The Golden Bough

                     A Study in Comparative Religion

                                    By

                        James George Frazer, M.A.

                   Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge

                             In Two Volumes.

                                 Vol. I.

                           New York and London

                            MacMillan and Co.

                                   1894





CONTENTS


Dedication.
Preface.
Chapter I. The King Of The Wood.
   § 1.—The Arician Grove.
   § 2.—Primitive man and the supernatural.
   § 3.—Incarnate gods.
   § 4.—Tree-worship.
   § 5.—Tree-worship in antiquity.
Chapter II. The Perils Of The Soul.
   § 1.—Royal and priestly taboos.
   § 2.—The nature of the soul.
   § 3.—Royal and priestly taboos (continued).
Chapter III. Killing The God.
   § 1.—Killing the divine king.
   § 2.—Killing the tree-spirit.
   § 3.—Carrying out Death.
   § 4.—Adonis.
   § 5.—Attis.
   § 6.—Osiris.
   § 7.—Dionysus.
   § 8.—Demeter and Proserpine.
   § 9.—Lityerses.
Footnotes






                               [Cover Art]

[Transcriber’s Note: The above cover image was produced by the submitter
at Distributed Proofreaders, and is being placed into the public domain.]

                              [Frontispiece]





DEDICATION.


To My Friend

WILLIAM ROBERTSON SMITH

In Gratitude And Admiration





PREFACE.


For some time I have been preparing a general work on primitive
superstition and religion. Among the problems which had attracted my
attention was the hitherto unexplained rule of the Arician priesthood; and
last spring it happened that in the course of my reading I came across
some facts which, combined with others I had noted before, suggested an
explanation of the rule in question. As the explanation, if correct,
promised to throw light on some obscure features of primitive religion, I
resolved to develop it fully, and, detaching it from my general work, to
issue it as a separate study. This book is the result.

Now that the theory, which necessarily presented itself to me at first in
outline, has been worked out in detail, I cannot but feel that in some
places I may have pushed it too far. If this should prove to have been the
case, I will readily acknowledge and retract my error as soon as it is
brought home to me. Meantime my essay may serve its purpose as a first
attempt to solve a difficult problem, and to bring a variety of scattered
facts into some sort of order and system.

A justification is perhaps needed of the length at which I have dwelt upon
the popular festivals observed by European peasants in spring, at
midsummer, and at harvest. It can hardly be too often repeated, since it
is not yet generally recognised, that in spite of their fragmentary
character the popular superstitions and customs of the peasantry are by
far the fullest and most trustworthy evidence we possess as to the
primitive religion of the Aryans. Indeed the primitive Aryan, in all that
regards his mental fibre and texture, is not extinct. He is amongst us to
this day. The great intellectual and moral forces which have
revolutionised the educated world have scarcely affected the peasant. In
his inmost beliefs he is what his forefathers were in the days when forest
trees still grew and squirrels played on the ground where Rome and London
now stand.

Hence every inquiry into the primitive religion of the Aryans should
either start from the superstitious beliefs and observances of the
peasantry, or should at least be constantly checked and controlled by
reference to them. Compared with the evidence afforded by living
tradition, the testimony of ancient books on the subject of early religion
is worth very little. For literature accelerates the advance of thought at
a rate which leaves the slow progress of opinion by word of mouth at an
immeasurable distance behind. Two or three generations of literature may
do more to change thought than two or three thousand years of traditional
life. But the mass of the people who do not read books remain unaffected
by the mental revolution wrought by literature; and so it has come about
that in Europe at the present day the superstitious beliefs and practices
which have been handed down by word of mouth are generally of a far more
archaic type than the religion depicted in the most ancient literature of
the Aryan race.

It is on these grounds that, in discussing the meaning and origin of an
ancient Italian priesthood, I have devoted so much attention to the
popular customs and superstitions of modern Europe. In this part of my
subject I have made great use of the works of the late W. Mannhardt,
without which, indeed, my book could scarcely have been written. Fully
recognising the truth of the principles which I have imperfectly stated,
Mannhardt set himself systematically to collect, compare, and explain the
living superstitions of the peasantry. Of this wide field the special
department which he marked out for himself was the religion of the woodman
and the farmer, in other words, the superstitious beliefs and rites
connected with trees and cultivated plants. By oral inquiry, and by
printed questions scattered broadcast over Europe, as well as by
ransacking the literature of folk-lore, he collected a mass of evidence,
part of which he published in a series of admirable works. But his health,
always feeble, broke down before he could complete the comprehensive and
really vast scheme which he had planned, and at his too early death much
of his precious materials remained unpublished. His manuscripts are now
deposited in the University Library at Berlin, and in the interest of the
study to which he devoted his life it is greatly to be desired that they
should be examined, and that such portions of them as he has not utilised
in his books should be given to the world.

Of his published works the most important are, first, two tracts,
_Roggenwolf und Roggenhund_, Danzig 1865 (second edition, Danzig, 1866),
and _Die Korndämonen_, Berlin, 1868. These little works were put forward
by him tentatively, in the hope of exciting interest in his inquiries and
thereby securing the help of others in pursuing them. But, except from a
few learned societies, they met with very little attention. Undeterred by
the cold reception accorded to his efforts he worked steadily on, and in
1875 published his chief work, _Der Baumkultus der Germanen und ihrer
Nachbarstämme_. This was followed in 1877 by _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_.
His _Mythologische Forschungen_, a posthumous work, appeared in 1884.(1)

Much as I owe to Mannhardt, I owe still more to my friend Professor W.
Robertson Smith. My interest in the early history of society was first
excited by the works of Dr. E. B. Tylor, which opened up a mental vista
undreamed of by me before. But it is a long step from a lively interest in
a subject to a systematic study of it; and that I took this step is due to
the influence of my friend W. Robertson Smith. The debt which I owe to the
vast stores of his knowledge, the abundance and fertility of his ideas,
and his unwearied kindness, can scarcely be overestimated. Those who know
his writings may form some, though a very inadequate, conception of the
extent to which I have been influenced by him. The views of sacrifice set
forth in his article “Sacrifice” in the _Encyclopaedia __ Britannica_, and
further developed in his recent work, _The Religion of the Semites_, mark
a new departure in the historical study of religion, and ample traces of
them will be found in this book. Indeed the central idea of my essay—the
conception of the slain god—is derived directly, I believe, from my
friend. But it is due to him to add that he is in no way responsible for
the general explanation which I have offered of the custom of slaying the
god. He has read the greater part of the proofs in circumstances which
enhanced the kindness, and has made many valuable suggestions which I have
usually adopted; but except where he is cited by name, or where the views
expressed coincide with those of his published works, he is not to be
regarded as necessarily assenting to any of the theories propounded in
this book.

The works of Professor G. A. Wilken of Leyden have been of great service
in directing me to the best original authorities on the Dutch East Indies,
a very important field to the ethnologist. To the courtesy of the Rev.
Walter Gregor, M.A., of Pitsligo, I am indebted for some interesting
communications which will be found acknowledged in their proper places.
Mr. Francis Darwin has kindly allowed me to consult him on some botanical
questions. The manuscript authorities to which I occasionally refer are
answers to a list of ethnological questions which I am circulating. Most
of them will, I hope, be published in the _Journal of the Anthropological
Institute_.

The drawing of the Golden Bough which adorns the cover is from the pencil
of my friend Professor J. H. Middleton. The constant interest and sympathy
which he has shown in the progress of the book have been a great help and
encouragement to me in writing it.

The Index has been compiled by Mr. A. Rogers, of the University Library,
Cambridge.

J. G. FRAZER.

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,
_8th March 1890_.





CHAPTER I. THE KING OF THE WOOD.


    “The still glassy lake that sleeps
            Beneath Aricia’s trees—
    Those trees in whose dim shadow
            The ghastly priest doth reign,
    The priest who slew the slayer,
            And shall himself be slain.”

    MACAULAY.




§ 1.—The Arician Grove.


Who does not know Turner’s picture of the Golden Bough? The scene,
suffused with the golden glow of imagination in which the divine mind of
Turner steeped and transfigured even the fairest natural landscape, is a
dream-like vision of the little woodland lake of Nemi, “Diana’s Mirror,”
as it was called by the ancients. No one who has seen that calm water,
lapped in a green hollow of the Alban hills, can ever forget it. The two
characteristic Italian villages which slumber on its banks, and the
equally Italian palazzo whose terraced gardens descend steeply to the
lake, hardly break the stillness and even the solitariness of the scene.
Dian herself might still linger by this lonely shore, still haunt these
woodlands wild.

In antiquity this sylvan landscape was the scene of a strange and
recurring tragedy. On the northern shore of the lake, right under the
precipitous cliffs on which the modern village of Nemi is perched, stood
the sacred grove and sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis, or Diana of the
Wood.(2) The lake and the grove were sometimes known as the lake and grove
of Aricia.(3) But the town of Aricia (the modern La Riccia) was situated
about three miles off, at the foot of the Alban Mount, and separated by a
steep descent from the lake, which lies in a small crater-like hollow on
the mountain side. In this sacred grove there grew a certain tree round
which at any time of the day and probably far into the night a strange
figure might be seen to prowl. In his hand he carried a drawn sword, and
he kept peering warily about him as if every instant he expected to be set
upon by an enemy.(4) He was a priest and a murderer; and the man for whom
he looked was sooner or later to murder him and hold the priesthood in his
stead. Such was the rule of the sanctuary. A candidate for the priesthood
could only succeed to office by slaying the priest, and having slain him
he held office till he was himself slain by a stronger or a craftier.

This strange rule has no parallel in classical antiquity, and cannot be
explained from it. To find an explanation we must go farther afield. No
one will probably deny that such a custom savours of a barbarous age and,
surviving into imperial times, stands out in striking isolation from the
polished Italian society of the day, like a primeval rock rising from a
smooth-shaven lawn. It is the very rudeness and barbarity of the custom
which allow us a hope of explaining it. For recent researches into the
early history of man have revealed the essential similarity with which,
under many superficial differences, the human mind has elaborated its
first crude philosophy of life. Accordingly if we can show that a
barbarous custom, like that of the priesthood of Nemi, has existed
elsewhere; if we can detect the motives which led to its institution; if
we can prove that these motives have operated widely, perhaps universally,
in human society, producing in varied circumstances a variety of
institutions specifically different but generically alike; if we can show,
lastly, that these very motives, with some of their derivative
institutions, were actually at work in classical antiquity; then we may
fairly infer that at a remoter age the same motives gave birth to the
priesthood of Nemi. Such an inference, in default of direct evidence as to
how the priesthood did actually arise, can never amount to demonstration.
But it will be more or less probable according to the degree of
completeness with which it fulfils the conditions indicated above. The
object of this book is, by meeting these conditions, to offer a fairly
probable explanation of the priesthood of Nemi.

I begin by setting forth the few facts and legends which have come down to
us on the subject. According to one story the worship of Diana at Nemi was
instituted by Orestes, who, after killing Thoas, King of the Tauric
Chersonese (the Crimea), fled with his sister to Italy, bringing with him
the image of the Tauric Diana. The bloody ritual which legend ascribed to
that goddess is familiar to classical readers; it is said that every
stranger who landed on the shore was sacrificed on her altar. But
transported to Italy, the rite assumed a milder form. Within the sanctuary
at Nemi grew a certain tree of which no branch might be broken. Only a
runaway slave was allowed to break off, if he could, one of its boughs.
Success in the attempt entitled him to fight the priest in single combat,
and if he slew him he reigned in his stead with the title of King of the
Wood (_Rex Nemorensis_). Tradition averred that the fateful branch was
that Golden Bough which, at the Sibyl’s bidding, Aeneas plucked before he
essayed the perilous journey to the world of the dead. The flight of the
slave represented, it was said, the flight of Orestes; his combat with the
priest was a reminiscence of the human sacrifices once offered to the
Tauric Diana. This rule of succession by the sword was observed down to
imperial times; for amongst his other freaks Caligula, thinking that the
priest of Nemi had held office too long, hired a more stalwart ruffian to
slay him.(5)

Of the worship of Diana at Nemi two leading features can still be made
out. First, from the votive-offerings found in modern times on the site,
it appears that she was especially worshipped by women desirous of
children or of an easy delivery.(6) Second, fire seems to have played a
foremost part in her ritual. For during her annual festival, celebrated at
the hottest time of the year, her grove was lit up by a multitude of
torches, whose ruddy glare was reflected by the waters of the lake; and
throughout the length and breadth of Italy the day was kept with holy
rites at every domestic hearth.(7) Moreover, women whose prayers had been
heard by the goddess brought lighted torches to the grove in fulfilment of
their vows.(8) Lastly, the title of Vesta borne by the Arician Diana(9)
points almost certainly to the maintenance of a perpetual holy fire in her
sanctuary.

At her annual festival all young people went through a purificatory
ceremony in her honour; dogs were crowned; and the feast consisted of a
young kid, wine, and cakes, served up piping hot on platters of
leaves.(10)

But Diana did not reign alone in her grove at Nemi. Two lesser divinities
shared her forest sanctuary. One was Egeria, the nymph of the clear water
which, bubbling from the basaltic rocks, used to fall in graceful cascades
into the lake at the place called Le Mole.(11) According to one story the
grove was first consecrated to Diana by a Manius Egerius, who was the
ancestor of a long and distinguished line. Hence the proverb “There are
many Manii at Ariciae.” Others explained the proverb very differently.
They said it meant that there were a great many ugly and deformed people,
and they referred to the word _Mania_ which meant a bogey or bugbear to
frighten children.(12)

The other of these minor deities was Virbius. Legend had it that Virbius
was the youthful Greek hero Hippolytus, who had been killed by his horses
on the sea-shore of the Saronic Gulf. Him, to please Diana, the leech
Aesculapius brought to life again by his simples. But Jupiter, indignant
that a mortal man should return from the gates of death, thrust down the
meddling leech himself to Hades; and Diana, for the love she bore
Hippolytus, carried him away to Italy and hid him from the angry god in
the dells of Nemi, where he reigned a forest king under the name of
Virbius. Horses were excluded from the grove and sanctuary, because horses
had killed Hippolytus.(13) Some thought that Virbius was the sun. It was
unlawful to touch his image.(14) His worship was cared for by a special
priest, the Flamen Virbialis.(15)

Such then are the facts and theories bequeathed to us by antiquity on the
subject of the priesthood of Nemi. From materials so slight and scanty it
is impossible to extract a solution of the problem. It remains to try
whether the survey of a wider field may not yield us the clue we seek. The
questions to be answered are two: first, why had the priest to slay his
predecessor? and second, why, before he slew him, had he to pluck the
Golden Bough? The rest of this book will be an attempt to answer these
questions.




§ 2.—Primitive man and the supernatural.


The first point on which we fasten is the priest’s title. Why was he
called the King of the Wood? why was his office spoken of as a
Kingdom?(16)

The union of a royal title with priestly duties was common in ancient
Italy and Greece. At Rome and in other Italian cities there was a priest
called the Sacrificial King or King of the Sacred Rites (_Rex
Sacrificulus_ or _Rex Sacrorum_), and his wife bore the title of Queen of
the Sacred Rites.(17) In republican Athens the second magistrate of the
state was called the King, and his wife the Queen; the functions of both
were religious.(18) Many other Greek democracies had titular kings, whose
duties, so far as they are known, seem to have been priestly.(19) At Rome
the tradition was that the Sacrificial King had been appointed after the
expulsion of the kings in order to offer the sacrifices which had been
previously offered by the kings.(20) In Greece a similar view appears to
have prevailed as to the origin of the priestly kings.(21) In itself the
view is not improbable, and it is borne out by the example of Sparta, the
only purely Greek state which retained the kingly form of government in
historical times. For in Sparta all state sacrifices were offered by the
kings as descendants of the god.(22) This combination of priestly
functions with royal authority is familiar to every one. Asia Minor, for
example, was the seat of various great religious capitals peopled by
thousands of “sacred slaves,” and ruled by pontiffs who wielded at once
temporal and spiritual authority, like the popes of mediaeval Rome. Such
priest-ridden cities were Zela and Pessinus.(23) Teutonic kings, again, in
the old heathen days seem to have stood in the position, and exercised the
powers of high priests.(24) The Emperors of China offer public sacrifices,
the details of which are regulated by the ritual books.(25) It is
needless, however, to multiply examples of what is the rule rather than
the exception in the early history of the kingship.

But when we have said that the ancient kings were commonly priests also,
we are far from having exhausted the religious aspect of their office. In
those days the divinity that hedges a king was no empty form of speech but
the expression of a sober belief. Kings were revered, in many cases not
merely as priests, that is, as intercessors between man and god, but as
themselves gods, able to bestow upon their subjects and worshippers those
blessings which are commonly supposed to be beyond the reach of man, and
are sought, if at all, only by prayer and sacrifice offered to superhuman
and invisible beings. Thus kings are often expected to give rain and
sunshine in due season, to make the crops grow, and so on. Strange as this
expectation appears to us, it is quite of a piece with early modes of
thought. A savage hardly conceives the distinction commonly drawn by more
advanced peoples between the natural and the supernatural. To him the
world is mostly worked by supernatural agents, that is, by personal beings
acting on impulses and motives like his own, liable like him to be moved
by appeals to their pity, their fears, and their hopes. In a world so
conceived he sees no limit to his power of influencing the course of
nature to his own advantage. Prayers, promises, or threats may secure him
fine weather and an abundant crop from the gods; and if a god should
happen, as he sometimes believes, to become incarnate in his own person,
then he need appeal to no higher power; he, the savage, possesses in
himself all the supernatural powers necessary to further his own
well-being and that of his fellow men.

