly of the spirits, and confers the right of entering their groves, that is to say, of going and eating the offerings which the simple folk bring thither. The initiation or admission to the Belli-Paaro is celebrated every twenty or twenty-five years. The initiated recount marvels of the ceremony, saying that they are roasted, that they entirely change their habits and life, and that they receive a spirit quite different from that of other people and quite new lights. The badge of membership consists in some lines traced on the neck between the shoulders; the lines seem to be pricked with a needle. Those who have this mark pass for persons of spirit, and when they have attained a certain age they are allowed a voice in all public assemblies; whereas the uninitiated are regarded as profane, impure, and ignorant persons, who dare not express an opinion on any subject of importance. When the time for the ceremony has come, it is celebrated as follows: By order of the king a place is appointed in the forest, whither they bring the youths who have not been marked, not without much crying and weeping; for it is impressed upon the youths that in order to undergo this change it is necessary to suffer death. So they dispose of their property, as if it were all over with them. There are always some of the initiated beside the novices to instruct them. They teach them to dance a certain dance called killing, and to sing verses in praise of Belli. Above all, they are very careful not to let them die of hunger, [pg 348] because if they did so, it is much to be feared that the spiritual resurrection would profit them nothing. This manner of life lasts five or six years, and is comfortable enough, for there is a village in the forest, and they amuse themselves with hunting and fishing. Other lads are brought thither from time to time, so that the last comers have not long to stay. No woman or uninitiated person is suffered to pass within four or five leagues of the sacred wood. When their instruction is completed, they are taken from the wood and shut up in small huts made for the purpose. Here they begin once more to hold communion with mankind and to talk with the women who bring them their food. It is amusing to see their affected simplicity. They pretend to know no one, and to be ignorant of all the customs of the country, such as the customs of washing themselves, rubbing themselves with oil, etc. When they enter these huts, their bodies are all covered with the feathers of birds, and they wear caps of bark which hang down before their faces. But after a time they are dressed in clothes and taken to a great open place, where all the people of the neighbourhood are assembled. Here the novices give the first proof of their capacity by dancing a dance which is called the dance of Belli. After the dance is over, the novices are taken to the houses of their parents by their instructors.”907
Rites like this used to be practiced in Quoja, on the west coast of Africa, north of the Congo. An old writer describes them as follows:—They have another ceremony called Belli-Paaro, but it’s not for everyone. It’s about joining the assembly of spirits, which allows access to their groves, meaning they can partake in the offerings brought there by ordinary people. The initiation for Belli-Paaro happens every twenty or twenty-five years.Those who experience it share incredible stories about the ceremony, saying it feels like they are reborn, completely changing their habits and lives, gaining a spirit that is very different from others along with new insights. The membership badge consists of lines marked on the neck between the shoulders; it looks like they’ve been pricked with a needle. Those with this mark are seen as spiritual individuals, and once they reach a certain age, they gain a voice in public assemblies. In contrast, the uninitiated are viewed as worldly, unclean, and ignorant, forbidden from expressing opinions on important matters. When it’s time for the ceremony, it unfolds as follows: By the king’s order, a location is chosen in the forest, where the unmarked youths are brought, often amidst much crying and weeping; they are told that to undergo this transformation, they must be prepared to face death. Therefore, they give away their belongings as if their lives are over. There are always some initiated individuals with the novices to guide them. They teach them a special dance called killing, along with verses that honor Belli. Above all, they ensure the novices don’t starve, [pg 348] because if that were to happen, it’s feared their spiritual resurrection would be meaningless. This way of life lasts five or six years and is quite comfortable since there’s a village in the forest, and they keep themselves entertained with hunting and fishing. New boys are brought in from time to time, so the newest arrivals don’t stay long. No woman or uninitiated person is allowed within four or five leagues of the sacred woods. Once their training is complete, they are taken from the woods and put into small huts made for this purpose. Here, they start to reconnect with the outside world and interact with the women who bring them food. It’s amusing to see their feigned innocence. They act as if they don’t know anyone and claim to be unaware of local customs, like washing or applying oil to themselves. When they enter these huts, their bodies are covered in bird feathers, and they wear bark caps that cover their faces. But eventually, they are clothed and brought to a large open area where everyone from the neighborhood gathers. Here, the novices showcase their skills for the first time by performing a dance known as the dance of Belli. After the dance, their instructors take them to their parents' homes.907
Among the Indians of Virginia, an initiatory ceremony, called Huskanaw, took place every sixteen or twenty years, or oftener, as the young men happened to grow up. The youths were kept in solitary confinement in the woods for several months, [pg 349] receiving no food but an infusion of some intoxicating roots, so that they went raving mad, and continued in this state eighteen or twenty days. “Upon this occasion it is pretended that these poor creatures drink so much of the water of Lethe that they perfectly lose the remembrance of all former things, even of their parents, their treasure, and their language. When the doctors find that they have drank sufficiently of the Wysoccan (so they call this mad potion), they gradually restore them to their senses again by lessening the intoxication of their diet; but before they are perfectly well they bring them back into their towns, while they are still wild and crazy through the violence of the medicine. After this they are very fearful of discovering anything of their former remembrance; for if such a thing should happen to any of them, they must immediately be Huskanaw'd again; and the second time the usage is so severe that seldom any one escapes with life. Thus they must pretend to have forgot the very use of their tongues, so as not to be able to speak, nor understand anything that is spoken, till they learn it again. Now, whether this be real or counterfeit, I don't know; but certain it is that they will not for some time take notice of any body nor any thing with which they were before acquainted, being still under the guard of their keepers, who constantly wait upon them everywhere till they have learnt all things perfectly over again. Thus they unlive their former lives, and commence men by forgetting that they ever have been boys.”908
Among the Indians of Virginia, an initiation ceremony called Huskanaw happened every sixteen to twenty years, or more often as the young men grew up. The young men were kept isolated in the woods for several months, [pg 349] receiving no food except for a brew made from certain intoxicating roots, which drove them into a frenzied state for about eighteen to twenty days. During this time, it’s said that these unfortunate people drink so much of the water of Lethe that they completely forget everything from their past, including their parents, their possessions, and even their language. When the shamans believe they’ve had enough of the Wysoccan (as they call this wild potion), they gradually help them regain their senses by easing up on their diet; however, before they are fully recovered, they are taken back to their villages, still wild and delirious from the effects of the medicine. After that, they are very afraid to share anything from their past memories because if they do, they must be Huskanaw'd again, and the treatment that time is so harsh that very few survive. So, they have to pretend that they’ve forgotten how to speak, unable to talk or understand anything said to them until they relearn it. Whether this is real or an act, I don’t know; but it’s clear that for a period they won’t acknowledge anyone or anything they previously knew, remaining under the watch of their keepers, who monitor them everywhere until they’ve completely relearned everything. In this way, they erase their past lives and become men by forgetting that they were ever boys.908
Among some of the Indian tribes of North America there are certain religious associations which are only open to candidates who have gone through a pretence [pg 350] of being killed and brought to life again. Captain Carver witnessed the admission of a candidate to an association called “the friendly society of the Spirit” among the Naudowessies. The candidate knelt before the chief, who told him that “he himself was now agitated by the same spirit which he should in a few moments communicate to him; that it would strike him dead, but that he would instantly be restored again to life.... As he spoke this, he appeared to be greatly agitated, till at last his emotions became so violent that his countenance was distorted and his whole frame convulsed. At this juncture he threw something that appeared both in shape and colour like a small bean at the young man, which seemed to enter his mouth, and he instantly fell as motionless as if he had been shot.” For a time the man lay like dead, but under a shower of blows he showed signs of consciousness, and finally, discharging from his mouth the bean, or whatever it was the chief had thrown at him, he came to life.909 In other tribes the instrument by which the candidate is apparently slain is the medicine-bag. The bag is made of the skin of an animal (such as the otter, wild cat, serpent, bear, raccoon, wolf, owl, weasel), of which it roughly preserves the shape. Each member of the society has one of these bags, in which he keeps the odds and ends that make up his “medicine” or charms. “They believe that from the miscellaneous contents in the belly of the skin bag or animal there issues a spirit or breath, which has the power, not only to knock down and kill a man, but also to set him up and restore him to life.” The mode of killing a man with one of these medicine-bags is to thrust it at him; [pg 351] he falls like dead, but a second thrust of the bag restores him to life.910
Among some Indian tribes in North America, there are certain religious groups that only accept candidates who have gone through a fake [pg 350] experience of being killed and then brought back to life. Captain Carver observed one candidate being welcomed into a group called "the friendly society of the Spirit" among the Naudowessies. The candidate knelt before the chief, who told him that "He was now feeling the same energy that he would soon transfer to him; that it would knock him out, but he would come back to life right away. As he said this, he appeared very disturbed, until his emotions became so overwhelming that his face contorted and his whole body trembled. At that moment, he tossed something that looked like a small bean at the young man, which seemed to enter his mouth, and he immediately collapsed, completely still as if he had been shot." For a while, the man lay as if dead, but after receiving a flurry of blows, he showed signs of becoming conscious, and finally, after spitting out the bean or whatever the chief had thrown at him, he came back to life.909 In other tribes, the object used to seemingly kill a candidate is the medicine-bag. The bag is made from the skin of an animal (like the otter, wildcat, snake, bear, raccoon, wolf, owl, or weasel), roughly keeping its shape. Every member of the society has one of these bags, where they store the various items that make up their healthcare or charms. "They think that the mixed contents inside the skin bag or animal release a spirit or breath that can knock someone down and kill them, but can also bring them back to life." To kill someone with one of these medicine-bags, you simply thrust it at them; [pg 351] they fall as if dead, but a second thrust with the bag brings them back to life.910
A ceremony witnessed by Jewitt during his captivity among the Indians of Nootka Sound doubtless belongs to this class of customs. The Indian king or chief “discharged a pistol close to his son's ear, who immediately fell down as if killed, upon which all the women of the house set up a most lamentable cry, tearing handfuls of hair from their heads, and exclaiming that the prince was dead; at the same time a great number of the inhabitants rushed into the house armed with their daggers, muskets, etc., inquiring the cause of their outcry. These were immediately followed by two others dressed in wolf skins, with masks over their faces representing the head of that animal. The latter came in on their hands and feet in the manner of a beast, and taking up the prince, carried him off upon their backs, retiring in the same manner as they entered.”911 In another place Jewitt mentions that the young prince—a lad of about eleven years of age—wore a mask in imitation of a wolf's head.912 Now, as the Indians of this part of America are divided into totem clans, of which the Wolf clan is one of the principal, and as the members of each clan are in the habit of wearing some portion of the totem animal about their person,913 it is probable that the prince belonged to the Wolf clan, and that the ceremony described by Jewitt represented the killing [pg 352] of the lad in order that he might be born anew as a wolf, much in the same way that the Basque hunter supposed himself to have been killed and to have come to life again as a bear. The Toukaway Indians of Texas, one of whose totems is the wolf, have a ceremony in which men, dressed in wolf skins, run about on all fours, howling and mimicking wolves. At last they scratch up a living tribesman, who has been buried on purpose, and putting a bow and arrows in his hands, bid him do as the wolves do—rob, kill, and murder.914 The ceremony probably forms part of an initiatory rite like the resurrection from the grave of the old man in the Australian rites.
A ceremony witnessed by Jewitt during his captivity among the Indians of Nootka Sound definitely belongs to this type of custom. The Indian king or chief “fired a gun close to his son's ear, causing him to collapse as if he were dead, which made all the women in the house let out a sorrowful cry, pulling their hair out and shouting that the prince was dead; at the same time, a large group of locals rushed into the house armed with their knives, muskets, and so on, asking what was going on. Soon after, two others arrived dressed in wolf skins, wearing masks that looked like the animal’s head. They entered on their hands and knees like animals, picked up the prince, and carried him away on their backs, leaving the same way they came in.”911 In another section, Jewitt mentions that the young prince—a boy of about eleven—wore a mask that looked like a wolf's head.912 Now, since the Indians in this part of America are divided into totem clans and the Wolf clan is one of the main ones, and since members of each clan usually wear something representing their totem animal, 913 it’s likely that the prince was part of the Wolf clan, and that the ceremony Jewitt described symbolized the killing [pg 352] of the boy so he could be reborn as a wolf, similar to how the Basque hunter believed he had been killed and then revived as a bear. The Toukaway Indians of Texas, whose totem includes the wolf, have a ceremony where men, dressed in wolf skins, run around on all fours, howling and imitating wolves. Eventually, they dig up a living tribesman who has been buried for this purpose, and give him a bow and arrows, instructing him to act like the wolves—steal, kill, and murder.914 This ceremony likely forms part of an initiation rite similar to the resurrection from the grave of the old man in Australian rites.
The people of Rook, an island east of New Guinea, hold festivals at which one or two disguised men, their heads covered with wooden masks, go dancing through the village, followed by all the other men. They demand that the circumcised boys who have not yet been swallowed by Marsaba (the devil) shall be given up to them. The boys, trembling and shrieking, are delivered to them, and must creep between the legs of the disguised men. Then the procession moves through the village again, and announces that Marsaba has eaten up the boys, and will not disgorge them till he receives a present of pigs, taro, etc. So all the villagers, according to their means, contribute provisions, which are then consumed in the name of Marsaba.915 In New Britain all males are members [pg 353] of an association called the Duk-duk. The boys are admitted to it very young, but are not fully initiated till their fourteenth year, when they receive from the Tubuvan a terrible blow with a cane, which is supposed to kill them. The Tubuvan and the Duk-duk are two disguised men who represent cassowaries. They dance with a short hopping step in imitation of the cassowary. Each of them wears a huge hat like an extinguisher, woven of grass or palm-fibres; it is six feet high, and descends to the wearer's shoulders, completely concealing his head and face. From the neck to the knees the man's body is hidden by a crinoline made of the leaves of a certain tree fastened on hoops, one above the other. The Tubuvan is regarded as a female, the Duk-duk as a male. No woman may see these disguised men. The institution of the Duk-duk is common to the neighbouring islands of New Ireland and the Duke of York.916
The people of Rook, an island east of New Guinea, hold festivals where one or two men in disguise, with their heads covered by wooden masks, dance through the village, followed by all the other men. They demand that the circumcised boys who haven’t yet been swallowed by Marsaba (the devil) be handed over to them. The boys, shaking and screaming, are given to them and must crawl between the legs of the masked men. The procession then moves through the village again, declaring that Marsaba has eaten the boys and won’t give them back until he gets a gift of pigs, taro, and other items. So, all the villagers, according to what they can afford, contribute food, which is then consumed in the name of Marsaba.915 In New Britain, all males are members [pg 353] of an organization called the Duk-duk. Boys are admitted to it at a young age but aren’t fully initiated until they turn fourteen, when they receive a painful blow with a cane from the Tubuvan, which is believed to 'kill' them. The Tubuvan and the Duk-duk are two men in disguise representing cassowaries. They dance with a short hopping step to imitate the cassowary. Each wears a huge hat that looks like an extinguisher, woven from grass or palm fibers; it’s six feet tall and hangs down to their shoulders, completely hiding their head and face. From the neck to the knees, their bodies are concealed by a crinoline made of the leaves from a specific tree, attached to hoops stacked on top of each other. The Tubuvan is considered female, and the Duk-duk is regarded as male. No woman is allowed to see these disguised men. The Duk-duk tradition is found in neighboring islands like New Ireland and the Duke of York.916
Amongst the Galela and Tobelorese of Halmahera, an island to the west of New Guinea, boys go through a form of initiation, part of which seems to consist in a pretence of begetting them anew. When a number of boys have reached the proper age, their parents agree to celebrate the ceremony at their common expense, and they invite others to be present at it. A shed is erected, and two long tables are placed in it, with [pg 354] benches to match, one for the men and one for the women. When all the preparations have been made for a feast, a great many skins of the rayfish, and some pieces of a wood which imparts a red colour to water, are taken to the shed. A priest or elder causes a vessel to be placed in the sight of all the people, and then begins, with significant gestures, to rub a piece of the wood with the ray-skin. The powder so produced is put in the vessel, and at the same time the name of one of the boys is called out. The same proceeding is repeated for each boy. Then the vessels are filled with water, after which the feast begins. At the third cock-crow the priest smears the faces and bodies of the boys with the red water, which represents the blood shed at the perforation of the hymen. Towards daybreak the boys are taken to the wood, and must hide behind the largest trees. The men, armed with sword and shield, accompany them, dancing and singing. The priest knocks thrice on each of the trees behind which a boy is hiding. All day the boys stay in the wood, exposing themselves to the heat of the sun as much as possible. In the evening they bathe and return to the shed, where the women supply them with food.917
Among the Galela and Tobelorese of Halmahera, an island west of New Guinea, boys undergo a form of initiation that includes a ritual to symbolize their rebirth. Once several boys reach the appropriate age, their parents agree to hold the ceremony together and invite others to join. A shed is built, and two long tables with matching benches are set up inside—one for the men and one for the women. After all the preparations for the feast are completed, many rayfish skins and some wood that turns water red are brought to the shed. A priest or elder places a container in full view of the crowd and begins, using significant gestures, to rub a piece of wood against the ray skin. The resulting powder is added to the vessel, and at the same time, the name of one of the boys is called out. This process is repeated for each boy. Then the containers are filled with water, after which the feast starts. At the third crow of the rooster, the priest smears the boys' faces and bodies with the red water, symbolizing the blood shed during the breaking of the hymen. As dawn approaches, the boys are taken to the woods and must hide behind the largest trees. The men, armed with swords and shields, accompany them, singing and dancing. The priest knocks three times on each tree where a boy is hiding. The boys remain in the woods all day, soaking up as much sun as possible. In the evening, they bathe and return to the shed, where the women provide them with food.917
In the west of Ceram boys at puberty are admitted to the Kakian association.918 Modern writers [pg 355] have commonly regarded this association as primarily a political league instituted to resist foreign domination. In reality its objects are purely religious and social, though it is possible that the priests may have occasionally used their powerful influence for political ends. The society is in fact merely one of those widely-diffused primitive institutions, of which a chief object is the initiation of young men. In recent years the true nature of the association has been duly recognised by the distinguished Dutch ethnologist, J. G. F. Riedel. The Kakian house is an oblong wooden shed, situated under the darkest trees in the depth of the forest, and is built to admit so little light that it is impossible to see what goes on in it. Every village has such a house. Thither the boys who are to be initiated are conducted blindfolded, followed by their parents and relations. Each boy is led by the hand by two men, who act as his sponsors or guardians, looking after him during the period of initiation. When all are assembled before the shed, the high priest calls aloud upon the devils. Immediately a hideous uproar is heard to proceed from the shed. It is made by men with bamboo trumpets, who have been secretly introduced into the building by a back door, but the women and children think it is made by the devils, and are much terrified. Then the priests enter the shed, followed by the boys, one at a time. As soon as each boy has disappeared within the precincts, a dull chopping sound is heard, a fearful cry rings out, and a sword or spear, dripping with blood, is thrust [pg 356] through the roof of the shed. This is a token that the boy's head has been cut off, and that the devil has carried him away to the other world, there to regenerate and transform him. So at sight of the bloody sword the mothers weep and wail, crying that the devil has murdered their children. In some places, it would seem, the boys are pushed through an opening made in the shape of a crocodile's jaws or a cassowary's beak, and it is then said that the devil has swallowed them. The boys remain in the shed for five or nine days. Sitting in the dark, they hear the blast of the bamboo trumpets, and from time to time the sound of musket shots and the clash of swords. Every day they bathe, and their faces and bodies are smeared with a yellow dye, to give them the appearance of having been swallowed by the devil. During his stay in the Kakian house each boy has one or two crosses tattooed with thorns on his breast or arm. When they are not sleeping, the lads must sit in a crouching posture without moving a muscle. As they sit in a row cross-legged, with their hands stretched out, the chief takes his trumpet, and placing the mouth of it on the hands of each lad, speaks through it in strange tones, imitating the voice of the spirits. He warns the lads, under pain of death, to observe the rules of the Kakian society, and never to reveal what has passed in the Kakian house. The novices are also told by the priests to behave well to their blood relations, and are taught the traditions and secrets of the tribe.
In the west of Ceram, boys reach puberty and are welcomed into the Kakian association. Modern writers [pg 355] often view this association as mainly a political group created to resist foreign control. In reality, its purpose is purely religious and social, although it's possible that the priests may occasionally use their strong influence for political reasons. This society is actually one of those commonly found primitive institutions, primarily aimed at initiating young men. Recently, the true nature of the association has been recognized by the notable Dutch ethnologist, J. G. F. Riedel. The Kakian house is a long wooden shed located beneath the thickest trees deep in the forest, constructed to let in very little light, making it impossible to see what happens inside. Every village has such a house. The boys to be initiated are brought there blindfolded, followed by their parents and relatives. Each boy is led by two men, who act as his sponsors or guardians, taking care of him during the initiation period. When everyone is gathered outside the shed, the high priest loudly calls upon the devils. Suddenly, a terrible commotion comes from inside the shed. It's created by men with bamboo trumpets who have secretly entered through a back door, but the women and children believe it's the work of devils, leading to much fear. Then the priests enter the shed, bringing in the boys one by one. As soon as each boy steps inside, a dull chopping noise is heard, a horrifying scream echoes, and a sword or spear, covered in blood, is thrust [pg 356] through the roof. This signals that the boy's head has been cut off, and that the devil has taken him to the other world to be reborn and transformed. At the sight of the bloody sword, the mothers cry and mourn, believing that the devil has killed their children. In some areas, the boys are pushed through an opening shaped like crocodile jaws or a cassowary's beak, suggesting that the devil has swallowed them. The boys stay in the shed for five to nine days. Sitting in the dark, they hear the sound of bamboo trumpets, and at times, musket shots and clashing swords. Each day they bathe, and their faces and bodies are covered in a yellow dye to make it look like they've been swallowed by the devil. During their time in the Kakian house, each boy gets one or two crosses tattooed with thorns on his chest or arm. When not sleeping, the boys must sit still in a crouched position. Sitting cross-legged in a row with their hands outstretched, the chief takes his trumpet, places it on each boy's hands, and speaks through it in unusual tones, mimicking the voices of spirits. He warns the boys that if they do not follow the rules of the Kakian society, they risk death, and they must never reveal what happens inside the Kakian house. The novices are also instructed by the priests to treat their relatives well and are taught the traditions and secrets of their tribe.
Meantime the mothers and sisters of the lads have gone home to weep and mourn. But in a day or two the men who acted as guardians or sponsors to the novices return to the village with the glad tidings that the devil, at the intercession of the priests, has restored [pg 357] the lads to life. The men who bring this news come in a fainting state and daubed with mud, like messengers freshly arrived from the nether world. Before leaving the Kakian house, each lad receives from the priest a stick adorned at both ends with cock's or cassowary's feathers. The sticks are supposed to have been given to the lads by the devil at the time when he restored them to life, and they serve as a token that the lads have been in the spirit-land. When they return to their homes they totter in their walk, and enter the house backward, as if they had forgotten how to walk properly; or they enter the house by the back door. If a plate of food is given to them, they hold it upside down. They remain dumb, indicating their wants by signs only. All this is to show that they are still under the influence of the devil or the spirits. Their sponsors have to teach them all the common acts of life, as if they were new-born children. Further, upon leaving the Kakian house the boys are strictly forbidden to eat of certain fruits until the next celebration of the rites has taken place. And for twenty or thirty days their hair may not be combed by their mothers or sisters. At the end of that time the high priest takes them to a lonely place in the forest, and cuts off a lock of hair from the crown of each of their heads. After these initiatory rites the lads are deemed men, and may marry; it would be a scandal if they married before.
In the meantime, the mothers and sisters of the boys have gone home to cry and mourn. But after a day or two, the men who acted as guardians or sponsors for the novices return to the village with the good news that the devil, through the priests' help, has brought the boys back to life. The men who deliver this news arrive looking faint and covered in mud, like messengers just returned from the underworld. Before leaving the Kakian house, each boy receives from the priest a stick decorated at both ends with feathers from a rooster or cassowary. These sticks are said to have been given to the boys by the devil when he brought them back to life, serving as proof that the boys have been in the spirit world. When they return home, they walk unsteadily and enter the house backward, as if they've forgotten how to walk properly, or they use the back door. If they’re given a plate of food, they hold it upside down. They remain silent, indicating what they need only through gestures. All of this shows they are still under the influence of the devil or spirits. Their sponsors must teach them all the everyday activities as if they were newborns. Additionally, before leaving the Kakian house, the boys are strictly forbidden from eating certain fruits until the next ceremony is held. For twenty or thirty days, their mothers or sisters cannot comb their hair. After that time, the high priest takes them to a secluded spot in the forest and cuts a lock of hair from the top of each of their heads. After these initiation rites, the boys are considered men and may marry; it would be a disgrace if they married before.
The simulation of death and resurrection or of a new birth at initiation appears to have lingered on, or at least to have left traces of itself, among peoples who have advanced far beyond the stage of savagery. Thus, after his investiture with the sacred thread—the symbol of his order—a Brahman is called “twice-born.” [pg 358] Manu says, “According to the injunction of the revealed texts the first birth of an Aryan is from his natural mother, the second happens on the tying of the girdle of Muñga grass, and the third on the initiation to the performance of a Srauta sacrifice.”919 A pretence of killing the candidate appears to have formed part of the initiation to the Mithraic mysteries.920
The simulation of death and rebirth, or a new beginning with initiation, seems to have persisted, or at least left its mark, among cultures that have advanced well beyond primitive stages. So, after being invested with the sacred thread—the emblem of his order—a Brahman is referred to as "born again." [pg 358] Manu states, "According to the teachings of the sacred texts, the first birth of an Aryan is from his biological mother, the second happens when the girdle of Muñga grass is tied, and the third takes place during the initiation for a Srauta sacrifice."919 It seems that a pretense of killing the candidate was part of the initiation into the Mithraic mysteries.920
Thus, if I am right, wherever totemism is found, and wherever a pretence is made of killing and bringing to life again at initiation, there must exist or have existed not only a belief in the possibility of permanently depositing the soul in some external object—animal, plant, or what not—but an actual intention of so depositing it. If the question is put, why do men desire to deposit their life outside their bodies? the answer can only be that, like the giant in the fairy tale, they think it safer to do so than to carry it about with them, just as people deposit their money with a banker rather than carry it on their persons. We have seen that at critical periods the life or soul is sometimes temporarily deposited in a safe place till the danger is past. But institutions like totemism are not resorted to merely on special occasions of danger; they are systems into which every one, or at least every male, is obliged to be initiated at a certain period of life. Now the period of life at which initiation takes place is regularly puberty; and this fact suggests that the special danger which totemism and systems like it are intended to obviate is supposed not to arise till sexual maturity has been attained, in fact, that the danger [pg 359] apprehended is believed to attend the relation of the sexes to each other. It would be easy to prove by a long array of facts that the sexual relation is associated in the primitive mind with many supernatural perils; but the exact nature of the danger apprehended is still obscure. We may hope that a more exact acquaintance with savage modes of thought will in time disclose this central mystery of primitive society, and will thereby furnish the clue, not only to the social aspect of totemism (the prohibition of sexual union between persons of the same totem), but to the origin of the marriage system.
Thus, if I'm correct, wherever totemism is found, and wherever there's a pretense of killing and bringing back to life during initiation, there must be a belief in the possibility of permanently placing the soul in some external object—animal, plant, or whatever—and an actual intent to do so. If the question is asked, why do people want to place their life outside their bodies? The answer can only be that, like the giant in the fairy tale, they think it's safer to do this than to carry it around with them, just as people put their money in a bank instead of carrying it with them. We've seen that during critical times, life or soul is sometimes temporarily set aside in a safe place until the danger passes. However, systems like totemism aren't just used on special occasions of danger; they are systems into which everyone, or at least every male, is required to be initiated at a specific time in life. Typically, this initiation takes place at puberty, suggesting that the particular danger totemism and similar systems aim to address is believed to arise only when sexual maturity is reached, specifically that the perceived danger is thought to concern the relationships between the sexes. It would be easy to demonstrate with numerous examples that the sexual relationship is linked in the primitive mind with many supernatural threats; however, the exact nature of the feared danger remains unclear. We can hope that, with a deeper understanding of primitive ways of thinking, this central mystery of primitive society will eventually be uncovered, providing insight into both the social aspect of totemism (the ban on sexual union between people of the same totem) and the origins of the marriage system.
§ 5.—Conclusion.
Thus the view that Balder's life was in the mistletoe is entirely in harmony with primitive modes of thought. It may indeed sound like a contradiction that, if his life was in the mistletoe, he should nevertheless have been killed by a blow from it. But when a person's life is conceived as embodied in a particular object, with the existence of which his own existence is inseparably bound up, and the destruction of which involves his own, the object in question may be regarded and spoken of indifferently as the person's life or as his death, as happens in the fairy tales. Hence if a man's death is in an object, it is perfectly natural that he should be killed by a blow from it. In the fairy tales Koshchei the Deathless is killed by a blow from the egg or the stone in which his life or death is;921 the ogres burst when a certain grain of sand—doubtless containing their life or death—is carried over their [pg 360] heads;922 the magician dies when the stone in which his life or death is contained is put under his pillow;923 and the Tartar hero is warned that he may be killed by the golden arrow or golden sword in which his soul has been stowed away.924
Thus the idea that Balder's life was tied to the mistletoe fits perfectly with early ways of thinking. It might seem contradictory that if his life was in the mistletoe, he could still be killed by it. However, when a person's life is thought to be linked to a specific object that is fundamentally connected to their existence, and the destruction of that object means their own destruction, the object can be referred to as both the person’s life and their death, similar to what we see in fairy tales. So, if a person's death is tied to an object, it's completely reasonable that they could be killed by it. In fairy tales, Koshchei the Deathless is killed by a blow from the egg or stone that holds his life; the ogres burst when a certain grain of sand—likely containing their life or death—is carried over their heads; the magician dies when the stone that contains his life is placed under his pillow; and the Tartar hero learns he could die from the golden arrow or golden sword where his soul is hidden.
The idea that the life of the oak was in the mistletoe was probably suggested, as I have said, by the observation that in winter the mistletoe growing on the oak remains green, while the oak itself is leafless. But the position of the plant—growing, not from the ground, but from the trunk or branches of the tree—might confirm this idea. Primitive man might think that, like himself, the oak-spirit had sought to deposit his life in some safe place, and for this purpose had pitched on the mistletoe, which, being in a sense neither on earth nor in heaven, was as secure a place as could be found. At the beginning of this chapter we saw that primitive man seeks to preserve the life of his human divinities by keeping them in a sort of intermediate position between earth and heaven, as the place where they are least likely to be assailed by the dangers that encompass the life of man on earth. We can therefore [pg 361] understand why in modern folk-medicine the mistletoe is not allowed to touch the ground; if it touches the ground, its healing virtue is supposed to be gone.925 This may be a survival of the old superstition that the plant in which the life of the sacred tree was concentrated should not be exposed to the risk incurred by contact with the ground. In an Indian legend, which offers a parallel to the Balder myth, Indra promised the demon Namuci not to kill him by day or by night, nor with what was wet or what was dry. But he killed him in the morning twilight by sprinkling over him the foam of the sea.926 The foam of the sea is just such an object as a savage might choose to put his life in, because it occupies that sort of intermediate or nondescript position between earth and sky or sea and sky in which primitive man sees safety. It is therefore not surprising that the foam of the river should be the totem of a clan in India.927 Again, the view that the mistletoe owes its mystic character partly to the fact of its not growing on the ground is confirmed by a parallel superstition about the mountain-ash or rowan-tree. In Jutland a rowan that is found growing out of the top of another tree is esteemed “exceedingly effective against witchcraft: since it does not grow on the ground witches have no power over it; if it is to have its full effect it must be cut on Ascension Day.”928 Hence it is placed over doors to prevent the ingress of witches.929 Similarly the mistletoe in Germany is still [pg 362] universally considered a protection against witchcraft, and in Sweden, as we saw, the mistletoe which is gathered on Midsummer Eve is attached to the ceiling of the house, the horse stall, or the cow's crib, in the belief that this renders the Troll powerless to injure man or beast.930
The belief that the life of the oak tree is tied to mistletoe likely came from noticing that mistletoe stays green in winter while the oak is bare of leaves. The fact that mistletoe grows from the trunk or branches of the oak, rather than from the ground, could also support this idea. Primitive people might think that, like them, the oak spirit wanted to keep its life safe and chose mistletoe as that secure place, which is neither on the earth nor in the sky. At the beginning of this chapter, we noted that ancient people tried to preserve the lives of their human deities by positioning them in a place between earth and heaven, a space less likely to be threatened by dangers that surround human life on earth. Therefore, it makes sense that in modern folk medicine, mistletoe is not allowed to touch the ground; if it does, its healing power is believed to vanish. This may stem from an old superstition that the plant housing the life of the sacred tree must not risk contact with the ground. In an Indian legend, similar to the Balder myth, Indra promised the demon Namuci he wouldn’t kill him by day or night, nor with anything wet or dry. Yet, he managed to kill him at dawn by sprinkling sea foam over him. Sea foam is just the kind of item that a primitive person might consider safe for placing their life in, as it exists in a kind of intermediate space between earth and sky, which signals safety to early humans. Thus, it’s not surprising that river foam is a totem for a clan in India. Likewise, the notion that mistletoe's mystical qualities come partly from not growing on the ground is echoed in a superstition about the mountain-ash or rowan tree. In Jutland, a rowan growing from the top of another tree is believed to be "exceedingly effective against witchcraft: since it doesn’t grow on the ground, witches have no power over it; if it is to have its full effect, it must be cut on Ascension Day.” Hence, it is hung over doors to keep witches out. In a similar way, mistletoe in Germany is still widely regarded as protection against witchcraft, and in Sweden, as mentioned, mistletoe gathered on Midsummer Eve is hung from the ceiling of homes, horse stalls, or cow cribs, with the belief that this renders the Troll incapable of harming people or animals.