This is one way in which the idea of a man-god is reached. But there is
another. Side by side with the view of the world as pervaded by spiritual
forces, primitive man has another conception in which we may detect a germ
of the modern notion of natural law or the view of nature as a series of
events occurring in an invariable order without the intervention of
personal agency. The germ of which I speak is involved in that sympathetic
magic, as it may be called, which plays a large part in most systems of
superstition. One of the principles of sympathetic magic is that any
effect may be produced by imitating it. To take a few instances. If it is
wished to kill a person an image of him is made and then destroyed; and it
is believed that through a certain physical sympathy between the person
and his image, the man feels the injuries done to the image as if they
were done to his own body, and that when it is destroyed he must
simultaneously perish. Again, in Morocco a fowl or a pigeon may sometimes
be seen with a little red bundle tied to its foot. The bundle contains a
charm, and it is believed that as the charm is kept in constant motion by
the bird a corresponding restlessness is kept up in the mind of him or her
against whom the charm is directed.(26) In Nias when a wild pig has fallen
into the pit prepared for it, it is taken out and its back is rubbed with
nine fallen leaves, in the belief that this will make nine more wild pigs
fall into the pit just as the nine leaves fell from the tree.(27) When a
Cambodian hunter has set his nets and taken nothing, he strips himself
naked, goes some way off, then strolls up to the net as if he did not see
it, lets himself be caught in it and cries, “Hillo! what’s this? I’m
afraid I’m caught.” After that the net is sure to catch game.(28) In
Thüringen the man who sows flax carries the seed in a long bag which
reaches from his shoulders to his knees, and he walks with long strides,
so that the bag sways to and fro on his back. It is believed that this
will cause the flax crop to wave in the wind.(29) In the interior of
Sumatra the rice is sown by women who, in sowing, let their hair hang
loose down their back, in order that the rice may grow luxuriantly and
have long stalks.(30) Again, magic sympathy is supposed to exist between a
man and any severed portion of his person, as his hair or nails; so that
whoever gets possession of hair or nails may work his will, at any
distance, upon the person from whom they were cut. This superstition is
world-wide. Further, the sympathy in question exists between friends and
relations, especially at critical times. Hence, for example, the elaborate
code of rules which regulates the conduct of persons left at home while a
party of their friends is out fishing or hunting or on the war-path. It is
thought that if the persons left at home broke these rules their absent
friends would suffer an injury, corresponding in its nature to the breach
of the rule. Thus when a Dyak is out head-hunting, his wife or, if he is
unmarried, his sister, must wear a sword day and night in order that he
may always be thinking of his weapons; and she may not sleep during the
day nor go to bed before two in the morning, lest her husband or brother
should thereby be surprised in his sleep by an enemy.(31) In Laos when an
elephant hunter is setting out for the chase he warns his wife not to cut
her hair or oil her body in his absence; for if she cut her hair the
elephant would burst the toils, if she oiled herself it would slip through
them.(32)

In all these cases (and similar instances might be multiplied
indefinitely) an action is performed or avoided, because its performance
is believed to entail good or bad consequences of a sort resembling the
act itself. Sometimes the magic sympathy takes effect not so much through
an act as through a supposed resemblance of qualities. Thus some Bechuanas
wear a ferret as a charm because, being very tenacious of life, it will
make them difficult to kill.(33) Others wear a certain insect, mutilated
but living, for a similar purpose.(34) Other Bechuana warriors wear the
hair of an ox among their own hair and the skin of a frog on their mantle,
because a frog is slippery and the ox from which the hair has been taken
has no horns and is therefore hard to catch; so the warrior who is
provided with these charms believes that he will be as hard to hold as the
ox and the frog.(35)

Thus we see that in sympathetic magic one event is supposed to be followed
necessarily and invariably by another, without the intervention of any
spiritual or personal agency. This is, in fact, the modern conception of
physical causation; the conception, indeed, is misapplied, but it is there
none the less. Here, then, we have another mode in which primitive man
seeks to bend nature to his wishes. There is, perhaps, hardly a savage who
does not fancy himself possessed of this power of influencing the course
of nature by sympathetic magic; a man-god, on this view, is only an
individual who is believed to enjoy this common power in an unusually high
degree. Thus, whereas a man-god of the former or inspired type derives his
divinity from a deity who has taken up his abode in a tabernacle of flesh,
a man-god of the latter type draws his supernatural power from a certain
physical sympathy with nature. He is not merely the receptacle of a divine
spirit. His whole being, body and soul, is so delicately attuned to the
harmony of the world that a touch of his hand or a turn of his head may
send a thrill vibrating through the universal framework of things; and
conversely his divine organism is acutely sensitive to such slight changes
of environment as would leave ordinary mortals wholly unaffected. But the
line between these two types of man-god, however sharply we may draw it in
theory, is seldom to be traced with precision in practice, and in what
follows I shall not insist on it.

To readers long familiarised with the conception of natural law, the
belief of primitive man that he can rule the elements must be so foreign
that it may be well to illustrate it by examples. When we have seen that
in early society men who make no pretence at all of being gods do
nevertheless commonly believe themselves to be invested with supernatural
powers, we shall have the less difficulty in comprehending the
extraordinary range of powers ascribed to individuals who are actually
regarded as divine.

Of all natural phenomena there are perhaps none which civilised man feels
himself more powerless to influence than the rain, the sun, and the wind.
Yet all these are commonly supposed by savages to be in some degree under
their control.

To begin with rain-making. In a village near Dorpat in Russia, when rain
was much wanted, three men used to climb up the fir-trees of an old sacred
grove. One of them drummed with a hammer on a kettle or small cask to
imitate thunder; the second knocked two fire-brands together and made the
sparks fly, to imitate lightning; and the third, who was called “the
rain-maker,” had a bunch of twigs with which he sprinkled water from a
vessel on all sides.(36) This is an example of sympathetic magic; the
desired event is supposed to be produced by imitating it. Rain is often
thus made by imitation. In Halmahera (Gilolo), a large island to the west
of New Guinea, a wizard makes rain by dipping a branch of a particular
kind of tree in water and sprinkling the ground with it.(37) In Ceram it
is enough to dedicate the bark of a certain tree to the spirits and lay it
in water.(38) In New Britain the rain-maker wraps some leaves of a red and
green striped creeper in a banana-leaf, moistens the bundle with water and
buries it in the ground; then he imitates with his mouth the plashing of
rain.(39) Amongst the Omaha Indians of North America, when the corn is
withering for want of rain, the members of the sacred Buffalo Society fill
a large vessel with water and dance four times round it. One of them
drinks some of the water and spirts it into the air, making a fine spray
in imitation of a mist or drizzling rain. Then he upsets the vessel,
spilling the water on the ground; whereupon the dancers fall down and
drink up the water, getting mud all over their faces. Lastly they spirt
the water into the air, making a fine mist. This saves the corn.(40)
Amongst the Australian Wotjobaluk the rain-maker dipped a bunch of his own
hair in water, sucked out the water and squirted it westward, or he
twirled the ball round his head making a spray like rain.(41) Squirting
water from the mouth is also a West African way of making rain.(42)
Another mode is to dip a particular stone in water or sprinkle water on
it. In a Samoan village a certain stone was carefully housed as the
representative of the rain-making god; and in time of drought his priests
carried the stone in procession, and dipped it in a stream.(43) In the
Ta-ta-thi tribe of New South Wales the rain-maker breaks off a piece of
quartz crystal and spits it towards the sky; the rest of the crystal he
wraps in emu feathers, soaks both crystal and feathers in water, and
carefully hides them.(44) In the Keramin tribe of New South Wales the
wizard retires to the bed of a creek, drops water on a round flat stone,
then covers up and conceals it.(45) The Fountain of Baranton, of romantic
fame, in the forest of Brécilien, used to be resorted to by peasants when
they needed rain; they caught some of the water in a tankard and threw it
on a slab near the spring.(46) When some of the Apache Indians wish for
rain, they take water from a certain spring and throw it on a particular
point high up on a rock; the clouds then soon gather and rain begins to
fall.(47) There is a lonely tarn on Snowdon called Dulyn or the Black
Lake, lying “in a dismal dingle surrounded by high and dangerous rocks.” A
row of stepping stones runs out into the lake; and if any one steps on the
stones and throws water so as to wet the farthest stone, which is called
the Red Altar, “it is but a chance that you do not get rain before night,
even when it is hot weather.”(48) In these cases it is probable that, as
in Samoa, the stone is regarded as in some sort divine. This appears from
the custom sometimes observed of dipping the cross in the Fountain of
Baranton, to procure rain; for this is plainly a substitute for the older
way of throwing the water on the stone.(49) In Mingrelia, to get rain they
dip a holy image in water daily till it rains.(50) In Navarre the image of
St. Peter was taken to a river, where some prayed to him for rain, but
others called out to duck him in the water.(51) Here the dipping in the
water is used as a threat; but originally it was probably a sympathetic
charm, as in the following instance. In New Caledonia the rain-makers
blackened themselves all over, dug up a dead body, took the bones to a
cave, jointed them, and hung the skeleton over some taro leaves. Water was
poured over the skeleton to run down on the leaves. “They supposed that
the soul of the departed took up the water, made rain of it, and showered
it down again.”(52) The same motive comes clearly out in a mode of making
rain which is practised by various peoples of South Eastern Europe. In
time of drought the Servians strip a girl, clothe her from head to foot in
grass, herbs, and flowers, even her face being hidden with them. Thus
disguised she is called the Dodola, and goes through the village with a
troop of girls. They stop before every house; the Dodola dances, while the
other girls form a ring round her singing one of the Dodola songs, and the
housewife pours a pail of water over her.

One of the songs they sing runs thus—


    “We go through the village;
    The clouds go in the sky;
    We go faster,
    Faster go the clouds;
    They have overtaken us,
    And wetted the corn and the vine.”


A similar custom is observed by the Greeks, Bulgarians, and
Roumanians.(53) In such customs the leaf-dressed girl represents the
spirit of vegetation, and drenching her with water is an imitation of
rain. In Russia, in the Government of Kursk, when rain is much wanted, the
women seize a passing stranger and throw him into the river, or souse him
from head to foot.(54) Later on we shall see that a passing stranger is
often, as here, taken for a god or spirit. Amongst the Minahassa of North
Celebes the priest bathes as a rain-charm.(55) In the Caucasian Province
of Georgia, when a drought has lasted long, marriageable girls are yoked
in couples with an ox-yoke on their shoulders, a priest holds the reins,
and thus harnessed they wade through rivers, puddles, and marshes,
praying, screaming, weeping, and laughing.(56) In a district of
Transylvania, when the ground is parched with drought, some girls strip
themselves naked, and, led by an older woman, who is also naked, they
steal a harrow and carry it across the field to a brook, where they set it
afloat. Next they sit on the harrow and keep a tiny flame burning on each
corner of it for an hour. Then they leave the harrow in the water and go
home.(57) A similar rain-charm is resorted to in India; naked women drag a
plough across the field by night.(58) It is not said that they plunge the
plough into a stream or sprinkle it with water. But the charm would hardly
be complete without it.

Sometimes the charm works through an animal. To procure rain the Peruvians
used to set a black sheep in a field, poured _chica_ over it, and gave it
nothing to eat till rain fell.(59) In a district of Sumatra all the women
of the village, scantily clad, go to the river, wade into it, and splash
each other with the water. A black cat is thrown into the water and made
to swim about for a while, then allowed to escape to the bank, pursued by
the splashing of the women.(60) In these cases the colour of the animal is
part of the charm; being black it will darken the sky with rain-clouds. So
the Bechuanas burn the stomach of an ox at evening, because they say, “the
black smoke will gather the clouds, and cause the rain to come.”(61) The
Timorese sacrifice a black pig for rain, a white or red one for
sunshine.(62) The Garos offer a black goat on the top of a very high
mountain in time of drought.(63)

Sometimes people try to coerce the rain-god into giving rain. In China a
huge dragon made of paper or wood, representing the rain-god, is carried
about in procession; but if no rain follows, it is cursed and torn in
pieces.(64) In the like circumstances the Feloupes of Senegambia throw
down their fetishes and drag them about the fields, cursing them till rain
falls.(65) Some Indians of the Orinoco worshipped toads and kept them in
vessels in order to obtain from them rain or sunshine as might be
required; when their prayers were not answered they beat the toads.(66)
Killing a frog is a European rain-charm.(67) When the spirits withhold
rain or sunshine, the Comanches whip a slave; if the gods prove obstinate,
the victim is almost flayed alive.(68) Here the human being may represent
the god, like the leaf-clad Dodola. When the rice-crop is endangered by
long drought, the governor of Battambang, a province of Siam, goes in
great state to a certain pagoda and prays to Buddha for rain. Then
accompanied by his suite and followed by an enormous crowd he adjourns to
a plain behind the pagoda. Here a dummy figure has been made up, dressed
in bright colours, and placed in the middle of the plain. A wild music
begins to play; maddened by the din of drums and cymbals and crackers, and
goaded on by their drivers, the elephants charge down on the dummy and
trample it to pieces. After this, Buddha will soon give rain.(69)

Another way of constraining the rain-god is to disturb him in his haunts.
This seems the reason why rain is supposed to be the consequence of
troubling a sacred spring. The Dards believe that if a cowskin or anything
impure is placed in certain springs, storms will follow.(70) Gervasius
mentions a spring into which if a stone or a stick were thrown, rain would
at once issue from it and drench the thrower.(71) There was a fountain in
Munster such that if it were touched or even looked at by a human being,
it would at once flood the whole province with rain.(72) Sometimes an
appeal is made to the pity of the gods. When their corn is being burnt up
by the sun, the Zulus look out for a “heaven-bird,” kill it, and throw it
into a pool. Then the heaven melts with tenderness for the death of the
bird; “it wails for it by raining, wailing a funeral wail.”(73) In times
of drought the Guanches of Teneriffe led their sheep to sacred ground, and
there they separated the lambs from their dams, that their plaintive
bleating might touch the heart of the god.(74) A peculiar mode of making
rain was adopted by the heathen Arabs. They tied two sorts of bushes to
the tails and hind-legs of their cattle, and setting fire to the bushes
drove the cattle to the top of a mountain, praying for rain.(75) This may
be, as Wellhausen suggests,(76) an imitation of lightning on the horizon.
But it may also be a way of threatening the sky; as some West African
rain-makers put a pot of inflammable materials on the fire and blow up the
flames, threatening that if heaven does not soon give rain they will send
up a flame which will set the sky on fire.(77) The Dieyerie of South
Australia have a way of their own of making rain. A hole is dug about
twelve feet long and eight or ten broad, and over this hole a hut of logs
and branches is made. Two men, supposed to have received a special
inspiration from Mooramoora (the Good Spirit), are bled by an old and
influential man with a sharp flint inside the arm; the blood is made to
flow on the other men of the tribe who sit huddled together. At the same
time the two bleeding men throw handfuls of down, some of which adheres to
the blood, while the rest floats in the air. The blood is thought to
represent the rain, and the down the clouds. During the ceremony two large
stones are placed in the middle of the hut; they stand for gathering
clouds and presage rain. Then the men who were bled carry away the stones
for about fifteen miles and place them as high as they can in the tallest
tree. Meanwhile, the other men gather gypsum, pound it fine, and throw it
into a water-hole. This the Mooramoora is supposed to see, and at once he
causes the clouds to appear in the sky. Lastly, the men surround the hut,
butt at it with their heads, force their way in, and reappear on the other
side, repeating this till the hut is wrecked. In doing this they are
forbidden to use their hands or arms; but when the heavy logs alone
remain, they are allowed to pull them out with their hands. “The piercing
of the hut with their heads symbolises the piercing of the clouds; the
fall of the hut, the fall of rain.”(78) Another Australian mode of
rain-making is to burn human hair.(79)

Like other peoples the Greeks and Romans sought to procure rain by magic,
when prayers and processions(80) had proved ineffectual. For example, in
Arcadia, when the corn and trees were parched with drought, the priest of
Zeus dipped an oak branch into a certain spring on Mount Lycaeus. Thus
troubled, the water sent up a misty cloud, from which rain soon fell upon
the land.(81) A similar mode of making rain is still practised, as we have
seen, in Halmahera near New Guinea. The people of Crannon in Thessaly had
a bronze chariot which they kept in a temple. When they desired a shower
they shook the chariot and the shower fell.(82) Probably the rattling of
the chariot was meant to imitate thunder; we have already seen that in
Russia mock thunder and lightning form part of a rain-charm. The mythical
Salmoneus of Thessaly made mock thunder by dragging bronze kettles behind
his chariot or by driving over a bronze bridge, while he hurled blazing
torches in imitation of lightning. It was his impious wish to mimic the
thundering car of Zeus as it rolled across the vault of heaven.(83) Near a
temple of Mars, outside the walls of Rome, there was kept a certain stone
known as the _lapis manalis_. In time of drought the stone was dragged
into Rome and this was supposed to bring down rain immediately.(84) There
were Etruscan wizards who made rain or discovered springs of water, it is
not certain which. They were thought to bring the rain or the water out of
their bellies.(85) The legendary Telchines in Rhodes are described as
magicians who could change their shape and bring clouds, rain, and
snow.(86)

Again, primitive man fancies he can make the sun to shine, and can hasten
or stay its going down. At an eclipse the Ojebways used to think that the
sun was being extinguished. So they shot fire-tipped arrows in the air,
hoping thus to rekindle his expiring light.(87) Conversely during an
eclipse of the moon some Indian tribes of the Orinoco used to bury lighted
brands in the ground; because, said they, if the moon were to be
extinguished, all fire on earth would be extinguished with her, except
such as was hidden from her sight.(88) In New Caledonia when a wizard
desires to make sunshine, he takes some plants and corals to the
burial-ground, and makes them into a bundle, adding two locks of hair cut
from a living child (his own child if possible), also two teeth or an
entire jawbone from the skeleton of an ancestor. He then climbs a high
mountain whose top catches the first rays of the morning sun. Here he
deposits three sorts of plants on a flat stone, places a branch of dry
coral beside them, and hangs the bundle of charms over the stone. Next
morning he returns to this rude altar, and at the moment when the sun
rises from the sea he kindles a fire on the altar. As the smoke rises, he
rubs the stone with the dry coral, invokes his ancestors and says: “Sun! I
do this that you may be burning hot, and eat up all the clouds in the
sky.” The same ceremony is repeated at sunset.(89) When the sun rises
behind clouds—a rare event in the bright sky of Southern Africa—the Sun
clan of the Bechuanas say that he is grieving their heart. All work stands
still, and all the food of the previous day is given to matrons or old
women. They may eat it and may share it with the children they are
nursing, but no one else may taste it. The people go down to the river and
wash themselves all over. Each man throws into the river a stone taken
from his domestic hearth, and replaces it with one picked up in the bed of
the river. On their return to the village the chief kindles a fire in his
hut, and all his subjects come and get a light from it. A general dance
follows.(90) In these cases it seems that the lighting of the flame on
earth is supposed to rekindle the solar fire. Such a belief comes
naturally to people who, like the Sun clan of the Bechuanas, deem
themselves the veritable kinsmen of the sun. The Melanesians make sunshine
by means of a mock sun. A round stone is wound about with red braid and
stuck with owl’s feathers to represent rays; it is then hung on a high
tree. Or the stone is laid on the ground with white rods radiating from it
to imitate sunbeams.(91) Sometimes the mode of making sunshine is the
converse of that of making rain. Thus we have seen that a white or red pig
is sacrificed for sunshine, as a black one is sacrificed for rain.(92)
Some of the New Caledonians drench a skeleton to make rain, but burn it to
make sunshine.(93)

In a pass of the Peruvian Andes stand two ruined towers on opposite hills.
Iron hooks are clamped into their walls for the purpose of stretching a
net from one tower to the other. The net is intended to catch the sun.(94)

On the top of a small hill in Fiji grew a patch of reeds, and travellers
who feared to be belated used to tie the tops of a handful of reeds
together to detain the sun from going down.(95) The intention perhaps was
to entangle the sun in the reeds, just as the Peruvians try to catch him
in the net. Stories of men who have caught the sun in a noose are widely
spread.(96) Jerome of Prague, travelling among the heathen Lithuanians
early in the fifteenth century, found a tribe who worshipped the sun and
venerated a large iron hammer. The priests told him that once the sun had
been invisible for several months, because a powerful king had shut it up
in a strong tower; but the signs of the zodiac had broken open the tower
with this very hammer and released the sun. Therefore they adored the
hammer.(97) When an Australian blackfellow wishes to stay the sun from
going down till he gets home, he places a sod in the fork of a tree,
exactly facing the setting sun.(98) For the same purpose an Indian of
Yucatan, journeying westward, places a stone in a tree or pulls out some
of his eyelashes and blows them towards the sun.(99) South African
natives, in travelling, will put a stone in a branch of a tree or place
some grass on the path with a stone over it, believing that this will
cause their friends to keep the meal waiting till their arrival.(100) In
these, as in previous examples, the purpose apparently is to retard the
sun. But why should the act of putting a stone or a sod in a tree be
supposed to effect this? A partial explanation is suggested by another
Australian custom. In their journeys the natives are accustomed to place
stones in trees at different heights from the ground in order to indicate
the height of the sun in the sky at the moment when they passed the
particular tree. Those who follow are thus made aware of the time of day
when their friends in advance passed the spot.(101) Possibly the natives,
thus accustomed to mark the sun’s progress, may have slipped into the
confusion of imagining that to mark the sun’s progress was to arrest it at
the point marked. On the other hand, to make it go down faster, the
Australians throw sand into the air and blow with their mouths towards the
sun.(102)

Once more, the savage thinks he can make the wind to blow or to be still.
When the day is hot and a Yakut has a long way to go, he takes a stone
which he has chanced to find in an animal or fish, winds a horse-hair
several times round it, and ties it to a stick. He then waves the stick
about, uttering a spell. Soon a cool breeze begins to blow.(103) The Wind
clan of the Omahas flap their blankets to start a breeze which will drive
away the mosquitoes.(104) When a Haida Indian wishes to obtain a fair
wind, he fasts, shoots a raven, singes it in the fire, and then going to
the edge of the sea sweeps it over the surface of the water four times in
the direction in which he wishes the wind to blow. He then throws the
raven behind him, but afterwards picks it up and sets it in a sitting
posture at the foot of a spruce-tree, facing towards the required wind.
Propping its beak open with a stick, he requests a fair wind for a certain
number of days; then going away he lies covered up in his mantle till
another Indian asks him for how many days he has desired the wind, which
question he answers.(105) When a sorcerer in New Britain wishes to make a
wind blow in a certain direction, he throws burnt lime in the air,
chanting a song all the time. Then he waves sprigs of ginger and other
plants about, throws them up and catches them. Next he makes a small fire
with these sprigs on the spot where the lime has fallen thickest, and
walks round the fire chanting. Lastly, he takes the ashes and throws them
on the water.(106) On the altar of Fladda’s chapel, in the island of
Fladdahuan (one of the Hebrides), lay a round bluish stone which was
always moist. Windbound fishermen walked sunwise round the chapel and then
poured water on the stone, whereupon a favourable breeze was sure to
spring up.(107) In Finnland wizards used to sell wind to storm-staid
mariners. The wind was enclosed in three knots; if they undid the first
knot, a moderate wind sprang up; if the second, it blew half a gale; if
the third, a hurricane.(108) The same thing is said to have been done by
wizards and witches in Lappland, in the island of Lewis, and in the Isle
of Man.(109) A Norwegian witch has boasted of sinking a ship by opening a
bag in which she had shut up a wind.(110) Ulysses received the winds in a
leather bag from Aeolus, King of the Winds.(111) So Perdoytus, the
Lithuanian wind-god, keeps the winds enclosed in a leather bag; when they
escape from it he pursues them, beats them, and shuts them up again.(112)
The Motumotu in New Guinea think that storms are sent by an Oiabu
sorcerer; for each wind he has a bamboo which he opens at pleasure.(113)
But here we have passed from custom (with which alone we are at present
concerned) into mythology. Shetland seamen still buy winds from old women
who claim to rule the storms. There are now in Lerwick old women who live
by selling wind.(114) When the Hottentots wish to make the wind drop, they
take one of their fattest skins and hang it on the end of a pole,
believing that by blowing the skin down the wind will lose all its force
and must itself fall.(115) In some parts of Austria, during a heavy storm,
it is customary to open the window and throw out a handful of meal, chaff,
or feathers, saying to the wind, “There, that’s for you, stop!”(116) Once
when north-westerly winds had kept the ice long on the coast, and food was
getting scarce, the Eskimos of Alaska performed a ceremony to make a calm.
A fire was kindled on the shore and the men gathered round it and chanted.
An old man then stepped up to the fire and in a coaxing voice invited the
demon of the wind to come under the fire and warm himself. When he was
supposed to have arrived, a vessel of water, to which each man present had
contributed, was thrown on the fire by an old man, and immediately a
flight of arrows sped towards the spot where the fire had been. They
thought that the demon would not stay where he had been so badly treated.
To complete the effect, guns were discharged in various directions, and
the captain of a European vessel was asked to fire on the wind with
cannon.(117) When the wind blows down their huts, the Payaguas in South
America snatch up firebrands and run against the wind menacing it with the
blazing brands, while others beat the air with their fists to frighten the
storm.(118) When the Guaycurus are threatened by a severe storm the men go
out armed, and the women and children scream their loudest to intimidate
the demon.(119) During a tempest the inhabitants of a Batta village in
Sumatra have been seen to rush from their houses armed with sword and
lance. The Raja placed himself at their head, and with shouts and yells
they hewed and hacked at the invisible foe. An old woman was observed to
be especially active in defending her house, slashing the air right and
left with a long sabre.(120)

In the light of these examples a story told by Herodotus, which his modern
critics have treated as a fable, is perfectly credible. He says, without
however vouching for the truth of the tale, that once in the land of the
Psylli, the modern Tripoli, the wind blowing from the Sahara had dried up
all the water-tanks. So the people took counsel and marched in a body to
make war on the south wind. But when they entered the desert, the simoom
swept down on them and buried them to a man.(121) The story may well have
been told by one who watched them disappearing, in battle array, with
drums and cymbals beating, into the red cloud of whirling sand. It is
still said of the Bedouins of Eastern Africa that “no whirlwind ever
sweeps across the path without being pursued by a dozen savages with drawn
creeses, who stab into the centre of the dusty column in order to drive
away the evil spirit that is believed to be riding on the blast.”(122) So
in Australia the huge columns of red sand that move rapidly across a
desert tract are thought by the blackfellows to be spirits passing along.
Once an athletic young black ran after one of these moving columns to kill
it with boomerangs. He was away two or three hours and came back very
weary, saying he had killed Koochee (the demon), but that Koochee had
growled at him and he must die.(123) Even where these dust columns are not
attacked they are still regarded with awe. In some parts of India they are
supposed to be _bhuts_ going to bathe in the Ganges.(124) Californian
Indians think that they are happy souls ascending to the heavenly
land.(125)

When a gust lifts the hay in the meadow, the Breton peasant throws a knife
or a fork at it to prevent the devil from carrying off the hay.(126)
German peasants throw a knife or a hat at a whirlwind because there is a
witch or a wizard in it.(127)




§ 3.—Incarnate gods.


These examples, drawn from the beliefs and practices of rude peoples all
over the world, may suffice to prove that the savage, whether European or
otherwise, fails to recognise those limitations to his power over nature
which seem so obvious to us. In a society where every man is supposed to
be endowed more or less with powers which we should call supernatural, it
is plain that the distinction between gods and men is somewhat blurred, or
rather has scarcely emerged. The conception of gods as supernatural beings
entirely distinct from and superior to man, and wielding powers to which
he possesses nothing comparable in degree and hardly even in kind, has
been slowly evolved in the course of history. At first the supernatural
agents are not regarded as greatly, if at all, superior to man; for they
may be frightened and coerced by him into doing his will. At this stage of
thought the world is viewed as a great democracy; all beings in it,
whether natural or supernatural, are supposed to stand on a footing of
tolerable equality. But with the growth of his knowledge man learns to
realise more clearly the vastness of nature and his own littleness and
feebleness in presence of it. The recognition of his own helplessness does
not, however, carry with it a corresponding belief in the impotence of
those supernatural beings with which his imagination peoples the universe.
On the contrary it enhances his conception of their power. For the idea of
the world as a system of impersonal forces acting in accordance with fixed
and invariable laws has not yet fully dawned or darkened upon him. The
germ of the idea he certainly has, and he acts upon it, not only in magic
art, but in much of the business of daily life. But the idea remains
undeveloped, and so far as he attempts consciously to explain the world he
lives in, he pictures it as the manifestation of conscious will and
personal agency. If then he feels himself to be so frail and slight, how
vast and powerful must he deem the beings who control the gigantic
machinery of nature! Thus as his old sense of equality with the gods
slowly vanishes, he resigns at the same time the hope of directing the
course of nature by his own unaided resources, that is, by magic, and
looks more and more to the gods as the sole repositories of those
supernatural powers which he once claimed to share with them. With the
first advance of knowledge, therefore, prayer and sacrifice assume the
leading place in religious ritual; and magic, which once ranked with them
as a legitimate equal, is gradually relegated to the background and sinks
to the level of a black art. It is now regarded as an encroachment, at
once vain and impious, on the domain of the gods, and as such encounters
the steady opposition of the priests, whose reputation and influence gain
or lose with those of their gods. Hence, when at a late period the
distinction between religion and superstition has emerged, we find that
sacrifice and prayer are the resource of the pious and enlightened portion
of the community, while magic is the refuge of the superstitious and
ignorant. But when, still later, the conception of the elemental forces as
personal agents is giving way to the recognition of natural law; then
magic, based as it implicitly is on the idea of a necessary and invariable
sequence of cause and effect, independent of personal will, reappears from
the obscurity and discredit into which it had fallen, and by investigating
the causal sequences in nature, directly prepares the way for science.
Alchemy leads up to chemistry.

The notion of a man-god or of a human being endowed with divine or
supernatural powers, belongs essentially to that earlier period of
religious history in which gods and men are still viewed as beings of much
the same order, and before they are divided by the impassable gulf which,
to later thought, opens out between them. Strange, therefore, as may seem
to us the idea of a god incarnate in human form, it has nothing very
startling for early man, who sees in a man-god or a god-man only a higher
degree of the same supernatural powers which he arrogates in perfect good
faith to himself. Such incarnate gods are common in rude society. The
incarnation may be temporary or permanent. In the former case, the
incarnation—commonly known as inspiration or possession—reveals itself in
supernatural knowledge rather than in supernatural power. In other words,
its usual manifestations are divination and prophesy rather than miracles.
On the other hand, when the incarnation is not merely temporary, when the
divine spirit has permanently taken up its abode in a human body, the
god-man is usually expected to vindicate his character by working
miracles. Only we have to remember that by men at this stage of thought
miracles are not considered as breaches of natural law. Not conceiving the
existence of natural law, primitive man cannot conceive a breach of it. A
miracle is to him merely an unusually striking manifestation of a common
power.

The belief in temporary incarnation or inspiration is world-wide. Certain
persons are supposed to be possessed from time to time by a spirit or
deity; while the possession lasts, their own personality lies in abeyance,
the presence of the spirit is revealed by convulsive shiverings and
shakings of the man’s whole body, by wild gestures and excited looks, all
of which are referred, not to the man himself, but to the spirit which has
entered into him; and in this abnormal state all his utterances are
accepted as the voice of the god or spirit dwelling in him and speaking
through him. In Mangaia the priests in whom the gods took up their abode
from time to time were called “god-boxes” or, for shortness, “gods.”
Before giving oracles as gods, they drank an intoxicating liquor, and in
the frenzy thus produced their wild words were received as the voice of
the god.(128) But examples of such temporary inspiration are so common in
every part of the world and are now so familiar through books on
ethnology, that it is needless to cite illustrations of the general
principle.(129) It may be well, however, to refer to two particular modes
of producing temporary inspiration, because they are perhaps less known
than some others, and because we shall have occasion to refer to them
later on. One of these modes of producing inspiration is by sucking the
fresh blood of a sacrificed victim. In the temple of Apollo Diradiotes at
Argos, a lamb was sacrificed by night once a month; a woman, who had to
observe a rule of chastity, tasted the blood of the lamb, and thus being
inspired by the god she prophesied or divined.(130) At Aegira in Achaea
the priestess of Earth drank the fresh blood of a bull before she
descended into the cave to prophesy.(131) In Southern India a devil-dancer
“drinks the blood of the sacrifice, putting the throat of the decapitated
goat to his mouth. Then, as if he had acquired new life, he begins to
brandish his staff of bells, and to dance with a quick but wild unsteady
step. Suddenly the afflatus descends. There is no mistaking that glare, or
those frantic leaps. He snorts, he stares, he gyrates. The demon has now
taken bodily possession of him; and, though he retains the power of
utterance and of motion, both are under the demon’s control, and his
separate consciousness is in abeyance.... The devil-dancer is now
worshipped as a present deity, and every bystander consults him respecting
his disease, his wants, the welfare of his absent relatives, the offerings
to be made for the accomplishment of his wishes, and, in short, respecting
everything for which superhuman knowledge is supposed to be
available.”(132) At a festival of the Minahassa in northern Celebes, after
a pig has been killed, the priest rushes furiously at it, thrusts his head
into the carcass and drinks of the blood. Then he is dragged away from it
by force and set on a chair, whereupon he begins to prophesy how the rice
crop will turn out that year. A second time he runs at the carcass and
drinks of the blood; a second time he is forced into the chair and
continues his predictions. It is thought there is a spirit in him which
possesses the power of prophecy.(133) At Rhetra, a great religious capital
of the Western Slavs, the priest tasted the blood of the sacrificed oxen
and sheep in order the better to prophesy.(134) The true test of a Dainyal
or diviner among some of the Hindoo Koosh tribes is to suck the blood from
the neck of a decapitated goat.(135) The other mode of producing temporary
inspiration, to which I shall here refer, is by means of a branch or
leaves of a sacred tree. Thus in the Hindoo Koosh a fire is kindled with
twigs of the sacred cedar; and the Dainyal or sibyl, with a cloth over her
head, inhales the thick pungent smoke till she is seized with convulsions
and falls senseless to the ground. Soon she rises and raises a shrill
chant, which is caught up and loudly repeated by her audience.(136) So
Apollo’s prophetess ate the sacred laurel before she prophesied.(137) It
is worth observing that many peoples expect the victim as well as the
priest or prophet to give signs of inspiration by convulsive movements of
the body; and if the animal remains obstinately steady, they esteem it
unfit for sacrifice. Thus when the Yakuts sacrifice to an evil spirit, the
beast must bellow and roll about, which is considered a token that the
evil spirit has entered into it.(138) Apollo’s prophetess could give no
oracles unless the victim to be sacrificed trembled in every limb when the
wine was poured on its head. But for ordinary Greek sacrifices it was
enough that the victim should shake its head; to make it do so, water was
poured on it.(139) Many other peoples (Tonquinese, Hindoos, Chuwash, etc.)
have adopted the same test of a suitable victim; they pour water or wine
on its head; if the animal shakes its head it is accepted for sacrifice;
if it does not, it is rejected.(140)

The person temporarily inspired is believed to acquire, not merely divine
knowledge, but also, at least occasionally, divine power. In Cambodia,
when an epidemic breaks out, the inhabitants of several villages unite and
go with a band of music at their head to look for the man whom the local
god is believed to have chosen for his temporary incarnation. When found,
the man is taken to the altar of the god, where the mystery of incarnation
takes place. Then the man becomes an object of veneration to his fellows,
who implore him to protect the village against the plague.(141) The image
of Apollo at Hylæ in Phocis was believed to impart superhuman strength.
Sacred men, inspired by it, leaped down precipices, tore up huge trees by
the roots, and carried them on their backs along the narrowest
defiles.(142) The feats performed by inspired dervishes belong to the same
class.