The view that the mistletoe was not merely the instrument of Balder's death, but that it contained his life, is countenanced by the analogy of a Scottish superstition. Tradition ran that the fate of the family of Hay was bound up with the mistletoe of a certain oak.
The idea that the mistletoe was not just the cause of Balder's death, but that it also held his life, is supported by a Scottish superstition. According to tradition, the fate of the Hay family was linked to the mistletoe from a particular oak tree.
“A large oak with the mistletoe growing on it was long pointed out as the tree referred to. A piece of the mistletoe cut by a Hay was believed to have magical virtues. ‘The oak is gone and the estate is lost to the family,’ as a local historian says.”931 The idea that the fate of a family, as distinct from the lives of its members, is bound up with a particular plant or tree, is no doubt comparatively modern. The older view probably was that the lives of all the Hays were in this particular mistletoe, just as in the Indian story the lives of all the ogres are in a lemon; to break a twig of the mistletoe would then have been to kill one [pg 363] of the Hays. Similarly in the island of Rum, whose bold mountains the voyager from Oban to Skye observes to seaward, it was thought that if one of the family of Lachlin shot a deer on the mountain of Finchra, he would die suddenly or contract a distemper which would soon prove fatal.932 Probably the life of the Lachlins was bound up with the deer on Finchra, as the life of the Hays was bound up with the mistletoe on Errol's oak.
"A large oak tree covered in mistletoe was long believed to be the tree they were referring to. A piece of mistletoe cut by a Hay was thought to have magical powers. ‘The oak is gone, and the estate is lost to the family,’ a local historian states."931 The idea that a family's fate, separate from the lives of its members, is connected to a specific plant or tree is likely a relatively modern concept. The older belief was probably that the lives of all the Hays were tied to this particular mistletoe, similar to the Indian tale where the lives of all the ogres are in a lemon; breaking a mistletoe twig would have meant killing one [pg 363] of the Hays. In a similar way, on the island of Rum, which features bold mountains viewed by travelers from Oban to Skye, it was believed that if someone from the Lachlin family shot a deer on Finchra Mountain, they would die suddenly or get a disease that would quickly become fatal.932 It seems likely that the lives of the Lachlins were tied to the deer on Finchra, just as the lives of the Hays were tied to the mistletoe on Errol's oak.
It is not a new opinion that the Golden Bough was the mistletoe.933 True, Virgil does not identify but only compares it with the mistletoe. But this may be only a poetical device to cast a mystic glamour over the humble plant. Or, more probably, his description was based on a popular superstition that at certain times the mistletoe blazed out into a supernatural golden glory. The poet tells how two doves, guiding Aeneas to the gloomy vale in whose depth grew the Golden Bough, alighted upon a tree, “whence shone a flickering gleam of gold. As in the woods in winter cold the mistletoe—a plant not native to its tree—is green with fresh leaves and twines its yellow berries about the boles; such seemed upon the shady oak the leafy gold, so rustled in the gentle breeze the golden leaf.”934 Here Virgil definitely describes the Golden Bough as growing on an oak, and compares it with the mistletoe. The inference is almost inevitable that the Golden Bough was nothing but the mistletoe seen through the haze of poetry or of popular superstition.
It’s been a long-held belief that the Golden Bough was actually the mistletoe. True, Virgil doesn’t directly identify it but only makes a comparison to the mistletoe. This could just be a poetic way to add some mystical allure to a simple plant. More likely, his description was inspired by a common superstition that at certain times, mistletoe would glow with a supernatural golden light. The poet recounts how two doves, leading Aeneas to the dark valley where the Golden Bough grew, landed on a tree, “from which a flickering gleam of gold shone. Just like in the cold winter woods, the mistletoe—a plant not native to its tree—remains green with fresh leaves and clings its yellow berries to the trunks; such was the leafy gold on the shady oak, gently rustling in the breeze.” Here, Virgil clearly describes the Golden Bough as growing on an oak and compares it to the mistletoe. It’s almost unavoidable to conclude that the Golden Bough was just the mistletoe viewed through the lens of poetry or popular superstition.
Now grounds have been shown for believing that [pg 364] the priest of the Arician grove—the King of the Wood—personified the tree on which grew the Golden Bough.935 Hence, if that tree was the oak, the King of the Wood must have been a personification of the oak-spirit. It is, therefore, easy to understand why, before he could be slain, it was necessary to break the Golden Bough. As an oak-spirit, his life or death was in the mistletoe on the oak, and so long as the mistletoe remained intact, he, like Balder, could not die. To slay him, therefore, it was necessary to break the mistletoe, and probably, as in the case of Balder, to throw it at him. And to complete the parallel, it is only necessary to suppose that the King of the Wood was formerly burned, dead or alive, at the midsummer fire festival which, as we have seen, was annually celebrated in the Arician grove.936 The perpetual fire which burned in the grove, like the perpetual fire under the oak at Romove, was probably fed with the sacred oak-wood; and thus it would be in a great fire of oak that the King of the Wood formerly met his end. At a later time, as I have suggested, his annual tenure of office was lengthened or shortened, as the case might be, by the rule which allowed him to live so long as he could prove his divine right by the strong hand. But he only escaped the fire to fall by the sword.
Now there are reasons to believe that [pg 364] the priest of the Arician grove—the King of the Wood—represented the tree that produced the Golden Bough.935 So, if that tree was an oak, the King of the Wood must have been a representation of the oak spirit. It's easy to see why, before he could be killed, it was necessary to break the Golden Bough. As an oak spirit, his life depended on the mistletoe growing on the oak, and as long as the mistletoe was intact, he, much like Balder, could not die. Therefore, to kill him, it was required to break the mistletoe, likely by throwing it at him, similar to the act with Balder. To complete the comparison, we just need to imagine that the King of the Wood was once burned, whether dead or alive, during the midsummer fire festival, which, as we've observed, was celebrated yearly in the Arician grove.936 The eternal fire that burned in the grove, like the everlasting fire under the oak at Romove, was probably fueled by sacred oak wood; thus, the King of the Wood likely met his end in a great fire of oak. Later on, as I suggested, his yearly time in office was extended or reduced based on the rule that allowed him to live as long as he could prove his divine right through strength. But he only escaped the fire to be killed by the sword.
Thus it seems that at a remote age in the heart of Italy, beside the sweet lake of Nemi, the same fiery tragedy was annually enacted which Italian merchants and soldiers were afterwards to witness among their rude kindred, the Celts of Gaul, and which, if the [pg 365] Roman eagles had ever swooped on Norway, might have been found repeated with little difference among the barbarous Aryans of the North. The rite was probably an essential feature in the primitive Aryan worship of the oak.937
Thus, it seems that a long time ago, in the heart of Italy, next to the beautiful Lake Nemi, the same fiery tragedy was performed every year, which Italian merchants and soldiers would later witness among their rough counterparts, the Celts of Gaul. And if the [pg 365] Roman eagles had ever flown over Norway, it might have been seen repeated with little change among the barbaric Aryans of the North. The ritual was likely a key element in the ancient Aryan worship of the oak.937
It only remains to ask, Why was the mistletoe called the Golden Bough? The name was not simply a poet's fancy, nor even peculiarly Italian; for in Welsh also the mistletoe is known as “the tree of pure gold.”938 The whitish-yellow of the mistletoe berries is hardly enough to account for the name. For Virgil says that the Bough was altogether golden, stem as well as leaves,939 and the same is implied in the Welsh name, “the tree of pure gold.” A clue to the real meaning of the name is furnished by the mythical fern-seed or fern-bloom.
It only remains to ask, Why was the mistletoe called the Golden Bough? The name wasn't just some poetic imagination, nor was it uniquely Italian; in Welsh, the mistletoe is also known as “the pure gold tree.”938 The whitish-yellow color of the mistletoe berries doesn't quite explain the name. As Virgil states, the Bough was completely golden, including the stem and leaves,939 which is also suggested in the Welsh name, “the tree of pure gold.” A clue to the true meaning of the name can be found in the mythical fern-seed or fern-bloom.
We saw that fern-seed is popularly supposed to bloom like gold or fire on Midsummer Eve. Thus in Bohemia it is said that “on St. John's Day fern-seed blooms with golden blossoms that gleam like fire.”940 Now it is a property of this mythical fern-seed that whoever has it, or will ascend a mountain holding it in his hand on Midsummer Eve, will discover a vein of gold or will see the treasures of the earth shining with a bluish flame.941 And if you place fern-seed [pg 366] among money, the money will never decrease, however much of it you spend.942 Sometimes the fern-seed is supposed to bloom at Christmas, and whoever catches it will become very rich.943 Thus, on the principle of like by like, fern-seed is supposed to discover gold because it is itself golden; and for a similar reason it enriches its possessor with an unfailing supply of gold. But while the fern-seed is described as golden, it is equally described as glowing and fiery.944 Hence, when we consider that two great days for gathering the fabulous seed are Midsummer Eve and Christmas—that is, the two solstices (for Christmas is nothing but an old heathen celebration of the winter solstice)—we are led to regard the fiery aspect of the fern-seed as primary, and its golden aspect as secondary and derivative. Fern-seed, in fact, would seem to be an emanation of the sun's fire at the two turning-points of its course, the summer and winter solstices. This view is confirmed by a German story in which a hunter is said to have procured fern-seed by shooting at the sun on Midsummer Day at noon; three drops of blood fell down, which he caught in a white cloth, and these blood-drops were the fern-seed.945 Here the blood is clearly the blood of the sun, from which the fern-seed is thus directly derived. Thus it may be taken as certain that fern-seed is golden, because it is believed to be an emanation of the sun's golden fire.
We learned that fern-seed is often thought to bloom like gold or fire on Midsummer Eve. In Bohemia, it’s said that "On St. John's Day, fern-seed flowers with golden blooms that shine like fire."940 It is said that anyone who holds fern-seed while climbing a mountain on Midsummer Eve will find a vein of gold or see the treasures of the earth glowing with a bluish flame.941 Moreover, if you place fern-seed [pg 366] among your money, the money will never dwindle, no matter how much you spend.942 Sometimes, it’s believed that fern-seed blooms at Christmas, and whoever catches it will become very wealthy.943 Following the idea that like attracts like, fern-seed is thought to reveal gold because it is golden itself; similarly, it provides its owner with a never-ending supply of gold. While fern-seed is described as golden, it is also described as glowing and fiery.944 When we think about the two key days for gathering this legendary seed—Midsummer Eve and Christmas—which correspond to the two solstices (as Christmas is essentially a traditional celebration of the winter solstice), we are led to see the fiery nature of the fern-seed as primary, with its golden nature being secondary and derived. In fact, fern-seed seems to be a manifestation of the sun's fire at these two turning points of its journey, the summer and winter solstices. This idea is supported by a German tale where a hunter supposedly obtained fern-seed by shooting at the sun on Midsummer Day at noon; three drops of blood fell, which he caught in a white cloth, and those blood-drops were the fern-seed.945 Here, the blood clearly represents the blood of the sun, from which the fern-seed is directly derived. Therefore, it can be confidently said that fern-seed is golden because it is believed to be a manifestation of the sun's golden fire.
Now, like fern-seed, the mistletoe is gathered [pg 367] either at Midsummer or Christmas946—that is, at the summer and winter solstices—and, like fern-seed, it is supposed to possess the power of revealing treasures in the earth. On Midsummer Eve people in Sweden make divining-rods of mistletoe or of four different kinds of wood, one of which must be mistletoe. The treasure-seeker places the rod on the ground after sundown, and when it rests directly over treasure, the rod begins to move as if it were alive.947 Now, if the mistletoe discovers gold, it must be in its character of the Golden Bough; and if it is gathered at the solstices, must not the Golden Bough, like the golden fern-seed, be an emanation of the sun's fire? The question cannot be answered with a simple affirmative. We have seen that the primitive Aryans probably kindled the midsummer bonfires as sun-charms, that is, with the intention of supplying the sun with fresh fire. But as this fire was always elicited by the friction of oak wood,948 it must have appeared to the primitive Aryan that the sun was periodically recruited from the fire which resided in the sacred oak. In other words, the oak must have seemed to him the original storehouse or reservoir of the fire which was from time to time drawn out to feed the sun. But the life of the oak was conceived to be in the mistletoe; therefore the mistletoe must have contained the seed or germ of the [pg 368] fire which was elicited by friction from the wood of the oak. Thus, instead of saying that the mistletoe was an emanation of the sun's fire, it would be more correct to say that the sun's fire was regarded as an emanation of the mistletoe. No wonder, then, that the mistletoe shone with a golden splendour, and was called the Golden Bough. Probably, however, like fern-seed, it was thought to assume its golden aspect only at those stated times, especially midsummer, when fire was drawn from the oak to light up the sun.949 At Pulverbatch, in Shropshire, it was believed within living memory that the oak-tree blooms on Midsummer Eve and the blossom withers before daylight.950 This fleeting bloom of the oak, if I am right, could originally have been nothing but the mistletoe in its character of the Golden Bough. As Shropshire borders on Wales, the superstition may be Welsh in its immediate origin, though probably the belief is a fragment of the primitive Aryan creed. In some parts of Italy, as we saw,951 peasants still go out on Midsummer morning to search the oak-trees for the “oil of St. John,” which, like the mistletoe, heals all wounds, and is doubtless the mistletoe itself in its glorified aspect. Thus it is easy to understand how a title like the Golden Bough or the “tree of pure gold,” so little descriptive of the real appearance of the plant, should have held its ground as a name for the mistletoe in Italy and Wales, and probably in other parts of the Aryan world.952
Now, like fern seeds, mistletoe is harvested [pg 367] either at Midsummer or Christmas—specifically, during the summer and winter solstices—and, similar to fern seeds, it’s believed to have the power to reveal treasures hidden in the earth. On Midsummer Eve, people in Sweden create divining rods from mistletoe or four different types of wood, with one of them being mistletoe. The treasure hunter places the rod on the ground after sunset, and when it’s directly over a treasure, the rod starts to move as if it were alive.947 If mistletoe uncovers gold, it must be channeling the nature of the Golden Bough; and if it’s gathered during the solstices, shouldn’t the Golden Bough, like the golden fern seeds, be a manifestation of the sun's fire? This question isn’t easy to answer simply. We’ve observed that early Aryans likely lit midsummer bonfires as sun-charms, intending to provide fresh fire to the sun. But since this fire was always generated by the friction of oak wood,948 it must have seemed to the early Aryans that the sun was periodically replenished from the fire residing in the sacred oak. In other words, the oak would have appeared to be the original source or reservoir of the fire that was periodically drawn out to energize the sun. However, they believed that the life of the oak was intertwined with the mistletoe; therefore, mistletoe must have contained the seed or spark of the [pg 368] fire generated by friction from the oak wood. So, instead of saying that mistletoe was a product of the sun's fire, it’s more accurate to say that the sun's fire was viewed as a product of mistletoe. It’s no surprise, then, that mistletoe shone with a golden brilliance and was referred to as the Golden Bough. Likely, like fern seeds, it was thought to take on its golden appearance only at specific times, particularly Midsummer, when fire was drawn from the oak to illuminate the sun.949 In Pulverbatch, Shropshire, it was believed within living memory that the oak tree blooms on Midsummer Eve and that the blossoms fade before dawn.950 This fleeting bloom of the oak, if I am correct, could originally only have been mistletoe embodying the Golden Bough. Since Shropshire is close to Wales, the superstition might be of Welsh origin, although it likely represents a fragment of the early Aryan belief system. In some regions of Italy, as we saw,951 peasants still venture out on Midsummer morning to look for the St. John's oil which, like mistletoe, is said to heal all wounds and is undoubtedly mistletoe itself in its exalted form. Therefore, it’s easy to see how a title like the Golden Bough or the “golden tree,” which is not very descriptive of what the plant actually looks like, could have remained a name for mistletoe in Italy and Wales, and likely in other parts of the Aryan world.952
Now, too, we can fully understand why Virbius came to be confounded with the sun. If Virbius was, as I have tried to show, a tree-spirit, he must have been the spirit of the oak on which grew the Golden Bough; for tradition represented him as the first of the Kings of the Wood. As an oak-spirit he must have been supposed periodically to rekindle the sun's fire, and might therefore easily be confounded with the sun itself. Similarly we can explain why Balder, an oak-spirit, was described as “so fair of face and so shining that a light went forth from him,”953 and why he should have been so often taken to be the sun. And in general we may say that in primitive society, when the only known way of making fire is by the friction of wood, the savage must necessarily conceive fire as a property stored away, like sap or juice, in trees, from which he has laboriously to extract it. Thus all trees, or at least the particular sorts of trees whose wood he employs in fire-making, must be regarded by him as reservoirs of hidden fire, and it is natural that he should describe them by epithets like golden, shining, or bright. May not this have been the origin of the name, “the Bright or Shining One” (Zeus, Jove) by which the ancient Greeks and Italians designated their supreme god?954 It is at least highly significant that, amongst [pg 370] both Greeks and Italians, the oak should have been the tree of the supreme god, that at his most ancient shrines, both in Greece and Italy, this supreme god should have been actually represented by an oak, and that so soon as the barbarous Aryans of Northern Europe appear in the light of history, they should be found, amid all diversities of language, of character, and of country, nevertheless at one in worshipping the oak as the chief object of their religious reverence, and extracting their sacred fire from its wood. If we are to judge of the primitive religion of the European Aryans by comparing the religions of the different branches of the stock, the highest place in their pantheon must certainly be assigned to the oak. The result, then, of our inquiry is to make it probable that, down to the time of the Roman Empire and the beginning of our era, the primitive worship of the Aryans was maintained nearly in its original form in the sacred grove at Nemi, as in the oak woods of Gaul, of Prussia, and of Scandinavia; and that the King of the Wood lived and died as an incarnation of the supreme Aryan god, whose life was in the mistletoe or Golden Bough.
Now, we can fully understand why Virbius became associated with the sun. If Virbius was, as I have suggested, a tree spirit, he must have been the spirit of the oak that bore the Golden Bough, since tradition depicted him as the first of the Kings of the Wood. As the spirit of the oak, he would have been believed to periodically reignite the sun's fire, making it easy to confuse him with the sun itself. Similarly, we can understand why Balder, another oak spirit, was described as "so beautiful and so radiant that a light shone from him,"953 and why he was often mistaken for the sun. Generally, we can say that in primitive societies, where the only known way to create fire was through friction of wood, early humans must have seen fire as something stored in trees, like sap or juice, which they had to painstakingly extract. Therefore, all trees, especially the types they used to make fire, would have been viewed as sources of hidden fire, naturally leading to descriptions of them as golden, shining, or bright. This might explain the name “the Bright One” (Zeus, Jove) that the ancient Greeks and Italians used for their supreme god.954 It’s particularly significant that, among [pg 370] both Greeks and Italians, the oak was the tree of the supreme god, that at his oldest shrines in both Greece and Italy, this supreme god was actually represented by an oak, and that once the barbaric Aryans of Northern Europe entered history, they were found, despite various languages, cultures, and countries, united in worshiping the oak as the central object of their religious respect, extracting their sacred fire from its wood. If we evaluate the primitive religion of the European Aryans by comparing the beliefs of their different branches, the oak undoubtedly holds the highest place in their pantheon. Thus, our inquiry suggests that, up to the time of the Roman Empire and the beginning of our era, the primitive worship of the Aryans persisted almost in its original form in the sacred grove at Nemi, as well as in the oak forests of Gaul, Prussia, and Scandinavia; and that the King of the Wood lived and died as an embodiment of the supreme Aryan god, whose life was in the mistletoe or Golden Bough.
If, in bidding farewell to Nemi, we look around us for the last time, we shall find the lake and its surroundings not much changed from what they were in the days when Diana and Virbius still received the homage of their worshippers in the sacred grove. The temple of Diana, indeed, has disappeared, and the King of the Wood no longer stands sentinel over the [pg 371] Golden Bough. But Nemi's woods are still green, and at evening you may hear the church bells of Albano, and perhaps, if the air be still, of Rome itself, ringing the Angelus. Sweet and solemn they chime out from the distant city, and die lingeringly away across the wide Campagnan marshes. Le roi est mort, vive le roi!
If, while saying goodbye to Nemi, we take one last look around, we’ll see that the lake and its surroundings haven’t changed much since the days when Diana and Virbius still received the devotion of their worshippers in the sacred grove. The temple of Diana is gone now, and the King of the Wood no longer watches over the [pg 371] Golden Bough. But Nemi’s woods are still lush, and in the evening you might hear the church bells of Albano, and maybe, if the air is still, even from Rome itself, ringing the Angelus. Sweet and solemn, they chime out from the distant city, fading away gently across the wide marshes of the Campagna. The king is dead, long live the king!
Note. Offerings of first fruits.
We have seen (vol. ii. p. 68 sqq.) that primitive peoples often partake of the new corn sacramentally, because they suppose it to be instinct with a divine spirit or life. At a later age, when the fruits of the earth are conceived as produced rather than as animated by a divinity, the new fruits are no longer partaken of sacramentally as the body and blood of a god; but a portion of them is presented as a thank-offering to the divine beings who are believed to have produced them. Sometimes the first-fruits are presented to the king, probably in his character of a god. Till the first-fruits have been offered to the deity or the king, people are not at liberty to eat of the new crops. But, as it is not always possible to draw a sharp line between the sacrament and the sacrifice of first-fruits, it may be well to round off this part of the subject by appending some miscellaneous examples of the latter.
We have seen (vol. ii. p. 68 sqq.) that early cultures often consume new corn in a sacred way, believing it to be filled with divine spirit or life. Later on, when people begin to understand that the earth produces fruits rather than being animated by a god, the new fruits are no longer consumed sacramentally as the body and blood of a deity. Instead, a portion of them is offered as a thank-you gift to the divine beings thought to have brought them forth. Sometimes, the first fruits are given to the king, likely because he is seen as a god. Until the first fruits have been presented to the deity or the king, people are not allowed to eat from the new crops. However, since it's not always easy to clearly separate the sacrament from the sacrifice of first fruits, it might be beneficial to conclude this section by including some assorted examples of the latter.
Among the Basutos, when the corn has been threshed and winnowed, it is left in a heap on the threshing-floor. Before it can be touched a religious ceremony must be performed. The persons to whom the corn belongs bring a new vessel to the spot, in which they boil some of the grain. When it is boiled they throw a few handfuls of it on the heap of corn, saying, “Thank you, gods; give us bread to-morrow also!” When this is done the rest is eaten, and the provision for the year is considered pure and fit to eat.955 Here the sacrifice of the first-fruits to the gods is the prominent idea, which comes out again in the custom of leaving in the threshing-floor a little hollow filled with grain, as a thank-offering to the gods.956 [pg 374] Still the Basutos retain a lively sense of the sanctity of the corn in itself; for, so long as it is exposed to view, all defiled persons are carefully kept from it. If it is necessary to employ a defiled person in carrying home the harvest, he remains at some distance while the sacks are being filled, and only approaches to place them upon the draught oxen. As soon as the load is deposited at the dwelling he retires, and under no pretext may he help to pour the corn into the baskets in which it is kept.957
Among the Basutos, when the corn has been threshed and winnowed, it is left in a pile on the threshing floor. Before anyone can touch it, a religious ceremony must take place. The people who own the corn bring a new container to the area, where they boil some of the grain. Once it is cooked, they throw a few handfuls onto the pile of corn, saying, “Thank you, gods; please give us bread tomorrow too!” After this is done, the rest is eaten, and the year’s supply is considered pure and ready to eat.955 Here, the act of offering the first fruits to the gods is central, which is further reflected in the practice of leaving a small hollow filled with grain on the threshing floor as a thank-offering to the gods.956 [pg 374] Still, the Basutos maintain a strong sense of the corn's sanctity; while it is visible, all contaminated individuals are carefully kept away from it. If it is necessary to have a contaminated person carry the harvest home, they stay at a distance while the sacks are filled and only come closer to place them on the draft oxen. As soon as the load is delivered at the home, they leave, and for no reason are they allowed to help pour the corn into the baskets where it is stored.957
In Ashantee a harvest festival is held in September when the yams are ripe. During the festival the king eats the new yams, but none of the people may eat them till the close of the festival, which lasts a fortnight. During its continuance the grossest liberty prevails; theft, intrigue, and assault go unpunished, and each sex abandons itself to its passions.958 The Hovas of Madagascar present the first sheaves of the new grain to the sovereign. The sheaves are carried in procession to the palace from time to time as the grain ripens.959 So in Burma, when the pangati fruits ripen, some of them used to be taken to the king's palace that he might eat of them; no one might partake of them before the king.960
In Ashantee, a harvest festival takes place in September when the yams are ready. During this festival, the king eats the new yams, but the people are not allowed to eat them until the festival ends, which lasts for two weeks. Throughout the festival, wild behavior is common; theft, intrigue, and assault go unpunished, and everyone gives in to their desires.958 The Hovas of Madagascar present the first sheaves of the new grain to the king. The sheaves are carried in a procession to the palace periodically as the grain matures.959 Similarly, in Burma, when the pangati fruits ripen, some of them used to be taken to the king's palace for him to eat; no one else could partake of them before the king.960
Every year, when they gather their first crops, the Kochs of Assam offer some of the first-fruits to their ancestors, calling to them by name and clapping their hands.961 In August, when the rice ripens, the Hos offer the first-fruits of the harvest to Sing Bonga, who dwells in the sun. Along with the new rice a white cock is sacrificed; and till the sacrifice has been offered no one may eat the new rice.962 Among the hill tribes near Rajamahall, in India, when the kosarane grain is being reaped in November or early in December, a festival is held as a thanksgiving before the new grain is eaten. On a day appointed by the chief a goat is sacrificed by two men to a god called Chitariah Gossaih, after which the chief himself sacrifices a fowl. Then the vassals repair to their fields, offer thanksgiving, make an oblation to Kull Gossaih (who is described as the Ceres of these mountaineers), and then return to their houses to eat of the new kosarane. As soon as the [pg 375] inhabitants have assembled at the chief's house—the men sitting on one side and the women on the other—a hog, a measure of kosarane, and a pot of spirits are presented to the chief, who in return blesses his vassals, and exhorts them to industry and good behaviour; “after which, making a libation in the names of all their gods, and of their dead, he drinks, and also throws a little of the kosarane away, repeating the same pious exclamations.” Drinking and festivity then begin, and are kept up for several days. The same tribes have another festival at reaping the Indian corn in August or September. Every man repairs to his fields with a hog, a goat, or a fowl, which he sacrifices to Kull Gossaih. Then, having feasted, he returns home, where another repast is prepared. On this day it is customary for every family in the village to distribute to every house a little of what they have prepared for their feast. Should any person eat of the new kosarane or the new Indian corn before the festival and public thanksgiving at the reaping of these crops, the chief fines him a white cock, which is sacrificed to Chitariah.963 In the Central Provinces of India the first grain of the season is always offered to the god Bhímsen or Bhím Deo.964 In the Punjaub, when sugar-cane is planted, a woman puts on a necklace and walks round the field, winding thread on to a spindle;965 and when the sugar-cane is cut the first-fruits are offered on an altar, which is built close to the press and is sacred to the sugar-cane god. Afterwards the first-fruits are given to Brahmans. Also, when the women begin to pick the cotton, they go round the field eating rice-milk, the first mouthful of which they spit upon the field toward the west; and the first cotton picked is exchanged at the village shop for its weight in salt, which is prayed over and kept in the house till the picking is finished.966
Every year, when the Kochs of Assam harvest their first crops, they offer some of the first fruits to their ancestors, calling them by name and clapping their hands. In August, as the rice ripens, the Hos give the first fruits of the harvest to Sing Bonga, who lives in the sun. Along with the new rice, a white rooster is sacrificed, and no one can eat the new rice until after the sacrifice has been made. Among the hill tribes near Rajamahall, India, during November or early December when the kosarane grain is being harvested, a festival is held as a thanksgiving before the new grain is eaten. On a day chosen by the chief, two men sacrifice a goat to a god named Chitariah Gossaih, after which the chief himself sacrifices a fowl. Then, the vassals go to their fields, offer thanks, and make an offering to Kull Gossaih (who is known as the Ceres of these mountaineers) before returning home to eat the new kosarane. Once the inhabitants gather at the chief's house, men sit on one side and women on the other. A hog, a measure of kosarane, and a pot of spirits are presented to the chief, who blesses his vassals and encourages them to work hard and behave well; “after which, making a libation in the names of all their gods and of their deceased, he drinks, and also spills some of the kosarane, repeating the same devout exclamations.” The drinking and festivities then begin and continue for several days. These tribes have another festival for harvesting Indian corn in August or September. Every man goes to his fields with a hog, goat, or fowl, which he sacrifices to Kull Gossaih. After feasting, he returns home where another meal is prepared. On this day, it’s customary for every family in the village to share a bit of what they’ve prepared for their feast with every other house. If anyone eats the new kosarane or the new Indian corn before the festival and public thanksgiving for these crops, the chief fines him a white rooster, which is sacrificed to Chitariah. In the Central Provinces of India, the first grain of the season is always offered to the god Bhímsen or Bhím Deo. In the Punjab, when sugar-cane is planted, a woman puts on a necklace and walks around the field, winding thread onto a spindle; and when the sugar-cane is cut, the first fruits are offered on an altar that is built near the press and is sacred to the sugar-cane god. Afterwards, the first fruits are given to Brahmans. Similarly, when women start picking cotton, they walk around the field eating rice-milk, the first mouthful of which they spit onto the field toward the west; and the first cotton picked is exchanged at the village shop for its weight in salt, which is blessed and kept in the house until the picking is complete.