Thus far we have seen that the savage, failing to discern the limits of
his ability to control nature, ascribes to himself and to all men certain
powers which we should now call supernatural. Further, we have seen that
over and above this general supernaturalism, some persons are supposed to
be inspired for short periods by a divine spirit, and thus temporarily to
enjoy the knowledge and power of the indwelling deity. From beliefs like
these it is an easy step to the conviction that certain men are
permanently possessed by a deity, or in some other undefined way are
endued with so high a degree of supernatural powers as to be ranked as
gods and to receive the homage of prayer and sacrifice. Sometimes these
human gods are restricted to purely supernatural or spiritual functions.
Sometimes they exercise supreme political power in addition. In the latter
case they are kings as well as gods, and the government is a theocracy. I
shall give examples of both.

In the Marquesas Islands there was a class of men who were deified in
their life-time. They were supposed to wield a supernatural power over the
elements; they could give abundant harvests or smite the ground with
barrenness; and they could inflict disease or death. Human sacrifices were
offered to them to avert their wrath. There were not many of them, at the
most one or two in each island. They lived in mystic seclusion. Their
powers were sometimes, but not always, hereditary. A missionary has
described one of these human gods from personal observation. The god was a
very old man who lived in a large house within an enclosure. In the house
was a kind of altar, and on the beams of the house and on the trees round
it were hung human skeletons, head down. No one entered the enclosure,
except the persons dedicated to the service of the god; only on days when
human victims were sacrificed might ordinary people penetrate into the
precinct. This human god received more sacrifices than all the other gods;
often he would sit on a sort of scaffold in front of his house and call
for two or three human victims at a time. They were always brought, for
the terror he inspired was extreme. He was invoked all over the island,
and offerings were sent to him from every side.(143) Again, of the South
Sea Islands in general we are told that each island had a man who
represented or personified the divinity. Such men were called gods, and
their substance was confounded with that of the deity. The man-god was
sometimes the king himself; oftener he was a priest or subordinate
chief.(144) Tanatoa, King of Raiatea, was deified by a certain ceremony
performed at the chief temple. “As one of the divinities of his subjects,
therefore, the king was worshipped, consulted as an oracle and had
sacrifices and prayers offered to him.”(145) This was not an exceptional
case. The kings of the island regularly enjoyed divine honours, being
deified at the time of their accession.(146) At his inauguration the king
of Tahiti received a sacred girdle of red and yellow feathers, “which not
only raised him to the highest earthly station, but identified him with
their gods.”(147) The gods of Samoa generally appeared in animal form, but
sometimes they were permanently incarnate in men, who gave oracles,
received offerings (occasionally of human flesh), healed the sick,
answered prayers, and so on.(148) In regard to the old religion of the
Fijians, and especially of the inhabitants of Somo-somo, it is said that
“there appears to be no certain line of demarcation between departed
spirits and gods, nor between gods and living men, for many of the priests
and old chiefs are considered as sacred persons, and not a few of them
will also claim to themselves the right of divinity. ‘I am a god,’
Tuikilakila would say; and he believed it too.”(149) In the Pelew Islands
it is believed that every god can take possession of a man and speak
through him. The possession may be either temporary or permanent; in the
latter case the chosen person is called a _korong_. The god is free in his
choice, so the position of _korong_ is not hereditary. After the death of
a _korong_ the god is for some time unrepresented, until he suddenly makes
his appearance in a new Avatar. The person thus chosen gives signs of the
divine presence by behaving in a strange way; he gapes, runs about, and
performs a number of senseless acts. At first people laugh at him, but his
sacred mission is in time recognised, and he is invited to assume his
proper position in the state. Generally this position is a distinguished
one and confers on him a powerful influence over the whole community. In
some of the islands the god is political sovereign of the land; and hence
his new incarnation, however humble his origin, is raised to the same high
rank, and rules, as god and king, over all the other chiefs.(150) In time
of public calamity, as during war or pestilence, some of the Molucca
Islanders used to celebrate a festival of heaven. If no good result
followed, they bought a slave, took him at the next festival to the place
of sacrifice, and set him on a raised place under a certain bamboo-tree.
This tree represented heaven and had been honoured as its image at
previous festivals. The portion of the sacrifice which had previously been
offered to heaven was now given to the slave, who ate and drank it in the
name and stead of heaven. Henceforth the slave was well treated, kept for
the festivals of heaven, and employed to represent heaven and receive the
offerings in its name.(151) In Tonquin every village chooses its guardian
spirit, often in the form of an animal, as a dog, tiger, cat, or serpent.
Sometimes a living person is selected as patron-divinity. Thus a beggar
persuaded the people of a village that he was their guardian spirit; so
they loaded him with honours and entertained him with their best.(152) In
India “every king is regarded as little short of a present god.”(153) The
Indian law-book of Manu goes farther and says that “even an infant king
must not be despised from an idea that he is a mere mortal; for he is a
great deity in human form.”(154) There is said to be a sect in Orissa who
worship the Queen of England as their chief divinity. And to this day in
India all living persons remarkable for great strength or valour or for
supposed miraculous powers run the risk of being worshipped as gods. Thus,
a sect in the Punjaub worshipped a deity whom they called Nikkal Sen. This
Nikkal Sen was no other than the redoubted General Nicholson, and nothing
that the general could do or say damped the enthusiasm of his adorers. The
more he punished them, the greater grew the religious awe with which they
worshipped him.(155) Amongst the Todas, a pastoral people of the
Neilgherry Hills of Southern India, the dairy is a sanctuary, and the
milkman (_pâlâl_) who attends to it is a god. On being asked whether the
Todas salute the sun, one of these divine milkmen replied, “Those poor
fellows do so, but I,” tapping his chest, “I, a god! why should I salute
the sun?” Every one, even his own father, prostrates himself before the
milkman, and no one would dare to refuse him anything. No human being,
except another milkman, may touch him; and he gives oracles to all who
consult him, speaking with the voice of a god.(156)

The King of Iddah told the English officers of the Niger Expedition, “God
made me after his own image; I am all the same as God; and He appointed me
a king.”(157)

Sometimes, at the death of the human incarnation, the divine spirit
transmigrates into another man. In the kingdom of Kaffa, in Eastern
Africa, the heathen part of the people worship a spirit called _Deòce_, to
whom they offer prayer and sacrifice, and whom they invoke on all
important occasions. This spirit is incarnate in the grand magician or
pope, a person of great wealth and influence, ranking almost with the
king, and wielding the spiritual, as the king wields the temporal, power.
It happened that, shortly before the arrival of a Christian missionary in
the kingdom, this African pope died, and the priests, fearing that the
missionary would assume the position vacated by the deceased pope,
declared that the _Deòce_ had passed into the king, who henceforth,
uniting the spiritual with the temporal power, reigned as god and
king.(158) Before beginning to work at the salt-pans in a Laosian village,
the workmen offer sacrifice to a local divinity. This divinity is
incarnate in a woman and transmigrates at her death into another
woman.(159) In Bhotan the spiritual head of the government is a person
called the Dhurma Raja, who is supposed to be a perpetual incarnation of
the deity. At his death the new incarnate god shows himself in an infant
by the refusal of his mother’s milk and a preference for that of a
cow.(160) The Buddhist Tartars believe in a great number of living
Buddhas, who officiate as Grand Lamas at the head of the most important
monasteries. When one of these Grand Lamas dies his disciples do not
sorrow, for they know that he will soon reappear, being born in the form
of an infant. Their only anxiety is to discover the place of his birth. If
at this time they see a rainbow they take it as a sign sent them by the
departed Lama to guide them to his cradle. Sometimes the divine infant
himself reveals his identity. “I am the Grand Lama,” he says, “the living
Buddha of such and such a temple. Take me to my old monastery. I am its
immortal head.” In whatever way the birthplace of the Buddha is revealed,
whether by the Buddha’s own avowal or by the sign in the sky, tents are
struck, and the joyful pilgrims, often headed by the king or one of the
most illustrious of the royal family, set forth to find and bring home the
infant god. Generally he is born in Tibet, the holy land, and to reach him
the caravan has often to traverse the most frightful deserts. When at last
they find the child they fall down and worship him. Before, however, he is
acknowledged as the Grand Lama whom they seek he must satisfy them of his
identity. He is asked the name of the monastery of which he claims to be
the head, how far off it is, and how many monks live in it; he must also
describe the habits of the deceased Grand Lama and the manner of his
death. Then various articles, as prayer-books, tea-pots, and cups, are
placed before him, and he has to point out those used by himself in his
previous life. If he does so without a mistake his claims are admitted,
and he is conducted in triumph to the monastery.(161) At the head of all
the Lamas is the Dalai Lama of Lhasa, the Rome of Tibet. He is regarded as
a living god and at death his divine and immortal spirit is born again in
a child. According to some accounts the mode of discovering the Dalai Lama
is similar to the method, already described, of discovering an ordinary
Grand Lama. Other accounts speak of an election by lot. Wherever he is
born, the trees and plants, it is said, put forth green leaves; at his
bidding flowers bloom and springs of water rise; and his presence diffuses
heavenly blessings. His palace stands on a commanding height; its gilded
cupolas are seen sparkling in the sunlight for miles.(162)

Issuing from the sultry valleys upon the lofty plateau of the Colombian
Andes, the Spanish conquerors were astonished to find, in contrast to the
savage hordes they had left in the sweltering jungles below, a people
enjoying a fair degree of civilisation, practising agriculture, and living
under a government which Humboldt has compared to the theocracies of Tibet
and Japan. These were the Chibchas, Muyscas, or Mozcas, divided into two
kingdoms, with capitals at Bogota and Tunja, but united apparently in
spiritual allegiance to the high pontiff of Sogamozo or Iraca. By a long
and ascetic novitiate, this ghostly ruler was reputed to have acquired
such sanctity that the waters and the rain obeyed him, and the weather
depended on his will.(163) Weather kings are common in Africa. Thus the
Waganda of Central Africa believe in a god of Lake Nyanza, who sometimes
takes up his abode in a man or woman. The incarnate god is much feared by
all the people, including the king and the chiefs. He is consulted as an
oracle; by his word he can inflict or heal sickness, withhold rain, and
cause famine. Large presents are made him when his advice is sought.(164)
Often the king himself is supposed to control the weather. The king of
Loango is honoured by his people “as though he were a god; and he is
called Sambee and Pango, which mean god. They believe that he can let them
have rain when he likes; and once a year, in December, which is the time
they want rain, the people come to beg of him to grant it to them.” On
this occasion the king, standing on his throne, shoots an arrow into the
air, which is supposed to bring on rain.(165) Much the same is said of the
king of Mombaza.(166) The king of Quiteva, in Eastern Africa, ranks with
the deity; “indeed, the Caffres acknowledge no other gods than their
monarch, and to him they address those prayers which other nations are
wont to prefer to heaven.... Hence these unfortunate beings, under the
persuasion that their king is a deity, exhaust their utmost means and ruin
themselves in gifts to obtain with more facility what they need. Thus,
prostrate at his feet, they implore of him, when the weather long
continues dry, to intercede with heaven that they may have rain; and when
too much rain has fallen, that they may have fair weather; thus, also, in
case of winds, storms, and everything, they would either deprecate or
implore.”(167) Amongst the Barotse, a tribe on the upper Zambesi, “there
is an old, but waning belief, that a chief is a demigod, and in heavy
thunderstorms the Barotse flock to the chief’s yard for protection from
the lightning. I have been greatly distressed at seeing them fall on their
knees before the chief, entreating him to open the water-pots of heaven
and send rain upon their gardens.... The king’s servants declare
themselves to be invincible, because they are the servants of God (meaning
_the king_).”(168) The chief of Mowat, New Guinea, is believed to have the
power of affecting the growth of crops for good or ill, and of coaxing the
_dugong_ and turtle to come from all parts and allow themselves to be
taken.(169)

Amongst the Antaymours of Madagascar the king is responsible for the
growth of the crops and for every misfortune that befalls the people.(170)
In many places the king is punished if rain does not fall and the crops do
not turn out well. Thus, in some parts of West Africa, when prayers and
offerings presented to the king have failed to procure rain, his subjects
bind him with ropes and take him by force to the grave of his forefathers,
that he may obtain from them the needed rain.(171) It appears that the
Scythians also, when food was scarce, put their king in bonds.(172) The
Banjars in West Africa ascribe to their king the power of causing rain or
fine weather. So long as the weather is fine they load him with presents
of grain and cattle. But if long drought or rain threatens to spoil the
crops, they insult and beat him till the weather changes.(173) When the
harvest fails or the surf on the coast is too heavy to allow of fishing,
the people of Loango accuse their king of a “bad heart” and depose
him.(174) On the Pepper Coast the high priest or Bodio is responsible for
the health of the community, the fertility of the earth, and the abundance
of fish in the sea and rivers; and if the country suffers in any of these
respects the Bodio is deposed from his office.(175) So the Burgundians of
old deposed their king if the crops failed.(176) Some peoples have gone
further and killed their kings in times of scarcity. Thus, in the time of
the Swedish king Domalde a mighty famine broke out, which lasted several
years, and could be stayed by the blood neither of beasts nor of men. So,
in a great popular assembly held at Upsala, the chiefs decided that king
Domalde himself was the cause of the scarcity and must be sacrificed for
good seasons. So they slew him and smeared with his blood the altars of
the gods. Again, we are told that the Swedes always attributed good or bad
crops to their kings as the cause. Now, in the reign of King Olaf, there
came dear times and famine, and the people thought that the fault was the
king’s, because he was sparing in his sacrifices. So, mustering an army,
they marched against him, surrounded his dwelling, and burned him in it,
“giving him to Odin as a sacrifice for good crops.”(177) In 1814, a
pestilence having broken out among the reindeer of the Chukch, the Shamans
declared that the beloved chief Koch must be sacrificed to the angry gods;
so the chief’s own son stabbed him with a dagger.(178) On the coral island
of Niuē, or Savage Island, in the South Pacific, there formerly reigned a
line of kings. But as the kings were also high priests, and were supposed
to make the food grow, the people became angry with them in times of
scarcity and killed them; till at last, as one after another was killed,
no one would be king, and the monarchy came to an end.(179) As in these
cases the divine kings, so in ancient Egypt the divine beasts, were
responsible for the course of nature. When pestilence and other calamities
had fallen on the land, in consequence of a long and severe drought, the
priests took the sacred animals secretly by night, and threatened them,
but if the evil did not abate they slew the beasts.(180)

From this survey of the religious position occupied by the king in rude
societies we may infer that the claim to divine and supernatural powers
put forward by the monarchs of great historical empires like those of
Egypt, Mexico, and Peru, was not the simple outcome of inflated vanity or
the empty expression of a grovelling adulation; it was merely a survival
and extension of the old savage apotheosis of living kings. Thus, for
example, as children of the Sun the Incas of Peru were revered like gods;
they could do no wrong, and no one dreamed of offending against the
person, honour, or property of the monarch or of any of the royal race.
Hence, too, the Incas did not, like most people, look on sickness as an
evil. They considered it a messenger sent from their father the Sun to
call his son to come and rest with him in heaven. Therefore the usual
words in which an Inca announced his approaching end were these: “My
father calls me to come and rest with him.” They would not oppose their
father’s will by offering sacrifice for recovery, but openly declared that
he had called them to his rest.(181) The Mexican kings at their accession
took an oath that they would make the sun to shine, the clouds to give
rain, the rivers to flow, and the earth to bring forth fruits in
abundance.(182) By Chinese custom the emperor is deemed responsible if the
drought be at all severe, and many are the self-condemnatory edicts on
this subject published in the pages of the _Peking Gazette_. However it is
rather as a high priest than as a god that the Chinese emperor bears the
blame; for in extreme cases he seeks to remedy the evil by personally
offering prayers and sacrifices to heaven.(183) The Parthian monarchs of
the Arsacid house styled themselves brothers of the sun and moon and were
worshipped as deities. It was esteemed sacrilege to strike even a private
member of the Arsacid family in a brawl.(184) The kings of Egypt were
deified in their lifetime, and their worship was celebrated in special
temples and by special priests. Indeed the worship of the kings sometimes
cast that of the gods into the shade. Thus in the reign of Merenra a high
official declared that he had built many holy places in order that the
spirits of the king, the ever-living Merenra, might be invoked “more than
all the gods.”(185) The King of Egypt seems to have shared with the sacred
animals the blame of any failure of the crops.(186) He was addressed as
“Lord of heaven, lord of earth, sun, life of the whole world, lord of
time, measurer of the sun’s course, Tum for men, lord of well-being,
creator of the harvest, maker and fashioner of mortals, bestower of breath
upon all men, giver of life to all the host of gods, pillar of heaven,
threshold of the earth, weigher of the equipoise of both worlds, lord of
rich gifts, increaser of the corn” etc.(187) Yet, as we should expect, the
exalted powers thus ascribed to the king differed in degree rather than in
kind from those which every Egyptian claimed for himself. Tiele observes
that “as every good man at his death became Osiris, as every one in danger
or need could by the use of magic sentences assume the form of a deity, it
is quite comprehensible how the king, not only after death, but already
during his life, was placed on a level with the deity.”(188)

Thus it appears that the same union of sacred functions with a royal title
which meets us in the King of the Wood at Nemi, the Sacrificial King at
Rome and the King Archon at Athens, occurs frequently outside the limits
of classical antiquity and is a common feature of societies at all stages
from barbarism to civilisation. Further, it appears that the royal priest
is often a king in fact as well as in name, swaying the sceptre as well as
the crosier. All this confirms the tradition of the origin of the titular
and priestly kings in the republics of ancient Greece and Italy. At least
by showing that the combination of spiritual and temporal power, of which
Graeco-Italian tradition preserved the memory, has actually existed in
many places, we have obviated any suspicion of improbability that might
have attached to the tradition. Therefore we may now fairly ask, May not
the King of the Wood have had an origin like that which a probable
tradition assigns to the Sacrificial King of Rome and the King Archon of
Athens? In other words, may not his predecessors in office have been a
line of kings whom a republican revolution stripped of their political
power, leaving them only their religious functions and the shadow of a
crown? There are at least two reasons for answering this question in the
negative. One reason is drawn from the abode of the priest of Nemi; the
other from his title, the King of the Wood. If his predecessors had been
kings in the ordinary sense, he would surely have been found residing,
like the fallen kings of Rome and Athens, in the city of which the sceptre
had passed from him. This city must have been Aricia, for there was none
nearer. But Aricia, as we have seen, was three miles off from his forest
sanctuary by the lake shore. If he reigned, it was not in the city, but in
the greenwood. Again his title, King of the Wood, hardly allows us to
suppose that he had ever been a king in the common sense of the word. More
likely he was a king of nature, and of a special side of nature, namely,
the woods from which he took his title. If we could find instances of what
we may call departmental kings of nature, that is of persons supposed to
rule over particular elements or aspects of nature, they would probably
present a closer analogy to the King of the Wood than the divine kings we
have been hitherto considering, whose control of nature is general rather
than special. Instances of such departmental kings are not wanting.

On a hill at Bomma (the mouth of the Congo) dwells Namvulu Vumu, King of
the Rain and Storm.(189) Of some of the tribes on the Upper Nile we are
told that they have no kings in the common sense; the only persons whom
they acknowledge as such are the Kings of the Rain, _Mata Kodou_, who are
credited with the power of giving rain at the proper time, that is in the
rainy season. Before the rains begin to fall at the end of March the
country is a parched and arid desert; and the cattle, which form the
people’s chief wealth, perish for lack of grass. So, when the end of March
draws on, each householder betakes himself to the King of the Rain and
offers him a cow that he may make the rain to fall soon. If no shower
falls, the people assemble and demand that the king shall give them rain;
and if the sky still continues cloudless, they rip up his belly in which
he is believed to keep the storms. Amongst the Bari tribe one of these
Rain Kings made rain by sprinkling water on the ground out of a
hand-bell.(190)

Among tribes on the outskirts of Abyssinia a similar office exists and has
been thus described by an observer. “The priesthood of the Alfai, as he is
called by the Barea and Kunáma, is a remarkable one; he is believed to be
able to make rain. This office formerly existed among the Algeds and
appears to be still common to the Nuba negroes. The Alfai of the Bareas,
who is also consulted by the northern Kunáma, lives near Tembádere on a
mountain alone with his family. The people bring him tribute in the form
of clothes and fruits, and cultivate for him a large field of his own. He
is a kind of king, and his office passes by inheritance to his brother or
sister’s son. He is supposed to conjure down rain and to drive away the
locusts. But if he disappoints the people’s expectation and a great
drought arises in the land, the Alfai is stoned to death, and his nearest
relations are obliged to cast the first stone at him. When we passed
through the country, the office of Alfai was still held by an old man; but
I heard that rain-making had proved too dangerous for him and that he had
renounced his office.”(191)

In the backwoods of Cambodia live two mysterious sovereigns known as the
King of the Fire and the King of the Water. Their fame is spread all over
the south of the great Indo-Chinese peninsula; but only a faint echo of it
has reached the West. No European, so far as is known, has ever seen them;
and their very existence might have passed for a fable, were it not that
till a few years ago communications were regularly maintained between them
and the King of Cambodia, who year by year exchanged presents with them.
The Cambodian gifts were passed from tribe to tribe till they reached
their destination; for no Cambodian would essay the long and perilous
journey. The tribe amongst whom the Kings of Fire and Water reside is the
Chréais or Jaray, a race with European features but a sallow complexion,
inhabiting the forest-clad mountains and high plateaux which separate
Cambodia from Annam. Their royal functions are of a purely mystic or
spiritual order; they have no political authority; they are simple
peasants, living by the sweat of their brow and the offerings of the
faithful. According to one account they live in absolute solitude, never
meeting each other and never seeing a human face. They inhabit
successively seven towers perched upon seven mountains, and every year
they pass from one tower to another. People come furtively and cast within
their reach what is needful for their subsistence. The kingship lasts
seven years, the time necessary to inhabit all the towers successively;
but many die before their time is out. The offices are hereditary in one
or (according to others) two royal families, who enjoy high consideration,
have revenues assigned to them, and are exempt from the necessity of
tilling the ground. But naturally the dignity is not coveted, and when a
vacancy occurs, all eligible men (they must be strong and have children)
flee and hide themselves. Another account, admitting the reluctance of the
hereditary candidates to accept the crown, does not countenance the report
of their hermit-like seclusion in the seven towers. For it represents the
people as prostrating themselves before the mystic kings whenever they
appear in public, it being thought that a terrible hurricane would burst
over the country if this mark of homage were omitted.

The same report says that the Fire King, the more important of the two,
and whose supernatural powers have never been questioned, officiates at
marriages, festivals, and sacrifices in honour of the Yan. On these
occasions a special place is set apart for him; and the path by which he
approaches is spread with white cotton cloths. A reason for confining the
royal dignity to the same family is that this family is in possession of
certain famous talismans which would lose their virtue or disappear if
they passed out of the family. These talismans are three: the fruit of a
creeper called _Cui_, gathered ages ago but still fresh and green; a
rattan, also very old and still not dry; lastly a sword containing a Yan
or spirit, who guards it constantly and works miracles with it. To this
wondrous brand sacrifices of buffaloes, pigs, fowls, and ducks are offered
for rain. It is kept swathed in cotton and silk; and amongst the annual
presents sent by the King of Cambodia were rich stuffs to wrap the sacred
sword.

In return the Kings of Fire and Water sent him a huge wax candle and two
calabashes, one full of rice and the other of sesame. The candle bore the
impress of the Fire King’s middle finger. Probably the candle was thought
to contain the seed of fire, which the Cambodian monarch thus received
once a year fresh from the Fire King himself. The holy candle was kept for
sacred uses. On reaching the capital of Cambodia it was entrusted to the
Brahmans, who laid it up beside the regalia, and with the wax made tapers
which were burned on the altars on solemn days. As the candle was the
special gift of the Fire King, we may conjecture that the rice and sesame
were the special gift of the Water King. The latter was doubtless king of
rain as well as of water, and the fruits of the earth were boons conferred
by him on men. In times of calamity, as during plague, floods, and war, a
little of this sacred rice and sesame was scattered on the ground “to
appease the wrath of the maleficent spirits.”(192)

These, then, are examples of what I have called departmental kings of
nature. But it is a far cry to Italy from the forests of Cambodia and the
sources of the Nile. And though Kings of Rain, Water and Fire have been
found, we have still to discover a King of the Wood to match the Arician
priest who bore that title. Perhaps we shall find him nearer home.




§ 4.—Tree-worship.


In the religious history of the Aryan race in Europe the worship of trees
has played an important part. Nothing could be more natural. For at the
dawn of history Europe was covered with immense primeval forests, in which
the scattered clearings must have appeared like islets in an ocean of
green. Down to the first century before our era the Hercynian forest
stretched eastward from the Rhine for a distance at once vast and unknown;
Germans whom Caesar questioned had travelled for two months through it
without reaching the end.(193) In our own country the wealds of Kent,
Surrey, and Sussex are remnants of the great forest of Anderida, which
once clothed the whole of the south eastern portion of the island.
Westward it seems to have stretched till it joined another forest that
extended from Hampshire to Devon. In the reign of Henry II the citizens of
London still hunted the wild bull and the boar in the forest of Hampstead.
Even under the later Plantagenets the royal forests were sixty-eight in
number. In the forest of Arden it was said that down to modern times a
squirrel might leap from tree to tree for nearly the whole length of
Warwickshire.(194) The excavation of prehistoric pile-villages in the
valley of the Po has shown that long before the rise and probably the
foundation of Rome the north of Italy was covered with dense forests of
elms, chestnuts, and especially of oaks.(195) Archaeology is here
confirmed by history; for classical writers contain many references to
Italian forests which have now disappeared.(196) In Greece the woods of
the present day are a mere fraction of those which clothed great tracts in
antiquity, and which at a more remote epoch may have spanned the Greek
peninsula from sea to sea.(197)

From an examination of the Teutonic words for “temple” Grimm has made it
probable that amongst the Germans the oldest sanctuaries were natural
woods.(198) However this may be, tree-worship is well attested for all the
great European families of the Aryan stock. Amongst the Celts the
oak-worship of the Druids is familiar to every one.(199) Sacred groves
were common among the ancient Germans, and tree-worship is hardly extinct
amongst their descendants at the present day.(200) At Upsala, the old
religious capital of Sweden, there was a sacred grove in which every tree
was regarded as divine.(201) Amongst the ancient Prussians (a Slavonian
people) the central feature of religion was the reverence for the sacred
oaks, of which the chief stood at Romove, tended by a hierarchy of priests
who kept up a perpetual fire of oak-wood in the holy grove.(202) The
Lithuanians were not converted to Christianity till towards the close of
the fourteenth century, and amongst them at the date of their conversion
the worship of trees was prominent.(203) Proofs of the prevalence of
tree-worship in ancient Greece and Italy are abundant.(204) Nowhere,
perhaps, in the ancient world was this antique form of religion better
preserved than in the heart of the great metropolis itself. In the Forum,
the busy centre of Roman life, the sacred fig-tree of Romulus was
worshipped down to the days of the empire, and the withering of its trunk
was enough to spread consternation through the city.(205) Again, on the
slope of the Palatine Hill grew a cornel-tree which was esteemed one of
the most sacred objects in Rome. Whenever the tree appeared to a passer-by
to be drooping, he set up a hue and cry which was echoed by the people in
the street, and soon a crowd might be seen running from all sides with
buckets of water, as if (says Plutarch) they were hastening to put out a
fire.(206)

But it is necessary to examine in some detail the notions on which
tree-worship is based. To the savage the world in general is animate, and
trees are no exception to the rule. He thinks that they have souls like
his own and he treats them accordingly. Thus the Wanika in Eastern Africa
fancy that every tree and especially every cocoa-nut tree has its spirit:
“the destruction of a cocoa-nut tree is regarded as equivalent to
matricide, because that tree gives them life and nourishment, as a mother
does her child.”(207) Siamese monks, believing that there are souls
everywhere and that to destroy anything whatever is forcibly to dispossess
a soul, will not break a branch of a tree “as they will not break the arm
of an innocent person.”(208) These monks, of course, are Buddhists. But
Buddhist animism is not a philosophical theory. It is simply a common
savage dogma incorporated in the system of an historical religion. To
suppose with Benfey and others that the theories of animism and
transmigration current among rude peoples of Asia are derived from
Buddhism is to reverse the facts. Buddhism in this respect borrowed from
savagery, not savagery from Buddhism. Again, the Dyaks ascribe souls to
trees and do not dare to cut down an old tree. In some places, when an old
tree has been blown down, they set it up, smear it with blood, and deck it
with flags “to appease the soul of the tree.”(209) People in Congo place
calabashes of palm-wine at the foot of certain trees for the trees to
drink when they are thirsty.(210) In India shrubs and trees are formally
married to each other or to idols.(211) In the North West Provinces of
India a marriage ceremony is performed in honour of a newly-planted
orchard; a man holding the Salagram represents the bridegroom, and another
holding the sacred Tulsi (_Ocymum sanctum_) represents the bride.(212) On
Christmas Eve German peasants used to tie fruit-trees together with straw
ropes to make them bear fruit, saying that the trees were thus
married.(213)

In the Moluccas when the clove-trees are in blossom they are treated like
pregnant women. No noise must be made near them; no light or fire must be
carried past them at night; no one must approach them with his hat on, but
must uncover his head. These precautions are observed lest the tree should
be frightened and bear no fruit, or should drop its fruit too soon, like
the untimely delivery of a woman who has been frightened in her
pregnancy.(214) So when the paddy (rice) is in bloom the Javanese say it
is pregnant and make no noises (fire no guns, etc.) near the field,
fearing that if they did so the crop would be all straw and no grain.(215)
In Orissa, also, growing rice is “considered as a pregnant woman, and the
same ceremonies are observed with regard to it as in the case of human
females.”(216)

Conceived as animate, trees are necessarily supposed to feel injuries done
to them. When an oak is being felled “it gives a kind of shriekes or
groanes, that may be heard a mile off, as if it were the genius of the
oake lamenting. E. Wyld, Esq., hath heard it severall times.”(217) The
Ojebways “very seldom cut down green or living trees, from the idea that
it puts them to pain, and some of their medicine-men profess to have heard
the wailing of the trees under the axe.”(218) Old peasants in some parts
of Austria still believe that forest-trees are animate, and will not allow
an incision to be made in the bark without special cause; they have heard
from their fathers that the tree feels the cut not less than a wounded man
his hurt. In felling a tree they beg its pardon.(219) So in Jarkino the
woodman craves pardon of the tree he cuts down.(220) Again, when a tree is
cut it is thought to bleed. Some Indians dare not cut a certain plant,
because there comes out a red juice which they take for the blood of the
plant.(221) In Samoa there was a grove of trees which no one dared cut.
Once some strangers tried to do so, but blood flowed from the tree, and
the sacrilegious strangers fell ill and died.(222) Till 1855 there was a
sacred larch-tree at Nauders, in the Tyrol, which was thought to bleed
whenever it was cut; moreover the steel was supposed to penetrate the
woodman’s body to the same depth that it penetrated the tree, and the
wound on the tree and on the man’s body healed together.(223)

Sometimes it is the souls of the dead which are believed to animate the
trees. The Dieyerie tribe of South Australia regard as very sacred certain
trees, which are supposed to be their fathers transformed; hence they will
not cut the trees down, and protest against the settlers doing so.(224)
Some of the Philippine Islanders believe that the souls of their
forefathers are in certain trees, which they therefore spare. If obliged
to fell one of these trees they excuse themselves to it by saying that it
was the priest who made them fell it.(225) In an Annamite story an old
fisherman makes an incision in the trunk of a tree which has drifted
ashore; but blood flows from the cut, and it appears that an empress with
her three daughters, who had been cast into the sea, are embodied in the
tree.(226) The story of Polydorus will occur to readers of Virgil.