In the island of Tjumba, East Indies, a festival is held after harvest. Vessels filled with rice are presented as a thank-offering to the gods. Then the sacred stone at the foot of a palm-tree is sprinkled with the blood of a sacrificed animal; and rice, with some of [pg 376] the flesh, is laid on the stone for the gods. The palm-tree is hung with lances and shields.967 The Dyaks of Borneo hold a feast of first-fruits when the paddy (unhusked rice) is ripe. The priestesses, accompanied by a gong and drum, go in procession to the farms and gather several bunches of the ripe paddy. These are brought back to the village, washed in cocoa-nut water, and laid round a bamboo altar, which at the harvest festivals is erected in the common room of the largest house. The altar is gaily decorated with white and red streamers, and is hung with the sweet-smelling blossom of the areca palm. The feast lasts two days, during which the village is tabooed; no one may leave it. Only fowls are killed, and dancing and gong-beating go on day and night. When the festival is over the people are free to get in their crops.968
On the island of Tjumba in the East Indies, there's a festival that takes place after the harvest. Boats filled with rice are offered as a thank-you to the gods. Next, the sacred stone at the base of a palm tree is sprinkled with the blood of a sacrificed animal, and rice along with some of the meat is placed on the stone for the gods. The palm tree is decorated with lances and shields. The Dyaks of Borneo celebrate a feast of first fruits when the paddy (unhusked rice) is ready. Priestesses, accompanied by a gong and drum, walk in a procession to the fields and collect several bunches of ripe paddy. They bring the paddy back to the village, wash it in coconut water, and arrange it around a bamboo altar, which is set up in the main room of the largest house for the harvest festivals. The altar is brightly decorated with white and red streamers and adorned with the fragrant flowers of the areca palm. The celebration lasts two days, during which the village is under a taboo; no one is allowed to leave. Only chickens are sacrificed, and dancing and gong-beating continue day and night. Once the festival ends, the people are free to gather their crops.
The pounding of the new paddy is the occasion of a harvest festival which is celebrated all over Celebes. The religious ceremonies which accompany the feast were witnessed by Dr. B. F. Matthes in July 1857. Two mats were spread on the ground, each with a pillow on it. On one of the pillows were placed a man's clothes and a sword, on the other a woman's clothes. These were seemingly intended to represent the deceased ancestors. Rice and water were placed before the two dummy figures, and they were sprinkled with the new paddy. Also dishes of rice were set down for the rest of the family and the slaves of the deceased. This was the end of the ceremony.969 The Minahassa of Celebes have a festival of “eating the new rice.” Fowls or pigs are killed; some of the flesh, with rice and palm-wine, is set apart for the gods, and then the eating and drinking begin.970 The people of Kobi and Sariputi, two villages on the north-east coast of Ceram, offer the first-fruits of the paddy, in the form of cooked rice, with tobacco, etc., to their ancestors, as a token of gratitude. The ceremony is called “feeding the dead.”971 In the Tenimber and Timorlaut Islands, East Indies, [pg 377] the first-fruits of the paddy, along with live fowls and pigs, are offered to the matmate. The matmate are the spirits of their ancestors, which are worshipped as guardian-spirits or household gods. They are supposed to enter the house through an opening in the roof, and to take up their abode temporarily in their skulls, or in images of wood or ivory, in order to partake of the offerings and to help the family. They also take the form of birds, pigs, crocodiles, turtles, sharks, etc.972 In Amboina, after the rice or other harvest has been gathered in, some of the new fruits are offered to the gods, and till this is done, the priests may not eat of them. A portion of the new rice, or whatever it may be, is boiled, and milk of the cocoa-nut is poured on it, mixed with Indian saffron. It is then taken to the place of sacrifice and offered to the god. Some people also pour out oil before the deity; and if any of the oil is left over, they take it home as a holy and priceless treasure, wherewith they smear the forehead and breast of sick people and whole people, in the firm conviction that the oil confers all kinds of blessings.973 The Irayas and Catalangans of Luzon, tribes of the Malay stock, but of mixed blood, worship chiefly the souls of their ancestors under the name of anitos, to whom they offer the first-fruits of the harvest. The anitos are household deities; some of them reside in pots in the corners of the houses; and miniature houses, standing near the dwelling-house, are especially sacred to them.974
The pounding of the new rice is the highlight of a harvest festival celebrated throughout Celebes. Dr. B. F. Matthes observed the religious ceremonies accompanying the feast in July 1857. Two mats were laid on the ground, each with a pillow on it. One pillow had a man's clothes and a sword, while the other had a woman's clothes. These were meant to represent the deceased ancestors. Rice and water were placed before the two dummy figures, and they were sprinkled with the new rice. Dishes of rice were also set out for the rest of the family and the deceased's slaves. This marked the end of the ceremony.969 The Minahassa people of Celebes have a festival of “eating the new rice.” Chickens or pigs are killed; some of the meat, along with rice and palm-wine, is offered to the gods, and then the eating and drinking commence.970 The people of Kobi and Sariputi, two villages on the northeast coast of Ceram, offer the first fruits of the rice harvest, in the form of cooked rice and tobacco, to their ancestors as a gesture of thanks. This ceremony is called “feeding the deceased.” 971 In the Tenimber and Timorlaut Islands, East Indies, [pg 377] the first fruits of the rice, along with live chickens and pigs, are offered to the matmate. The matmate are the spirits of their ancestors, revered as guardian spirits or household gods. They are believed to enter the house through an opening in the roof and temporarily reside in skulls or wooden or ivory images to partake of the offerings and assist the family. They can also take the form of birds, pigs, crocodiles, turtles, sharks, etc.972 In Amboina, after the rice or other harvest has been collected, some of the new fruits are offered to the gods, and until this is done, the priests are not allowed to eat any of them. A portion of the new rice, or whatever it may be, is boiled, and coconut milk is poured over it, mixed with Indian saffron. It is then taken to the place of sacrifice and offered to the god. Some people also pour oil before the deity; if any oil is left over, they bring it home as a holy and priceless treasure to anoint the foreheads and chests of both sick and healthy individuals, firmly believing that the oil brings all kinds of blessings.973 The Irayas and Catalangans of Luzon, tribes of Malay descent but with mixed blood, primarily worship the souls of their ancestors, known as anitos, to whom they offer the first fruits of the harvest. The anitos are household deities; some reside in pots in the corners of the houses, and miniature houses near the main house are especially sacred to them.974
In certain tribes of Fiji “the first-fruits of the yam harvest are presented to the ancestors in the Nanga [sacred stone enclosure] with great ceremony, before the bulk of the crop is dug for the people's use, and no man may taste of the new yams until the presentation has been made. The yams thus offered are piled in the Great Nanga, and are allowed to rot there. If any one were impiously bold enough to appropriate them to his own use, he would be smitten with madness. The mission teacher before mentioned told me that when he visited the Nanga he saw among the weeds with which it was overgrown numerous yam vines which had sprung up out of the piles of decayed offerings. Great feasts are made at the presentations of the first-fruits, which are times of public rejoicing, and the Nanga itself is frequently spoken of as the Mbaki, or [pg 378] Harvest.”975 In other parts of Fiji the practice with regard to the first-fruits seems to have been different, for we are told by another observer that “the first-fruits of the yams, which are always presented at the principal temple of the district, become the property of the priests, and form their revenue, although the pretence of their being required for the use of the god is generally kept up.”976 In Tana, one of the New Hebrides, the general name for gods appeared to be aremha, which meant “a dead man.” The spirits of departed ancestors were among the gods of the people. Chiefs who reached an advanced age were deified after their death, addressed by name, and prayed to on various occasions. They were supposed to preside especially over the growth of the yams and fruit-trees. The first-fruits were presented to them. A little of the new fruit was laid on a stone, or on a shelving branch of the tree, or on a rude temporary altar, made of a few sticks 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 as follows: “Compassionate father! here is some food for you; eat it; be kind to us on account of it.” Then all the people shouted. This took place about noon, and afterwards the assembled people feasted and danced till midnight or morning.977
In some tribes of Fiji, “the first fruits of the yam harvest are presented to the ancestors in the Nanga [sacred stone enclosure] with great ceremony, before the majority of the crop is harvested for the people's use, and no one may taste the new yams until the presentation is made. The yams offered are stacked in the Great Nanga and allowed to decay there. If someone were foolish enough to take them for their own use, they would be struck with madness. The mission teacher I mentioned earlier told me that when he visited the Nanga, he saw many yam vines growing among the weeds that had sprung up from the piles of decayed offerings. Great feasts are held during the presentations of the first fruits, which are times of public celebration, and the Nanga itself is often referred to as the *Mbaki*, or *Harvest*.”975 In other parts of Fiji, the customs regarding the first fruits seem to be different; another observer notes that “the first fruits of the yams, which are always presented at the main temple of the district, become the property of the priests and serve as their income, although the pretense that they are needed for the god's use is generally maintained.”976 In Tana, one of the New Hebrides, the general term for gods appeared to be *aremha*, which meant “a dead man.” The spirits of deceased ancestors were included among the people's gods. Chiefs who lived to an old age were deified after their death, called by name, and prayed to on various occasions. They were thought to specifically oversee the growth of yams and fruit trees. The first fruits were offered to them. A bit of the new fruit was placed on a stone, on a branch of the tree, or on a makeshift altar made of a few sticks tied together with strips of bark, shaped like a table with four legs planted in the ground. When everything was quiet, the chief acted as high priest and prayed aloud: “Compassionate father! Here is some food for you; eat it; be kind to us because of it.” Then everyone shouted. This occurred around noon, and afterward, the gathered people feasted and danced until midnight or morning.977
In some of the Kingsmill Islands the god most commonly worshipped was called Tubuériki. He was represented by a flat coral stone, of irregular shape, about three feet long by eighteen inches wide, set up on one end in the open air. Leaves of the cocoa-nut palm were tied about it, considerably increasing its size and height. The leaves were changed every month, that they might be always fresh. The worship paid to the god consisted in repeating prayers before the stone, and laying beside it a portion of the food prepared by the people for their own use. This they did at their daily meals, at festivals, and whenever they specially wished to propitiate the favour of the god. The first-fruits of the season were always offered to him. Every family of distinction had one of these stones which was considered rather in the light of a family altar than as an idol.978
In some of the Kingsmill Islands, the most commonly worshipped god was named Tubuériki. He was represented by a flat coral stone, irregularly shaped, about three feet long and eighteen inches wide, standing upright outdoors. Leaves from the coconut palm were tied around it, significantly increasing its size and height. The leaves were replaced every month to keep them fresh. The worship of this god involved reciting prayers in front of the stone and placing a portion of the food prepared by the people next to it. They did this during their daily meals, at festivals, and whenever they particularly wanted to gain the god’s favor. The first fruits of the season were always offered to him. Each distinguished family had one of these stones, which was regarded more as a family altar than as an idol.978
The following is a description of the festival of first-fruits as it was celebrated in Tonga in the days when a European flag rarely floated among the islands of the Pacific. “Inachi. This word means literally a share or portion of any thing that is to be, or has been, distributed out: but in the sense here mentioned it means that portion of the fruits of the earth, and other eatables, which is offered to the gods in the person of the divine chief Tooitonga, which allotment is made once a year, just before the yams in general are arrived at a state of maturity; those which are used in this ceremony being planted sooner than others, and, consequently, they are the first-fruits of the yam season. The object of this offering is to insure the protection of the gods, that their favour may be extended to the welfare of the nation generally, and in particular to the productions of the earth, of which yams are the most important.
The following is a description of the festival of first-fruits as it was celebrated in Tonga when European flags rarely waved among the islands of the Pacific. “Inachi.” This word literally means a share or portion of anything that is to be or has been distributed. In this context, it refers to the portion of the earth's fruits and other foods that is offered to the gods through the divine chief Tooitonga. This offering happens once a year, just before the yams are fully matured; those used in this ceremony are planted earlier than others, making them the first fruits of the yam season. The purpose of this offering is to ensure the gods' protection and their favor extends to the overall welfare of the nation, especially concerning the earth's produce, with yams being the most important.
“The time for planting most kinds of yams is about the latter end of July, but the species called caho-caho, which is always used in this ceremony, is put in the ground about a month before, when, on each plantation, there is a small piece of land chosen and fenced in, for the purpose of growing a couple of yams of the above description. As soon as they have arrived at a state of maturity, the How [King] sends a messenger to Tooitonga, stating that the yams for the inachi are fit to be taken up, and requesting that he would appoint a day for the ceremony; he generally fixes on the tenth day afterwards, reckoning the following day for the first. There are no particular preparations made till the day before the ceremony; at night, however, the sound of the conch is heard occasionally in different parts of the islands, and as the day of the ceremony approaches, it becomes more frequent, so that the people of almost every plantation sound the conch three or four times, which, breaking in upon the silence of the night, has a pleasing effect, particularly at Vavaoo, where the number of woods and hills send back repeated echoes, adding greatly to the effect. The day before the ceremony the yams are dug up, and ornamented with a kind of ribbon prepared from the inner membrane of the leaf of a species of pandanus, and dyed red....
The best time to plant most types of yams is towards the end of July, but the variety known as caho-caho, which is always used for this ceremony, is planted about a month earlier. Each plantation picks and fences off a small plot specifically for growing a few yams of this type. Once they’re ready, the How [King] sends a messenger to Tooitonga, informing him that the yams for the inachi are ready to be harvested, and asking him to choose a date for the ceremony; he usually picks the tenth day after, counting the following day as the first. There aren't any special arrangements made until the day before the ceremony; however, at night, the sound of the conch can be heard occasionally from different areas of the islands, and as the ceremony day approaches, it becomes more frequent, so that nearly every plantation blows the conch three or four times. This sound, breaking the night’s silence, creates a beautiful effect, especially in Vavaoo, where the woods and hills reflect the echoes, enhancing the atmosphere. The day before the ceremony, the yams are dug up and decorated with a type of ribbon made from the inner membrane of a pandanus leaf, dyed red....
“The sun has scarcely set when the sound of the conch begins again to echo through the island, increasing as the night advances. At the Mooa [capital] and all the plantations the voices of men and women are heard singing Nófo óoa tegger gnaoóe, óooa gnaoóe, Rest thou, doing no work; thou shalt not work. This increases till midnight, men generally singing the first part of the sentence, and the [pg 380] women the last: it then subsides for three or four hours, and again increases as the sun rises. Nobody, however, is seen stirring out in the public roads till about eight o'clock, when the people from all quarters of the island are seen advancing towards the Mooa, and canoes from all the other islands are landing their men; so that all the inhabitants of Tonga seem approaching by sea and land, singing and sounding the conch. At the Mooa itself the universal bustle of preparation is seen and heard; and the different processions entering from various quarters of men and women, all dressed up in new gnatoos, ornamented with red ribbons and wreaths of flowers, and the men armed with spears and clubs, betoken the importance of the ceremony about to be performed. Each party brings in its yams in a basket, which is carried in the arms with great care by the principal vassal of the chief to whom the plantation may belong. The baskets are deposited in the malái979 (in the Mooa), and some of them begin to employ themselves in slinging the yams, each upon the centre of a pole about eight or nine feet long, and four inches diameter. The proceedings are regulated by attending matabooles.980 The yams being all slung, each pole is carried by two men upon their shoulders, one walking before the other, and the yam hanging between them, ornamented with red ribbons. The procession begins to move towards the grave of the last Tooitonga (which is generally in the neighbourhood, or the grave of one of his family will do), the men advancing in a single line, every two bearing a yam, with a slow and measured pace, sinking at every step, as if their burden were of immense weight. In the meantime the chiefs and matabooles are seated in a semicircle before the grave, with their heads bowed down, and their hands clasped before them.” The procession then marched round the grave twice or thrice in a great circle, the conchs blowing and the men singing. Next the yams, still suspended from the poles, were deposited before the grave, and their bearers sat down beside them. One of the matabooles of Tooitonga now addressed the gods generally, and afterwards particularly, mentioning the late Tooitonga, and the names of several others. He thanked them for their divine bounty in favouring the land with the prospect of so good a harvest, and prayed that their beneficence might be continued in future. [pg 381] When he had finished, the men rose and resumed their loads, and after parading two or three times round the grave, marched back to the malái, singing and blowing the conchs as before. The chiefs and matabooles soon followed to the same place, where the yams had been again deposited. Here the company sat down in a great circle, presided over by Tooitonga. Then the other articles that formed part of the Inachi were brought forward, consisting of dried fish, mats, etc., which, with the yams, were divided into shares. About a fourth was allotted to the gods, and appropriated by the priests; about a half fell to the king; and the remainder belonged to Tooitonga. The materials of the Inachi having been carried away, the company set themselves to drink cava, and a mataboole addressed them, saying that the gods would protect them, and grant them long lives, if they continued to observe the religious ceremonies and to pay respect to the chiefs.981
The sun has just set when the sound of the conch starts to echo across the island, getting louder as the night goes on. At the Mooa [capital] and all the plantations, men and women can be heard singing Nófo óoa tegger gnaoóe, óooa gnaoóe, "Rest now, don’t work; you shall not work." This singing continues until midnight, with men usually singing the first part and women the last. It then fades for three or four hours, only to rise again as the sun comes up. However, nobody is out on the main roads until about eight o'clock, when people from all over the island make their way towards the Mooa, and canoes from neighboring islands bring in more people; all the residents of Tonga seem to be coming by sea and land, singing and blowing the conch. At the Mooa itself, there's a flurry of activity; groups of men and women, all dressed in new gnatoos, decorated with red ribbons and flower wreaths, with men carrying spears and clubs, reflect the importance of the ceremony about to take place. Each group brings their yams in a basket, carefully carried by the chief’s main servant, who belongs to the plantation. The baskets are placed in the malái__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ (in the Mooa), and some begin to sling the yams, each on a central pole about eight or nine feet long and four inches in diameter. The proceedings are managed by the attending matabooles.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__ Once all the yams are slung, two men carry each pole on their shoulders, one in front of the other, with the yam hanging between them, decorated with red ribbons. The procession starts moving toward the grave of the last Tooitonga (which is usually nearby, or the grave of a family member will do), with men advancing in a single line, every two carrying a yam, moving slowly and deliberately, as if their load were incredibly heavy. Meanwhile, the chiefs and matabooles sit in a semicircle before the grave, with their heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them. The procession then walked around the grave two or three times in a large circle, with conchs blowing and men singing. Next, the yams, still hanging from the poles, were placed before the grave, and their bearers sat down beside them. One of the matabooles of Tooitonga then addressed the gods generally, and later specifically, naming the late Tooitonga and others. He expressed gratitude for their divine generosity in blessing the land with such a good harvest and prayed that their kindness would continue in the future. [pg 381] When he finished, the men got up and picked up their loads again, and after circling the grave two or three times, they returned to the malái, singing and blowing the conchs as before. The chiefs and matabooles soon followed to the same place, where the yams had been placed again. Here, the group sat down in a large circle, led by Tooitonga. Then the other items that were part of the Inachi were brought out, including dried fish, mats, etc., which, along with the yams, were divided into portions. About a quarter was given to the gods and taken by the priests; about half went to the king; and the rest belonged to Tooitonga. Once the Inachi items were removed, the group began drinking cava, and a mataboole addressed them, saying that the gods would protect them and grant them long life if they continued to observe the religious rituals and respect the chiefs.981
The Samoans used to present the first-fruits to the spirits (aitus) and chiefs.982 For example, a family whose god was in the form of an eel presented the first-fruits of their taro plantations to the eel.983 In Tahiti “the first fish taken periodically on their shores, together with a number of kinds regarded as sacred, were conveyed to the altar. The first-fruits of their orchards and gardens were also taumaha, or offered, with a portion of their live stock, which consisted of pigs, dogs, and fowls, as it was supposed death would be inflicted on the owner or the occupant of the land from which the god should not receive such acknowledgment.”984 In Huahine, one of the Society Islands, the first-fruits were presented to the god Tani. A poor person was expected to bring two of the earliest fruits gathered, of whatever kind; a raatira had to bring ten, and chiefs and princes had to bring more, according to their rank and riches. They brought the fruits to the temple, where they threw them down on the ground, with the words, “Here, Tani, I have brought you something to eat.”985 The chief gods of the Easter Islanders were Make-Make and Haua. To these they offered the first of all the produce of the ground.986 Amongst the Maoris the offering of the first-fruits of the [pg 382] sweet potatoes to Pani, son of Rongo, the god of sweet potatoes, was a solemn religious ceremony.987
The Samoans used to offer the first fruits to the spirits (break) and chiefs.982 For instance, a family whose god took the form of an eel would present the first fruits of their taro plantations to the eel.983 In Tahiti, "The first fish caught regularly on their shores, along with several types deemed sacred, were brought to the altar. The first fruits from their orchards and gardens were also taumaha, or offered, along with some of their livestock, which included pigs, dogs, and chickens. It was believed that not honoring the god in this way could lead to death for the owner or the person living on the land."984 In Huahine, one of the Society Islands, the first fruits were offered to the god Tani. A poor person was expected to bring two of the first fruits they gathered, regardless of kind; a raatira had to bring ten, and chiefs and princes were required to bring more, based on their status and wealth. They would take the fruits to the temple and toss them on the ground, saying, “Here, Tani, I brought you something to eat.”985 The main gods of the Easter Islanders were Make-Make and Haua, to whom they offered the first of all their agricultural produce.986 Among the Maoris, offering the first fruits of the [pg 382] sweet potatoes to Pani, the son of Rongo, the god of sweet potatoes, was a significant religious ceremony.987
It has been affirmed that the old Prussians offered the first-fruits of their crops and of their fishing to the god Curcho, but doubt rests on the statement.988 The Romans sacrificed the first ears of corn to Ceres, and the first of the new wine to Liber; and until the priests had offered these sacrifices, the people might not eat the new corn nor drink the new wine.989
It has been confirmed that the ancient Prussians gave the first harvests of their crops and fish to the god Curcho, but there is some uncertainty about this claim.988 The Romans sacrificed the first ears of corn to Ceres and the first new wine to Liber; and until the priests had made these sacrifices, the people were not allowed to eat the new corn or drink the new wine.989
The chief solemnity of the Natchez, an Indian tribe on the Lower Mississippi, was the Harvest Festival or the Festival of New Fire. When the time for the festival drew near, a crier went through the villages calling upon the people to prepare new vessels and new garments, to wash their houses, and to burn the old grain, the old garments, and the old utensils in a common fire. He also proclaimed an amnesty to criminals. Next day he appeared again, commanding the people to fast for three days, to abstain from all pleasures, and to make use of the medicine of purification. Thereupon all the people took some drops extracted from a root which they called the “root of blood.” It was a kind of plantain and distilled a red liquor which acted as a violent emetic. During their three days' fast the people kept silence. At the end of it the crier proclaimed that the festival would begin on the following day. So next morning, as soon as it began to grow light in the sky, the people streamed from all quarters towards the temple of the Sun. The temple was a large building with two doors, one opening to the east, the other to the west. On this morning the eastern door of the temple stood open. Facing the eastern door was an altar, placed so as to catch the first beams of the rising sun. An image of a chouchouacha (a small marsupial) stood upon the altar; on its right was an image of a rattlesnake, on its left an image of a marmoset. Before these images a fire of oak bark burned perpetually. Once a year only, on the eve of the Harvest Festival, was the sacred flame suffered to die out. To the right of the altar, on “this pious morn,” stood the great chief, who took his title and traced his descent from the Sun. To the [pg 383] left of the altar stood his wife. Round them were grouped, according to their ranks, the war chiefs, the sachems, the heralds, and the young braves. In front of the altar were piled bundles of dry reeds, stacked in concentric rings.
The main event for the Natchez, an Indian tribe living along the Lower Mississippi, was the Harvest Festival or the Festival of New Fire. As the festival approached, a messenger would go through the villages urging the people to prepare new pots and clothing, clean their homes, and burn old grain, old clothes, and old tools in a communal fire. He also announced a pardon for any criminals. The next day, he returned, telling the people to fast for three days, avoid all pleasures, and use a purification remedy. Everyone took drops from a root they called the “bloodroot.” It was a type of plantain that produced a red liquid which acted as a strong emetic. During their three-day fast, the people remained silent. At the end of the fast, the messenger declared that the festival would start the following day. So, the next morning, as soon as the sky began to lighten, people poured in from all directions towards the Sun temple. The temple was a large structure with two doors, one facing east, the other west. On this morning, the eastern door of the temple was open. In front of the eastern door was an altar positioned to catch the first rays of the rising sun. An image of a chouchouacha (a small marsupial) rested on the altar; to its right stood an image of a rattlesnake, and to its left an image of a marmoset. A fire made of oak bark burned constantly in front of these images. Once a year, only on the eve of the Harvest Festival, was the sacred flame allowed to go out. To the right of the altar, on “this holy morning,” stood the great chief, who claimed his title and lineage from the Sun. To the [pg 383] left of the altar stood his wife. Surrounding them, according to their ranks, were the war chiefs, the sachems, the heralds, and the young warriors. In front of the altar, bundles of dry reeds were stacked in concentric circles.
The high priest, standing on the threshold of the temple, kept his eyes fixed on the eastern horizon. Before presiding at the festival he had to plunge thrice into the Mississippi. In his hands he held two pieces of dry wood which he kept rubbing slowly against each other, muttering magic words. At his side two acolytes held two cups filled with a kind of black sherbet. All the women, their backs turned to the east, each leaning with one hand on her rude mattock and supporting her infant with the other, stood in a great semicircle at the gate of the temple. Profound silence reigned throughout the multitude while the priest watched attentively the growing light in the east. As soon as the diffused light of dawn began to be shot with beams of fire, he quickened the motion of the two pieces of wood which he held in his hands; and at the moment when the upper edge of the sun's disc appeared above the horizon, fire flashed from the wood and was caught in tinder. At the same instant the women outside the temple faced round and held up their infants and their mattocks to the rising sun.
The high priest, standing at the temple entrance, kept his eyes focused on the eastern horizon. Before leading the festival, he had to immerse himself three times in the Mississippi. In his hands, he held two pieces of dry wood, which he rubbed slowly against each other while muttering magical words. Beside him, two acolytes held up cups filled with a type of black sherbet. All the women, their backs to the east, leaned with one hand on their crude mattocks and supported their infants with the other, forming a large semicircle at the temple gate. A deep silence enveloped the crowd as the priest attentively observed the increasing light in the east. As soon as the soft light of dawn was pierced by beams of fire, he sped up the motion of the two pieces of wood he held; and just as the upper edge of the sun's disc appeared above the horizon, fire erupted from the wood and ignited the tinder. At that same moment, the women outside the temple turned around and raised their infants and mattocks to the rising sun.
The great chief and his wife now drank the black liquor. The priests kindled the circle of dried reeds; fire was set to the heap of oak bark on the altar, and from this sacred flame all the hearths of the village were rekindled. No sooner were the circles of reeds consumed than the chief's wife came forth from the temple and placing herself at the head of the women marched in procession to the harvest fields, whither the men were not allowed to follow them. They went to gather the first sheaves of maize and returned to the temple bearing them on their heads. Some of the sheaves they presented to the high priest, who laid them on the altar. Others they used to bake the unleavened bread which was to be eaten in the evening. The eastern door of the sanctuary was now closed, and the western door was opened.
The great chief and his wife now drank the dark drink. The priests lit the circle of dried reeds; fire was set to the pile of oak bark on the altar, and from this sacred flame, all the hearths of the village were reignited. As soon as the circles of reeds were burned up, the chief's wife came out from the temple and positioned herself at the front of the women, leading a procession to the harvest fields, where the men were not allowed to follow. They went to collect the first bundles of corn and returned to the temple carrying them on their heads. Some of the bundles were offered to the high priest, who placed them on the altar. The others were used to make the unleavened bread that was to be eaten in the evening. The eastern door of the sanctuary was now closed, and the western door was opened.
When the day began to decline, the multitude assembled once more at the temple, this time at its western gate, where they formed a great crescent, with the horns turned toward the west. The unleavened bread was held up and presented to the setting sun, and a priest struck up a hymn in praise of his descending light. [pg 384] When darkness had fallen the whole plain twinkled with fires, round which the people feasted; and the sounds of music and revelry broke the silence of night.990
When the day started to fade, the crowd gathered again at the temple, this time at its western gate, where they formed a large crescent shape, with the ends facing west. The unleavened bread was held up and offered to the setting sun, and a priest began to sing a hymn celebrating the light as it descended. [pg 384] When night fell, the entire plain sparkled with fires, around which people feasted, and the sounds of music and celebration broke the night's silence.990
Index.
References
- 1.
- W. Mannhardt, The Corn Demons, pp. 1-6.
- 2.
- W. Mannhardt, Rye wolf and rye dog (Danzig, 1865), p. 5; id., Antique forest and field cults, p. 318 sq.; id., Mythology Research. p. 103; Witzschel, Tales, customs, and traditions from Thuringia, p. 213.
- 3.
- W. Mannhardt, Rye wolf and rye dog, p. 7 sqq.; id., A. W. F. p. 319.
- 4.
- W. Mannhardt, Roggenwolf, etc. p. 10.
- 5.
- W. Mannhardt, M. F. p. 104.
- 6.
- Ib.
- 7.
- Ib. p. 104 sq. On the Harvest-May, see above, vol. i. p. 68.
- 8.
- Ib. p. 105.
- 9.
- Ib. p. 30.
- 10.
- Ib. pp. 30, 105.
- 11.
- Ib. p. 105 sq.
- 12.
- A. W. F. p. 320; Roggenwolf, p. 24.
- 13.
- Roggenwolf, p. 24.
- 14.
- Roggenwolf, p. 24.
- 15.
- Ib. p. 25.
- 16.
- Ib. p. 28; A. W. F. p. 320.
- 17.
- Roggenwolf, p. 25.
- 18.
- Id. p. 26.
- 19.
- Ib. p. 26; A.W.F. p. 320.
- 20.
- A. W. F. p. 321.
- 21.
- A. W. F. p. 321 sq.
- 22.
- A. W. F. p. 320.
- 23.
- A. W. F. p. 320 sq.
- 24.
- A. W. F. p. 322.
- 25.
- Ib. p. 323.
- 26.
- The Grain Demons, p. 13.
- 27.
- Id.; Schmitz, Customs and Tales of the Eifel People, i. p. 95; Kuhn, Westphalian Legends, Tales, and Traditions, ii. p. 181; Kuhn und Schwartz, Northern German Legends, Fairy Tales, and Customs, p. 398.
- 28.
- G. A. Heinrich, Agricultural customs and traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 21.
- 29.
- The Grain Demons, p. 13. Cp. Kuhn and Schwartz, l.c.
- 30.
- The Grain Demons, p. 13.
- 31.
- Witzschel, Legends, customs, and traditions from Thuringia, p. 220.
- 32.
- The Grain Demons, p. 13 sq.; Kuhn, Westphalian Legends, Tales, and Traditions, ii. p. 180 sq.; Pfannenschmid, Germanic harvest festivals, p. 110.
- 33.
- The Corn Demons, p. 14; Pfannenschmid, op. cit. pp. 111, 419 sq.
- 34.
- The Grain Demons, p. 15. So in Shropshire, where the corn-spirit is conceived in the form of a gander (see above, vol. i. p. 407), the expression for overthrowing a load at harvest is “to lose the goose,” and the penalty used to be the loss of the goose at the harvest supper (Burne and Jackson, Shropshire Folklore, p. 375); and in some parts of England the harvest supper was called the Harvest Gosling, or the Inning Goose (Brand, Famous Artifacts, ii. 23, 26, Bohn's ed.)
- 35.
- The Grain Demons, p. 14.
- 36.
- Ib. p. 15.
- 37.
- M. F. p. 30.
- 38.
- The Grain Demons, p. 15.
- 39.
- Id. p. 15 sq.
- 40.
- Id. p. 15; M. F. p. 30.
- 41.
- The Grain Demons, p. 1.
- 42.
- Folklore Journal, vii. 47.
- 43.
- The Grain Demons, p. 3.
- 44.
- Lemke, Folk Culture in East Prussia, i. 24.
- 45.
- G. A. Heinrich, Agricultural customs and traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 21.
- 46.
- Above, vol. i. p. 408.
- 47.
- M. F. p. 29.
- 48.
- M. F. p. 29 sq.; The Grain Demons, p. 5.
- 49.
- A. W. F. pp. 172-174; M. F. p. 30.
- 50.
- W. Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 155 sq.
- 51.
- Ib. p. 157 sq.
- 52.
- Id. p. 159.
- 53.
- Ib. p. 161 sq.
- 54.
- W. Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 162.
- 55.
- Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. p. 232 sq. No. 426; A. W. F. p. 162.