In these cases the spirit is viewed as incorporate in the tree; it
animates the tree and must suffer and die with it. But, according to
another and no doubt later view, the tree is not the body, but merely the
abode of the tree-spirit, which can quit the injured tree as men quit a
dilapidated house. Thus when the Pelew Islanders are felling a tree, they
conjure the spirit of the tree to leave it and settle on another.(227) The
Pádams of Assam think that when a child is lost it has been stolen by the
spirits of the wood. So they retaliate on the spirits by cutting down
trees till they find the child. The spirits, fearing to be left without a
tree in which to lodge, give up the child, and it is found in the fork of
a tree.(228) Before the Katodis fell a forest-tree, they choose a tree of
the same kind and worship it by presenting a cocoa-nut, burning incense,
applying a red pigment, and begging it to bless the undertaking.(229) The
intention, perhaps, is to induce the spirit of the former tree to shift
its quarters to the latter. In clearing a wood, a Galeleze must not cut
down the last tree till the spirit in it has been induced to go away.(230)
The Mundaris have sacred groves which were left standing when the land was
cleared, lest the sylvan gods, disquieted at the felling of the trees,
should abandon the place.(231) The Miris in Assam are unwilling to break
up new land for cultivation so long as there is fallow land available; for
they fear to offend the spirits of the woods by cutting down trees
unnecessarily.(232)

In Sumatra, so soon as a tree is felled, a young tree is planted on the
stump; and some betel and a few small coins are also placed on it.(233)
Here the purpose is unmistakable. The spirit of the tree is offered a new
home in the young tree planted on the stump of the old one, and the
offering of betel and money is meant to compensate him for the disturbance
he has suffered. So in the island of Chedooba, on felling a large tree,
one of the woodmen was always ready with a green sprig, which he ran and
placed on the middle of the stump the instant the tree fell.(234) For the
same purpose German woodmen make a cross upon the stump while the tree is
falling, in the belief that this enables the spirit of the tree to live
upon the stump.(235)

Thus the tree is regarded, sometimes as the body, sometimes as merely the
house of the tree-spirit; and when we read of sacred trees which may not
be cut down because they are the seat of spirits, it is not always
possible to say with certainty in which way the presence of the spirit in
the tree is conceived. In the following cases, perhaps, the trees are
conceived as the dwelling-place of the spirits rather than as their
bodies. The old Prussians, it is said, believed that gods inhabited high
trees, such as oaks, from which they gave audible answers to inquirers;
hence these trees were not felled, but worshipped as the homes of
divinities.(236) The great oak at Romove was the especial dwelling-place
of the god; it was veiled with a cloth, which was, however, removed to
allow worshippers to see the sacred tree.(237) The Battas of Sumatra have
been known to refuse to cut down certain trees because they were the abode
of mighty spirits which would resent the injury.(238) The Curka Coles of
India believe that the tops of trees are inhabited by spirits which are
disturbed by the cutting down of the trees and will take vengeance.(239)
The Samogitians thought that if any one ventured to injure certain groves,
or the birds or beasts in them, the spirits would make his hands or feet
crooked.(240)

Even where no mention is made of wood-spirits, we may generally assume
that when a grove is sacred and inviolable, it is so because it is
believed to be either inhabited or animated by sylvan deities. In Livonia
there is a sacred grove in which, if any man fells a tree or breaks a
branch, he will die within the year.(241) The Wotjaks have sacred groves.
A Russian who ventured to hew a tree in one of them fell sick and died
next day.(242) Sacrifices offered at cutting down trees are doubtless
meant to appease the wood-spirits. In Gilgit it is usual to sprinkle
goat’s blood on a tree of any kind before cutting it down.(243) Before
thinning a grove a Roman farmer had to sacrifice a pig to the god or
goddess of the grove.(244) The priestly college of the Arval Brothers at
Rome had to make expiation when a rotten bough fell to the ground in the
sacred grove, or when an old tree was blown down by a storm or dragged
down by a weight of snow on its branches.(245)

When a tree comes to be viewed, no longer as the body of the tree-spirit,
but simply as its dwelling-place which it can quit at pleasure, an
important advance has been made in religious thought. Animism is passing
into polytheism. In other words, instead of regarding each tree as a
living and conscious being, man now sees in it merely a lifeless, inert
mass, tenanted for a longer or shorter time by a supernatural being who,
as he can pass freely from tree to tree, thereby enjoys a certain right of
possession or lordship over the trees, and, ceasing to be a tree-soul,
becomes a forest god. As soon as the tree-spirit is thus in a measure
disengaged from each particular tree, he begins to change his shape and
assume the body of a man, in virtue of a general tendency of early thought
to clothe all abstract spiritual beings in concrete human form. Hence in
classical art the sylvan deities are depicted in human shape, their
woodland character being denoted by a branch or some equally obvious
symbol.(246) But this change of shape does not affect the essential
character of the tree-spirit. The powers which he exercised as a tree-soul
incorporate in a tree, he still continues to wield as a god of trees. This
I shall now prove in detail. I shall show, first, that trees considered as
animate beings are credited with the power of making the rain to fall, the
sun to shine, flocks and herds to multiply, and women to bring forth
easily; and, second, that the very same powers are attributed to tree-gods
conceived as anthropomorphic beings or as actually incarnate in living
men.

First, then, trees or tree-spirits are believed to give rain and sunshine.
When the missionary Jerome of Prague was persuading the heathen
Lithuanians to fell their sacred groves, a multitude of women besought the
Prince of Lithuania to stop him, saying that with the woods he was
destroying the house of god from which they had been wont to get rain and
sunshine.(247) The Mundaris in Assam think if a tree in the sacred grove
is felled, the sylvan gods evince their displeasure by withholding
rain.(248) In Cambodia each village or province has its sacred tree, the
abode of a spirit. If the rains are late, the people sacrifice to the
tree.(249) To extort rain from the tree-spirit a branch is sometimes
dipped in water, as we have seen above.(250) In such cases the spirit is
doubtless supposed to be immanent in the branch, and the water thus
applied to the spirit produces rain by a sort of sympathetic magic,
exactly as we saw that in New Caledonia the rain-makers pour water on a
skeleton, believing that the soul of the deceased will convert the water
into rain.(251) There is hardly room to doubt that Mannhardt is right in
explaining as a rain-charm the European custom of drenching with water the
trees which are cut at certain popular festivals, as midsummer,
Whitsuntide, and harvest.(252)

Again, tree-spirits make the crops to grow. Amongst the Mundaris every
village has its sacred grove, and “the grove deities are held responsible
for the crops, and are especially honoured at all the great agricultural
festivals.”(253) The negroes of the Gold Coast are in the habit of
sacrificing at the foot of certain tall trees, and they think that if one
of these trees were felled, all the fruits of the earth would perish.(254)
Swedish peasants stick a leafy branch in each furrow of their corn-fields,
believing that this will ensure an abundant crop.(255) The same idea comes
out in the German and French custom of the Harvest-May. This is a large
branch or a whole tree, which is decked with ears of corn, brought home on
the last waggon from the harvest-field, and fastened on the roof of the
farmhouse or of the barn, where it remains for a year. Mannhardt has
proved that this branch or tree embodies the tree-spirit conceived as the
spirit of vegetation in general, whose vivifying and fructifying influence
is thus brought to bear upon the corn in particular. Hence in Swabia the
Harvest-May is fastened amongst the last stalks of corn left standing on
the field; in other places it is planted on the cornfield and the last
sheaf cut is fastened to its trunk.(256) The Harvest-May of Germany has
its counterpart in the _eiresione_ of ancient Greece.(257) The _eiresione_
was a branch of olive or laurel, bound about with ribbons and hung with a
variety of fruits. This branch was carried in procession at a harvest
festival and was fastened over the door of the house, where it remained
for a year. The object of preserving the Harvest-May or the _eiresione_
for a year is that the life-giving virtue of the bough may foster the
growth of the crops throughout the year. By the end of the year the virtue
of the bough is supposed to be exhausted and it is replaced by a new one.
Following a similar train of thought some of the Dyaks of Sarawak are
careful at the rice harvest to take up the roots of a certain bulbous
plant, which bears a beautiful crown of white and fragrant flowers. These
roots are preserved with the rice in the granary and are planted again
with the seed-rice in the following season; for the Dyaks say that the
rice will not grow unless a plant of this sort be in the field.(258)

Customs like that of the Harvest-May appear to exist in India and Africa.
At a harvest festival of the Lhoosai of S. E. India the chief goes with
his people into the forest and fells a large tree, which is then carried
into the village and set up in the midst. Sacrifice is offered, and
spirits and rice are poured over the tree. The ceremony closes with a
feast and a dance, at which the unmarried men and girls are the only
performers.(259) Among the Bechuanas the hack-thorn is very sacred, and it
would be a serious offence to cut a bough from it and carry it into the
village during the rainy season. But when the corn is ripe in the ear the
people go with axes, and each man brings home a branch of the sacred
hack-thorn, with which they repair the village cattle-yard.(260) Many
tribes of S. E. Africa will not cut down timber while the corn is green,
fearing that if they did so, the crops would be destroyed by blight, hail,
or early frost.(261)

Again, the fructifying power of the tree is put forth at seed-time as well
as at harvest. Among the Aryan tribes of Gilgit, on the north-western
frontier of India, the sacred tree is the _Chili_, a species of cedar
(_Juniperus excelsa_). At the beginning of wheat-sowing the people receive
from the Raja’s granary a quantity of wheat, which is placed in a skin
mixed with sprigs of the sacred cedar. A large bonfire of the cedar wood
is lighted, and the wheat which is to be sown is held over the smoke. The
rest is ground and made into a large cake, which is baked on the same fire
and given to the ploughman.(262) Here the intention of fertilising the
seed by means of the sacred cedar is unmistakable. In all these cases the
power of fostering the growth of crops, and, in general, of cultivated
plants, is ascribed to trees. The ascription is not unnatural. For the
tree is the largest and most powerful member of the vegetable kingdom, and
man is familiar with it before he takes to cultivating corn. Hence he
naturally places the feebler and, to him, newer plant under the dominion
of the older and more powerful.

Again, the tree-spirit makes the herds to multiply and blesses women with
offspring. The sacred _Chili_ or cedar of Gilgit was supposed to possess
this virtue in addition to that of fertilising the corn. At the
commencement of wheat-sowing three chosen unmarried youths, after
undergoing daily washing and purification for three days, used to start
for the mountain where the cedars grew, taking with them wine, oil, bread,
and fruit of every kind. Having found a suitable tree they sprinkled the
wine and oil on it, while they ate the bread and fruit as a sacrificial
feast. Then they cut off the branch and brought it to the village, where,
amid general rejoicing, it was placed on a large stone beside running
water. “A goat was then sacrificed, its blood poured over the cedar
branch, and a wild dance took place, in which weapons were brandished
about, and the head of the slaughtered goat was borne aloft, after which
it was set up as a mark for arrows and bullet-practice. Every good shot
was rewarded with a gourd full of wine and some of the flesh of the goat.
When the flesh was finished the bones were thrown into the stream and a
general ablution took place, after which every man went to his house
taking with him a spray of the cedar. On arrival at his house he found the
door shut in his face, and on his knocking for admission, his wife asked,
‘What have you brought?’ To which he answered, ‘If you want children, I
have brought them to you; if you want food, I have brought it; if you want
cattle, I have brought them; whatever you want, I have it.’ The door was
then opened and he entered with his cedar spray. The wife then took some
of the leaves and pouring wine and water on them placed them on the fire,
and the rest were sprinkled with flour and suspended from the ceiling. She
then sprinkled flour on her husband’s head and shoulders, and addressed
him thus: ‘Ai Shiri Bagerthum, son of the fairies, you have come from
far!’ _Shiri Bagerthum_, ‘the dreadful king,’ being the form of address to
the cedar when praying for wants to be fulfilled. The next day the wife
baked a number of cakes, and taking them with her, drove the family goats
to the Chili stone. When they were collected round the stone, she began to
pelt them with pebbles, invoking the Chili at the same time. According to
the direction in which the goats ran off, omens were drawn as to the
number and sex of the kids expected during the ensuing year. Walnuts and
pomegranates were then placed on the Chili stone, the cakes were
distributed and eaten, and the goats followed to pasture in whatever
direction they showed a disposition to go. For five days afterwards this
song was sung in all the houses:—


    ‘Dread Fairy King, I sacrifice before you,
    How nobly do you stand! you have filled up my house,
    You have brought me a wife when I had not one,
    Instead of daughters you have given me sons.
    You have shown me the ways of right,
    You have given me many children.’ ”(263)


Here the driving of the goats to the stone on which the cedar had been
placed is clearly meant to impart to them the fertilising influence of the
cedar. In Europe the May-tree (May-pole) is supposed to possess similar
powers over both women and cattle. In some parts of Germany on the 1st of
May the peasants set up May-trees at the doors of stables and byres, one
May-tree for each horse and cow; this is thought to make the cows yield
much milk.(264) Camden says of the Irish, “They fancy a green bough of a
tree, fastened on May-day against the house, will produce plenty of milk
that summer.”(265)

On the 2d of July some of the Wends used to set up an oak-tree in the
middle of the village with an iron cock fastened to its top; then they
danced round it, and drove the cattle round it to make them thrive.(266)

Some of the Esthonians believe in a mischievous spirit called Metsik, who
lives in the forest and has the weal of the cattle in his hands. Every
year a new image of him is prepared. On an appointed day all the villagers
assemble and make a straw man, dress him in clothes, and take him to the
common pasture land of the village. Here the figure is fastened to a high
tree, round which the people dance noisily. On almost every day of the
year prayer and sacrifice are offered to him that he may protect the
cattle. Sometimes the image of Metsik is made of a corn-sheaf and fastened
to a tall tree in the wood. The people perform strange antics before it to
induce Metsik to guard the corn and the cattle.(267)

The Circassians regard the pear-tree as the protector of cattle. So they
cut down a young pear-tree in the forest, branch it, and carry it home,
where it is adored as a divinity. Almost every house has one such
pear-tree. In autumn, on the day of the festival, it is carried into the
house with great ceremony to the sound of music and amid the joyous cries
of all the inmates, who compliment it on its fortunate arrival. It is
covered with candles, and a cheese is fastened to its top. Round about it
they eat, drink, and sing. Then they bid it good-bye and take it back to
the courtyard, where it remains for the rest of the year, set up against
the wall, without receiving any mark of respect.(268)

The common European custom of placing a green bush on May Day before the
house of a beloved maiden probably originated in the belief of the
fertilising power of the tree-spirit.(269) Amongst the Kara-Kirgiz barren
women roll themselves on the ground under a solitary apple-tree, in order
to obtain offspring.(270) Lastly, the power of granting to women an easy
delivery at child-birth is ascribed to trees both in Sweden and Africa. In
some districts of Sweden there was formerly a _bårdträd_ or guardian-tree
(lime, ash, or elm) in the neighbourhood of every farm. No one would pluck
a single leaf of the sacred tree, any injury to which was punished by
ill-luck or sickness. Pregnant women used to clasp the tree in their arms
in order to ensure an easy delivery.(271) In some negro tribes of the
Congo region pregnant women make themselves garments out of the bark of a
certain sacred tree, because they believe that this tree delivers them
from the dangers that attend child-bearing.(272) The story that Leto
clasped a palm-tree and an olive-tree or two laurel-trees when she was
about to give birth to Apollo and Artemis perhaps points to a similar
Greek belief in the efficacy of certain trees to facilitate delivery.(273)

From this review of the beneficent qualities commonly ascribed to
tree-spirits, it is easy to understand why customs like the May-tree or
May-pole have prevailed so widely and figured so prominently in the
popular festivals of European peasants. In spring or early summer or even
on Midsummer Day, it was and still is in many parts of Europe the custom
to go out to the woods, cut down a tree and bring it into the village,
where it is set up amid general rejoicings. Or the people cut branches in
the woods, and fasten them on every house. The intention of these customs
is to bring home to the village, and to each house, the blessings which
the tree-spirit has in its power to bestow. Hence the custom in some
places of planting a May-tree before every house, or of carrying the
village May-tree from door to door, that every household may receive its
share of the blessing. Out of the mass of evidence on this subject a few
examples may be selected.

Sir Henry Piers, in his _Description of Westmeath_, writing in 1682 says:
“On May-eve, every family sets up before their door a green bush, strewed
over with yellow flowers, which the meadows yield plentifully. In
countries where timber is plentiful, they erect tall slender trees, which
stand high, and they continue almost the whole year; so as a stranger
would go nigh to imagine that they were all signs of ale-sellers, and that
all houses were ale-houses.”(274) In Northamptonshire a young tree ten or
twelve feet high used to be planted before each house on May Day so as to
appear growing.(275) “An antient custom, still retained by the Cornish, is
that of decking their doors and porches on the 1st of May with green
boughs of sycamore and hawthorn, and of planting trees, or rather stumps
of trees, before their houses.”(276) In the north of England it was
formerly the custom for young people to rise very early on the morning of
the 1st of May, and go out with music into the woods, where they broke
branches and adorned them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. This done,
they returned about sunrise and fastened the flower-decked branches over
the doors and windows of their houses.(277) At Abingdon in Berkshire young
people formerly went about in groups on May morning, singing a carol of
which the following are some of the verses—


    “We’ve been rambling all the night;
        And sometime of this day;
    And now returning back again,
        We bring a garland gay.

    “A garland gay we bring you here;
        And at your door we stand;
    It is a sprout well budded out,
        The work of our Lord’s hand.”(278)


At the villages of Saffron Walden and Debden in Essex on the 1st of May
little girls go about in parties from door to door singing a song almost
identical with the above and carrying garlands; a doll dressed in white is
usually placed in the middle of each garland.(279) At Seven Oaks on May
Day the children carry boughs and garlands from house to house, begging
for pence. The garlands consist of two hoops interlaced crosswise, and
covered with blue and yellow flowers from the woods and hedges.(280) In
some villages of the Vosges Mountains on the first Sunday of May young
girls go in bands from house to house, singing a song in praise of May, in
which mention is made of the “bread and meal that come in May.” If money
is given them, they fasten a green bough to the door; if it is refused,
they wish the family many children and no bread to feed them.(281) In
Mayenne (France), boys who bore the name of _Maillotins_ used to go about
from farm to farm on the 1st of May singing carols, for which they
received money or a drink; they planted a small tree or a branch of a
tree.(282)

On the Thursday before Whitsunday the Russian villagers “go out into the
woods, sing songs, weave garlands, and cut down a young birch-tree, which
they dress up in woman’s clothes, or adorn with many-coloured shreds and
ribbons. After that comes a feast, at the end of which they take the
dressed-up birch-tree, carry it home to their village with joyful dance
and song, and set it up in one of the houses, where it remains as an
honoured guest till Whitsunday. On the two intervening days they pay
visits to the house where their ‘guest’ is; but on the third day,
Whitsunday, they take her to a stream and fling her into its waters,”
throwing their garlands after her. “All over Russia every village and
every town is turned, a little before Whitsunday, into a sort of garden.
Everywhere along the streets the young birch-trees stand in rows, every
house and every room is adorned with boughs, even the engines upon the
railway are for the time decked with green leaves.”(283) In this Russian
custom the dressing of the birch in woman’s clothes shows how clearly the
tree is conceived as personal; and the throwing it into a stream is most
probably a rain-charm. In some villages of Altmark it was formerly the
custom for serving-men, grooms, and cowherds to go from farm to farm at
Whitsuntide distributing crowns made of birch-branches and flowers to the
farmers; these crowns were hung up in the houses and left till the
following year.(284)

In the neighbourhood of Zabern in Alsace bands of people go about carrying
May-trees. Amongst them is a man dressed in a white shirt, with his face
blackened; in front of him is carried a large May-tree, but each member of
the band also carries a smaller one. One of the company carries a huge
basket in which he collects eggs, bacon, etc.(285) In some parts of Sweden
on the eve of May Day lads go about carrying each a bunch of
fresh-gathered birch twigs, wholly or partially in leaf. With the village
fiddler at their head they go from house to house singing May songs; the
purport of which is a prayer for fine weather, a plentiful harvest, and
worldly and spiritual blessings. One of them carries a basket in which he
collects gifts of eggs and the like. If they are well received they stick
a leafy twig in the roof over the cottage door.(286)

But in Sweden midsummer is the season when these ceremonies are chiefly
observed. On the Eve of St. John (23d June) the houses are thoroughly
cleansed and garnished with green boughs and flowers. Young fir-trees are
raised at the door-way and elsewhere about the homestead; and very often
small umbrageous arbours are constructed in the garden. In Stockholm on
this day a leaf-market is held at which thousands of May-poles (_Maj
Stănger_) six inches to twelve feet high, decorated with leaves, flowers,
slips of coloured paper, gilt egg-shells, strung on reeds, etc. are
exposed for sale. Bonfires are lit on the hills and the people dance round
them and jump over them. But the chief event of the day is setting up the
May-pole. This consists of a straight and tall spruce-pine tree, stripped
of its branches. “At times hoops and at others pieces of wood, placed
crosswise, are attached to it at intervals; whilst at others it is
provided with bows, representing so to say, a man with his arms akimbo.
From top to bottom not only the ‘Maj Stăng’ (May-pole) itself, but the
hoops, bows, etc. are ornamented with leaves, flowers, slips of various
cloth, gilt egg-shells, etc.; and on the top of it is a large vane, or it
may be a flag.” The raising of the May-pole, the decoration of which is
done by the village maidens, is an affair of much ceremony; the people
flock to it from all quarters and dance round it in a great ring.(287) In
some parts of Bohemia also a May-pole or midsummer-tree is erected on St.
John’s Eve. The lads fetch a tall fir or pine from the wood and set it up
on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, garlands, and red
ribbons. Then they pile brushwood, dry wood, and other combustible
materials about the tree, and, when darkness has fallen, set the whole on
fire. While the fire was burning the lads used to climb up the tree and
fetch down the garlands and ribbons which the girls had fastened to it;
but as this led to accidents, the custom has been forbidden. Sometimes the
young people fling burning besoms into the air, or run shouting down hill
with them. When the tree is consumed, the young men and their sweethearts
stand on opposite sides of the fire, and look at each other through
garlands and through the fire, to see whether they will be true lovers and
will wed. Then they throw the garlands thrice across the smouldering fire
to each other. When the blaze has died down, the couples join hands and
leap thrice across the glowing embers. The singed garlands are taken home,
and kept carefully in the house throughout the year. Whenever a
thunder-storm bursts, part of the garlands are burned on the hearth; and
when the cattle are sick or are calving, they get a portion of the
garlands to eat. The charred embers of the bonfire are stuck in the
cornfields and meadows and on the roof of the house, to keep house and
field from bad weather and injury.(288)

It is hardly necessary to illustrate the custom of setting up a village
May-tree or May-pole on May Day. One point only—the renewal of the village
May-tree—requires to be noticed. In England the village May-pole seems as
a rule, at least in later times, to have been permanent, not renewed from
year to year.(289) Sometimes, however, it was renewed annually. Thus,
Borlase says of the Cornish people: “From towns they make incursions, on
May-eve, into the country, cut down a tall elm, bring it into the town
with rejoicings, and having fitted a straight taper pole to the end of it,
and painted it, erect it in the most public part, and upon holidays and
festivals dress it with garlands of flowers or ensigns and
streamers.”(290) An annual renewal seems also to be implied in the
description by Stubbs, a Puritanical writer, of the custom of drawing home
the May-pole by twenty or forty yoke of oxen.(291) In some parts of
Germany and Austria the May-tree or Whitsuntide-tree is renewed annually,
a fresh tree being felled and set up.(292)

We can hardly doubt that originally the practice everywhere was to set up
a new May-tree every year. As the object of the custom was to bring in the
fructifying spirit of vegetation, newly awakened in spring, the end would
have been defeated if, instead of a living tree, green and sappy, an old
withered one had been erected year after year or allowed to stand
permanently. When, however, the meaning of the custom had been forgotten,
and the May-tree was regarded simply as a centre for holiday merrymaking,
people saw no reason for felling a fresh tree every year, and preferred to
let the same tree stand permanently, only decking it with fresh flowers on
May Day. But even when the May-pole had thus become a fixture, the need of
giving it the appearance of being a green tree, not a dead pole, was
sometimes felt. Thus at Weverham in Cheshire “are two May-poles, which are
decorated on this day (May Day) with all due attention to the ancient
solemnity; the sides are hung with garlands, and the top terminated by a
birch or other tall slender tree with its leaves on; the bark being
peeled, and the stem spliced to the pole, so as to give the appearance of
one tree from the summit.”(293) Thus the renewal of the May-tree is like
the renewal of the Harvest-May; each is intended to secure a fresh portion
of the fertilising spirit of vegetation, and to preserve it throughout the
year. But whereas the efficacy of the Harvest-May is restricted to
promoting the growth of the crops, that of the May-tree or May-branch
extends also, as we have seen, to women and cattle. Lastly, it is worth
noting that the old May-tree is sometimes burned at the end of the year.
Thus in the district of Prague young people break pieces off the public
May-tree and place them behind the holy pictures in their rooms, where
they remain till next May Day, and are then burned on the hearth.(294) In
Würtemberg the bushes which are set up on the houses on Palm Sunday are
sometimes left there for a year and then burnt.(295) The _eiresione_ (the
Harvest-May of Greece) was perhaps burned at the end of the year.(296)

So much for the tree-spirit conceived as incorporate or immanent in the
tree. We have now to show that the tree-spirit is often conceived and
represented as detached from the tree and clothed in human form, and even
as embodied in living men or women. The evidence for this anthropomorphic
representation of the tree-spirit is largely to be found in the popular
customs of European peasantry.

There is an instructive class of cases in which the tree-spirit is
represented simultaneously in vegetable form and in human form, which are
set side by side as if for the express purpose of explaining each other.
In these cases the human representative of the tree-spirit is sometimes a
doll or puppet, sometimes a living person; but whether a puppet or a
person, it is placed beside a tree or bough; so that together the person
or puppet, and the tree or bough, form a sort of bilingual inscription,
the one being, so to speak, a translation of the other. Here, therefore,
there is no room left for doubt that the spirit of the tree is actually
represented in human form. Thus in Bohemia, on the fourth Sunday in Lent,
young people throw a puppet called Death into the water; then the girls go
into the wood, cut down a young tree, and fasten to it a puppet dressed in
white clothes to look like a woman; with this tree and puppet they go from
house to house collecting gratuities and singing songs with the refrain—


    “We carry Death out of the village,
    We bring Summer into the village.”(297)


Here, as we shall see later on, the “Summer” is the spirit of vegetation
returning or reviving in spring. In some places in this country children
go about asking for pence with some small imitations of May-poles, and
with a finely dressed doll which they call the Lady of the May.(298) In
these cases the tree and the puppet are obviously regarded as equivalent.

At Thann, in Alsace, a girl called the Little May Rose, dressed in white,
carries a small May-tree, which is gay with garlands and ribbons. Her
companions collect gifts from door to door, singing a song—


    “Little May Rose turn round three times,
    Let us look at you round and round!
    Rose of the May, come to the greenwood away,
    We will be merry all.
    So we go from the May to the roses.”


In the course of the song a wish is expressed that those who give nothing
may lose their fowls by the marten, that their vine may bear no clusters,
their tree no nuts, their field no corn; the produce of the year is
supposed to depend on the gifts offered to these May singers.(299) Here
and in the cases mentioned above, where children go about with green
boughs on May Day singing and collecting money, the meaning is that with
the spirit of vegetation they bring plenty and good luck to the house, and
they expect to be paid for the service. In Russian Lithuania, on the 1st
of May, they used to set up a green tree before the village. Then the
rustic swains chose the prettiest girl, crowned her, swathed her in birch
branches and set her beside the May-tree, where they danced, sang, and
shouted “O May! O May!”(300) In Brie (Isle de France) a May-tree is set up
in the midst of the village; its top is crowned with flowers; lower down
it is twined with leaves and twigs, still lower with huge green branches.
The girls dance round it, and at the same time a lad wrapt in leaves and
called Father May is led about.(301) In Bavaria, on the 2d of May, a
_Walber_ (?) tree is erected before a tavern, and a man dances round it,
enveloped in straw from head to foot in such a way that the ears of corn
unite above his head to form a crown. He is called the _Walber_, and used
to be led in solemn procession through the streets, which were adorned
with sprigs of birch.(302) In Carinthia, on St. George’s Day (24th April),
the young people deck with flowers and garlands a tree which has been
felled on the eve of the festival. The tree is then carried in procession,
accompanied with music and joyful acclamations, the chief figure in the
procession being the Green George, a young fellow clad from head to foot
in green birch branches. At the close of the ceremonies the Green George,
that is an effigy of him, is thrown into the water. It is the aim of the
lad who acts Green George to step out of his leafy envelope and substitute
the effigy so adroitly that no one shall perceive the change. In many
places, however, the lad himself who plays the part of Green George is
ducked in a river or pond, with the express intention of thus ensuring
rain to make the fields and meadows green in summer. In some places the
cattle are crowned and driven from their stalls to the accompaniment of a
song—


    “Green George we bring,
    Green George we accompany,
    May he feed our herds well,
    If not, to the water with him.”(303)


Here we see that the same powers of making rain and fostering the cattle,
which are ascribed to the tree-spirit regarded as incorporate in the tree,
are also attributed to the tree-spirit represented by a living man.

An example of the double representation of the spirit of vegetation by a
tree and a living man is reported from Bengal. The Oraons have a festival
in spring while the sál trees are in blossom, because they think that at
this time the marriage of earth is celebrated and the sál flowers are
necessary for the ceremony. On an appointed day the villagers go with
their priest to the Sarna, the sacred grove, a remnant of the old sál
forest in which a goddess Sarna Burhi, or woman of the grove, is supposed
to dwell. She is thought to have great influence on the rain; and the
priest arriving with his party at the grove sacrifices to her five fowls,
of which a morsel is given to each person present. Then they gather the
sál flowers and return laden with them to the village. Next day the priest
visits every house, carrying the flowers in a wide open basket. The women
of each house bring out water to wash his feet as he approaches, and
kneeling make him an obeisance. Then he dances with them and places some
of the sál flowers over the door of the house and in the women’s hair. No
sooner is this done than the women empty their water-jugs over him,
drenching him to the skin. A feast follows, and the young people, with sál
flowers in their hair, dance all night on the village green.(304) Here,
the equivalence of the flower-bearing priest to the goddess of the
flowering-tree comes out plainly. For she is supposed to influence the
rain, and the drenching of the priest with water is, doubtless, like the
ducking of the Green George in Bavaria, a rain-charm. Thus the priest, as
if he were the tree goddess herself, goes from door to door dispensing
rain and bestowing fruitfulness on each house, but especially on the
women.

Without citing more examples to the same effect, we may sum up the result
of the preceding paragraphs in the words of Mannhardt. “The customs quoted
suffice to establish with certainty the conclusion that in these spring
processions the spirit of vegetation is often represented both by the
May-tree and in addition by a man dressed in green leaves or flowers or by
a girl similarly adorned. It is the same spirit which animates the tree
and is active in the inferior plants and which we have recognised in the
May-tree and the Harvest-May. Quite consistently the spirit is also
supposed to manifest his presence in the first flower of spring and
reveals himself both in a girl representing a May-rose, and also, as giver
of harvest, in the person of the _Walber_. The procession with this
representative of the divinity was supposed to produce the same beneficial
effects on the fowls, the fruit-trees, and the crops as the presence of
the deity himself. In other words, the mummer was regarded not as an image
but as an actual representative of the spirit of vegetation; hence the
wish expressed by the attendants on the May-rose and the May-tree that
those who refuse them gifts of eggs, bacon, etc. may have no share in the
blessings which it is in the power of the itinerant spirit to bestow. We
may conclude that these begging processions with May-trees or May-boughs
from door to door (‘bringing the May or the summer’) had everywhere
originally a serious and, so to speak, sacramental significance; people
really believed that the god of growth was present unseen in the bough; by
the procession he was brought to each house to bestow his blessing. The
names May, Father May, May Lady, Queen of the May, by which the
anthropomorphic spirit of vegetation is often denoted, show that the
conception of the spirit of vegetation is blent with a personification of
the season at which his powers are most strikingly manifested.”(305)

Thus far we have seen that the tree-spirit or the spirit of vegetation in
general is represented either in vegetable form alone, as by a tree,
bough, or flower; or in vegetable and human form simultaneously, as by a
tree, bough, or flower in combination with a puppet or a living person. It
remains to show that the representation of him by a tree, bough, or flower
is sometimes entirely dropped, while the representation of him by a living
person remains. In this case the representative character of the person is
generally marked by dressing him or her in leaves or flowers; sometimes
too it is indicated by the name he or she bears.

We saw that in Russia at Whitsuntide a birch-tree is dressed in woman’s
clothes and set up in the house. Clearly equivalent to this is the custom
observed on Whit-Monday by Russian girls in the district of Pinsk. They
choose the prettiest of their number, envelop her in a mass of foliage
taken from the birch-trees and maples, and carry her about through the
village. In a district of Little Russia they take round a “poplar,”
represented by a girl wearing bright flowers in her hair.(306) In the
Département de l’Ain (France) on the 1st of May eight or ten boys unite,
clothe one of their number in leaves, and go from house to house
begging.(307) At Whitsuntide in Holland poor women used to go about
begging with a little girl called Whitsuntide Flower (_Pinxterbloem_,
perhaps a kind of iris); she was decked with flowers and sat in a waggon.
In North Brabant she wears the flowers from which she takes her name and a
song is sung—


    “Whitsuntide Flower
    Turn yourself once round.”(308)


In Ruhla (Thüringen) as soon as the trees begin to grow green in spring,
the children assemble on a Sunday and go out into the woods, where they
choose one of their playmates to be the Little Leaf Man. They break
branches from the trees and twine them about the child till only his shoes
peep out from the leafy mantle. Holes are made in it for him to see
through, and two of the children lead the Little Leaf Man that he may not
stumble or fall. Singing and dancing they take him from house to house,
asking for gifts of food (eggs, cream, sausage, cakes). Lastly they
sprinkle the Leaf Man with water and feast on the food they have
collected.(309) In England the best-known example of these leaf-clad
mummers is the Jack-in-the-Green, a chimney-sweeper who walks encased in a
pyramidal-shaped framework of wicker-work, which is covered with holly and
ivy, and surmounted by a crown of flowers and ribbons. Thus arrayed he
dances on May Day at the head of a troop of chimney-sweeps, who collect
pence.(310) In some parts also of France a young fellow is encased in a
wicker framework covered with leaves and is led about.(311) In Frickthal
(Aargau) a similar frame of basketwork is called the Whitsuntide Basket.
As soon as the trees begin to bud, a spot is chosen in the wood, and here
the village lads make the frame with all secrecy, lest others should
forestall them. Leafy branches are twined round two hoops, one of which
rests on the shoulders of the wearer, the other encircles his calves;
holes are made for his eyes and mouth; and a large nosegay crowns the
whole. In this guise he appears suddenly in the village at the hour of
vespers, preceded by three boys blowing on horns made of willow bark. The
great object of his supporters is to set up the Whitsuntide Basket beside
the village well, and to keep it and him there, despite the efforts of the
lads from neighbouring villages, who seek to carry off the Whitsuntide
Basket and set it up at their own well.(312) In the neighbourhood of
Ertingen (Würtemberg) a masker of the same sort, known as the Lazy Man
(_Latzmann_), goes about the village on Midsummer Day; he is hidden under
a great pyramidal or conical frame of wicker-work, ten or twelve feet
high, which is completely covered with sprigs of fir. He has a bell which
he rings as he goes, and he is attended by a suite of persons dressed up
in character—a footman, a colonel, a butcher, an angel, the devil, the
doctor, etc. They march in Indian file and halt before every house, where
each of them speaks in character, except the Lazy Man, who says nothing.
With what they get by begging from door to door they hold a feast.(313)

In the class of cases of which the above are specimens it is obvious that
the leaf-clad person who is led about is equivalent to the May-tree,
May-bough, or May-doll, which is carried from house to house by children
begging. Both are representatives of the beneficent spirit of vegetation,
whose visit to the house is recompensed by a present of money or food.