- 56.
- Panzer, op. cit. ii. p. 228 sq. No. 422; A. W. F. p. 163.
- 57.
- A. W. F. p. 163.
- 58.
- Ib. p. 164.
- 59.
- A. W. F. p. 164.
- 60.
- Ib. p. 164 sq.
- 61.
- Ib. p. 165.
- 62.
- Brand, Popular Artifacts, ii. 24, Bohn's ed.; A. W. F. p. 165.
- 63.
- Above, vol. i. p. 380.
- 64.
- A. W. F. p. 165.
- 65.
- A. W. F. p. 166; M.F. p. 185.
- 66.
- A. W. F. p. 166.
- 67.
- Above, p. 11.
- 68.
- Holzmayer, Osiliana, p. 107.
- 69.
- G. A. Heinrich, Agricultural customs and traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 19. Cp. B. K. p. 482 sqq.
- 70.
- Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. p. 225 sqq. No. 421; A. W. F. p. 167 sq.
- 71.
- A. W. F. p. 168.
- 72.
- E. Meier, German Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Swabia, p. 445, No. 162; A.W.F. p. 168.
- 73.
- A. W. F. p. 169.
- 74.
- Panzer, op. cit. ii. p. 224 sq. No. 420; A. W. F. p. 169.
- 75.
- A. W. F. p. 169.
- 76.
- Ib. p. 170.
- 77.
- Id. p. 170.
- 78.
- Praetorius, Prussian Delicacies, p. 23 sq.; B. K. p. 394 sq.
- 79.
- M. F. p. 58.
- 80.
- Id.
- 81.
- M. F. p. 62.
- 82.
- M. F. p. 59.
- 83.
- Above, p. 6.
- 84.
- M. F. p. 59.
- 85.
- E. Meier, German Legends, Customs and Traditions from Swabia, p. 440 sq. Nos. 151, 152, 153; Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. p. 234, No. 428; M.F. p. 59.
- 86.
- Panzer, op. cit. ii. p. 233, No. 427; M. F. p. 59.
- 87.
- M. F. p. 59 sq.
- 88.
- M. F. p. 58.
- 89.
- M. F. p. 58 sq.
- 90.
- M. F. p. 60.
- 91.
- E. Meier, German Legends, Customs and Traditions from Swabia, p. 444 sq. No. 162; M. F. p. 61.
- 92.
- Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. p. 233, No. 427.
- 93.
- M. F. p. 61 sq.
- 94.
- M. F. p. 62.
- 95.
- M. F. p. 62.
- 96.
- E. Meier, op. cit. p. 445 sq. No. 163.
- 97.
- M. F. p. 60.
- 98.
- M. F. p. 62.
- 99.
- Above, vol. i. p. 343 sq.
- 100.
- Laisnel de la Salle, Beliefs and Legends of Central France, ii. 135.
- 101.
- M. F. p. 62, “He's playing dumb.”
- 102.
- M. F. p. 62.
- 103.
- M. F. p. 63.
- 104.
- M. F. p. 167.
- 105.
- Brand, Trending Artifacts, ii. 24, Bohn's ed.
- 106.
- Burne and Jackson, Shropshire Folklore, p. 373 sq.
- 107.
- M.F. p. 167.
- 108.
- Laisnel de la Salle, Beliefs and Legends of Central France, ii. 133; M.F. p. 167 sq.
- 109.
- Witzschel, Legends, customs, and traditions from Thuringia, p. 213, No. 4.
- 110.
- Holzmayer, Osiliana, p. 107; M. F. p. 187.
- 111.
- Birlinger, From Swabia, ii. 328.
- 112.
- Panzer, Contribution to German Mythology, ii. pp. 223, 224, Nos. 417, 419.
- 113.
- M. F. p. 112.
- 114.
- E. Meier, German Legends, Customs and Traditions from Swabia, p. 445, No. 162.
- 115.
- Birlinger, Folklore from Swabia, ii. 425, No. 379.
- 116.
- Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. pp. 221-224, Nos. 409, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414, 415, 418.
- 117.
- M.F. p. 186 sq.
- 118.
- Above, p. 3.
- 119.
- Above, p. 26 sq.
- 120.
- M. F. p. 187.
- 121.
- M. F. p. 187 sq.; Witzschel, Tales, customs, and traditions from Thüringen, pp. 189, 218; W. Kolbe, Hessian Folk Customs and Traditions (Marburg, 1888), p. 35.
- 122.
- M. F. p. 188; Ralston, Russian Folk Songs, p. 220.
- 123.
- A. W. F. p. 197 sq.; Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, ii. p. 491; Jamieson, *Scottish Language Dictionary*, s.v. “Girl”; Afzelius, Folk tales and folk songs from Sweden's older and newer times, übersetzt von Ungewitter, i. 9.
- 124.
- Above, p. 6 sq.
- 125.
- L. Lloyd, Rural Life in Sweden, pp. 169 sq., 182. On Christmas night children sleep on a bed of the Yule straw (id. p. 177).
- 126.
- Jahn, German victim customs, p. 215. Cp. above, vol. i. p. 60.
- 127.
- Afzelius, op. cit. i. 31.
- 128.
- Afzelius, op. cit. i. 9; Lloyd, Rural Life in Sweden, pp. 181, 185.
- 129.
- Above, pp. 8 sq., 11, 12, 15 sq., 21, 23, 28. In regard to the hare the substitution of brandy for hare's blood is doubtless comparatively modern.
- 130.
- The Grain Demons, p. 1.
- 131.
- Herodotus, ii. 46.
- 132.
- Preller, Greek Mythology, 3 i. 600; A. W. F. p. 138.
- 133.
- A. W. F. p. 139.
- 134.
- Pollux, iv. 118.
- 135.
- A. W. F. p. 142 sq.
- 136.
- Ovid, Calendar, ii. 361; iii. 312; v. 101; id., Heroides, iv. 49.
- 137.
- Macrobius, Sat. i. 22, 3.
- 138.
- Homer, Song to Aphrodite, 262 sqq.
- 139.
- Pliny, N. H. xii. 3; Ovid, Metam. vi. 392; same, Fasti, iii. 303, 309; Gloss. Isid. Mart. Cap. ii. 167, cited by Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 113.
- 140.
- Pliny, N. H. xii. 3; Martianus Capella, ii. 167; Augustine, City of God, xv. 23; Aurelius Victor, Origin of the Roman people, iv. 6.
- 141.
- Servius on Virgil, Ecl. vi. 14; Ovid, Metam. vi. 392 sq.; Martianus Capella, ii. 167.
- 142.
- B. K. p. 138 sq.; A. W. F. p. 145.
- 143.
- Servius on Virgil, Georg. i. 10.
- 144.
- Above, p. 12 sqq.
- 145.
- A. W. F. ch. iii.
- 146.
- Above, vol. i. p. 379 sq.
- 147.
- Above, vol. i. p. 326 suite
- 148.
- Above, vol. i. p. 325 sq.
- 149.
- Above, p. 19 sqq.
- 150.
- A. Lang, Myth, Ritual, and Faith, ii. 232.
- 151.
- Pausanias, i. 24, 4; id., i. 28, 10; Porphyry, De abstinentia, ii. 29 sq.; Aelian, Var. Hist. viii. 3; Schol. on Aristophanes, Peace, 419; Hesychius, Suidas, and Etymol. Magnum, s.v. βούφονια. The date of the sacrifice (14th Skirophorion) is given by the Schol. on Aristophanes and the Etym. Magn.; and this date corresponds, according to Mannhardt (M. F. p. 68), with the close of the threshing in Attica. No writer mentions the trial of both the axe and the knife. Pausanias speaks of the trial of the axe, Porphyry and Aelian of the trial of the knife. But from Porphyry's description it is clear that the slaughter was carried out by two men, one wielding an axe and the other a knife, and that the former laid the blame on the latter. Perhaps the knife alone was condemned. That the King Archon (on whom see above, vol. i. p. 7), presided at the trial of all lifeless objects, is mentioned by Pollux, viii. 90; cp. id. viii. 120.
- 152.
- The real import of the name bouphonia was first perceived by Prof. W. Robertson Smith. See his Semitic Religion, i. 286 sqq.
- 153.
- Varro, De re rustica, ii. 5, 4. Cp. Columella, vi. praef. § 7. Perhaps, however, Varro's statement may be merely an inference drawn from the ritual of the bouphonia and the legend told to explain it.
- 154.
- B. K. p. 409.
- 155.
- See above, vol. i. p. 243.
- 156.
- Hecquard, Trip to the Coast and the Interior of West Africa, pp. 41-43.
- 157.
- Above, p. 3, and vol. i. p. 408.
- 158.
- China Review, i. 62, 154, 162, 203 sq.; Doolittle, *Chinese Social Life*, p. 375 sq., ed. Paxton Hood; Gray, China, ii. 115 squared
- 159.
- Above, vol. i. pp. 261, 267.
- 160.
- See above, p. 26 sqq.
- 161.
- Schol. on Aristophanes, Acharn. 747.
- 162.
- Overbeck, Greek Art Mythology, ii. 493; Müller-Wieseler, Monuments of ancient art, ii. pl. viii. 94.
- 163.
- Hyginus, Awesome. 277; Cornutus, Of nature's beasts. c. 28; Macrobius, Sat. i. 12, 23; Schol. on Aristophanes, Acharn. 747; id. on Frogs, 338; id. on Peace, 374; Servius on Virgil, Georg. ii. 380; Aelian, Nat. Anim. x. 16.
- 164.
- For the authorities on the Thesmophoria and a discussion of some doubtful points in the festival, I may be permitted to refer to my article “Thesmophoria” in the Encyclopedia Britannica, ninth ed.
- 165.
- Photius, s.v. στήνια, speaks of the ascent of Demeter from the lower world; and Clement of Alexandria speaks of both Demeter and Proserpine as having been engulfed in the chasm (Protrept. ii. § 17). The original equivalence of Demeter and Proserpine must be borne steadily in mind.
- 166.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 69; Photius, s.v. στήνια.
- 167.
- E. Rohde, “Studies on the Lucianian Scholies, the Athenian Thesmophoria, and the Haloa,” in Rhineland Museum, N. F. xxv. (1870) 548 sqq. Two passages of classical writers (Clemens Alex., Protrept. ii. § 17 and Pausanias, ix. 8, 1) refer to the rites described by the Scholiast on Lucian, and had been rightly interpreted by Lobeck (Aglaophamus, p. 827 sqq.)
- 168.
- The scholiast speaks of them as Megara and adyta. Megara (from a Phoenician word meaning "cave," "underground chasm," Movers, The Phoenicians, i. 220) were properly subterranean vaults or chasms sacred to the gods. See Hesychius, quoted by Movers, l.c. (the passage does not appear in M. Schmidt's minor edition of Hesychius); Porphyry, From the cave nymph. 6.
- 169.
- We infer this from Pausanias, ix. 8, 1, though the passage is incomplete and apparently corrupt. For ἐν Δωδώνῃ Lobeck proposes to read ἀναδῦναι or ἀναδοθῆναι. At the spring and autumn festivals of Isis at Tithorea geese and goats were thrown into the adyton and left there till the following festival, when the remains were removed and buried at a certain spot a little way from the temple. Pausanias, x. 32, 14 (9). This analogy supports the view that the pigs thrown into the caverns at the Thesmophoria were left there till the next festival.
- 170.
- Ovid, Fasti, iv. 461-466, upon which Gierig remarks, "It would have been better if the poet had left out this part in the story." Such is the wisdom of the commentator.
- 171.
- Pausanias, i. 14, 3.
- 172.
- Schol. on Aristophanes, Frogs, 338.
- 173.
- Above, p. 15 sq.
- 174.
- Above, p. 20 sq.
- 175.
- Above, p. 9.
- 176.
- Above, p. 29.
- 177.
- Above, p. 29 sq.
- 178.
- In Clemens Alex., Protrept. ii. 17, for μεγαρίζοντες χοίρους ἐκβάλλουσι Lobeck (Aglaophamus, p. 831) would read μεγάροις ζῶντας χοίρους ἐμβάλλουσι. For his emendation of Pausanias, see above, p. 45.
- 179.
- It is worth noting that in Crete, which was an ancient seat of Demeter worship (see above, vol. i. p. 331), the pig was esteemed very sacred and was not eaten, Athenaeus, 375 f·376 a. This would not exclude the possibility of its being eaten sacramentally, as at the Thesmophoria.
- 180.
- Pausanias, viii. 42.
- 181.
- Above, p. 24 sqq.
- 182.
- Pausanias, viii. 25 and 42. On the Phigalian Demeter, see W. Mannhardt, M. F. p. 244 sqq.
- 183.
- Above, vol. i. p. 296 sq.
- 184.
- Above, vol. i. p. 296.
- 185.
- Demosthenes, The crown, p. 313.
- 186.
- Above, vol. i. p. 281.
- 187.
- Cureton, Syriac Collection, p. 44.
- 188.
- Lucian, The goddess of Syria, 54.
- 189.
- The heathen Harranians sacrificed swine once a year and ate the flesh; En-Nedim, in Chwolsohn's The Ssabier and Ssabism, ii. 42. My friend Professor W. Robertson Smith has conjectured that the wild boars annually sacrificed in Cyprus on 2d April (Joannes Lydus, On the Months, iv. 45) represented Adonis himself. See his Semitic Religion, i. 272 sq., 392.
- 190.
- Plutarch, Quaest. Conviv. iv. 5.
- 191.
- Isaiah lxv. 3, 4, lxvi. 3, 17.
- 192.
- Herodotus, ii. 47; Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 8; Aelian, Nat. Anim. x. 16.
- 193.
- Herodotus, l.c.
- 194.
- Plutarch and Aelian, ll.cc.
- 195.
- Herodotus, l.c.
- 196.
- Herodotus, ii. 47 sq.; Aelian and Plutarch, ll.cc. Herodotus distinguishes the sacrifice to the moon from that to Osiris. According to him, at the sacrifice to the moon, the extremity of the pig's tail, together with the spleen and the caul, were covered with fat and burned; the rest of the flesh was eaten. On the evening (not the eve, see Stein on the passage) of the festival the sacrifice to Osiris took place. Each man slew a pig before his door, then gave it to the swineherd, from whom he had bought it, to take away.
- 197.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and less common races between Sulawesi and Papua, pp. 432, 452.
- 198.
- Third Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology (Washington), p. 225.
- 199.
- Ib. p. 231.
- 200.
- J. Crevaux, Trips in Southern America, p. 59.
- 201.
- Turner, Samoa, pp. 17 square, 50 sq.
- 202.
- Leviticus xvi. 23 sq.
- 203.
- Porphyry, De abstin. ii. 44. For this and the Jewish examples I am indebted to my friend Prof. W. Robertson Smith.
- 204.
- Mariner, Tonga Islands, i. 434, note; ii. 82, 222 squared
- 205.
- Above, vol. i. p. 167 sqq.
- 206.
- Casalis, *The Basutos*, p. 211; Livingstone, Missionary Trips and Studies in South Africa, p. 255; John Mackenzie, Ten Years north of the Orange River, p. 135 note.
- 207.
- J. Mackenzie, l.c.
- 208.
- Third Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology (Washington), p. 225.
- 209.
- Ib. p. 275.
- 210.
- Turner, Samoa, p. 76.
- 211.
- Ib. p. 70.
- 212.
- Diogenes Laertius, Philosophical Life viii. 8.
- 213.
- Aelian, Nat. Anim. x. 16. The story is repeated by Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. 168.
- 214.
- Lefébure, The Osirian myth, i. 44.
- 215.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 8. Lefébure (op. cit. p. 46) recognises that in this story the boar is Typhon himself.
- 216.
- This important principle was first recognised by Prof. W. Robertson Smith. See his article "Self-sacrifice," Encyclopedia Britannica 9th ed. xxi. 137 sq. Cp. his Semitic Religion, pp. 353 sq., 391 sq.
- 217.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 31.
- 218.
- Lefébure, The Osirian myth, p. 48 sq.
- 219.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 33, 73; Diodorus, i. 88.
- 220.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 31; Diodorus, i. 88. Cp. Herodotus, ii. 38.
- 221.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 20, 29, 33, 43; Strabo, xvii. 1, 31;
Diodorus, i. 21, 85; Duncker, History of Antiquity,5 i. 55
On Apis and Mnevis, see also Herodotus, ii. 153, iii. 27 sq.; Ammianus Marcellinus, xxii. 14, 7; Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 184 sqq.; 17.; Solinus, xxxii. 17-21; Cicero, Of nature's gifts. i. 29; Aelian, Nat. Anim. xi. 10 squared; Plutarch, Questions. Dinner party. viii. 1, 3; id., Isis and Osiris, 5, 35: Eusebius, Prepare. Gospel. iii. 13, 1 sq.; Pausanias, i. 18, 4, vii. 22, 3 sq. Both Apis and Mnevis were black bulls, but Apis had certain white spots. - 222.
- Diodorus, i. 21.
- 223.
- On the religious reverence of pastoral peoples for their cattle, and the possible derivation of the Apis and Isis-Hathor worship from the pastoral stage of society, see W. Robertson Smith, Semitic Religions, i. 277 sqq.
- 224.
- Herodotus, ii. 41.
- 225.
- Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 184; Solinus, xxxii. 18; Ammianus Marcellinus, xxii. 14, 7. The spring or well in which he was drowned was perhaps the one from which his drinking water was procured; he might not drink the water of the Nile. Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 5.
- 226.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 56.
- 227.
- Maspero, Ancient history,4 p. 31. Cp. Duncker, History of Antiquity,5 i. 56.
- 228.
- See above, p. 24 sqq.
- 229.
- Athenaeus, 587 a; Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 204. Cp. Encyclopedia Britannica 9th ed. art. "Give up" xxi. 135.
- 230.
- Varro, Agriculture i. 2, 19 sq.
- 231.
- Herodotus, ii. 42.
- 232.
- Festus, ed. Müller, pp. 178, 179, 220; Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 97; Polybius, xii. 4 B. The sacrifice is referred to by Julian, Orat. 176 d.
- 233.
- Ovid, Fasti, iv. 731 sqq., cp. 629 sqq.; Propertius, v. 1, 19 sq.
- 234.
- Above, p. 41 sq.
- 235.
- Above, vol. i. p. 408, vol. ii. p. 3.
- 236.
- Above, p. 30.
- 237.
- Livy, ii. 5.
- 238.
- Festus, ed. Müller, pp. 130, 131.
- 239.
- The October horse is the subject of an essay by Mannhardt (Mythological Research. pp. 156-201), of which the above account is a summary.
- 240.
- M. F. p. 179.
- 241.
- B. K. p. 205. It is not said that the dough-man is made of the new corn; but probably this is, or once was, the case.
- 242.
- Praetorius, Prussian Delights, pp. 60-64; A. W. F. p. 249 sqq.
- 243.
- Bezzenberger, Litauische Forschungen (Göttingen, 1882), p. 89.
- 244.
- Simon Grunau, Prussian Chronicle, ed. Perlbach, i. 91.
- 245.
- Holzmayer, Osiliana, p. 108.
- 246.
- On iron as a charm against spirits, see above, vol. i. p. 175 sq.
- 247.
- Folklore Journal, vii. 54.
- 248.
- Communicated by the Rev. J. J. C. Yarborough, of Chislehurst, Kent. See Folklore Journal, vii. 50.
- 249.
- G. A. Wilken, Contribution to the knowledge of the Alfoeren of the island of Boeroe, p. 26.
- 250.
- P. N. Wilken, "Contributions to the knowledge of the customs and habits of the Alfooren in Minahassa," in Reports from the Dutch Missionary Society, vii. (1863) p. 127.
- 251.
- N. P. Wilken en J. A. Schwarz, "All sorts of information about the land and people of Bolaang Mongondou," in Mededeel. v. w. h. Nederl. Zendelinggen. xi. 369 sq.
- 252.
- H. Harkness, Description of a Unique Aboriginal Tribe Living in the Summit of the Neilgherry Hills, p. 56 sq.
- 253.
- Gover, Folk songs from Southern India, p. 105
; Folklore Journal, vii. 302 sqq. - 254.
- Gover, "The Pongol Festival in Southern India," Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, N. S. v. (1871) p. 91 sqq.
- 255.
- Biddulph, Hindu Kush Tribes, p. 103.
- 256.
- Crowther and Taylor, The Gospel on the Banks of the Niger, p. 287 sq. Mr. Taylor's information is repeated in West African Countries and People, by J. Africanus B. Horton (London, 1868), p. 180 sq.
- 257.
- Speckmann, The Hermannsburg Mission in Africa, p. 150 sq. On the Zulu feast of first-fruits, see also N. Isaacs, Journeys and Adventures in Eastern Africa, ii. 291 sq.; Arbousset et Daumas, Exploration journey, etc. p. 308 sq.; Callaway, Amazulu Religious System, p. 389 note; South African Folklore Journal, i. 135 sqq.; Fritsch, The Natives of South Africa, p. 143; Lewis Grout, Zululand, p. 160 sqq. From Mr. Grout's description it appears that a bull is killed and its gall drunk by the king and people. In killing it the men must use nothing but their naked hands. The flesh of the bull is given to the boys to eat what they like and burn the rest; the men may not taste it. As a final ceremony the king breaks a green calabash in presence of the people, "which means that he welcomes the new year and allows the people to enjoy the fruits of the season." If a man eats the new fruits before the festival, he will die or is actually put to death.
- 258.
- The ceremony is described independently by James Adair, History of Native Americans (London, 1775), pp. 96-111; W. Bartram, Journeying through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida (London, 1792), p. 507 sq.; B. Hawkins, “Map of the Creek country,” in Collections of the Georgia Historical Society, iii. (Savannah, 1848), pp. 75-78; A. A. M'Gillivray, in Schoolcraft's Indian Tribes, v. 267 sq. Adair's description is the fullest and has been chiefly followed in the text. In Observations on the Creek and Cherokee Indians, by William Bartram (1789), with intro and extra notes, by E. G. Squier, p. 75, there is a description—extracted from an MS. of J. H. Payne (author of Home, Sweet Home)—of the similar ceremony observed by the Cherokees. I possess a copy of this work in pamphlet form, but it appears to be an extract from the transactions or proceedings of a society, probably an American one. Mr. Squier's preface is dated New York, 1851.
- 259.
- W. Bartram, Travel, p. 507.
- 260.
- So amongst the Cherokees, according to J. H. Payne, an arbour of green boughs was made in the sacred square; then A beautiful, bushy tree was cut down close to the roots and planted right in the center of the sacred square. After that, every man took a green branch for himself.
- 261.
- So Adair. Bartram, on the other hand, as we have seen, says that the old vessels were burned and new ones prepared for the festival.
- 262.
- B. Hawkins, “Outline,” etc., p. 76.
- 263.
- See Note on "First-fruits offerings" at the end of the volume.
- 264.
- Acosta, Natural and Moral History of the Indies, bk. v. c. 24, vol. ii. pp. 356-360 (Hakluyt Society, 1880).
- 265.
- Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, iii. 297-300 (after Torquemada); Clavigero, *History of Mexico*, trans. by Cullen, i. 309 sqq.; Sahagun, General History of the Things of New Spain, traduite et annotée par Jourdanet et Siméon (Paris, 1880), p. 203 squared; J. G. Müller, History of American Indigenous Religions, p. 605.
- 266.
- Clavigero, i. 311; Sahagun, pp. 74, 156 sq.; Müller, p. 606; Bancroft, iii. 316. This festival took place on the last day of the 16th month (which extended from 23d December to 11th January). At another festival the Mexicans made the semblance of a bone out of paste and ate it sacramentally as the bone of the god. Sahagun, p. 33.
- 267.
- See above, vol. i. p. 5 sq.
- 268.
- Festus, ed. Müller, pp. 128, 129, 145. The reading of the last passage is, however, uncertain (“and the Arician fabric can be made; which is called the sleeve”).
- 269.
- Varro, De ling. lat. ix. 61; Arnobius, Adv. nations, iii. 41; Macrobius, Saturn, i. 7, 35; Festus, p. 128, ed. Müller. Festus speaks of the mother or grandmother of the larvae; the other writers speak of the mother of the lares.
- 270.
- Macrobius, l.c.;
Festus, pp. 121, 239, ed. Müller. The effigies hung up for the
slaves were called
, not mania. Pebbles was also the name given to the straw-men which were thrown to the bulls to gore in the arena. Martial, Epigram. ii. 43, 5 sq.; Asconius, In Cornel. p. 55, ed. Kiessling and Schoell. - 271.
- The ancients were at least familiar with the practice of sacrificing images made of dough or other materials as substitutes for the animals themselves. It was a recognised principle that when an animal could not be easily obtained for sacrifice, it was lawful to offer an image of it made of bread or wax. Servius on Virgil, Aen. ii. 116. (Similarly a North-American Indian dreamed that a sacrifice of twenty elans was necessary for the recovery of a sick girl; but the elans could not be procured, and the girl's parents were allowed to sacrifice twenty loaves instead. Jesuit Reports, 1636, p. 11, ed. 1858). Poor people who could not afford to sacrifice real animals offered dough images of them. Suidas, s.v. βοῦς ἕβδομος; cp. Hesychius, s. vv. βοῦς, ἕβδομος βοῦς. Hence bakers made a regular business of baking cakes in the likeness of all the animals which were sacrificed to the gods. Proculus, quoted and emended by Lobeck, Aglaophamus, p. 1079. When Cyzicus was besieged by Mithridates and the people could not procure a black cow to sacrifice at the rites of Proserpine, they made a cow of dough and placed it at the altar. Plutarch, Lucullus, 10. In a Boeotian sacrifice to Hercules, in place of the ram which was the proper victim, an apple was regularly substituted, four chips being stuck in it to represent legs and two to represent horns. Pollux, i. 30 sq. The Athenians are said to have once offered to Hercules a similar substitute for an ox. Zenobius, Cent. v. 22. And the Locrians, being at a loss for an ox to sacrifice, made one out of figs and sticks, and offered it instead of the animal. Zenobius, Cent. v. 5. At the Athenian festival of the Diasia cakes shaped like animals were sacrificed. Schol. on Thucydides, i. 126, quoted by Lobeck, l.c. We have seen above (p. 53) that the poorer Egyptians offered dough images of pigs and ate them sacramentally.
- 272.
- P. J. Veth, West Borneo, ii. 309.
- 273.
- N. Graafland, De Minahassa, i. 326.
- 274.
- Shway Yoe, The Burmese, ii. 138.
- 275.
- James Adair, History of Native Americans, p. 133.
- 276.
- Alfred Simson, Adventures in the Wilderness of Ecuador (London, 1887), p. 168; same. in Journal of the Anthrop. Institute, vii. 503.
- 277.
- Theophilus Hahn, Tsuni-Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi, p. 106. Compare John Buchanan, The Shire Highlands, pg. 138; Callaway, Amazulu Religious System, p. 438 note.
- 278.
- Jerome Becker, Life in Africa, (Paris and Brussels, 1887), ii. 366.
- 279.
- Callaway, Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus, p. 175 note.
- 280.
- Dalton, *Bengal Ethnology*, p. 33.
- 281.
- St. John, Life in the Forests of the Far East,2 i. 186, 206.
- 282.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and frizzy races between Celebes and Papua, pp. 10, 262.
- 283.
- James Chalmers, *Innovating in New Guinea*, p. 166.
- 284.
- Royal Geographical Society Proceedings, N. S. viii. (1886) p. 307.
- 285.
- J. Henderson, "The Medicine and Medical Practice of the Chinese," Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, New Series, i. (Shanghai, 1865) p. 35 sq.
- 286.
- Müller on Saxo Grammaticus, vol. ii. p. 60.
- 287.
- Leared, Morocco and the Moors, p. 281.
- 288.
- Vambery, The Turkish people, p. 218.
- 289.
- Charlevoix, *History of New France*, vi. 8.
- 290.
- Felkin, "Notes on the For tribe of Central Africa," in Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, xiii. (1884-1886) p. 218.
- 291.
- W. Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 160.
- 292.
- Brough Smyth, Aboriginal people of Victoria, ii. 313.
- 293.
- Blumentritt, “The ancestor cult and the religious beliefs of the Malays of the Philippine archipelago,” in Communications of the Vienna Geographical Society, 1882, p. 154.
- 294.
- Magyar, Traveling in South Africa in the years 1849-1857, pp. 273-276.
- 295.
- Casalis, The Basotho, p. 257 sq.
- 296.
- Callaway, Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus, p. 163 note.
- 297.
- John Buchanan, The Shire Highlands, p. 138.
- 298.
- Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, l.c.
- 299.
- R. Taylor, The Fish of Maui, or New Zealand and its People (London, 1870), p. 352. Cp. ibid. p. 173; Ellis, Polynesian Studies, i. 358; J. Dumont D'Urville, Voyage Around the World on the Corvette Astrolabe, ii. 547; Journal of the Anthropological Institute xix. 108.
- 300.
- On the custom of eating a god, see
also a paper by Felix Liebrecht, “the consumed God,” in On Folklore, pp. 436-439; and
especially W. R. Smith, art. "Give up," Britannica 9th ed. vol. xxi. p. 137 sq. On
wine as the blood of a god, see above, vol. i. p. 183
- 301.
- This does not refer to the Californian peninsula, which is an arid and treeless wilderness of rock and sand.
- 302.
- Boscana, in Alfred Robinson's *Life in California* (New York, 1846), p. 291 sq.; Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, iii. 168.
- 303.
- Turner, Samoa, p. 21, cp. pp. 26, 61.
- 304.
- Herodotus, ii. 42. The custom has been already referred to, above, p. 63.
- 305.
- Ed. Meyer, History of Antiquity, i. § 58. Cp. Wilkinson, Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians, iii. 1 sqq. (ed. 1878).
- 306.
- Above, p. 61 sq.
- 307.
- Above, p. 15 sq.
- 308.
- The Italmens of Kamtchatka, at the close of the fishing season, used to make the figure of a wolf out of grass. This figure they carefully kept the whole year, believing that it wedded with their maidens and prevented them from giving birth to twins; for twins were esteemed a great misfortune. Steller, Description of the land Kamchatka, p. 327 sq. According to Hartknoch (Historical Dissertation on Various Prussian Matters, p. 163; East Prussia, p. 161) the image of the old Prussian god Curcho was annually renewed. But see Mannhardt, The Grain Demons, p. 27.
- 309.
- Above, vol. i. p. 81.
- 310.
- T. J. Hutchinson, Thoughts on Western Africa (London, 1858), p. 196 sq. The writer does not expressly state that a serpent is killed annually, but his statement implies it.
- 311.
- Journal of Ethnography, iii. 397.
- 312.
- Varro in Priscian, x. 32, vol. i. p. 524, ed. Keil; Pliny, Nat. Hist. vii. § 14. Pliny's statement is to be corrected by Varro's.
- 313.
- Mr. Frank H. Cushing, "My Adventures in Zuni," in The 100 Years, May 1883, p. 45 sq.
- 314.
- Mr. Cushing, indeed, while he admits that the ancestors of the Zuni may have believed in transmigration, says, "Today, their belief about the afterlife is spiritualistic." But the expressions in the text seem to leave no room for doubting that the transmigration into turtles is a living article of Zuni faith.
- 315.
- Schoolcraft, Native American Tribes, iv. 86. On the totem clans of the Moquis, see J. G. Bourke, Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona, pp. 116 sq., 334 sqq.
- 316.
- For this information I am indebted to the kindness of Captain J. G. Bourke, 3d. Cavalry, U.S. Army, author of the work mentioned in the preceding note.
- 317.
- The old Prussian and Japanese customs are typical. For the former, see above, vol. i. p. 177. For the latter, Charlevoix, History and General Description of Japan, i, 128 sq. Thunberg, Travel to Japan, etc. iv. 18 sqq. A general account of such customs must be reserved for another work.
- 318.
- B. Scheube, "The Bear Cult and the Bear Festivals of the Ainu," in Communications from the German Society of B. S. and S. East Asia (Yokama), Heft xxii. p. 45.
- 319.
- Ethnological Society Transactions, iv. 36.
- 320.
- Rein, Japan, i. 446.
- 321.
- H. von Siebold, Ethnological Studies on the Ainu People of Yesso Island, p. 26.
- 322.
- Miss Bird, Off the Beaten Path in Japan (new ed. 1885), p. 275.
- 323.
- Trans. Ethnol. Soc. l.c.
- 324.
- Miss Bird, referenced work. p. 269.
- 325.
- Scheube, The Ainos, p. 4.
- 326.
- Scheube, “Bear cult,” etc. p. 45; Joest, in Negotiations of the Berlin Society for Anthropology, 1882, p. 188.
- 327.
- Trans. Ethnol. Soc. l.c.
- 328.
- Miss Bird, op. cit. p. 277.
- 329.
- Scheube, The Ainos, p. 15; Siebold, op. cit. p. 26; Trans. Ethnol. Soc. l.c.; Rein, Japan, i. 447; Von Brandt, “The Ainu and Japanese,” in Journal of the Anthropological Institute iii. 134; Miss Bird, op. cit. pp. 275, 276.
- 330.
- Scheube, The Ainos, pp. 15, 16; Journal of Anthropology Institute iii. 134.
- 331.
- Scheube, The Ainos, p. 16.
- 332.
- Reclus (New Universal Geography, vii. 755) mentions a (Japanese?) legend which attributes the hairiness of the Ainos to the fact of their first ancestor having been suckled by a bear. But in the absence of other evidence this is no proof of totemism.
- 333.
- Rein, Japan, i. 447.
- 334.
- “Bear cult,” etc. See above.
- 335.
- Scheube, “Bear Cult” etc. p. 46; id., The Ainos, p. 15; Miss Bird, op. cit. p. 273 sq.
- 336.
- Miss Bird, op. cit. p. 276 sq. Miss Bird's information must be received with caution, as there are grounds for believing that her informant deceived her.
- 337.
- Siebold, Ethnological Studies about the Ainu, p. 26.
- 338.
- "Bear Cult" etc. p. 50 note.
- 339.
- They inhabit the banks of the lower Amoor and the north of Saghalien. E. G. Ravenstein, The Russians on the Amur, p. 389.
- 340.
- "Notes on the River Amur and the nearby areas," translated from the Russian, Journal of the Royal Geographical Society xxviii. (1858) p. 396.
- 341.
- Compare the custom of pinching the frog before cutting off his head, above vol. i. p. 93. In Japan sorceresses bury a dog in the earth, tease him, then cut off his head and put it in a box to be used in magic. Bastian, The cultural countries of old America, i. 475 note, who adds “like the protective spirit is provoked in the East Indian Archipelago.” He probably refers to the Batta Panghulu Balang. See Rosenberg, The Malay Archipelago, p. 59 sq.; W. Ködding, "The Batak Gods," in General Mission Magazine, xii. (1885) 478 sq.; Neumann, “The Pane-en Bila river basin on the island of Sumatra,” in Journal of the Dutch Geography Society. ii. series, dl. iii. Afdeeling: meer uitgebreide artikelen, No. 2, p. 306.
- 342.
- W. Joest, in Scheube, The Ainos, p. 17; Ethnography Review, ii. 307 sq. (on the authority of Mr. Seeland); International Archive of Ethnology, i. 102 (on the authority of Captain Jacobsen). What exactly is meant by “dancing like bears” (“both genders dance circular dances like bears,” Joest, l.c.) does not appear.
- 343.
- Ravenstein, The Russians on the Amur, p. 379 sq.; T. W. Atkinson, Journeys in the Areas of the Upper and Lower Amoor (London, 1860), p. 482 sq.
- 344.
- A Bushman, questioned by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, "couldn't see any difference between a man and an animal—he didn't know if a buffalo could shoot bows and arrows just as well as a man if it had them." John Campbell, Traveling in South Africa: A Story of My Second Journey into the Country's Interior, ii. 34. When the Russians first landed on one of the Alaskan islands the people took them for cuttle-fish, "because of the buttons on their clothes." Petroff, Alaska, p. 145.
- 345.
- Rev. J. Perham, "Sea Dyak Beliefs," Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 10, p. 221. Cp. C. Hupe, "Short Treatise on the Religious Customs, etc. of the Dajak People," in Journal of the Netherlands Indies, 1846, dl. iii. 160; S. Müller, Travel and Research in the Indonesian Archipelago, i. 238; Perelaer, Ethnographic Description of the Dayaks, p. 7.
- 346.
- Sibree, The Great African Island, p. 269.
- 347.
- Raffenel, Trip to West Africa (Paris, 1846), p. 84 sq.
- 348.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, v. 65.
- 349.
- Marsden, *History of Sumatra*, p. 292.
- 350.
- Steller, Description of the land of Kamchatka, pp. 280, 331.
- 351.
- Northern Journeys (Amsterdam, 1727), viii. 41, 416; Pallas, Journey through various provinces of the Russian Empire, iii. 64; Georgi, Description of all the nations of the Russian Empire, p. 83.
- 352.
- Erman, *Traveling in Siberia*, ii. 43. For the veneration of the polar bear by the Samoyedes, who nevertheless kill and eat it, see ibid. 54 sq.
- 353.
- Bastian, Humans in History, iii. 26.
- 354.
- Max Buch, The Wotjäken, p. 139.
- 355.
- Scheffer, Lapland (Frankfort, 1673), p. 233 sq. The Lapps "They still have a detailed ceremony for hunting the bear. They pray and chant to its carcass and worship it for several days before eating it." E. Rae, The White Sea Peninsula (London, 1881), p. 276.
- 356.
- Charlevoix, History of New France, v. 173 sq.; Chateaubriand, Trip to America, pp. 172-181 (Paris, Michel Lévy, 1870).
- 357.
- Enlightening and Curious Letters, vi. 171. Morgan states that the names of the Otawa totem clans had not been obtained (Old Society, p. 167). From the Edifying Letters, vi. 168-171, he might have learned the names of the Hare, Carp, and Bear clans, to which may be added the Gull clan, as I learn from an extract from The Canadian Journal (Toronto) for March 1858, quoted in the Academy, 27th September 1884, p. 203.
- 358.
- The Story of the Adventures and Hardships of John R. Jewitt, p. 117 (Middletown, 1820), p. 133 (Edinburgh, 1824).
- 359.
- Stephen Kay, Travel and Research in Caffraria (London, 1833), p. 138.
- 360.
- Alberti, The Kaffirs on the South Coast of Africa (Amsterdam, 1810), p. 95. Alberti's information is repeated by Lichtenstein (Traveling in Southern Africa, i. 412), and by Rose (Four Years in Southern Africa, p. 155). The burial of the trunk is also mentioned by Kay, l.c.
- 361.
- Jerome Becker, Life in Africa (Paris and Brussels, 1887), ii. 298 sq. 305.
- 362.
- Bastian, The German expedition on the Loango Coast, ii. 243.
- 363.
- Im Thurn, Among the Indigenous people of Guiana, p. 352.
- 364.
- Mouhot, Traveling in the Central Regions of Indo-China, i. 252; Moura, Kingdom of Cambodia, i. 422.
- 365.
- Schoolcraft, Indigenous Tribes, v. 420.
- 366.
- J. G. Gmelin, Journey through Siberia, ii. 278.
- 367.
- W. Dall, *Alaska and its Resources*, p. 89.
- 368.
- Jesuit Relations, 1634, p. 24, ed. 1858. Nets are regarded by the Indians as living creatures who not only think and feel but also eat, speak, and marry wives. Sagard, The Great Journey to the Land of the Hurons, p. 256 (p. 178 sq. of the Paris reprint, Librairie Tross, 1865); S. Hearne, *Trip to the Northern Ocean*, p. 329 sq.; Jesuit Relations, 1636, p. 109; ibid. 1639, p. 95; Charlevoix, History of New France, v. 225; Chateaubriand, Trip to America, p. 140 sqq.
- 369.
- Chateaubriand, Trip to America, pp. 175, 178. They will not let the blood of beavers fall on the ground, or their luck in hunting them would be gone. Jesuit Relations, 1633, p. 21. Compare the rule about not allowing the blood of kings to fall on the ground, above, vol. i. p. 179 sqq.
- 370.
- Hennepin, New journey of a land larger than Europe (Utrecht, 1698), p. 141 sq.; Jesuit Relations, 1636, p. 109; Sagard, The Great Journey to the Land of the Hurons, p. 255 (p. 178 of the Paris reprint). Not quite consistently the Canadian Indians used to kill every elan they could overtake in the chase, lest any should escape to warn their fellows (Sagard, l.c.)
- 371.
- Enlightening and Interesting Letters, viii. 339.
- 372.
- Schoolcraft, *Indian Tribes*, iii. 230.
- 373.
- Jesuit Relations, 1634, p. 26.
- 374.
- Charlevoix, *History of New France*, v. 443.
- 375.
- Garcilasso de la Vega, Royal Commentaries of the Incas, First Part, bk. i. ch. 10, vol. i. p. 49 sq., Hakluyt Society. Cp. id., ii. p. 148.
- 376.
- Jesuit Relations, 1667, p. 12.
- 377.
- Sagard, The Great Journey to the Land of the Hurons, p. 255 sqq. (p. 178 sqq. of the Paris reprint).
- 378.
- Schleiden, The salt, p. 47. For this reference I am indebted to my friend Prof. W. Robertson Smith.
- 379.
- W. Powell, *Wanderings in a Wild Country*, p. 66 sq.
- 380.
- R. Taylor, *The Fish of Maui; or, New Zealand and Its People*, p. 200; A. S. Thomson, The History of New Zealand, i. 202; E. Tregear, “The Māori of New Zealand,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute xix. 109.
- 381.
- Lubbock, *Origin of Civilization*,4, p. 277, quoting Metlahkatlah, p. 96.
- 382.
- W. Dall, *Alaska and Its Resources*, p. 413.
- 383.
- Stephen Powers, California Tribes, p. 31 sq.
- 384.
- Alex. Ross, Adventures of the First Settlers on the Oregon or Columbia River, p. 97.
- 385.
- Ch. Wilkes, Story of the U.S. Exploring Expedition, iv. 324, v. 119, where it is said, "A dog should never be allowed to eat the heart of a salmon; to stop this from happening, they remove the heart of the fish before selling it."
- 386.
- H. C. St. John, “The Ainos,” in Journal of Anthropology Institute ii. 253; id. Notes and Sketches from the Wild Coasts of Japan, p. 27 sq.
- 387.
- Scheffer, Lapland, p. 242 sq.; Journal of the Anthropological Institute vii. 207; *Ethnography Journal*, ii. 308 sq.
- 388.
- James, Journey from Pittsburgh to the Rocky Mountains, i. 257.
- 389.
- Brinton, Myths of the New World, p. 278.
- 390.
- Keating, Journey to the Source of St. Peter's River, i. 452.
- 391.
- E. J. Jessen, A Unique Treatise on the Pagan Religion of the Finns and Norwegians of Lapland, pp. 46 sq., 52 sq., 65. The work of Jessen is bound up (paged separately) with the work of C. Leem, On the Laplanders of Finmarchia and their language, way of life, and ancient religion commentary (Latin and Danish), Copenhagen, 1767. Compare Leem's work, pp. 418-420 (Latin), 428 sq., also Acerbi, Traveling through Sweden, Finland, and Lapland, ii. 302.
- 392.
- Steller, Description of the land of Kamchatka, p. 269; Kraschennikow, Kamchatka, p. 246.
- 393.
- See Erman, referred to above, p. 111 square; Gmelin, Trip through Siberia, i. 274, ii. 182 sq., 214; Vambery, Das Turkish people, p. 118 sq. When a fox, the sacred animal of the Conchucos in Peru, had been killed, its skin was stuffed and set up. Bastian, The cultural regions of old America, i. 443. Cp. the bouphonia, above, p. 38 sq.
- 394.
- At the annual sacrifice of the White
Dog, the Iroquois were careful to strangle the animal without
shedding its blood or breaking its bones. The dog was afterwards
burned. L. H. Morgan,
, p. 210. It is a rule with some of the Australian blacks that in killing the native bear they must not break his bones. They say that the native bear once stole all the water of the river, and that if they were to break his bones or take off his skin before roasting him, he would do so again. Brough Smyth, Aboriginal people of Victoria, i. 447 sqq. When the Tartars whom Carpini visited killed animals for eating, they might not break their bones but burned them with fire. Carpini, History of the Mongols (Paris, 1838), cap. iii. § i. 2, p. 620. North American Indians might not break the bones of the animals which they ate at feasts. Charlevoix, History of New France, vi. 72. In the war feast held by Indian warriors after leaving home, a whole animal was cooked and had to be all eaten. No bone of it might be broken. After being stripped of the flesh the bones were hung on a tree. The Story of John Tanner's Captivity and Adventures, p. 287. On St. Olaf's Day (29th July) the Karels of Finland kill a lamb, without using a knife, and roast it whole. None of its bones may be broken. The lamb has not been shorn since spring. Some of the flesh is placed in a corner of the room for the house-spirits, some is deposited on the field and beside the birch-trees which are destined to be used as May-trees next year. W. Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 160 sq. note. The Innuit (Esquimaux) of Point Barrow, Alaska, carefully preserve unbroken the bones of the seals which they have caught and return them to the sea, either leaving them in an ice-crack far out from the land or dropping them through a hole in the ice. By doing so they think they secure good fortune in the pursuit of seals. *Report of the International Expedition to Point Barrow, Alaska* (Washington, 1885), p. 40. In this last custom the idea probably is that the bones will be reclothed with flesh and the seals come to life again. The Mosquito Indians of Central America carefully preserved the bones of deer and the shells of eggs, lest the deer or chickens should die or disappear. Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, i. 741. The Yurucares of Bolivia "Carefully set aside even small fish bones, saying that if this isn't done, fish and game will vanish from the country." Brinton, Myths of the New World, p. 278. - 395.
- Jesuit Relations, 1634, p. 25, ed. 1858; A. Mackenzie, Traveling Across the American Continent, civ; J. Dunn, Oregon Territory History, p. 99; Whymper in Journal of the Royal Geographical Society xxxviii. (1868) p. 228; id. in Transact. Ethnol. Soc. vii. 174; A. P. Reid, "Religious Beliefs of the Ojibwe Indians," in Journal of the Anthropological Institute iii. 111. After a meal the Indians of Costa Rica gather all the bones carefully and either burn them or put them out of reach of the dogs. W. M. Gabb, About the Indian Tribes and Languages of Costa Rica (read before the American Philosophical Society, 20th Aug. 1875), p. 520 (Philadelphia, 1875). The fact that the bones are often burned to prevent the dogs getting them does not contradict the view suggested in the text. It may be a way of transmitting the bones to the spirit-land. The aborigines of Australia burn the bones of the animals which they eat, but for a different reason; they think that if an enemy got hold of the bones and burned them with charms, it would cause the death of the person who had eaten the animal. *Indigenous tribes of South Australia*, pp. 24, 196.
- 396.
- Mannhardt, Germanic Myths, pp. 57-74; ibid., B. K. p. 116; Cosquin, Folk Tales of Lorraine, ii. 25; Hartland, "The doctors of Myddfai," Archaeological Review, i. 30 sq. In folk-tales, as in primitive custom, the blood is sometimes not allowed to fall on the ground. See Cosquin, l.c.
- 397.
- W. Mannhardt, Germ. Myth. p. 66.
- 398.
- Jamblichus, Life of Pythagoras §§ 92, 135, 140; Porphyry, Vit. Pythag. § 28.
- 399.
- Pindar, Olymp. i. 37 sqq., with the Scholiast.
- 400.
- Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 18. This is one of the sacred stories which the pious Herodotus (ii. 48) concealed and the pious Plutarch divulged.
- 401.
- Adam Hodgson, Letters from North America, i. 244.
- 402.
- Adair, History of Native Americans, p. 137 sq.
- 403.
- Petitot, Dènè-Dindjié Monograph? (Paris, 1867), pp. 77, 81 sq.; id., Indigenous Traditions of Northwest Canada (Paris, 1886), p. 132 sqq., cp. pp. 41, 76, 213, 264.
- 404.
- The first part of this suggestion is that of my friend Prof. W. Robertson Smith. See his Lectures on the Religion of the Semites, first series, p. 360, note 2. The Faleshas, a Jewish sect of Abyssinia, after killing an animal for food, "Carefully remove the vein from the thighs along with the surrounding flesh." Halévy, “Travels in Ethiopia,” in Publications of the Society of Hebrew Literature, second series, vol. ii. p. 220.
- 405.
- It seems to be a common custom with hunters to cut out the tongues of the animals which they kill. Omaha hunters remove the tongue of a slain buffalo through an opening made in the animal's throat. The tongues thus removed are sacred and may not touch any tool or metal except when they are boiling in the kettles at the sacred tent. They are eaten as sacred food. Third Report of the Bureau of Ethnology (Washington), p. 289 sec. Indian bear-hunters cut out what they call the bear's little tongue (a fleshy mass under the real tongue) and keep it for good luck in hunting or burn it to determine from its crackling, etc., whether the soul of the slain bear is angry with them or not. Kohl, Kitschi-Gami, ii. 251 sq.; Charlevoix, History of New France, v. 173; Chateaubriand, Journey to America, pp. 179 sq., 184. In folk-tales the hero commonly cuts out the tongue of the wild beast which he has slain and preserves it as a token. The incident serves to show that the custom was a common one, since folk-tales reflect with accuracy the customs and beliefs of a primitive age. For examples of the incident, see Blade, Folk tales collected in Agenais, pp. 12, 14; Dasent, Norse Stories, p. 133 sq. (“Shorty”); Schleicher, Lithuanian Folktales; Sepp, Altbayerischer Sagenschatz, p. 114; Köhler on Gonzenbach's Sicilian Tales, ii. 230; Apollodorus, iii. 13, 3; Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 53; Poestion, Lapland Stories, p. 231 sq. It may be suggested that the cutting out of the tongues is a precaution to prevent the slain animals from telling their fate to the live animals and thus frightening away the latter. At least this explanation harmonises with the primitive modes of thought revealed in the foregoing customs.
- 406.
- Holzmayer, Osiliana, p. 105 note.
- 407.
- Heinrich, Agricultural customs and traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 15 sq.
- 408.
- E. Krause, “Superstitious remedies and other superstitions in Berlin,” Journal of Ethnology, xv. (1883) p. 93.
- 409.
- Geoponica, xiii. 5. According to the commentator, the field assigned to the mice is a neighbour's, but it may be a patch of waste ground on the farmer's own land.
- 410.
- R. van Eck, "Sketches of the island Bali," in Journal of the Dutch East Indies, N.S. viii. (1879) p. 125.
- 411.
- Grohmann, Superstitions and customs from Bohemia and Moravia, § 405.
- 412.
- Lagarde, Reliquiae of ancient ecclesiastical law, p. 135. For this passage I am indebted to my friend Prof. W. Robertson Smith, who kindly translated it for me from the Syriac.
- 413.
- Ralston, Russian Folk Songs, p. 255.
- 414.
- Compare Indigenous Tribes of South Australia, p. 280, with the customs referred to in the following note.
- 415.
- Catlin, O-Kee-pa, Folium reservatum; Lewis and Clarke, Journey to the Source of the Missouri River (London, 1815), i. 205 sq.
- 416.
- A. Bastian, in Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology, Ethnology, and Prehistory, 1870-71, p. 59. Reinegg (*Kaukasus Description*, ii. 12 sq.) describes what seems to be a sacrament of the Abghazses (Abchases). It takes place in the middle of autumn. A white ox called Ogginn appears from a holy cave, which is also called Ogginn. It is caught and led about amongst the assembled men (women are excluded) amid joyful cries. Then it is killed and eaten. Any man who did not get at least a scrap of the sacred flesh would deem himself most unfortunate. The bones are then carefully collected, burned in a great hole, and the ashes buried there.
- 417.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, vi. 632 note. On the Kalmucks as a people of shepherds and on their diet of mutton, see Georgi, Description of all nations of the Russian Empire, p. 406 sq., cp. 207; B. Bergmann, Nomadic wanderings among the Kalmyks, ii. 80 sqq., 122; Pallas, Journey through various provinces of the Russian Empire, i. 319, 325. According to Pallas, it is only rich Kalmucks who commonly kill their sheep or cattle for eating; ordinary Kalmucks do not usually kill them except in case of necessity or at great merry-makings. It is, therefore, especially the rich who need to make expiation.
- 418.
- W. E. Marshall, Traveling with the Todas, p. 129 sq. On the Todas, see also above, vol. i. p. 41.
- 419.
- Marshall, op. cit. pp. 80 sq. 130.
- 420.
- R. W. Felkin, "Notes on the Madi or Moru tribe of Central Africa," Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, xii. (1882-84) p. 336 sq.
- 421.
- The fact that the flesh of sheep appears to be now eaten by the tribe as a regular article of food (Felkin, op. cit. p. 307), is not inconsistent with the original sanctity of the sheep.
- 422.
- See W. R. Smith, Semitic religions, i. p. 325 sq.
- 423.
- Panjab Notes & Queries, ii. No. 555.
- 424.
- See Brand, Popular Artifacts, iii. 195 sq., Bohn's ed.; Swainson, British Bird Folklore, p. 36; E. Rolland, Popular Fauna of France, ii. 288 sqq. The names for it are βασιλίσκος, regulus, bird king (Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 90; x. 203), re di siepe, reyezuelo, roitelet, king of the birds, Wren, etc.
- 425.
- Brand, Popular Artifacts, iii. 194.
- 426.
- Chambers, Famous Rhymes of Scotland, p. 188.
- 427.
- Ib. p. 186.
- 428.
- P. Sébillot, Traditions and Superstitions of Upper Brittany, ii. 214.
- 429.
- Rolland, op. cit. ii. 294 sq.; Sébillot, l.c.; Swainson, op. cit. p. 42.
- 430.
- G. Waldron, Overview of the Isle of Man (reprinted for the Manx Society, Douglas, 1865), p. 49 sqq.; J. Train, Account of the Isle of Man, ii. 124 sqq. 141.
- 431.
- Brand, Famous Artifacts, iii. 195; Swainson, British Bird Folklore, p. 36 sq.; Rolland, Popular wildlife of France, ii. 297; Professor W. Ridgeway in Academy, 10th May 1884, p. 332; Dyer, British Popular Traditions, p. 497.
- 432.
- Henderson, Folklore of the Northern Counties, p. 125.
- 433.
- Swainson, same work cited. p. 40 sq.
- 434.
- Rolland, op. cit. ii. 295 sq.; J. W. Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 437 sq.
- 435.
- Rolland, op. cit. ii. 296 sq.
- 436.
- Brand's Famous Artifacts, iii. 198. The "wren hunting" may be compared with a Swedish custom. On the 1st of May children rob the magpies' nests of both eggs and young. These they carry in a basket from house to house in the village and show them to the housewives, while one of the children sings some doggerel lines containing a threat that, if a present is not given, the hens, chickens, and eggs will fall a prey to the magpie. They receive bacon, eggs, milk, etc., upon which they afterwards feast. L. Lloyd, Rural Life in Sweden, p. 237 sq. The resemblance of such customs to the "swallow song" and "crow song" of the ancient Greeks (on which see Athenaeus, pp. 359, 360) is obvious and has been remarked before now. Probably the Greek swallow-singers and crow-singers carried about dead swallows and crows or effigies of them. In modern Greece it is said to be still customary for children on 1st March to go about the streets singing spring songs and carrying a wooden swallow, which is kept turning on a cylinder. Grimm, German Mythology,4 ii. 636.
- 437.
- John Ramsay, Scotland and Scotsmen in the 18th Century, ii. 438 sq.; cp. Chambers, Popular Scottish Rhymes, p. 166 sq.; Samuel Johnson, Travel to the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 228 sq. (first American edition, 1810). The custom is clearly referred to in the “Confession of Theodore,” quoted by Kemble, Saxons in England, i. 525; Elton, Origins of English History, p. 411; “If someone goes on the Kalends of January in a fawn or calf, it means they are joining in the behavior of wild animals, and they dress in the skins of livestock and take on the heads of beasts,” etc.
- 438.
- Chambers, l.c.
- 439.
- Such are the Bohemian processions at the Carnival when a man called the Shrovetide Bear, swathed from head to foot in peas-straw and sometimes wearing a bear's mask, is led from house to house. He dances with the women of the house, and collects money and food. Then they go to the alehouse, where all the peasants assemble with their wives. For at the Carnival, especially on Shrove Tuesday, it is necessary that every one should dance, if the flax, the corn, and the vegetables are to grow well. The higher they leap the better will be the crops. Sometimes the women pull out some of the straw in which the Shrovetide Bear is swathed, and put it in the nests of the geese and fowls, believing that this will make them lay well. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Festival Calendar from Bohemia, pp. 49-52. On similar customs, see W. Mannhardt, A. W. F. pp. 183-200.
- 440.
- J. G. F. Riedel, The curly-haired and mixed-race groups between Sulawesi and Papua, pp. 266 sq., 305, 357 sq.; cp. id. pp. 141, 340.
- 441.
- J. Dawson, Indigenous Australians, p. 59.
- 442.
- Dapper, Description of Africa, p. 117.
- 443.
- John Campbell, *Travels in South Africa* (second journey), ii. 207 sq.
- 444.
- Ellis, *History of Madagascar*, i. 422 sq.; cp. id. pp. 232, 435, 436 sq.; Sibree, The Great African Island, p. 303 sq.
- 445.
- Ellis, op. cit. i. 374; Sibree, op. cit.. p. 304; Antananarivo Annual & Madagascar Magazine, iii. 263.
- 446.
- Ködding, “Die Batak gods,” General Mission Magazine, xii. (1885) 478.
- 447.
- Leviticus xiv. 7, 53. For a similar use in Arabia see Wellhausen, Remnants of Arabian Paganism, p. 156; W. Robertson Smith, Religion of the Semitic people, i. 402.
- 448.
- R. Andree, Ethnographic parallels and comparisons, p. 29 sq.
- 449.
- A. Leared, Morocco and the Moors, p. 301.
- 450.
- J. Perham, “Sea Dayak Religion,” in Journal of the Straits Branch Royal Asiatic Society No. 10, p. 232.
- 451.
- S. Mateer, Life in Native Travancore, p. 136.
- 452.
- H. Harkness, Unique Aboriginal Race of the Neilgherry Hills, p. 133; Metz, The Tribes Living in the Neilgherry Hills, p. 78; Jagor, "About the Badagas in Nilgiri Hills," Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology (1876), p. 196 sq. For the custom of letting a bullock go loose after a death, compare also Grierson, Bihar Farmer Life, p. 409; Ibbetson, Settlement Report of the Panipat, Tahsil, and Karnal Parganah in the Karnal district (Allahabad, 1883) p. 137. In the latter case it is said that the animal is let loose “to be a nuisance.” Perhaps the older idea was that the animal carried away death from the survivors. The idea of sin is not primitive.
- 453.
- Geoponica, xiii. 9, xv. 1; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. § 155. The authorities for these cures are respectively Apuleius and Democritus. The latter is probably not the atomic philosopher. See Archaeological Review, i. 180, note.
- 454.
- Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. § 86.
- 455.
- Plato, Laws, xi. c. 12, p. 933 b.
- 456.
- Ch. Rogers, Social Life in Scotland, iii. 226.
- 457.
- G. Lammert, Folk medicine and medical superstition in Bavaria, p. 264.
- 458.
- Ib. p. 263.
- 459.
- Strackerjan, Superstitions and Legends from the Duchy of Oldenburg, i. § 85.
- 460.
- Carl Meyer, Medieval Superstitions, p. 104.
- 461.
- Grimm, German Mythology,4 ii. 979.
- 462.
- Henderson, Northern Counties Folklore, p. 143. Collections of cures by transference will be found in Strackerjan's work, cited above, i. § 85 sqq.; W. G. Black, Traditional medicine, ch. ii. Cp. Grimm, German Mythology,4 ii. c. 36.
- 463.
- Blackwood's Magazine, February 1886, p. 239.
- 464.
- Aubrey, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism (Folk-lore Society, 1881), p. 35 sq.
- 465.
- Bagford's letter in Leland's Collectanea, i. 76, quoted by Brand, Popular Antiques, ii. 246 sq., Bohn's ed.
- 466.
- In the Academy, 13th Nov. 1875, p. 505, Mr. D. Silvan Evans stated that he knew of no such custom anywhere in Wales; and Miss Burne knows no example of it in Shropshire. Burne and Jackson, Shropshire Folklore, p. 307 sq.
- 467.
- The authority for the statement is a Mr. Moggridge, reported in Archaeologia Cambrensis, second series, iii. 330. But Mr. Moggridge did not speak from personal knowledge, and as he appears to have taken it for granted that the practice of placing bread and salt upon the breast of a corpse was a survival of the custom of "sin-eating" his evidence must be received with caution. He repeated his statement, in somewhat vaguer terms, at a meeting of the Anthropological Institute, 14th December 1875. See Journ. Anthrop. Inst. v. 423 sq.
- 468.
- Dubois, Manners of the Peoples of India, ii. 32.
- 469.
- R. Richardson, in *Panjab Notes and Queries*, i. No. 674.
- 470.
- Panjab Notes and Questions, i. No. 674; ii. No. 559. Some of these customs have been already referred to in a different connection. See above, vol. i. p. 232.
- 471.
- Op. cit. iii. No. 745.
- 472.
- E. Schuyler, Turkistan, ii. 28.
- 473.
- E. F. im Thurn, Among the Indigenous people of Guiana, p. 356 sq.
- 474.
- Paul Reina, "About the inhabitants of Rook Island," Journal of General Geography, N. F. iv. 356.
- 475.
- R. Parkinson, I’m Bismarck Archipelago, p. 142.
- 476.
- [P. N. Wilken], “The religion and religious practices of the Alfoeren in Menahassa on the island of Celebes,” Journal of the Dutch East Indies, December 1849, pp. 392-394; id.,
"Contributions to the knowledge of the customs and habits of the Alfoers in Minahassa," Announcements from the Netherlands Missionary Society. vii. (1863) 149
; J. G. F. Riedel, "Minahasa in 1825," Journal of Indian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xviii. (1872), 521 sq. Wilken's first and fuller account is reprinted in Graafland's *Minahassa*, i. 117-120. - 477.
- Riedel, “Galela and Tobeloresen,” in Journal of Ethnology, xvii. (1885) 82; G. A. Wilken, Shamanism Among the Peoples of the Indonesian Archipelago, p. 58.
- 478.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and frizzy-haired races between Celebes and Papua, p. 239.
- 479.
- Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, Report on Nias Island, p. 116 sq., Rosenberg, The Malay Archipelago, p. 174 sq. Cp. Chatelin, “Religion and Superstition of the Niassers,” Journal of Indonesian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xxvi. 139. The Dyaks also drive the devil at the point of the sword from a house where there is sickness. See Hupe, "Short essay on the religion, customs, etc. of the Dajakkers" in Journal of the Netherlands Indies, viii. (1846) dl. iii. p. 149.
- 480.
- Forbes, Burma under British rule, p. 233; Shway Yoe, The Burmese, i. 282, ii. 105 sqq.; Bastian, The Peoples of East Asia, ii. 98.
- 481.
- Lewin, *Wild Tribes of South-Eastern India*, p. 226.
- 482.
- Hecquard, Trip to the Coast and the Interior of West Africa, p. 43.
- 483.
- Sagard, The Great Journey to the Land of the Hurons, p. 279 sqq. (195 sq. of the Paris reprint). Compare Jesuit Relations, 1639, pp. 88-92 (Canadian reprint), from which it appears that each man demanded the subject of his dream in the form of a riddle, which the hearers tried to solve. The propounding of riddles is not uncommon as a superstitious observance. Probably enigmas were originally a kind of divination. Cp. Vambery, The Turkish people, p. 232 squared; Riedel, The curly-haired breeds, etc. p. 267 sq. In Bolang Mongondo (Celebes) riddles may never be asked except when there is a corpse in the village. N. P. Wilken en J. A. Schwarz, "All sorts of information about the land and people of Bolaäng Mongondou," Announcements from the Dutch Missionary Society, xi. (1867) p. 357.
- 484.
- The Rev. W. Ridley, in J. D. Lang's Queensland, p. 441; cp. Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 149.
- 485.
- Report of the International Polar Expedition to Point Barrow, Alaska (Washington, 1885), p. 42 sq.
- 486.
- Franz Boas, “The Inuit,” Records and Transactions of the Royal Society of Canada for 1887, vol. v. (Montreal, 1888), sect. ii. 36 sq.
- 487.
- Above, p. 162.
- 488.
- Charlevoix, History of New France, vi. 82
; Timothy Dwight, Traveling in New England and New York, iv. 201 sq.; L. H. Morgan, *Iroquois League*, p. 207 sqq.; Mrs. E. A. Smith, "Iroquois Myths," Second Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology (Washington, 1883), p. 112 sqq.; Horatio Hale, "Iroquois sacrifice of the White Dog," American Antiquarian, vii. 7 sqq.; W. M. Beauchamp, “Iroquois White Dog ceremony,” ibid. p. 235 sqq. - 489.
- Squier's notes upon Bartram's Creek and Cherokee tribes, p. 78, from the MS. of Mr. Payne. See above, p. 75 note.
- 490.
- Garcilasso de la Vega, Royal Inca Chronicles, pt. i. bk. vii. ch. 6, vol. ii. p. 228 sqq., Markham's translation; Molina, "Fables and Rites of the Yncas," in Rituals and Regulations of the Incas (Hakluyt Society, 1873), p. 20 sqq.; Acosta, *History of the Indies*, bk. v. ch. 28, vol. ii. p. 375 sq. (Hakluyt Society, 1880). The accounts of Garcilasso and Molina are somewhat discrepant, but this may be explained by the statement of the latter that “In one year, they increased the number of ceremonies, and in another year, they decreased them, based on the situation.” Molina places the festival in August, Garcilasso and Acosta in September. According to Garcilasso there were only four runners in Cuzco; according to Molina there were four hundred. Acosta's account is very brief. In the description given in the text features have been borrowed from all three accounts, where these seemed consistent with each other.
- 491.
- Bosman's “Guinea,” in Pinkerton's Journeys and Adventures, xvi. 402. Cp. Pierre Bouche, The Slave Coast, p. 395.
- 492.
- S. Crowther and J. C. Taylor. The Gospel on the Banks of the Niger, p. 320.
- 493.
- Mansfield Parkyns, Life in Ethiopia, p. 285 sqq.
- 494.
- Dalton, *Bengal Ethnology*, p. 196 sq.
- 495.
- Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindu Kush, p. 103.
- 496.
- W. Macpherson, Memorials of Service in India, p. 357 sq. Possibly this case belongs more strictly to the class of mediate expulsions, the devils being driven out upon the car. Perhaps, however, the car with its contents is regarded rather as a bribe to induce them to go than as a vehicle in which they are actually carted away. Anyhow it is convenient to take this case along with those other expulsions of demons which are the accompaniment of an agricultural festival.
- 497.
- R. van Eck, “Sketches of the island Bali,” Journal of the Netherlands East Indies, N. S. viii. (1879) 58-60. Van Eck's account is reprinted in J. Jacobs's Some time among the Balinese (Batavia, 1883), p. 190 sqq.
- 498.
- U.S. Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology, by H. Hale, p. 67 sq.; Ch. Wilkes, Story of the U.S. Exploring Expedition, iii. 90 sq. According to the latter, the sea-slug was eaten by the men alone, who lived during the four days in the temple, while the women and boys remained shut up in their houses.
- 499.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, v. 367.
- 500.
- Punjab Notes and Queries, ii. No. 792; D. C. J. Ibbetson, Panjab Ethnography Overview, p. 119.
- 501.
- Baron, "Description of the Kingdom of Tonqueen," Pinkerton's Trips and Travels, ix. 673, 695 sq.; cp. Richard, “History of Tonkin,” ibid. p. 746. The account of the ceremony by Tavernier (whom Baron criticises very unfavourably) is somewhat different. According to him the expulsion of wicked souls at the New Year is combined with sacrifice to the honoured dead. See Harris, Trips and Adventures, i. 823.
- 502.
- Aymonier, Notice about Cambodia, p. 62.
- 503.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, iii. 237, 298, 314, 529 sq.; Pallegoix, Thai Kingdom or Siam, i. 252. Bastian (p. 314), with whom Pallegoix seems to agree, distinctly states that the expulsion takes place on the last day of the year. Yet both state that it occurs in the fourth month of the year. According to Pallegoix (i. 253) the Siamese year is composed of twelve lunar months, and the first month usually begins in December. Hence the expulsion of devils would commonly take place in March, as in Cambodia.
- 504.
- J. Anderson, Mandalay to Momien, p. 308.
- 505.
- Max Buch, The Wotjäken, p. 153 sq.
- 506.
- Bastian, Humans in History, ii. 94.
- 507.
- J. G. von Hahn, Albanian Studies, i. 160. Cp. above, vol. i. p. 276.
- 508.
- Vincenzo Dorsa, The Greco-Roman tradition in the customs and popular beliefs of Calabria Citeriore, p. 42 sq.
- 509.
- Von Alpenburg, Myths and Legends of Tyrol, p. 260 sq. A Westphalian form of the expulsion of evil is the driving out the Süntevögel, Sunnenvögel, or Summer birds, i.e., the butterfly. On St. Peter's Day, 22d February, children go from house to house knocking on them with hammers and singing doggerel rhymes in which they bid the Summer birds to depart. Presents are given to them at every house. Or the people of the house themselves go through all the rooms, knocking on all the doors, to drive away the Sun birds. If this ceremony is omitted, it is thought that various misfortunes will be the consequence. The house will swarm with rats, mice, and other vermin, the cattle will be sick, the butterflies will multiply at the milk-bowls, etc. Woeste, Folk traditions in County Mark, p. 24; J. W. Wolf, Beiträge zur deutschen Mythologie, i. 87; A. Kuhn, Westphalian Legends, Customs, and Fairy Tales, ii. §§ 366-374; Montanus, German folk festivals, traditions, etc., p. 21 sq.; Jahn, German practices of sacrifice in farming and livestock husbandry, pp. 94-96.
- 510.
- Usener, "Italian Myths," in Rhineland Museum, N. F. xxx. 198.
- 511.
- S. Powers, California Tribes, p. 159.
- 512.
- G. Catlin, Native Americans, i. 166 sqq.; id., O-kee-pa, a Religious Ceremony, and Other Customs of the Mandans.
- 513.
- Moura, Kingdom of Cambodia, i. 172. Cp. above, p. 178.
- 514.
- A. Bastian, in Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology. 1881, p. 151; cp. id., Ethnic groups on the Brahmaputra, p. 6 sq. Amongst the Chukmas of South-east India the body of a priest is conveyed to the place of cremation on a car; ropes are attached to the car, the people divide themselves into two equal bodies and pull at the ropes in opposite directions. "One side represents the good spirits, while the other represents the forces of evil. The competition is set up in such a way that the good spirits win. However, sometimes the young men portraying the demons get a little too intense, but a stick usually puts a stop to this inappropriate enthusiasm for evil." Lewin, Wild Tribes of Southeast India, p. 185. The contest is like that between the angels and devils depicted in the frescoes of the Campo Santo at Pisa. In Burma a similar contest takes place at the funeral of a holy man; but there the original meaning of the ceremony appears to be forgotten. See Sangermano, *Description of the Burmese Empire* (ed. 1885), p. 98; Forbes, Myanmar, p. 216 sq.; Shway Yoe, The Burmese, ii. 334 sq., 342. Sometimes ceremonies of this sort are instituted for a different purpose. In some East Indian islands when the people want a rainy wind from the west, the population of the village, men, women, and children, divide into two parties and pull against each other at the ends of a long bamboo. But the party at the eastern end must pull the harder, in order to draw the desired wind out of the west. Riedel, The curly-haired and straight-haired races between Celebes and Papua, p. 282. The Cingalese perform a ceremony like "French and English languages" in honour of the goddess Patiné. Forbes, 11 Years in Ceylon (London, 1840), i. 358.
- 515.
- Folklore Journal, vii. 174.
- 516.
- François Valentyn, Old and New East Indies, iii. 14. Backer, Indian Ocean Archipelago, p. 377 sq., copies from Valentyn.
- 517.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and frizzy races between Celebes and Papua, p. 304 sq.
- 518.
- Ib. p. 25 sq.
- 519.
- Ib. p. 141.
- 520.
- Riedel, op. cit. p. 78.
- 521.
- Ib. p. 357.
- 522.
- Ib. pp. 266, 304 sq., 327, 357. For other examples of sending away disease-laden boats in these islands, ibid. pp. 181, 210; Van Eck, "Sketches of Bali island," Journal for the Netherlands Indies, N.S. viii. (1879) p. 104; Bastian, Indonesia, i. 147; Hupe, "Brief essay on the religion, customs, etc. of the Dajakkers," Journal of Netherlands India, 1846, dl. iii. 150; Campen, “Religious concepts of the Halmahera Alfoeren,” Journal of Indian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xxvii. (1882) p. 441; Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 12, pp. 229-231; Van Hasselt, People's Description of Central Sumatra, p. 98.
- 523.
- J. Dumont D'Urville, Voyage around the world and in search of La Pérouse, on the corvette Astrolabe, v. 311.
- 524.
- Roepstorff, “A ghost boat of the Nicobarese,” Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology (1881), p. 401. For Siamese applications of the same principle to the cure of individuals, see Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, iii. 295 sq., 485 sq.
- 525.
- Panjab Notes and Questions, i. No. 418.
- 526.
- Same here. iii. No. 373.
- 527.
- Panjab Notes and Questions, ii. No. 1127.
- 528.
- Id. ii. No. 1123.
- 529.
- F. Fawcett, “On the Saoras (or Savaras),” Journal of the Anthropological Society, Bombay, i. 213 note.
- 530.
- *Journ. Anthrop. Soc. Bombay*, i. 37.
- 531.
- R. Andree, Ethnographic parallels and comparisons (first series), p. 30.
- 532.
- J. H. Gray, China, ii. 306.
- 533.
- Panjab Notes & Queries, i. 598.
- 534.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and frizzy races between Sulawesi and Papua, p. 393.
- 535.
- Bastian, *Humanity in History*, ii. 93.
- 536.
- Id. ii. 91.
- 537.
- Asian Researches, ix. 96 sq.
- 538.
- J. H. Gray, China, ii. 306 sq.
- 539.
- T. J. Hutchinson, *Impressions of Western Africa*, p. 162.
- 540.
- Bogle and Manning, Tibet, edited by C. R. Markham, p. 106 sq.
- 541.
- E. T. Atkinson, “Notes on the History of Religion in the Himalayan Region of the North-West Provinces,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, liii. pt. i. (1884), p. 62.
- 542.
- Scotland and Scots in the Eighteenth Century, from the MSS. of John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, edited by Alex. Allardyce (Edinburgh, 1888), ii. 439.
- 543.
- W. M. Beauchamp, “The Iroquois White Dog Ceremony,” American Antiquarian, vii. 237.
- 544.
- Ib. p. 236; T. Dwight, Traveling in New England and New York, iv. 202.
- 545.
- Above, p. 165 sq.
- 546.
- Leviticus xvi. Modern Jews sacrifice a white cock on the eve of the Festival of Expiation, nine days after the beginning of their New Year. The father of the family knocks the cock thrice against his own head, saying, "Let this rooster be a stand-in for me, let it take my place, let death come to this rooster, but grant me and all Israel a happy life." Then he cuts its throat and dashes the bird violently on the ground. The intestines are thrown on the roof of the house. The flesh of the cock was formerly given to the poor. Buxtorf, Jewish Synagogue, c. xxv.
- 547.
- S. Crowther and J. C. Taylor, The Gospel on the Banks of the Niger, pp. 343-345. Cp. J. F. Schon and S. Crowther, Journals, p. 48 sq. The account of the custom by J. Africanus B. Horton (West African Nations and Peoples p. 185 sq.) is entirely from Taylor.
- 548.
- Turpin, “History of Thailand,” in Pinkerton's Journeys and Travels, ix. 579.
- 549.
- Ködding, "Die Batak Gods," General Mission Magazine, xii. (1885) pp. 476, 478.
- 550.
- The ceremony referred to is probably the one performed on the tenth day, as described in the text.
- 551.
- "Report on a Route Survey by Pundit—from Nepal to Lhasa," etc., Journal of the Royal Geographical Society xxxviii. (1868) pp. 167, 170 sq.; "Four Years of Traveling Through Great Tibet, by one of the Trans-Himalayan Explorers," Go ahead. Royal Geogr. Soc. N.S. vii. (1885) p. 67 sq.
- 552.
- Aeneas Sylvius, Opera (Bâle, 1571), p. 423 sq.
- 553.
- Usener, "Italian Myths," Rhineland Museum, N.F. xxx. 198.
- 554.
- J. Thomas Phillips, Account of the Religion, Customs, and Education of the People of Malabar, pp. 6, 12 sq.
- 555.
- Herodotus, ii. 39.
- 556.
- Herodotus, ii. 38-41; Wilkinson, Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians, iii. 403 sqq. (ed. 1878).
- 557.
- Herodotus, l.c.
- 558.
- See above, pp. 95 sqq., 137 sq.
- 559.
- Panjab Notes & Queries, ii. No. 335.
- 560.
- Strabo, xi. 4, 7. For the custom of standing upon a sacrificed victim, cp. Demosthenes, p. 642; Pausanias, iii. 20, 9.
- 561.
- In the Dassera festival, as celebrated in Nepaul, we seem to have another instance of the annual expulsion of demons preceded by a time of licence. The festival occurs at the beginning of October and lasts ten days. "Throughout its duration, there is a public holiday for everyone. During this time, Kathmandu must be purified, but this is done more through prayer than through cleansing with water. All courts are closed, and all prisoners are relocated from the city.... The calendar is cleared, or there is always a release of all prisoners during the Dassera." This seems a trace of a period of licence. At this time It's a common practice for employers to give an annual gift, whether it's money, clothes, buffaloes, goats, etc., to those servants who have performed well over the past year. In this way, along with the feasting and drinking that happens, it’s somewhat similar to our ‘boxing time’ at Christmas. On the seventh day at sunset there is a parade of all the troops in the capital, including the artillery. At a given signal the regiments commence firing, the artillery takes it up, and a general firing goes on for about twenty minutes, when it suddenly ceases. This probably represents the expulsion of the demons. “The big rice harvest is always delayed until after Dassera, and it starts all over the valley the very next day.” See the description of the festival in Oldfield's Sketches from Nepal, ii. 342-351. On the Dassera in India, see Dubois, Customs, Institutions, and Ceremonies of the Peoples of India, ii. 329 sqq. Amongst the Wasuahili of East Africa New Year's Day was formerly a day of general licence, "Everyone did whatever they wanted. Old disputes were resolved, men were discovered dead the next day, and no investigation was conducted into the situation." Ch. New, Life, Travels, and Work in Eastern Africa, p. 65. In Ashantee the annual festival of the new yams is a time of general licence. See the Note on "First fruits offerings" at the end of the volume.
- 562.
- See above, vol. i. p. 275 sq.
- 563.
- Above, pp. 186 sq., 192.
- 564.
- H. Usener, “Italian Myths,” Rheinisches Museum, N. F. (1875) xxx. 194.
- 565.
- Joannes Lydus, About the months, iii. 29, iv. 36. Lydus places the expulsion on the Ides of March, that is 15th March. But this seems to be a mistake. See Usener, "Italian Myths," Rhineland Museum, xxx. 209 sqq. Again, Lydus does not expressly say that Mamurius Veturius was driven out of the city, but he implies it by mentioning the legend that his mythical prototype was beaten with rods and expelled the city. Lastly, Lydus only mentions the name Mamurius. But the full name Mamurius Veturius is preserved by Varro, Ling. Lat. vi. 45; Festus, ed. Muller, p. 131; Plutarch, Numa, 13.
- 566.
- Usener, op. cit. p. 212 sq.; Roscher, Apollo and Mars, p. 27; Preller, Roman Mythology,3 i. 360; Vaniček, Greek-Latin Etymological Dictionary, p. 715. The three latter scholars take Veturius as = annuus, because old is etymologically equivalent to ἔτος. But, as Usener argues, it seems quite unallowable to take the Greek meaning of the word instead of the Latin.
- 567.
- Cato, Agriculture 141.
- 568.
- Varro, On the Latin language, v. 85.
- 569.
- See the song of the Arval Brothers in Acts of the Arval Brothers, ed. Henzen, p. 26 sq.; Wordsworth, Fragments and Specimens of Early Latin, p. 158.
- 570.
- Above, p. 64.
- 571.
- Cato, Agriculture 83.
- 572.
- Above, vol. i. p. 70 sqq. p. 105 sq.
- 573.
- Preller, Roman Mythology,3 i. 360; Rosscher, Apollo and Mars, p. 49; Usener, work cited The ceremony also closely resembles the Highland New Year ceremony described above, p. 145 sq.
- 574.
- Propertius, v. 2, 61 sq.;
Usener, op. cit. p. 210. One of the
functions of the Salii or dancing priests, who during March went up
and down the city dancing, singing, and clashing their swords
against their shields (Livy, i. 20; Plutarch, Numa,
13; Dionysius Halicarn. Antiq. ii. 70) may have been to
rout out the evils or demons from all parts of the city, as a
preparation for transferring them to the scapegoat Mamurius
Veturius. Similarly, as we have seen (above, p. 194 sq.), among the Iroquois, men in
fantastic costume went about collecting the sins of the people as a
preliminary to transferring them to the scapegoat dogs. We have had
many examples of armed men rushing about the streets and houses to
drive out demons and evils of all kinds. The blows which were
showered on Mamurius Veturius seem to have been administered by the
Salii (Servius on Virgil, Aen. vii. 188; Minucius Felix,
24, 3; Preller, Roman Mythology3 i.
360, note 1; Rosscher, Apollo and Mars, p. 49). The reason for beating the scapegoat
will be explained presently. As priests of Mars, the god of
agriculture, the Salii probably had also certain agricultural
functions. They were named from the remarkable jumps
which they made. Now dancing and leaping high are common
sympathetic charms to make the crops grow high. See Peter,
Folk traditions from Austrian Silesia, ii. 266; E. Meier, *German Legends, Customs and Traditions from Swabia*, p. 499, No. 333;
Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Bohmen Festival Calendar, p. 49;
O. Knoop, Folk tales, etc., from Eastern Pomerania, p. 176, No. 197; E. Sommer,
Tales, stories, and customs from Saxony and Thuringia, p.
148; Witzschel, Tales, Customs, and Traditions from
Thuringia, p. 190, No. 13; Woeste, Folk traditions in the County of Mark, p. 56; Bavaria, ii. 298; id.,
iv. Abth. ii. pp. 379, 382; Heinrich, Agricultural Customs and Traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 11
sq.; Schulenberg, Wendish folk tales and customs, p. 252; Wuttke, German folk beliefs,2 § 657; Jahn, German rituals of sacrifice in farming and livestock raising, p. 194
sq.; cp. Schott, Wallachian Fairy Tales, p. 301 sq.;
Gerard, The Land Beyond the Forest, i.
264; Cieza de Leon, Travel (Hakluyt Soc. 1864), p.
413. Was it one of the functions of the Salii to dance and leap on
the fields at the spring or autumn sowing, or at both? The dancing
processions of the Salii took place in October as well as in March
(Marquardt, Sacred beings,2 p.
436 sq.), and the Romans sowed both
in spring and autumn (Columella, ii. 9, 6 sq.) In
their song the Salii mentioned Saturnus or Saeturnus the god of
sowing (Festus, p. 325, ed. Müller. Saeturnus is an emendation of
Ritschl's. See Wordsworth, Fragments and Specimens of Early Latin, p. 405). The weapons borne by the Salii, while
effective against demons in general, may have been especially
directed against the demons who steal the seed corn or the ripe
grain. Compare the Khond and Hindoo Koosh customs described above,
p. 173. In Western Africa
the field labours of tilling and sowing are sometimes accompanied
by dances of armed men on the field. See Labat, Journey of the Knight des Marchais to Guinea, Neighboring Islands, and Cayenne,
ii. p. 99 of the Paris ed., p. 80 of the Amsterdam ed.; Olivier de
Sanderval, From the Atlantic to the Niger via the Foulah-Djallon (Paris, 1883), p. 230. In Calicut
(Southern India) "They plow the land with oxen just like we do, and when they sow rice in the fields, the sounds of all the city instruments are constantly playing and celebrating. They also have ten or twelve men dressed like devils, and together they join in the festivities with the musicians, hoping that the devil will help make the rice highly productive." Varthema, Travel (Hakluyt Soc. 1863), p.
166 sq. The resemblance of the Salii
to the sword-dancers of northern Europe has been pointed out by K.
Müllenhoff, "About the Sword Dance,"
in Gifts for Gustav Homeyer
(Berlin, 1871). In England the Morris Dancers who accompanied the
procession of the plough through the streets on Plough Monday (the
first Monday after Twelfth Day) sometimes wore swords (Brand,
Popular Artifacts, i. 505, Bohn's ed.), and sometimes they
"wore little bunches of corn in their hats, from which the wheat was quickly shaken out by the awkward jumping they called dancing.... Bessy shook his box and danced so high that he revealed his woolen stockings and corduroy pants." Chambers, *Book of Days*, i. 94. It is to be
observed that in the "Lord of Mischief," who reigned from Christmas till Twelfth Night (see
Brand, Famous Artifacts, i. 497
sqq.), we have a clear trace of
one of those periods of general licence and suspension of ordinary
government which so commonly occur at the end of the old year or
beginning of the new one in connection with a general expulsion of
evils. The fact that this period of licence immediately preceded
the procession of the Morris Dancers on Plough Monday seems to
indicate that the functions of these dancers were like those which
I have attributed to the Salii. But the parallel cannot be drawn
out here. Cp. meantime Dyer, UK Popular Customs, pp. 31,
39. The Salii were said to have been founded by Morrius, King of Veii (Servius
on Virgil, Aen. viii. 285). Morrius seems to be
etymologically the same with
and Mars (Usener, Italian Myths, p. 213). Can the English Morris (in Morris dancers) be the same? Analogy suggests that at Rome the Saturnalia, which fell in December when the Roman year began in January, may have been celebrated in February when the Roman year began in March. Thus at Rome, as in so many places, the public expulsion of evils at the New Year would be preceded by a period of general licence, such as the Saturnalia was. A trace of the former celebration of the Saturnalia in February or the beginning of March may perhaps be seen in the Matronalia, celebrated on 1st March, at which mistresses feasted their slaves, just as masters feasted theirs at the Saturnalia. Macrobius, Saturn. i. 12, 7; Solinus, i. 35, p. 13, ed. Mommsen; Joannes Lydus, Of the months, iii. 15. - 575.
- Plutarch, Questions. Feast. vi. 8.
- 576.
- See above, pp. 176, 194.
- 577.
- Servius on Virgil, Aen. iii. 57, from Petronius.
- 578.
- Helladius, in Photius, Library, p. 534 a, ed. Bekker; Schol. on Aristophanes, Frogs, 734, and on Knights, 1136; Hesychius, s.v. φαρμακοί; cp. Suidas, s.vv. κάθαρμα, φαρμακοός, and φαρμακούς; Lysias, Orat. vi. 53. That they were stoned is an inference from Harpocration. See next note.
- 579.
- Harpocration, s.v. φαρμακός, who says δύο ἄνδρας Ἀθήνησιν ἑξῆγον καθάρσια ἐσομένους τῆς πόλεως ἐν τοῖς Θαργηλίοις, ἕνα μὲν ὑπερ τῶν ἀνδρῶν, ἕνα δὲ ὑπερ τῶν γυναικῶν. He does not expressly state that they were put to death; but as he says that the ceremony was an imitation of the execution of a mythical Pharmacus who was stoned to death, we may infer that the victims were killed by being stoned. Suidas (sv. φάρμακος) copies Harpocration.
- 580.
- Strabo, x. 2, 9. I do not know what authority Wordsworth (Greece: Visual, Historical, and Descriptive, p. 354) has for saying that the priests of Apollo, whose temple stood near the edge of the cliff, sometimes flung themselves down in this way.
- 581.
- Tzetzes, Chiliades, v. 726-761. Tzetzes's authority is the satyrical poet Hipponax.
- 582.
- This may be inferred from the verse of Hipponax, quoted by Athenaeus, 370 b, where for φαρμάκου we should perhaps read φαρμακοῦ with Schneidewin (Lyric Poets Gr.3 ed. Bergk, ii. 763).
- 583.
- See his Mythology Research, p. 113 sqq., especially 123 sq. 133.
- 584.
- Pliny, Nat. Hist. xx. 101; Dioscorides, De mat. med. ii. 202; Lucian, Necyom. 7; same., Alexander, 47; Theophrastus, Superstitious Guy.
- 585.
- Theocritus, vii. 106 sqq. with the scholiast.
- 586.
- Cp. Aug. Mommsen, Heortology, 414
; W. Mannhardt, A. W. F. p. 215. - 587.
- At certain sacrifices in Yucatan blood was drawn from the genitals of a human victim and smeared on the face of the idol. De Landa, Account of the things of Yucatan, ed. Brasseur de Bourbourg (Paris, 1864) p. 167. Was the original intention of this rite to transfuse into the god a fresh supply of reproductive energy?
- 588.
- Aelian, Nat. Anim. ix. 26.
- 589.
- De Santa-Anna Nery, Brazilian Folklore (Paris, 1889) p. 253.
- 590.
- Above, pp. 148 sq. 187. Compare Plutarch, Parallela, 35, where a woman is represented as going from house to house striking sick people with a hammer and bidding them be whole.
- 591.
- Acosta, *History of the Indies*, ii. 375 (Hakluyt Soc.) See above, p. 169.
- 592.
- Osculati, Exploration of the equatorial regions along the Napo and the Amazon River (Milan, 1854), p. 118.
- 593.
- Ed. Beardmore, Anthropological Notes collected in Mowat, Dandai, New Guinea (1888) (in manuscript).
- 594.
- Hahn, Albanian Studies, i. 155.
- 595.
- F. S. Krauss, Croatia and Slavonia (Vienna, 1889), p. 108.
- 596.
- W. Mannhardt, B. K. p. 257.
- 597.
- W. Mannhardt, B. K. p. 258-263. See his whole discussion of such customs, pp. 251-303, and Myth. Research. pp. 113-153.
- 598.
- Acosta, *History of the Indies*, ii. 323 (Hakluyt Soc. 1880).
- 599.
- Sahagun, History of Things in New Spain (Paris, 1880), pp. 61
sq., 96-99, 103; Acosta,
*History of the Indies*, ii. 350 sq.;
Clavigero, *History of Mexico*, trans. by
Cullen, i. 300; Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, ii. 319 sq. For other Mexican instances
of persons representing deities and slain in that character, see
Sahagun, pp. 75, 116 square, 123, 158 sec.,
164 sq., 585 sqq.,
589; Acosta, ii. 384 sqq.; Clavigero, i. 312;
Bancroft, ii. 325
, 337 squ. - 600.
- Sahagun, pp. 18 sq., 68 sq., 133-139; Bancroft, iii. 353-359.
- 601.
- Sahagun, p. 584 sq. For this festival see also id. pp. 37 sq. 58 sq. 60, 87 sqq. 93; Clavigero, i. 297; Bancroft, ii. 306 sqq.
- 602.
- Clavigero, i. 283.
- 603.
- Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, ii. 142.
- 604.
- Memorials of Japan (Hakluyt Society, 1850), pp. 14, 141; Varenius, Description of the Kingdom of Japan, p. 11; Caron, “Japan Report” in Pinkerton's Journeys and Travels, vii. 613; Kaempfer, "Japan's History," in id., vii. 716.
- 605.
- Ellis, Polynesian Studies, iii. 102 sq. ed. 1836; James Wilson, Mission Trip to the South Pacific Ocean, p. 329.
- 606.
- Bastian, Humans in History, iii. 81.
- 607.
- Athenaeus, 514 C.
- 608.
- Bancroft, l.c.
- 609.
- Kaempfer, “Japan's History,” in Pinkerton's Journeys and Adventures, vii. 717; Caron, "Japan Report," same vii. 613; Varenius, Description of the Kingdom of Japan, p. 11, “The rays of the sun never lit the head: it did not move into the open air.”
- 610.
- Waitz, Anthropology of Indigenous Peoples, iv. 359.
- 611.
- Alonzo de Zurita, "Report on the different classes of leaders of New Spain," p. 30, in Ternaux-Compans's Journeys, Connections, and Original Memories (Paris, 1840); Waitz, l.c.; Bastian, The cultural lands of ancient America, ii. 204.
- 612.
- Cieza de Leon, Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru (Hakluyt Soc. 1883), p. 18.
- 613.
- Pechuel-Loesche, “Indecencies from Loango,” Journal of Ethnology, x. (1878) 23.
- 614.
- Rev. James Macdonald (Reay Free Manse, Caithness), Manners, Customs, Superstitions, and Religions of South African Tribes (in manuscript).
- 615.
- The Rev. G. Brown, quoted by the Rev. B. Danks, "Marriage Customs of the New Britain Group," Journal of Anthropology Institute, xviii. 284 sq.; cp. Rev. G. Brown, “Notes on the Duke of York Group, New Britain, and New Ireland,” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society xlvii. (1877) p. 142 sq. Powell's description of the New Ireland custom is similar (Adventures in the Wilderness, p. 249). According to him the girls wear wreaths of scented herbs round the waist and neck; an old woman or a little child occupies the lower floor of the cage: and the confinement lasts only a month. Probably the long period mentioned by Mr. Brown is that prescribed for chiefs' daughters. Poor people could not afford to keep their children so long idle. This distinction is sometimes expressly stated; for example, among the Goajiras of Colombia rich people keep their daughters shut up in separate huts at puberty for periods varying from one to four years, but poor people cannot afford to do so for more than a fortnight or a month. F. A. Simons, "An exploration of the Goajira Peninsula," Go ahead. Royal Geogr. Soc. N.S. vii. (1885) p. 791. In Fiji, brides who were being tattooed were kept from the sun. Williams, *Fiji and the Fijians*, i. 170. This was perhaps a modification of the Melanesian custom of secluding girls at puberty. The reason mentioned by Mr. Williams, “to enhance her skin,” can hardly have been the original one.
- 616.
- Chalmers and Gill, Working and Adventuring in New Guinea, p. 159.
- 617.
- Schwaner, Borneo, Description of the Barito River Basin, etc. ii. 77 sq.; Zimmerman, The islands of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, ii. 632 sq.; Otto Finsch, New Guinea and its people, p. 116.
- 618.
- Riedel, The curly and bushy-haired races between Celebes and Papua, p. 138.
- 619.
- Sproat, Scenes and Studies of Wild Life, p. 93 sq.
- 620.
- Erman, “Ethnographic Observations and Experiences on the Coasts of the Bering Sea,” Journal of Ethnology, ii. 318 sq.; Langsdorff, Travel Around the World, ii. 114 sq.; Holmberg, "Ethnographic sketches about the peoples of Russian America," Acta Societatis Scientiarum Fennicae, iv. (1856) p. 320 sq.; Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, i. 110 sq.; Krause, The Tlingit Indians, p. 217 sq.; Rev. Sheldon Jackson, "Alaska and its People," American Antiquarian, ii. 111 squared; W. M. Grant, in Journal of American Folklore, i. 169. For caps, hoods, and veils worn by girls at such seasons, compare G. H. Loskiel, History of the Mission of the United Brethren among the Indians, i. 56; Anthropology Journal, vii. 206; G. M. Dawson, Report on the Queen Charlotte Islands, 1878 (Geological Survey of Canada), p. 130 B; Petitot, Monograph of the Dènè-Dindjié, pp. 72, 75; id., Indigenous traditions of Northwest Canada, p. 258.
- 621.
- Holmberg, op. cit. p. 401; Bancroft, i. 82; Petroff, Population Report, etc. of Alaska, p. 143.
- 622.
- Lafitau, Manners of Native Americans i. 262 sq.
- 623.
- Edifying and Curious Letters, viii. 333. On the Chiriguanos see Von Martius, On the Ethnography of America, especially Brazil, p. 212 sqq.
- 624.
- Thevet, Universal Cosmography (Paris, 1575) ii. 946 B sq.; Lafitau, op. cit. i 290 sqq.
- 625.
- Schomburgk, Traveling in British Guiana, ii. 315 sq.; Martius, On the Ethnography of America, p. 644.
- 626.
- Labat, Journey of the Knight des Marchais to Guinea, Nearby Islands, and Cayenne, iv. p. 365 sq. (Paris ed.), p. 17 sec. (Amsterdam ed.)
- 627.
- Above, p. 213 sq., vol. i. p. 153 sq.
- 628.
- This interpretation of the custom is supported by the fact that beating or scourging is inflicted on inanimate objects expressly for the purpose indicated in the text. Thus the Indians of Costa Rica hold that there are two kinds of ceremonial uncleanness, nya and bu-ku-rú. Anything that has been connected with a death is nya. But bu-ku-rú is much more virulent. It can not only make one sick but kill. The worst bu-ku-rú of all is that of a young woman during her first pregnancy. She spreads the infection throughout the neighborhood. People who leave her home carry the infection with them, and any deaths or serious misfortunes nearby are blamed on her. In the past, when harsh laws and customs were strictly enforced, it was common for the husband of such a woman to compensate for damages caused by his unfortunate wife. Bu-ku-rú can arise in various ways; tools, utensils, and even houses can be affected after being unused for a long time, and must be purified before they can be used again. For portable items that have been untouched for a long time, the custom is to hit them with a stick before handling them. I once saw a woman use a long walking stick to strike a basket that was hanging from the roof by a cord. When I asked why, I was told that the basket held her treasures, that she might want to take something from it the next day, and that she was driving off the bu-ku-rú. A house that hasn’t been used for a long time must be swept, and then the person purifying it must take a stick and hit not just the movable items, but also the beds, posts, and every accessible part of the interior. The next day, it is ready for occupancy. A place that hasn’t been visited for a long time or is being visited for the first time is considered bu-ku-rú. After our climb of Pico Blanco, almost everyone in our group experienced small fevers due to extreme exposure to wet and cold, and lack of food. The Indians said the peak was especially bu-ku-rú, since no one had ever been there before. One day Mr. Gabb took down some dusty blow-guns amid cries of bu-ku-rú from the Indians. Some weeks afterwards a boy died, and the Indians firmly believed that the bu-ku-rú of the blow-guns had killed him. Based on all the previous information, it appears that bu-ku-rú is a type of evil spirit that possesses the object and gets upset when disturbed. However, I’ve never been able to find out if the Indians view it this way. They seem to regard it as a quality that the object gains. W. M. Gabb, Indigenous Tribes and Languages of Costa Rica (read before the American Philosophical Society, 20th August 1875), p. 504 sq.
- 629.
- A. R. Wallace, Account of Travels on the Amazon and Rio Negro, p. 496.
- 630.
- Bose, Hindus as they are, p. 86. Similarly, after a Brahman boy has been invested with the sacred thread, he is for three days strictly forbidden to see the sun. He may not eat salt, and he is enjoined to sleep either on a carpet or a deer's skin, without a mattress or mosquito curtain. Ib. p. 186. In Bali, boys who have had their teeth filed, as a preliminary to marriage, are kept shut up in a dark room for three days. Van Eck, "Sketches of the island Bali," Journal of the Dutch East Indies, N. S. ix. (1880) 428 sq.
- 631.
- Moura, Kingdom of Cambodia, i. 377.
- 632.
- Aymonier, "Notes on the Customs and Superstitious Beliefs of Cambodians," French Cochinchina, Excursions and Explorations, No. 16 (Saigon, 1883), p. 193 sq. Cp. same Notice about Cambodia, p. 50.
- 633.
- B. Schmidt, Greek fairy tales, myths, and folk songs, p. 98.
- 634.
- Schneller, Fairy Tales and Legends from South Tyrol, No. 22.
- 635.
- J. G. von Hahn, Greek and Albanian folktales, No. 41.
- 636.
- Gonzenbach, Sicilian Tales, No. 28. The incident of the bone occurs in other folk-tales. A prince or princess is shut up for safety in a tower and makes his or her escape by scraping a hole in the wall with a bone which has been accidentally conveyed into the tower; sometimes it is expressly said that care was taken to let the princess have no bones with her meat. Hahn, op. cit. No. 15; Gonzenbach, Nos. 26, 27; Pentamerone, No. 23. From this we should infer that it is a rule with savages not to let women handle the bones of animals during their monthly seclusions. We have already seen the great respect with which the savage treats the bones of game (see above, p. 116 sqq.); and women in their courses are specially forbidden to meddle with the hunter or fisher, as their contact or neighbourhood would spoil his sport (see below, p. 238 sqq.) In folk-tales the hero who uses the bone is sometimes a boy; but the incident might easily be transferred from a girl to a boy after its real meaning had been forgotten. Amongst the Hare-skin Indians a girl at puberty is forbidden to break the bones of hares. Petitot, Indigenous Traditions of Northwest Canada, p. 258. On the other hand, she drinks out of a tube made of a swan's bone (Petitot, l.c. and id., Monograph of Dènè-Dindjié, p. 76), and we have seen that a Thlinkeet girl in the same circumstances used to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle (Langsdorff, Travel around the world, ii. 114).
- 637.
- W. Radloff, Samples of the folk literature of the Turkish tribes of South Siberia, iii. 82 sq.
- 638.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, i. 416, vi. 25; Turner, Samoa, p. 200; Panjab Notes & Questions, ii. No. 797.
- 639.
- Amongst the Chaco Indians of South America a newly-married couple sleep the first night on a skin with their heads towards the west; "The marriage isn't seen as official until the rising sun shines on their feet the next morning." T. J. Hutchinson, "The Chaco People," Transact. Ethnolog. Soc. iii. 327. At old Hindoo marriages, the first ceremony was the "Conception ritual" (Garbhadhana). "On the previous day, the young married woman was made to face the sun or was in some way exposed to its rays." Monier Williams, Religion and Spirituality in India, p. 354. Amongst the Turks of Siberia it was formerly the custom on the morning after marriage to lead the young couple out of the hut to greet the rising sun. The same custom is said to be still practised in Iran and Central Asia, the belief being that the beams of the rising sun are the surest means of impregnating the new bride. Vambery, The Turkish people, p. 112.
- 640.
- Above, vol. i. p. 170.
- 641.
- Indigenous Tribes of South Australia, p. 186; E. J. Eyre, Journals, ii. 295, 304; W. Ridley, Kamilaroi, p. 157; Journal of Anthropology Institute ii. 268, ix. 459 sq.; Brough Smyth, Victorian Aborigines, i. 65, 236. Cp. Sir George Grey, Journals, ii. 344; J. Dawson, Aboriginal Australians, ci. sq.
- 642.
- Bleek, Short Overview of Bushman Folklore, p. 14; cp. ibid. p. 10.
- 643.
- Gumilla, *History of the Orinoco*, i. 249.
- 644.
- James Adair, History of Native Americans, p. 123 sq.
- 645.
- S. Hearne, *Trip to the Northern Ocean*, p. 314 sq.; Alex. Mackenzie, Journeys Across North America, cxxiii.; Petitot, *Monograph of the Dènè-Dindjié*, p. 75 square
- 646.
- C. Leemius, On the Lapps of Fenmarchia and their language, life, and ancient religion (Copenhagen, 1767), p. 494.
- 647.
- Pliny, Nat. Hist. vii. § 64 sq., xxviii. § 77 sqq. Cp. Geoponica, xii. c. 20, 5, and c. 25, 2; Columella, xi. 3, 50.
- 648.
- A. Schleicher, Folk Culture from Sonnenberg; p. 134; B. Souché, Beliefs, Omens, and Various Traditions, p. 11; V. Fossel, Folk medicine and medical superstition in Styria (Graz, 1886), p. 124. The Greeks and Romans thought that a field was completely protected against insects if a menstruous woman walked round it with bare feet and streaming hair. Pliny, Natural History xvii. 266, xxviii. 78; Columella, x. 358 sq., xi. 3, 64; Palladius, On rural matters, i. 35, 3; Geoponica, xii. 8, 5 sq.; Aelian, Nat. Anim. vi. 36. A similar remedy is employed for the same purpose by North American Indians and European peasants. Schoolcraft, Indigenous Peoples, v. 70; Wiedemann, From the inner and outer life of the Ehsten, p. 484. Cp. Haltrich, About the Folklore of Transylvanian Saxons, p. 280; Heinrich, Agricultural Customs and Traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania, p. 14; Grimm, German Mythology,4 iii. 468.
- 649.
- For an example of the beneficent application of the menstrual energy, see note on p. 241.
- 650.
- The rules just discussed do not hold exclusively of the persons mentioned in the text, but are applicable in certain circumstances to other tabooed persons and things. Whatever, in fact, is permeated by the mysterious virtue of taboo may need to be isolated from earth and heaven. Mourners are taboo all the world over; accordingly in mourning the Ainos wear peculiar caps in order that the sun may not shine upon their heads. Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, v. 366. During a solemn fast of three days the Indians of Costa Rica eat no salt, speak as little as possible, light no fires, and stay strictly indoors, or if they go out during the day they carefully cover themselves from the light of the sun, believing that exposure to the sun's rays would turn them black. W. M. Gabb, Indigenous Tribes and Languages of Costa Rica, p. 510. On Yule night it has been customary in parts of Sweden from time immemorial to go on pilgrimage, whereby people learn many secret things and know what is to happen in the coming year. As a preparation for this pilgrimage, "Some isolate themselves for three days before in a dark cellar to be completely cut off from natural light. Others go to a secluded spot, like a hayloft, early the morning before, where they hide in the hay to avoid seeing or hearing any living being. They stay there in silence and fasting until after sundown. Meanwhile, some believe it’s enough to strictly refrain from eating the day before they start their journey. During this time of preparation, a person shouldn't see fire." L. Lloyd, Rural Life in Sweden, p. 194. During the sixteen days that a Pima Indian is undergoing purification for killing an Apache he may not see a blazing fire. Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, i. 553. Again warriors on the war-path are strictly taboo; hence Indians may not sit on the bare ground the whole time they are out on a warlike expedition. J. Adair, History of Native Americans, p. 382; Account of the Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner, p. 123. The holy ark of the North American Indians is deemed "so sacred and dangerous to touch" that no one, except the war chief and his attendant, will touch it “under the threat of facing serious consequences. Nor would the most stubborn enemy go near it in the woods for the same reason.” In carrying it against the enemy they never place it on the ground, but rest it on stones or logs. Adair, *History of Native Americans*, p. 162 sq. The sacred clam shell of the Elk clan among the Omahas is kept in a sacred bag, which is never allowed to touch the ground. E. James, Journey from Pittsburgh to the Rocky Mountains, ii. 47; J. Owen Dorsey, “Omaha Sociology,” Third Report of the Bureau of Ethnology (Washington, 1884), p. 226. Newly born infants are strongly taboo; accordingly in Loango they are not allowed to touch the earth. Pechuel-Loesche, “Indiscretes from Loango,” Journal of Ethnology, x. (1878) p. 29 sq. In Laos the hunting of elephants gives rise to many taboos; one of them is that the chief hunter may not touch the earth with his foot. Accordingly when he alights from his elephant, the others spread a carpet of leaves for him to step upon. E. Aymonier, Notes on Laos, p. 26. In some parts of Aberdeenshire, the last bit of standing corn (which, as we have seen, is very sacred) is not allowed to touch the ground; but as it is cut, it is placed on the lap of the "good man." W. Gregor, "Some customs from the North-East of Aberdeen County," Journal of Popular Traditions, iii. (1888) 485 b. Sacred food may not, in certain circumstances, touch the ground. F. Grabowsky, "The Dusson Timor district in Southeast Borneo and its residents," Abroad (1884), No. 24, p. 474; Ch. F. Hall, Account of the Second Arctic Expedition, edited by Prof. J. E. Nourse (Washington, 1879), p. 110; Gerard, *The Land Beyond the Forest*, ii. 7. In Scotland, when water was carried from sacred wells to sick people, the water-vessel might not touch the ground. C. F. Gordon Cumming, In the Hebrides, p. 211. On the relation of spirits to the ground, compare Denzil Ibbetson in Panjab Notes & Queries, i. No. 5.
- 651.
- The Edda, übersetzt von K. Simrock,8 pp. 286-288, cp. pp. 8, 34, 264. In English the Balder story is told at length by Prof. Rhys, Celtic Paganism, p. 529 sqq.
- 652.
- It is strange to find so learned and judicious a student of custom and myth as H. Usener exactly inverting their true relation to each other. After showing that the essential features of the myth of the marriage of Mars and Nerio have their counterpart in the marriage customs of peasants at the present day, he proceeds to infer that these customs are the reflection of the myth. “Italian Myths,” Rhineland Museum, N. F. xxx. 228 sq. Surely the myth is the reflection of the custom. Men not only fashion gods in their own likeness (as Xenophanes long ago remarked) but make them think and act like themselves. Heaven is a copy of earth, not earth of heaven.
- 653.
- See Grimm, German Mythology,4 i. 502, 510, 516.
- 654.
- Mannhardt, Tree worship, p. 518 sq.
- 655.
- In the following survey of these fire-customs I follow chiefly W. Mannhardt, Tree worship, kap. vi. p. 497 sqq. Compare also Grimm, German Mythology,4 i. 500 sqq.
- 656.
- Schmitz, Sitting and Saying etc. the Eifel people, i. pp. 21-25; B. K. p. 501.
- 657.
- B. K. p. 501.
- 658.
- Vonbun, Contributions to German Mythology, p. 20; B. K. p. 501.
- 659.
- E. Meier, German Legends, Customs and Traditions from Swabia, p. 380 sqq.; Birlinger, Folk Traditions from Swabia, ii. 59 sq. , 66 sq.; Bavaria, ii. 2, p. 838 sq.; Panzer, Contribution to German Mythology, i. p. 211, No. 232, B. K. p. 501 sq.
- 660.
- Witzschel, Tales, Customs, and Traditions from Thüringen, p. 189; Panzer, Contribution to German Mythology, ii. 207; B. K. p. 500 sq.
- 661.
- Th. Vernalcken, Myths and Customs of the People in Austria, p. 293 sq.; B. K. p. 498. See above, vol. i. p. 267.
- 662.
- Schmitz, Customs and Legends of the Eifel People, i. p. 20; B. K. p. 499.
- 663.
- Strackerjan, Superstitions and Legends from the Duchy of Oldenburg, ii. 39, No. 306; B. K. p. 499.
- 664.
- B. K. p. 499.
- 665.
- B. K. p. 498 sq.
- 666.
- B. K. p. 499.
- 667.
- Schneller, Fairy Tales and Legends from South Tyrol, p. 234 sq.; B.K. p. 499 sq.
- 668.
- B. K. pp. 502-505; Wuttke, German folk superstition,2 § 81; Zingerle, Customs, Traditions, and Beliefs of the Tyrolean People,2 p. 149, §§ 1286-1289; Bavaria, i. 1, p. 371.
- 669.
- Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, i. p. 212 sq., ii. p. 78 sq.; B. K. p. 505.
- 670.
- Strackerjan, Superstitions and Legends from the Duchy of Oldenburg, ii. p. 43 sq., No. 313; B. K. p. 505 sq.
- 671.
- Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, i. 75 sq.; B. K. p. 506.
- 672.
- Grimm, German Mythology,4 i. 512; B. K. p. 506 sq.
- 673.
- H. Pröhle, Harzbilder, p. 63; Kuhn und Schwartz, Northeast German Legends, Tales, and Customs, p. 373; B. K. p. 507.
- 674.
- Kuhn, Markish Legends and Tales, p. 312 sq.; B. K. p. 507.
- 675.
- Panzer, Contribution to German Mythology, i. p. 211 sq.; B. K. p. 507 sq.
- 676.
- Birlinger, Folk traditions from Swabia, ii. p. 82, No. 106; B. K. p. 508.
- 677.
- B. K. p. 508; cp. Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology i. 74; Grimm, German Myth.4 i. 512. The two latter writers only state that before the fires were kindled it was customary to hunt squirrels in the woods.
- 678.
- Kuhn, l.c.; B.K. p. 508.
- 679.
- Brand, Famous Antiques, i. 224 sq., Bohn's ed., quoting Sinclair's Statistical Overview of Scotland, 1794, xi. 620; Scotland and Scotsmen in the 18th Century, from the MSS. of John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, edited by Alex. Allardyce, ii. 439-445; B. K. p. 508.
- 680.
- Pennant, "Scotland Tour" Pinkerton's Journeys and Adventures, iii. 49; Brand, Famous Antiques, i. 226.
- 681.
- L. Lloyd, Rural Life in Sweden, p. 233 sq.
- 682.
- B. K. p. 509; Brand, Pop. Antique. i. 298 sq.; Grimm, D.M.4 i. 516.
- 683.
- Birlinger, Folk Culture from Swabia, ii. p. 96 sqq. No. 128, p. 103 sq. No. 129; E. Meier, German Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Swabia, p. 423 sqq.; B. K. p. 510.
- 684.
- Leoprechting, From the Lechrain, p. 182 sq.; B. K. p. 510. Cp. Panzer, Contribution to German mythology, i. 210; Bavaria, iii. 956.
- 685.
- Panzer, op. cit. ii. 549.
- 686.
- Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Festival Calendar from Bohemia, pp. 306-311; B. K. p. 510. For the custom of burning a tree in the midsummer bonfires, see vol. i. p. 79.
- 687.
- Rochholz, German Faith and Tradition, ii. 144 sqq.
- 688.
- Grimm, D. M.4 i. 515 sq.; B. K. p. 510 sq.
- 689.
- Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 393; Grimm, D.M.4 i. 517; B. K. p. 511.
- 690.
- Sébillot, Coutumes populaires de la Haute Bretagne, p. 193 sq. Wolf, op. cit. ii. 392 sq.
- 691.
- Zingerle, Then, etc. of the Tyrolean people,2 p. 159, No. 1354; Panzer, Post, i. 210; B. K. p. 511.
- 692.
- Kuhn u. Schwartz, Nord German Legends, Fairy Tales, and Customs, p. 390; B. K. 511.
- 693.
- Brand, Trending Antiques, i. 300 sq., 318, cp. pp. 305, 306, 308 sq.; B. K. p. 512.
- 694.
- Aubrey, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism, p. 96, cp. id. p. 26.
- 695.
- Brand, op. cit. i. 311.
- 696.
- Id. i. 303, 318, 319; Dyer, *British Popular Customs*, p. 315.
- 697.
- Brand, op. cit. i. 318.
- 698.
- J. Train, Account of the Isle of Man, ii. 120.
- 699.
- Brand, i. 303, quoting Sir Henry Piers's About Westmeath.
- 700.
- Brand, l.c., quoting the author of the Survey of Southern Ireland.
- 701.
- Brand, i. 305, quoting the author of the *Funny Pilgrim's Journey to Ireland*.
- 702.
- Brand, i. 304, quoting The Gentleman's Magazine, February 1795, p. 124.
- 703.
- Quoted by Dyer, British Popular Traditions, p. 321 sq.
- 704.
- Brand, i. 311, quoting *Statistical Account of Scotland*, xxi. 145.
- 705.
- B. K. p. 512.
- 706.
- Brand, i. 337.
- 707.
- J. Ramsay and A. Allardyce, Scotland and Scotsmen in the 18th Century, ii. 436.
- 708.
- Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 240; Grimm, D. M.4 i. 519.
- 709.
- Ralston. l.c.
- 710.
- Tettau und Temme, The Folk Legends of East Prussia, Lithuania, and West Prussia, p. 277; Grimm, D.M.4 i. 519.
- 711.
- Töppen, Superstitions from Masuria,2 p. 71.
- 712.
- Grimm, l.c.; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Festival Calendar from Bohemia, p. 307 note.
- 713.
- Grimm, l.c.
- 714.
- Grimm, l.c.
- 715.
- Grimm, D. M.4 i. 518.
- 716.
- Above, vol. i. p. 291.
- 717.
- Gubernatis, Plant Mythology, i. 185.
- 718.
- Brand, Popular Antiques, i. 317; Grimm, l.c.
- 719.
- G. Ferraro, Monferrini superstitions, customs, and proverbs, p. 34 sq., referring to Alvise da Cadamosto, Travel Report from Africa, in Ramusio.
- 720.
- Birlinger, Folk traditions from Swabia, ii. 100 sq.; B. K. p. 513 sq.
- 721.
- Zingerle, Sitten, etc., the Tyrolean people,2 p. 159, No. 1353, cp. No. 1355; B. K. p. 513.
- 722.
- Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 392; B. K. p. 513.
- 723.
- B. K. p. 513.
- 724.
- Ralston, Russian People's Songs, p. 240.
- 725.
- Above, vol. i. p. 272 sq.
- 726.
- Above, vol. i. p. 22 sqq.
- 727.
- Above, p. 262.
- 728.
- Birlinger, Folk culture from Swabia, ii. 57, 97; B. K. p. 510; cp. Panzer, Post, ii. 240.
- 729.
- Cp. Grimm, D. M.4 i. 521; Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 389; Ad. Kuhn, Origin of the Fire,2 pp. 41 sq., 47; W. Mannhardt, B. K. p. 521.
- 730.
- See above, pp. 254, 255, 260, 265.
- 731.
- On the need-fires, see Grimm, D. M. i. 501 sqq.; Wolf, op. cit. i. 116 sq., ii. 378 sqq.; Kuhn, op. cit. p. 41 sqq.; B. K. p. 518 sqq.; Elton, English History Origins, p. 293 sq.; Jahn, The German sacrificial customs in agriculture and livestock, p. 26 sqq.
- 732.
- This is the view of Grimm, Wolf, Kuhn, and Mannhardt.
- 733.
- Origin of the Fire,2 p. 47.
- 734.
- Panzer, Post, ii. 240.
- 735.
- Ch. E. Gover, "The Pongal festival in Southern India," Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, N.S. v. (1870) p. 96 sq.
- 736.
- Diego de Landa, Description of things in Yucatan (Paris, 1864), p. 233.
- 737.
- Kolben, Current Condition of the Cape of Good Hope, i. 129 sqq.
- 738.
- P. 253. The torches of Demeter, which figure so largely in her myth and on the monuments, are perhaps to be explained by this custom. To regard, with Mannhardt (B. K. p. 536), the torches in the modern European customs as imitations of lightning seems unnecessary.
- 739.
- Above, vol. i. p. 70 sqq.
- 740.
- Pp. 250, 267.
- 741.
- Pp. 247, 248, 253, 259, 266.
- 742.
- P. 250 sq.
- 743.
- Pp. 247, 248.
- 744.
- Vol. i. p. 272.
- 745.
- B. K. p. 524.
- 746.
- Bavaria, iii. 956; B. K. p. 524.
- 747.
- Birlinger, Folk Culture from Swabia, ii. 121 sq., No. 146; B. K. p. 524 sq.
- 748.
- Caesar, Bell. Gall. vi. 15; Strabo, iv. 4, 5, p. 198; Casaubon; Diodorus, v. 32. See Mannhardt, B. K. p. 525 sqq.
- 749.
- Strabo, iv. 4, 4, p. 197, τὰς δὲ φονικὰς δίκας μάλιστα τούτοις [i.e. the Druids] ἐπετέτραπτο δικάζειν, ὅταν τε φορὰ τούτων ἧ, φορὰν καὶ τῆς χώρας νομίζουσιν ὐπάρχειν. On this passage see Mannhardt, B. K. p. 529 sqq.
- 750.
- See vol. i. p. 88 sqq.
- 751.
- B. K. p. 523, note.
- 752.
- B. K. p. 523, note; John Milner, The History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, and Survey of the Antiquities of Winchester, i. 8 sq.; Brand, *Trending Artifacts*, i. 325 square; James Logan, The Scottish Gaelic, ii. 358 (new ed.); Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Belgian Calendar, p. 123 sqq.
- 753.
- Puttenham, The Art of English Poetry, 1589, p. 128, quoted by Brand, Trending Artifacts, i. 323.
- 754.
- King's Vale Royal, England, p. 208, quoted by Brand, l.c.
- 755.
- Liebrecht, Gervasius von Tilbury, p. 212 sq.; B. K. p. 514.
- 756.
- B. K. pp. 514, 523.
- 757.
- Library, 24th July 1869, p. 115; B. K. p. 515 sq.
- 758.
- Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 388; B. K. p. 515.
- 759.
- B. K. p. 515.
- 760.
- Grimm, German Mythology,4 i. 519; B. K. p. 515.
- 761.
- B. K. p. 515.
- 762.
- Ib.
- 763.
- Above, vol. i. p. 408, vol. ii. p. 1 sqq.
- 764.
- Some of the serpents worshipped by the old Prussians lived in hollow oaks, and as oaks were sacred among the Prussians, the serpents may have been regarded as genii of the trees. Simon Grunau, Prussian Chronicle, ed. Perlbach, i. p. 89; Hartknoch, Altund Neues Preussen, pp. 143, 163. Serpents, again, played an important part in the worship of Demeter, as we have seen. But that they were regarded as embodiments of her can hardly be assumed. In Siam the spirit of the takhien tree is believed to appear, sometimes in the form of a woman, sometimes in the form of a serpent. Bastian, The people of East Asia, iii. 251.
- 765.
- Pliny derives the name Druid the Greek drus, “oak.” He did not know that the Celtic word for oak was the same (daur), and that therefore Druid, in the sense of priest of the oak, was genuine Celtic, not borrowed from the Greek. See Curtius, Greek Etymology,5 p. 238 sq.; Vaniček, Greek-Latin Etymological Dictionary, p. 368 sqq.; Rhys, Celtic Paganism, p. 221 sqq. In the Highlands of Scotland the word is found in place-names like Bendarroch (the mountain of the oak), Craigandarroch, etc.
- 766.
- It is still a folk-lore rule not to cut the mistletoe with iron; some say it should be cut with gold. Grimm, German Mythology4 ii. 1001. On the objection to the use of iron in such cases, see Liebrecht, Gervasius von Tilbury, p. 103; and above, vol. i. p. 177 sqq.
- 767.
- Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. § 249 sqq. On the Celtic worship of the oak, see also Maximus Tyrius, Dissertation. viii. 8, Κελτοὶ σέβουσι μὲν Δία ἄγαλμα δὲ Διὸς Κελτικὸν ὐψηλὴ δρῦς. With this mode of gathering the mistletoe compare the following. In Cambodia when a man perceives a certain parasitic plant growing on a tamarind-tree, he dresses in white and taking a new earthen pot climbs the tree at mid-day. He puts the plant in the pot and lets the whole fall to the ground. Then in the pot he makes a decoction which renders invulnerable. Aymonier, "Notes on the customs and superstitious beliefs of the Cambodians," in Cochinchina, French Excursions and Explorations, No. 16, p. 136.
- 768.
- Wuttke, German folk beliefs,2 § 123; Grohmann, Superstitions and customs from Bohemia and Moravia, §§ 673-677; Gubernatis, Plant Mythology, ii. 144 sqq.; Friend, Flower Meanings and Symbolism, p. 362; Brand, Famous Antiques, i. 314 sqq.; Vonbun, Contributions to German Mythology, p. 133 sqq.; Burne and Jackson, Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 242. Cp. Archaeological Insights, i. 164 sqq.
- 769.
- Brand, Famous Artifacts, i. 307, 312; Dyer, Plant Lore, pp. 62, 286; Friend, Flowers and Flower Traditions, pp. 147, 149, 150, 540; Wuttke, § 134.
- 770.
- Grimm, D. M.4 i. 514 sq., ii. 1013 sq., iii. 356; Grohmann, op. cit. § 635-637; Friend, op. cit. p. 75; Gubernatis, Plant Myths, i. 189 sq., ii. 16 sqq.
- 771.
- Aubrey, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism, p. 25 sq.; Brand, Pop. Ant. i. 329 sqq.; Friend, p. 136.
- 772.
- Brand, i. 333.
- 773.
- Grohmann, § 1426.
- 774.
- Grohmann, § 648.
- 775.
- Grohmann, § 681; Wuttke, § 134; Rochholz, German Beliefs and Traditions, i. 9; Gubernatis, Plant Mythology, i. 190.
- 776.
- Grimm, D. M.4 iii. 78, 353.
- 777.
- Gubernatis, Mythology of Plants, ii. 73.
- 778.
- Friend, Flowers and Flower Myths, p. 378. Hunters believe that the mistletoe heals all wounds and brings luck in hunting. Kuhn, Herald of the Fire,2 p. 206.
- 779.
- Grimm, D. M.4 ii. 1009.
- 780.
- L. Lloyd, Life of Swedish Peasants, p. 269.
- 781.
- Lloyd, op. cit. p. 259; Grimm, D. M.4 i. 517 sq.
- 782.
- Lloyd, l.c.
- 783.
- Grimm, D. M.4 iii. 78, who adds, “Do the Johannisfeuer remind us of Baldr’s funeral pyre?” This pregnant hint, which contains in germ the solution of the whole myth, has been quite lost on the mythologists who since Grimm's day have enveloped the subject in a cloud of learned dust.
- 784.
- Above, p. 285, and vol. i. pp. 58, 64.
- 785.
- Grimm, D. M.4 i. 55 sq., 58 sq., ii. 542, iii. 187 sq.
- 786.
- Preller, Roman Mythology3 i. 108.
- 787.
- Livy, i. 10. Cp. C. Bötticher, The tree worship of the Greeks, p. 133 sq.
- 788.
- Bötticher, op. cit. p. 111 sqq.; Preller, Greek Mythology4 ed. C. Robert, i. 122 sqq.
- 789.
- Without hazarding an opinion on the vexed question of the primitive home of the Aryans, I may observe that in various parts of Europe the oak seems to have been formerly more common than it is now. In Denmark the present beech woods were preceded by oak woods and these by the Scotch fir. Lyell, *The Age of Humanity*, p. 9; J. Geikie, Ancient Europe, p. 486 squared In parts of North Germany it appears from the evidence of archives that the fir has ousted the oak. O. Schrader, Language Comparison and Prehistory,2 (Jena, 1890), p. 394. In prehistoric times the oak appears to have been the chief tree in the forests which clothed the valley of the Po; the piles on which the pile villages rested were of oak. W. Helbig, The Italics in the Po Valley, p. 25 sq. The classical tradition that in the olden time men subsisted largely on acorns is borne out by the evidence of the pile villages in Northern Italy, in which great quantities of acorns have been discovered. See Helbig, op. cit. pp. 16 sq., 26, 72 sq.
- 790.
- Above, p. 265 sq.
- 791.
- Praetorius, Prussian Delights, p. 19 sec. Mr. Ralston states (on what authority I do not know) that if the fire maintained in honour of the Lithuanian god Perkunas went out, it was rekindled by sparks struck from a stone which the image of the god held in his hand. Russian Folk Songs, p. 88.
- 792.
- Grimm, D. M.4 i. 502, 503; Kuhn, Origin of the Fire,2 p. 43; Pröhle, Harz images, p. 75; Bartsch, Tales, stories, and traditions from Mecklenburg, ii. 150; Rochholz, German Faith and Custom, ii. 148. The writer who styles himself Montanus says (German festivals, etc., p. 127) that the need-fire was made by the friction of oak and fir. Sometimes it is said that the need-fire should be made with nine different kinds of wood (Grimm, D. M.4 i. 503, 505; Wolf, Contributions to German Mythology, ii. 380; Jahn, German victim rituals, p. 27); but the kinds of wood are not specified.
- 793.
- John Ramsay, Scotland and Scotsmen in the 18th Century, ii. 442; Grimm, D. M.4 i. 506. See above, p. 255.
- 794.
- Above, vol. i. p. 58.
- 795.
- Montanus, German festivals, etc., p. 127.
- 796.
- Above, vol. i. p. 100.
- 797.
- Mary Frere, Old Deccan Days, p. 12 sqq.
- 798.
- Maive Stokes, Indian Fairy Tales, p. 58 sqq. For similar stories, see id. p. 187 sq.; Lal Behari Day, Bengal Folk Tales, p. 121 sq.; F. A. Steel and R. C. Temple, Wide-awake Stories, p. 58 sqq.
- 799.
- Vintage Deccan Days, p. 239 sqq.
- 800.
- Lal Behari Day, op. cit. p. 1 sqq. For similar stories of necklaces, see Old Deccan Days, p. 233 sq.; Wide-awake Stories, p. 83 sqq.
- 801.
- J. H. Knowles, Kashmiri Folk Tales (London, 1888), p. 49 sq.
- 802.
- J. H. Knowles, Kashmir Folktales (London, 1888), p. 134.
- 803.
- Id. p. 382 sqq.
- 804.
- Lal Behari Day, op. cit. p. 85 sq., cp. id. p. 253 sqq.; Indian Antiquary, i. (1872) 117. For an Indian story in which a giant's life is in five black bees, see Clouston, Popular Stories and Fictions, i. 350.
- 805.
- *Indian Antiquary*, i. 171.
- 806.
- A. Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, iv. 340 sq.
- 807.
- Lal Behari Day, op. cit. p. 189.
- 808.
- Wide-awake Stories, pp. 52, 64.
- 809.
- G. W. Leitner, The Languages and Races of Dardistan, p. 9.
- 810.
- Apollodorus, i. 8; Diodorus, iv. 34;
Pausanias, x. 31, 4; Aeschylus, Choeph.
604
- 811.
- Apollodorus, iii. 15, 8; Aeschylus, Choeph. 612 sqq.; Pausanias, i. 19, 4. According to Tzetzes (Commentary on Lycophron, 650) not the life but the strength of Nisus was in his golden hair; when it was pulled out, he became weak and was slain by Minos. According to Hyginus (Awesome. 198) Nisus was destined to reign only so long as he kept the purple lock on his head.
- 812.
- Apollodorus, ii. 4, §§ 5, 7.
- 813.
- Hahn, Greek and Albanian Fairy Tales, i. p. 217; a similar story, id. ii. p. 282.
- 814.
- Hahn, op. cit. ii. p. 215 sq.
- 815.
- Same here. ii. p. 275 sq. Similar stories, id. ii. pp. 204, 294 sq. In an Albanian story a monster's strength is in three pigeons, which are in a hare, which is in the silver tusk of a wild boar. When the boar is killed, the monster feels ill; when the hare is cut open, he can hardly stand on his feet; when the three pigeons are killed, he expires. Dozon, Albanian Tales, p. 132 sq.
- 816.
- Hahn, op. cit. ii. p. 260 sqq.
- 817.
- Id. i. p. 187.
- 818.
- Id. ii. p. 23 sq.
- 819.
- Legrand, Greek Folktales, p. 191 sqq.
- 820.
- Plutarch, Parallela, 26. In both the Greek and Italian stories the subject of quarrel between nephew and uncles is the skin of a boar, which the nephew presented to his lady-love and which his uncles took from her.
- 821.
- Basile, Pentamerone, ii. p. 60 sx. (Liebrecht's German trans.)
- 822.
- R. H. Busk, Roman Folklore, p. 164 sqq.
- 823.
- Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 103 sq.; so Dietrich, Russian Folk Tales, p. 23 sq.
- 824.
- Ralston, op. cit. p. 109.
- 825.
- Ib.
- 826.
- Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 113 sq.
- 827.
- Id., p. 114.
- 828.
- Id., p. 110.
- 829.
- Mijatovics, Serbian Folklore, edited by the Rev. W. Denton, p. 172; F. S. Krauss, Tales and Legends of the South Slavs, i. (No. 34) p. 168 sq.
- 830.
- A. H. Wraitslaw, Sixty Folk Tales from exclusively Slavic sources (London, 1889), p. 225.
- 831.
- Haltrich, German Folk Tales from the Saxon Lands in Transylvania,4 No. 34 (No. 33 of the first ed.), p. 149 sq.
- 832.
- J. W. Wolf, German Fairy Tales and Legends, No. 20, p. 87 sqq.
- 833.
- Strackerjan, Superstitions and Legends from the Duchy of Oldenburg, ii. p. 306 sq.
- 834.
- K. Müllenhoff, Stories, fairy tales, and songs from the duchies of Schleswig-Holstein and Lauenburg, p. 404 sqq.
- 835.
- Asbjörnsen og Moe, Norwegian Folk Tales, No. 36; Dasent, Famous Norse Stories, p. 55 sqq.
- 836.
- Asbjörnsen og Moe, Norwegian Folk Tales, Ny Samling, No. 70; Dasent, Stories from the Mountains, p. 229 ("Boots and the Beasts.")
- 837.
- Mannhardt, Germanic Myths, p. 592; Jamieson, *Scottish Language Dictionary*, s.v. "Christmas."
- 838.
- J. F. Campbell, Famous Stories from the West Highlands, i. p. 10 sq.
- 839.
- J. F. Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands, i. p. 80 sqq.
- 840.
- Sébillot, Folktales of Upper Brittany (Paris, 1885), p. 63 sqq.
- 841.
- F. M. Luzel, Folktales of Lower Brittany (Paris, 1887), i. 445-449.
- 842.
- Maspero, Ancient Egyptian Folktales (Paris, 1882), p. 5 sqq.
- 843.
- Lane's One Thousand and One Nights, iii. 316 sq.
- 844.
- G. Spitta-Bey, Modern Arabic tales (Leyden and Paris, 1883), No. 2, p. 12
sqq. The story in its main
outlines is identical with the Cashmeer story of "The Ogress Queen" (J. H. Knowles, Kashmir Folk Tales, p. 42
) and the Bengalee story of “The Boy Who Was Nursed by Seven Mothers” (Lal Behari Day, Bengal Folk Tales, p. 117 sqq.; Indian Antiquary, i. 170 sqq.) In another Arabian story the life of a witch is bound up with a phial: when it is broken, she dies. W. A. Clouston, A Collection of Eastern Romances and Stories, p. 30. A similar incident occurs in a Cashmeer story. Knowles, op. cit. p. 73. In the Arabian story mentioned in the text, the hero, by a genuine touch of local colour, is made to drink the milk of an ogress's breasts and hence is regarded by her as her son. Cp. W. Robertson Smith, Family and Marriage in Early Arabia, p. 149; and for the same mode of creating kinship among other races, see D'Abbadie, Twelve Years in High Ethiopia, p. 272 sq.; Tausch, "Announcements from the Circassians," Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society i. (1834) p. 104; Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindu Kush, pp. 77, 83 (cp. Leitner, Languages and Ethnicities of Dardistan, p. 34); Denzil Ibbetson, Settlement Report of the Panipat, Tahsil, and Karnal Parganah in the Karnal District, p. 101; Moura, Kingdom of Cambodia, i. 427; F. S. Krauss, Customs and Traditions of the South Slavs, p. 14. - 845.
- Rivière, Popular Tales from the Kabylie of Djurdjura, p. 191.
- 846.
- W. H. Jones and L. L. Kropf, Hungarian Folk Tales (London, 1889), p. 205 sq.
- 847.
- R. H. Busk, Roman Folklore, p. 168.
- 848.
- Castren, Ethnological Lectures on the Altaic Peoples, p. 173 sqq.
- 849.
- Schiefner, Epic Tales of the Minussin Tatars, pp. 172-176.
- 850.
- Schiefner, op. cit. pp. 108-112.
- 851.
- Schiefner, op. cit. pp. 360-364; Castren, Lectures on Finnish Mythology, p. 186 sq.
- 852.
- Schiefner, op. cit. pp. 189-193. In another Tartar poem (Schiefner, op. cit. p. 390 sq.) a boy's soul is shut up by his enemies in a box. While the soul is in the box, the boy is dead; when it is taken out, he is restored to life. In the same poem (p. 384) the soul of a horse is kept shut up in a box, because it is feared the owner of the horse will become the greatest hero on earth. But these cases are, to some extent, the converse of those in the text.
- 853.
- Schott, "About the Legend of Geser Khan," Proceedings of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Berlin, 1851, p. 269.
- 854.
- W. Radloff, Samples of the folk literature of the Turkish tribes in South Siberia, ii. 237 sq.
- 855.
- W. Radloff, op. cit. ii. 531 sqq.
- 856.
- Id., iv. 88 sq.
- 857.
- W. Radloff, work cited i. 345 sq.
- 858.
- G. A. Wilken, "The Simpsons Saga," *The Guide*, 1888, No. 5, p. 6 sqq. (of the separate reprint). Cp. Backer, Indian Ocean, pp. 144-149.
- 859.
- Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, "Report about Nias Island," Transactions of the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences, xxx. p. 111; Sundermann, "Nias Island," General Mission Magazine, xi. (1884) p. 453.
- 860.
- Above, vol. i. p. 134.
- 861.
- B. F. Matthes, Contributions to the Ethnology of South Sulawesi, p. 54.
- 862.
- F. Valentyn, Old and New East Indies, ii. 143 sq.; G. A. Wilken, The Simpsons Saga, p. 15 sq.
- 863.
- Riedel, The curly-haired and frizzy-haired races between Celebes and Papua, p. 137.
- 864.
- B. Schmidt, The social life of modern Greeks, p. 206.
- 865.
- Above, pp. 305, 307, 309, 311.
- 866.
- Ethnography Review, ii. 223.
- 867.
- Bastian, The German expedition on the Loango Coast, i. 165.
- 868.
- Bastian, A visit to San Salvador, p. 103 sq.; id., Humankind in History, iii. 193.
- 869.
- R. Taylor, *Te Ika a Maui; or, New Zealand and its People*,2 p. 184; Dumont D'Urville, Voyage around the world and in search of La Pérouse on the corvette Astrolabe, ii. 444.
- 870.
- Matthes, Contributions to the Ethnology of South Sulawesi, p. 59.
- 871.
- Van Eck, “Sketches of Bali Island,” Journal of the Dutch East Indies, N. S. ix. (1880) p. 417 sq.
- 872.
- G. A. Wilken, The Simpsons, p. 26.
- 873.
- Gubernatis, Plant Mythology, i. xxviii. sq.
- 874.
- W. Mannhardt, B. K. p. 50; Ploss, The child,2 i. 79.
- 875.
- K. Bartsch, Stories, fairy tales, and customs from Mecklenburg, ii. 43, No. 63.
- 876.
- Gentleman's Magazine, October 1804, p. 909, quoted by Brand, Famous Artifacts, iii. 289; W. G. Black, Traditional remedies, pp. 31 sq., 67.
- 877.
- Moore's *Life of Lord Byron*, i. 101.
- 878.
- Cedrenus, Compendium. History. p. 625 b, vol. ii. p. 308, ed. Bekker.
- 879.
- F. Mason, “Physical Traits of the Karens,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1866, pt. ii. p. 9.
- 880.
- Matthes, Makassarsch-Dutch Dictionary, s.v. soemâñgá, p. 569; G. A. Wilken, "Animism among the peoples of the Indonesian Archipelago," The Indian Guide, June 1884, p. 933.
- 881.
- R. H. Codrington, "Notes on the Customs of Mota, Banks Islands." (communicated by the Rev. Lorimer Fison), Journal of the Royal Society of Victoria, xvi. 136.
- 882.
- F. Speckmann, The Hermannsburg Mission in Africa (Hermannsburg, 1876), p. 167.
- 883.
- Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific Coast, i. 661. The words quoted by Bancroft (p. 662, note) “They maintain the belief that their lives are linked to that of an animal, and that they must die when it dies,” are not quite accurately represented by the statement of Bancroft in the text.
- 884.
- Otto Stoll, The Ethnology of the Indigenous Tribes of Guatemala (Leyden, 1889), p. 57 sq.; Bancroft, Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific States, i. 740 sq.; Bastian, The cultural regions of ancient America, ii. 282.
- 885.
- A. W. Howitt, "Additional Notes on the Australian Class Systems," Journ. Anthrop. Inst. xviii. 58.
- 886.
- Gerard Krefft, “Manners and Customs of the Aboriginal People of the Lower Murray and Darling,” Transactions of the Philosophical Society of New South Wales, 1862-65, p. 359 sq.
- 887.
- A. W. Howitt, l.c.
- 888.
- Dawson, Aboriginal Australians, p. 52.
- 889.
- Journal of the Anthropological Institute xiv. 350, xv. 416, xviii. 57 (the "nightjar" is apparently an owl).
- 890.
- Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, pp. 194, 201 sq., 215; Journal of the Anthropological Institute xv. 416, xviii. 56 sq.
- 891.
- The chief facts of totemism have been collected by the present writer in a little work, Totemism (Edinburgh, A. and C. Black, 1887).
- 892.
- (Sir) George Grey, Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North-West and Western Australia, ii. 228 sq.
- 893.
- Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 169.
- 894.
- De la Borde, "Account of the Origin, etc. of the Caribs," p. 15, in Collection of Various Travels Made in Africa and America (Paris, 1684).
- 895.
- Washington Matthews, The Hidatsa Tribe, p. 50.
- 896.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, iii. 248.
- 897.
- I. B. Neumann, "The Pane-en Bila river basin on the island of Sumatra," Journal of the Dutch Geography Society., Tweede Serie, dl. iii. Afdeeling: meer uitgebreide artikelen, No. 2, p. 311 sq.; id., dl. iv. No. 1, p. 8 sq.; Van Hoëvell, “Something about the Battas' warfare,” Journal of the Dutch East Indies, N. S. vii. (1878) p. 434; G. A. Wilken, About the kinship and marriage and inheritance laws among the Malay people, pp. 20 sq., 36; id., Something about the Papuans of Geelvunks Bay, p. 27 sq. (reprint from Contributions to the Language, Geography, and Ethnology of the Dutch East Indies, 5e Volgreeks ii.); Journal of the Anthropological Institute ix. 295; Backer, The Indian Archipelago, p. 470.
- 898.
- B. Hagen, “Contributions to the Knowledge of Battareligion,” Journal of Indian Language, Land, and Ethnology xxviii. 514. J. B. Neumann (op. cit. dl. iii. No. 2, p. 299) is the authority for the seven souls.
- 899.
- Th. Benfey, Panchatantra, i. 128 sq.
- 900.
- A. L. P. Cameron, “Notes on Some Tribes of New South Wales,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute xiv. 358.
- 901.
- A. W. Howitt, "About Australian Medicine Men," Journ. Anthrop. Inst. xvi. 47 sq. On the Bullroarer (a piece of wood fastened to a cord or thong and swung round so as to produce a booming sound), see A. Lang, *Custom and Myth*, p. 29 sqq. The religious use of the Bullroarer is best known in Australia, but in the essay just referred to Mr. Andrew Lang has shown that the instrument has been similarly employed not only in South Africa and by the Zunis of New Mexico, but also by the ancient Greeks in their religious mysteries. As a sacred instrument it also occurs in Western Africa (R. F. Burton, Abeokuta and the Cameroon Mountains, i. 197 sq.; Bouche, The Coast of Slaves, p. 124), and in New Guinea (J. Chalmers, Innovating in New Guinea, p. 85).
- 902.
- A. W. Howitt, "During certain Australian initiation ceremonies," Journal of the Anthropological Institute xiii. 453 sq. The "class-name" is the name of the totemic division to which the man belongs.
- 903.
- L. Fison, "The Nanga, or sacred stone enclosure of Wainimala, Fiji," Journ. Anthropological Institute xiv. 22.
- 904.
- W. H. Bentley, *Life on the Congo* (London, 1887), p. 78 sq.
- 905.
- A. Bastian, A visit to San Salvador, pp. 82 sq. 86.
- 906.
- Bastian, The German expedition on the Loango coast, ii. 183; cp. id., pp. 15-18, 30 sq. On these initiatory rites in the Congo region see also H. H. Johnston in Proceed. Royal Geographical Society. N. S. v. (1883) p. 572 sq., and in Journ. Anthropology Inst. xiii. 472; E. Delmar Morgan, in Proceed. Royal Geographical Society. N. S. vi. 193.
- 907.
- Dapper, Description of Africa, p. 268 sq. Dapper's account has been abbreviated in the text.
- 908.
- (Beverley's) *History of Virginia* (London, 1722), p. 177 sq.
- 909.
- J. Carver, Journeys through the Interior Regions of North America, pp. 271-275.
- 910.
- Carver, op. cit. p. 277 sq.; Schoolcraft, *Indian Tribes*, iii. 287, v. 430 sqq.; Kohl, Kitschi-Gami, i. 64-70.
- 911.
- Story of the Adventures and Hardships of John R. Jewitt (Middletown, 1820), p. 119.
- 912.
- Id., p. 44. For the age of the prince, see id., p. 35.
- 913.
- Holmberg, "About the Peoples of Russian America," Journal of the Finnish Society of Sciences, iv. (Helsingfors, 1856) pp. 292 sqq., 328; Petroff, Report on the Population, etc. of Alaska, p. 165 sec.; A. Krause, Die Tlingit people, p. 112; R. C. Mayne, Four years in British Columbia and Vancouver Island, p. 257 sq., 268.
- 914.
- Schoolcraft, Indigenous Tribes, v. 683. In a letter dated 16th Dec. 1887, Mr. A. S. Gatschet, of the Bureau of Ethnology, Washington, writes to me: "Among the Toukawe I encountered at Fort Griffin in Texas in 1884, I observed that they never kill the large or gray wolf, hatchukunän, which holds mythological significance, ‘holding the earth’ (hatch). This wolf is part of one of their totem clans, and they have a dance in his honor, which is performed only by the males carrying sticks."
- 915.
- Reina, "About the inhabitants of Rook Island," Journal of General Geography, N. F. iv. (1858) p. 356 sq.
- 916.
- R. Parkinson, In the Bismarck Archipelago, pp. 129-134; Rev. G. Brown, "Notes on the Duke of York Group, New Britain, and New Ireland," Journal of the Royal Geographical Society xlvii. (1878) p. 148 sq.; H. H. Romilly, "The Islands of the New Britain Group," Go ahead. Royal Geogr. Soc. N. S. ix. (1887) p. 11 sq.; Rev. G. Brown, ibid. p. 17; W. Powell, Explorations in a Wild Country, pp. 60-66; C. Hager, Kaiser Wilhelm's Land and the Bismarck Archipelago, pp. 115-128. The inhabitants of these islands are divided into two exogamous classes, which in the Duke of York Island have two insects for their totems. One of the insects is the mantis religiosus; the other is an insect that mimicks the leaf of the horse-chestnut tree very closely. Rev. B. Danks, "Marriage customs of the New Britain Group," Journal of the Anthropological Institute xviii. 281 sq.
- 917.
- J. G. F. Riedel, “Galela and Tobeloresen,” Journal of Ethnology, xvii. (1885) p. 81 sq.
- 918.
- The Kakian association and its initiatory ceremonies have often been described. See Valentyn, Old and new East Indies, iii. 3 sq.; Von Schmid, “The Kakihansch Alliance on the island of Ceram,” Journal of the Netherlands Indies, v. dl. ii. (1843) 25-38; Van Ekris, "HetCeramsche Kakianverbond," Reports from the Netherlands Missionary Society, (1865) ix. 205-226 (repeated with slight changes in Journal of the Indonesian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xvi. 1866, pp. 290-315); F. Fournier, “South Coast of Ceram,” Journal of Indian Language, Land, and Anthropology, xvi. 154 sqq.; Van Rees, The Pioneers of Civilization in the Dutch East Indies, pp. 92-106; Van Hoëvell, Ambon and more specifically the Oeliasers, p. 153 sqq.; Schulze, "About Ceram and its inhabitants," Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology, etc. (1877) p. 117; W. Joest, "Contributions to the Knowledge of the Natives of the Island of Formosa and Ceram," id. (1882), p. 64; Rosenberg, The Malay Archipelago, p. 318; Bastian, Indonesia, i. 145-148; Riedel, The curly-haired and straight-haired races between Sulawesi and Papua, pp. 107-111. The best accounts are those of Valentyn, Von Schmid, Van Ekris, Van Rees, and Riedel, which are accordingly followed in the text.
- 919.
- Manusmriti, ii. 169, trans. by Bühler; Dubois, Customs, Institutions, and Ceremonies of the Peoples of India, i. 125; Monier Williams, Religion and Spirituality in India, pp. 360 sq. 366 sq.
- 920.
- Lampridius, Commodus, 9; C. W. King, *The Gnostics and Their Remains*,2 pp. 127, 129.
- 921.
- Above, p. 309.
- 922.
- Above, p. 312 sq.
- 923.
- Above, p. 308 sq.
- 924.
- Above, p. 324 sq. In the myth the throwing of the weapons and of the mistletoe at Balder and the blindness of Hödur who slew him remind us of the custom of the Irish reapers who kill the corn-spirit in the last sheaf by throwing their sickles blindfold at it. (See above, vol. i. p. 339). In Mecklenburg a cock is sometimes buried in the ground and a man who is blindfolded strikes at it with a flail. If he misses it, another tries, and so on till the cock is killed. Bartsch, Stories, fairy tales, and traditions from Mecklenburg, ii. 280. In England on Shrove Tuesday a hen used to be tied upon a man's back, and other men blindfolded struck at it with branches till they killed it. Dyer, UK Traditions, p. 68. Mannhardt (The Grain Demons, p. 16 sq.) has made it probable that such sports are directly derived from the custom of killing a cock upon the harvest-field as a representative of the corn-spirit (see above, p. 9). These customs, therefore, combined with the blindness of Hödur in the myth suggest that the man who killed the human representative of the oak-spirit was blindfolded, and threw his weapon or the mistletoe from a little distance. After the Lapps had killed a bear—which was the occasion of many superstitious ceremonies—the bear's skin was hung on a post, and the women, blindfolded, shot arrows at it. Scheffer, Lapland, p. 240.
- 925.
- Grimm, German Mythology,4 ii. 1001, 1010.
- 926.
- Folklore Journal, vii. 61.
- 927.
- Col. E. T. Dalton, “The Kols of Chotanagpur,” Trans. Ethnol. Soc. vi. 36.
- 928.
- Jens Kamp, Danske Folkeminder (Odense, 1877), pp. 172, 65 sq. referred to in Feilberg's Contributions to a Dictionary of Jutlandic Dialects, Fjerde hefte (Copenhagen, 1888), p. 320. For a sight of Feilberg's work I am indebted to the kindness of the Rev. Walter Gregor, M.A., Pitsligo, who pointed out the passage to me.
- 929.
- E. T. Kristensen, Iydske Folk Tales, vi. 380, referred to by Feilberg, l.c.
- 930.
- Wuttke, German folk superstition,2 § 128; L. Lloyd, *Life of Peasants in Sweden*, p. 269.
- 931.
- Extract from a newspaper, copied and sent to me by the Rev. Walter Gregor, M.A., Pitsligo. Mr. Gregor does not mention the name of the newspaper.
- 932.
- Martin, "Description of the Western Islands of Scotland," in Pinkerton's Trips and Journeys, iii. 661
- 933.
- Rochholz, German Faith and Customs, i. 9.
- 934.
- Virgil, Aen. vi. 203 sqq., cp. 136 sqq. On the mistletoe (mistletoe) see Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 245 sqq.
- 935.
- Virgil (Aen. vi. 201 sqq.) places the Golden Bough in the neighbourhood of Lake Avernus. But this was probably a poetical liberty, adopted for the convenience of Aeneas's descent to the infernal world. Italian tradition, as we learn from Servius, placed the Golden Bough in the grove at Nemi.
- 936.
- See above, vol. i. p. 4 sq.
- 937.
- A custom of annually burning a human representative of the corn-spirit has been noted among the Egyptians, Pawnees, and Khonds. See above, vol. i. pp. 382, 387, 401 sq. In Semitic lands there are traces of a practice of annually burning a human god. For the image of Hercules (that is, of Baal) which was periodically burned on a pyre at Tarsus, must have been a substitute for a human representative of the god. See Dio Chrysostom, Orat. 33, vol. ii. p. 16, ed. Dindorf; W. R. Smith, Semitic Religion, i. 353 sq. The Druids seem to have eaten portions of the human victim. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxx. § 13. Perhaps portions of the flesh of the King of the Wood were eaten by his worshippers as a sacrament. We have seen traces of the use of sacramental bread at Nemi. See above, p. 82 sq.
- 938.
- Grimm, German Mythology, ii. 1009, pren puraur.
- 939.
- Virgil, Aen. vi. 137 sq.
- 940.
- Grohmann, Beliefs and Customs from Bohemia and Moravia, § 673.
- 941.
- Grohmann, op. cit. § 676; Wuttke, German folk beliefs, § 123.
- 942.
- Zingerle, Customs, Traditions, and Opinions of the Tyrolean People,2 § 882.
- 943.
- Zingerle, op. cit. § 1573.
- 944.
- Grohmann, op. cit. § 675; Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 98.
- 945.
- L. Bechstein, German Fairy Tale Book No. 500; same., Thuringian Tales Book (Leipzig, 1885), ii. No. 161.
- 946.
- For gathering it at midsummer, see above, p. 289. The custom of gathering it at Christmas still survives among ourselves. At York "On the night before Christmas, they bring mistletoe to the high altar of the cathedral and announce a public and universal liberty, forgiveness, and freedom to all kinds of lesser and even wicked people at the city gates, in all directions." Stukeley, Medal History of Carausius, quoted by Brand, Trending Artifacts, i. 525. This last custom is of course now obsolete.
- 947.
- Afzelius, Folk tales and folk songs from Sweden's earlier and more recent times, i. 41 sq.; Grimm, German Mythology,4 iii. 289; L. Lloyd, Rural Living in Sweden, p. 266 sq.
- 948.
- Above, p. 293.
- 949.
- Fern-seed is supposed to bloom at Easter as well as at midsummer and Christmas (Ralston, Russian Folk Songs, p. 98 sq.); and Easter, as we have seen, is one of the times when sun-fires are kindled.
- 950.
- Burne and Jackson, Shropshire Folklore, p. 242.
- 951.
- P. 288.
- 952.
-
The reason why Virgil represents Aeneas as taking the mistletoe with him to Hades is perhaps that the mistletoe was supposed to repel evil spirits (see above, p. 362). Hence when Charon is disposed to bluster at Aeneas, the sight of the Golden Bough quiets him (Aen. vi. 406 sq.) Perhaps also the power ascribed to the mistletoe of laying bare the secrets of the earth may have suggested its use as a kind of “open Sesame” to the lower world. Compare Aen. vi. 140 sq.—
The reason Virgil shows Aeneas bringing mistletoe with him to Hades might be that mistletoe was believed to ward off evil spirits (see above, p. 362). So when Charon is ready to confront Aeneas, the sight of the Golden Bough calms him (Aen. vi. 406 sq.). Additionally, the power attributed to mistletoe to reveal the secrets of the earth may have inspired its role as a sort of “open says me” to the underworld. Compare Aen. vi. 140 sq.—
“Sed non ante datur telluris operta subire,
Auricomos quam qui decerpserit arbore fetus.”“But you can't start working the land until you've picked the fruit from the tree.”
- 953.
- The Edda, übersetzt von K. Simrock,8 p. 264.
- 954.
- On the derivation of the names Zeus and Jove from a root meaning “shiny,” “vibrant,” see Curtius, Greek Etymology,5 p. 236; Vanič, Greek-Latin Etymological Dictionary, p. 353 sqq. On the relation of Jove to the oak, compare Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. § 3, The types of trees dedicated to their deities are preserved forever, like the oak for Jupiter; Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 332, every oak is sacred to Jupiter. Zeus and Jupiter have commonly been regarded as sky gods, because their names are etymologically connected with the Sanscrit word for sky. The reason seems insufficient.
- 955.
- Casalis, The Basutos, p. 251 sq.
- 956.
- Ib. p. 252.
- 957.
- Casalis, The Basotho, p. 252 sq.
- 958.
- A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking People of the Gold Coast, p. 229 sq.; T. E. Bowdich, Mission to Ashanti, p. 226 sq. (ed. 1873.)
- 959.
- J. Cameron, "On the Early Inhabitants of Madagascar," Antananarivo Annual & Madagascar Magazine, iii. 263.
- 960.
- Bastian, The peoples of East Asia, ii. 105.
- 961.
- Dalton, *Ethnology of Bengal*, p. 91.
- 962.
- Dalton, op. cit. p. 198.
- 963.
- Thomas Shaw, “The People Living in the Hills Near Rajamahall,” Asian Researches, iv. 56 sq.
- 964.
- Panjab Notes and Queries, i. No. 502.
- 965.
- This is curiously unlike the custom of ancient Italy, in most parts of which women were forbidden by law to walk on the highroads twirling a spindle, because this was supposed to injure the crops. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. § 28.
- 966.
- D. C. J. Ibbetson, *Outlines of Punjab Ethnography* (Calcutta, 1883), p. 119.
- 967.
- Fr. Junghuhn, The Battaländer in Sumatra, ii. 312.
- 968.
- Spenser St. John, Life in the Forests of the Far East, i. 191. On taboos observed at agricultural operations, see id. i. 185; R. G. Woodthorpe, “Wild Tribes Living in the Naga Hills,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute xi. 71; Aotearoa, by a Pakeha Maori (London, 1884), p. 103 sq.; R. Taylor, The Fish of Maui; or, New Zealand and its People,2 p. 165 squared; E. Tregear, "The Māori of New Zealand," Journal of Anthropology Institute xix. 110.
- 969.
- B. F. Matthes, Concise Report of my travels in the interior of Celebes, in the years 1857 and 1861, p. 5.
- 970.
- N. Graafland, De Minahassa, i. 165.
- 971.
- J. G. F. Riedel, The curly-haired and hidden races between Sulawesi and Papua, p. 107.
- 972.
- Riedel, op. cit. pp. 281, 296 sq.
- 973.
- Fr. Valentyn, Old and New East Indies, iii. 10.
- 974.
- C. Semper, The Philippines and its people, p. 56.
- 975.
- Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or sacred stone enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," Journal of the Anthropological Institute xiv. 27.
- 976.
- J. E. Erskine, Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific, p. 252.
- 977.
- Turner, Samoa, p. 318 sq.
- 978.
- Horatio Hale, United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnology and Philology, p. 97.
- 979.
- The malai is "An area of land, usually in front of a large house or a chief's grave, where public ceremonies primarily take place." Mariner, Tonga Islands, Terms.
- 980.
- The mataboole is "a rank just below chiefs or nobles." Ib.
- 981.
- W. Mariner, Report on the Natives of the Tonga Islands (London, 1818), ii. 196-203.
- 982.
- Ch. Wilkes, Story of the United States Exploring Expedition, ii. 133.
- 983.
- Turner, Samoa, p. 70 sq.
- 984.
- Ellis, Polynesian Studies, i. 350.
- 985.
- Tyerman and Bennet, *Journal of Adventures and Travels*, i. 284.
- 986.
- Geiseler, The Oyster Island (Berlin, 1883), p. 31.
- 987.
- E. Tregear, “The Māori of New Zealand,” Journ. Anthrop. Inst. xix. 110.
- 988.
- Hartknoch, Old and New Prussia, p. 161; id., Historical dissertations on various Prussian matters, p. 163 (appended to his edition of Dusburg's Chronicle of Prussia). Cp. W. Mannhardt, The Grain Demons, p. 27.
- 989.
- Festus, s.v. sacrima, p. 319, ed. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. § 8.
- 990.
- Chateaubriand, Trip to America, pp. 130-136 (Michel Lévy, Paris, 1870).
Chateaubriand's description is probably based on earlier accounts,
which I have been unable to trace. Compare, however, Le Petit,
“Natchez Relations” in
, ix. 13 sq. (Amsterdam edition); De Tonti, "Report on Louisiana and the Mississippi," ib. v. 122; Charlevoix, History of New France, vi. 183; Enlightening and Curious Letters, vii. 18 sq.
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