Often the leaf-clad person who represents the spirit of vegetation is
known as the king or the queen; thus, for example, he or she is called the
May King, Whitsuntide King, Queen of May, and so on. These titles, as
Mannhardt observes, imply that the spirit incorporate in vegetation is a
ruler, whose creative power extends far and wide.(314)

In a village near Salzwedel a May-tree is set up at Whitsuntide and the
boys race to it; he who reaches it first is king; a garland of flowers is
put round his neck and in his hand he carries a May-bush, with which, as
the procession moves along, he sweeps away the dew. At each house they
sing a song, wishing the inmates good luck, referring to the “black cow in
the stall milking white milk, black hen on the nest laying white eggs,”
and begging a gift of eggs, bacon, etc.(315) In some villages of Brunswick
at Whitsuntide a May King is completely enveloped in a May-bush. In some
parts of Thüringen also they have a May King at Whitsuntide, but he is got
up rather differently. A frame of wood is made in which a man can stand;
it is completely covered with birch boughs and is surmounted by a crown of
birch and flowers, in which a bell is fastened. This frame is placed in
the wood and the May King gets into it. The rest go out and look for him,
and when they have found him they lead him back into the village to the
magistrate, the clergyman, and others, who have to guess who is in the
verdurous frame. If they guess wrong, the May King rings his bell by
shaking his head, and a forfeit of beer or the like must be paid by the
unsuccessful guesser.(316) In some parts of Bohemia on Whit-Monday the
young fellows disguise themselves in tall caps of birch bark adorned with
flowers. One of them is dressed as a king and dragged on a sledge to the
village green, and if on the way they pass a pool the sledge is always
overturned into it. Arrived at the green they gather round the king; the
crier jumps on a stone or climbs up a tree and recites lampoons about each
house and its inmates. Afterwards the disguises of bark are stripped off
and they go about the village in holiday attire, carrying a May-tree and
begging. Cakes, eggs, and corn are sometimes given them.(317) At
Grossvargula, near Langensalza, in last century a Grass King used to be
led about in procession at Whitsuntide. He was encased in a pyramid of
poplar branches, the top of which was adorned with a royal crown of
branches and flowers. He rode on horseback with the leafy pyramid over
him, so that its lower end touched the ground, and an opening was left in
it only for his face. Surrounded by a cavalcade of young fellows, he rode
in procession to the town hall, the parsonage, etc., where they all got a
drink of beer. Then under the seven lindens of the neighbouring
Sommerberg, the Grass King was stripped of his green casing; the crown was
handed to the Mayor, and the branches were stuck in the flax fields in
order to make the flax grow tall.(318) In this last trait the fertilising
influence ascribed to the representative of the tree-spirit comes out
clearly. In the neighbourhood of Pilsen (Bohemia) a conical hut of green
branches, without any door, is erected at Whitsuntide in the midst of the
village. To this hut rides a troop of village lads with a king at their
head. He wears a sword at his side and a sugar-loaf hat of rushes on his
head. In his train are a judge, a crier, and a personage called the
Frog-flayer or Hangman. This last is a sort of ragged merryandrew, wearing
a rusty old sword and bestriding a sorry hack. On reaching the hut the
crier dismounts and goes round it looking for a door. Finding none, he
says, “Ah, this is perhaps an enchanted castle; the witches creep through
the leaves and need no door.” At last he draws his sword and hews his way
into the hut, where there is a chair, on which he seats himself and
proceeds to criticise in rhyme the girls, farmers, and farm-servants of
the neighbourhood. When this is over, the Frog-flayer steps forward and,
after exhibiting a cage with frogs in it, sets up a gallows on which he
hangs the frogs in a row.(319) In the neighbourhood of Plas the ceremony
differs in some points. The king and his soldiers are completely clad in
bark, adorned with flowers and ribbons; they all carry swords and ride
horses, which are gay with green branches and flowers. While the village
dames and girls are being criticised at the arbour, a frog is secretly
pinched and poked by the crier till it quacks. Sentence of death is passed
on the frog by the king; the hangman beheads it and flings the bleeding
body among the spectators. Lastly, the king is driven from the hut and
pursued by the soldiers.(320) The pinching and beheading of the frog are
doubtless, as Mannhardt observes,(321) a rain-charm. We have seen(322)
that some Indians of the Orinoco beat frogs for the express purpose of
producing rain, and that killing a frog is a German rain-charm.

Often the spirit of vegetation in spring is represented by a queen instead
of a king. In the neighbourhood of Libchowic (Bohemia), on the fourth
Sunday in Lent, girls dressed in white and wearing the first spring
flowers, as violets and daisies, in their hair, lead about the village a
girl who is called the Queen and is crowned with flowers. During the
procession, which is conducted with great solemnity, none of the girls may
stand still, but must keep whirling round continually and singing. In
every house the Queen announces the arrival of spring and wishes the
inmates good luck and blessings, for which she receives presents.(323) In
German Hungary the girls choose the prettiest girl to be their Whitsuntide
Queen, fasten a towering wreath on her brow, and carry her singing through
the streets. At every house they stop, sing old ballads, and receive
presents.(324) In the south-east of Ireland on May Day the prettiest girl
used to be chosen Queen of the district for twelve months. She was crowned
with wild flowers; feasting, dancing, and rustic sports followed, and were
closed by a grand procession in the evening. During her year of office she
presided over rural gatherings of young people at dances and merrymakings.
If she married before next May Day her authority was at an end, but her
successor was not elected till that day came round.(325) The May Queen is
common in France(326) and familiar in England.

Again the spirit of vegetation is sometimes represented by a king and
queen, a lord and lady, or a bridegroom and bride. Here again the
parallelism holds between the anthropomorphic and the vegetable
representation of the tree-spirit, for we have seen above that trees are
sometimes married to each other.(327) In a village near Königgrätz
(Bohemia) on Whit-Monday the children play the king’s game, at which a
king and a queen march about under a canopy, the queen wearing a garland,
and the youngest girl carrying two wreaths on a plate behind them. They
are attended by boys and girls called groom’s men and bridesmaids, and
they go from house to house collecting gifts.(328) Near Grenoble, in
France, a king and queen are chosen on the 1st of May and are set on a
throne for all to see.(329) At Headington, near Oxford, children used to
carry garlands from door to door on May Day. Each garland was carried by
two girls, and they were followed by a lord and lady—a boy and girl linked
together by a white handkerchief, of which each held an end, and dressed
with ribbons, sashes, and flowers. At each door they sang a verse—


    “Gentlemen and ladies,
      We wish you happy May;
    We come to show you a garland,
      Because it is May-day.”


On receiving money the lord put his arm about his lady’s waist and kissed
her.(330) In some Saxon villages at Whitsuntide a lad and a lass disguise
themselves and hide in the bushes or high grass outside the village. Then
the whole village goes out with music “to seek the bridal pair.” When they
find the couple they all gather round them, the music strikes up, and the
bridal pair is led merrily to the village. In the evening they dance. In
some places the bridal pair is called the prince and the princess.(331)

In the neighbourhood of Briançon (Dauphiné) on May Day the lads wrap up in
green leaves a young fellow whose sweetheart has deserted him or married
another. He lies down on the ground and feigns to be asleep. Then a girl
who likes him, and would marry him, comes and wakes him, and raising him
up offers him her arm and a flag. So they go to the alehouse, where the
pair lead off the dancing. But they must marry within the year, or they
are treated as old bachelor and old maid, and are debarred the company of
the young folk. The lad is called the bridegroom of the month of May (_le
fiancé du mois de May_). In the alehouse he puts off his garment of
leaves, out of which, mixed with flowers, his partner in the dance makes a
nosegay, and wears it at her breast next day, when he leads her again to
the alehouse.(332) Like this is a Russian custom observed in the district
of Nerechta on the Thursday before Whitsunday. The girls go out into a
birch-wood, wind a girdle or band round a stately birch, twist its lower
branches into a wreath, and kiss each other in pairs through the wreath.
The girls who kiss through the wreath call each other gossips. Then one of
the girls steps forward, and mimicking a drunken man, flings herself on
the ground, rolls on the grass, and feigns to go fast asleep. Another girl
wakens the pretended sleeper and kisses him; then the whole bevy trips
singing through the wood to twine garlands, which they throw into the
water. In the fate of the garlands floating on the stream they read their
own.(333) In this custom the rôle of the sleeper was probably at one time
sustained by a lad. In these French and Russian customs we have a forsaken
bridegroom, in the following a forsaken bride. On Shrove Tuesday the
Slovenes of Oberkrain drag a straw puppet with joyous cries up and down
the village; then they throw it into the water or burn it, and from the
height of the flames they judge of the abundance of the next harvest. The
noisy crew is followed by a female masker, who drags a great board by a
string and gives out that she is a forsaken bride.(334)

Viewed in the light of what has gone before, the awakening of the forsaken
sleeper in these ceremonies probably represents the revival of vegetation
in spring. But it is not easy to assign their respective rôles to the
forsaken bridegroom and to the girl who wakes him from his slumber. Is the
sleeper the leafless forest or the bare earth of winter? Is the girl who
wakens him the fresh verdure or the genial sunshine of spring? It is
hardly possible, on the evidence before us, to answer these questions. The
Oraons of Bengal, it may be remembered, celebrate the marriage of earth in
the springtime, when the sál-tree is in blossom. But from this we can
hardly argue that in the European ceremonies the sleeping bridegroom is
“the dreaming earth” and the girl the spring blossoms.

In the Highlands of Scotland the revival of vegetation in spring used to
be graphically represented as follows. On Candlemas day (2d February) in
the Hebrides “the mistress and servants of each family take a sheaf of
oats, and dress it up in women’s apparel, put it in a large basket, and
lay a wooden club by it, and this they call Brüd’s bed; and then the
mistress and servants cry three times, Brüd is come, Brüd is welcome. This
they do just before going to bed, and when they rise in the morning they
look among the ashes, expecting to see the impression of Brüd’s club
there; which if they do they reckon it a true presage of a good crop and
prosperous year, and the contrary they take as an ill omen.”(335) The same
custom is described by another witness thus: “Upon the night before
Candlemas it is usual to make a bed with corn and hay, over which some
blankets are laid, in a part of the house near the door. When it is ready,
a person goes out and repeats three times, ... ‘Bridget, Bridget, come in;
thy bed is ready.’ One or more candles are left burning near it all
night.”(336)

Often the marriage of the spirit of vegetation in spring, though not
directly represented, is implied by naming the human representative of the
spirit “the Bride,” and dressing her in wedding attire. Thus in some
villages of Altmark at Whitsuntide, while the boys go about carrying a
May-tree or leading a boy enveloped in leaves and flowers, the girls lead
about the May Bride, a girl dressed as a bride with a great nosegay in her
hair. They go from house to house, the May Bride singing a song in which
she asks for a present, and tells the inmates of each house that if they
give her something they will themselves have something the whole year
through; but if they give her nothing they will themselves have
nothing.(337) In some parts of Westphalia two girls lead a flower-crowned
girl called “the Whitsuntide Bride” from door to door, singing a song in
which they ask for eggs.(338) In Bresse in the month of May a girl called
_la Mariée_ is tricked out with ribbons and nosegays and is led about by a
gallant. She is preceded by a lad carrying a green May-tree, and
appropriate verses are sung.(339)




§ 5.—Tree-worship in antiquity.


Such then are some of the ways in which the tree-spirit or the spirit of
vegetation is represented in the customs of our European peasantry. From
the remarkable persistence and similarity of such customs all over Europe
we are justified in concluding that tree-worship was once an important
element in the religion of the Aryan race in Europe, and that the rites
and ceremonies of the worship were marked by great uniformity everywhere,
and did not substantially differ from those which are still or were till
lately observed by our peasants at their spring and midsummer festivals.
For these rites bear internal marks of great antiquity, and this internal
evidence is confirmed by the resemblance which the rites bear to those of
rude peoples elsewhere.(340) Therefore it is hardly rash to infer, from
this consensus of popular customs, that the Greeks and Romans, like the
other Aryan peoples of Europe, once practised forms of tree-worship
similar to those which are still kept up by our peasantry. In the palmy
days of ancient civilisation, no doubt, the worship had sunk to the level
of vulgar superstition and rustic merrymaking, as it has done among
ourselves. We need not therefore be surprised that the traces of such
popular rites are few and slight in ancient literature. They are not less
so in the polite literature of modern Europe; and the negative argument
cannot be allowed to go for more in the one case than in the other.
Enough, however, of positive evidence remains to confirm the presumption
drawn from analogy. Much of this evidence has been collected and analysed
with his usual learning and judgment by W. Mannhardt.(341) Here I shall
content myself with citing certain Greek festivals which seem to be the
classical equivalents of an English May Day in the olden time.

Every few years the Boeotians of Plataea held a festival which they called
the Little Daedala. On the day of the festival they went out into an
ancient oak forest, the trees of which were of gigantic girth. Here they
set some boiled meat on the ground, and watched the birds that gathered
round it. When a raven was observed to carry off a piece of the meat and
settle on an oak, the people followed it and cut down the tree. With the
wood of the tree they made an image, dressed it as a bride, and placed it
on a bullock-cart with a bridesmaid beside it. It seems then to have been
drawn to the banks of the river Asopus and back to the town, attended by a
piping and dancing crowd. After the festival the image was put away and
kept till the celebration of the Great Daedala, which fell only once in
sixty years. On this great occasion all the images that had accumulated
from the celebrations of the Little Daedala were dragged on carts in
solemn procession to the river Asopus, and then to the top of Mount
Cithaeron. Here an altar had been constructed of square blocks of wood
fitted together and surmounted by a heap of brushwood. Animals were
sacrificed by being burned on the altar, and the altar itself, together
with the images, were consumed by the flames. The blaze, we are told, rose
to a prodigious height and was seen for many miles. To explain the origin
of the festival it was said that once upon a time Hera had quarrelled with
Zeus and left him in high dudgeon. To lure her back Zeus gave out that he
was about to marry the nymph Plataea, daughter of the river Asopus. He
caused a wooden image to be made, dressed and veiled as a bride, and
conveyed on a bullock-cart. Transported with rage and jealousy, Hera flew
to the cart, and tearing off the veil of the pretended bride, discovered
the deceit that had been practised on her. Her rage was now changed to
laughter, and she became reconciled to her husband Zeus.(342)

The resemblance of this festival to some of the European spring and
midsummer festivals is tolerably close. We have seen that in Russia at
Whitsuntide the villagers go out into the wood, fell a birch-tree, dress
it in woman’s clothes, and bring it back to the village with dance and
song. On the third day it is thrown into the water.(343) Again, we have
seen that in Bohemia on Midsummer Eve the village lads fell a tall fir or
pine-tree in the wood and set it up on a height, where it is adorned with
garlands, nosegays, and ribbons, and afterwards burnt.(344) The reason for
burning the tree will appear afterwards; the custom itself is not uncommon
in modern Europe. In some parts of the Pyrenees a tall and slender tree is
cut down on May Day and kept till Midsummer Eve. It is then rolled to the
top of a hill, set up, and burned.(345) In Angoulême on St. Peter’s Day,
29th June, a tall leafy poplar is set up in the market-place and
burned.(346) In Cornwall “there was formerly a great bonfire on
midsummer-eve; a large summer pole was fixed in the centre, round which
the fuel was heaped up. It had a large bush on the top of it.”(347) In
Dublin on May-morning boys used to go out and cut a May-bush, bring it
back to town, and then burn it.(348)

Probably the Boeotian festival belonged to the same class of rites. It
represented the marriage of the powers of vegetation in spring or
midsummer, just as the same event is represented in modern Europe by a
King and Queen or a Lord and Lady of the May. In the Boeotian, as in the
Russian, ceremony the tree dressed as a woman represents the English
May-pole and May-queen in one. All such ceremonies, it must be remembered,
are not, or at least were not originally, mere spectacular or dramatic
exhibitions. They are magical charms designed to produce the effect which
they dramatically represent. If the revival of vegetation in spring is
represented by the awakening of a sleeper, the representation is intended
actually to quicken the growth of leaves and blossoms; if the marriage of
the powers of vegetation is represented by a King and Queen of May, the
idea is that the powers so represented will really be rendered more
productive by the ceremony. In short, all these spring and midsummer
festivals fall under the head of sympathetic magic. The event which it is
desired to bring about is represented dramatically, and the very
representation is believed to effect, or at least to contribute to, the
production of the desired event. In the case of the Daedala the story of
Hera’s quarrel with Zeus and her sullen retirement may perhaps without
straining be interpreted as a mythical expression for a bad season and the
failure of the crops. The same disastrous effects were attributed to the
anger and seclusion of Demeter after the loss of her daughter
Proserpine.(349) Now the institution of a festival is often explained by a
mythical story of the occurrence upon a particular occasion of those very
calamities which it is the real object of the festival to avert; so that
if we know the myth told to account for the historical origin of the
festival, we can often infer from it the real intention with which the
festival was celebrated. If, therefore, the origin of the Daedala was
explained by a story of a failure of crops and consequent famine, we may
infer that the real object of the festival was to prevent the occurrence
of such disasters; and, if I am right in my interpretation of the
festival, the object was supposed to be effected by a dramatic
representation of the marriage of the divinities most concerned with the
production of vegetation.(350) The marriage of Zeus and Hera was
dramatically represented at annual festivals in various parts of
Greece,(351) and it is at least a fair conjecture that the nature and
intention of these ceremonies were such as I have assigned to the Plataean
festival of the Daedala; in other words, that Zeus and Hera at these
festivals were the Greek equivalents of the Lord and Lady of the May.
Homer’s glowing picture of Zeus and Hera couched on fresh hyacinths and
crocuses,(352) like Milton’s description of the dalliance of Zephyr and
Aurora, “as he met her once a-Maying,” was perhaps painted from the life.

Still more confidently may the same character be vindicated for the annual
marriage at Athens of the Queen to Dionysus in the Flowery Month
(_Anthesterion_) of spring.(353) For Dionysus, as we shall see later on,
was essentially a god of vegetation, and the Queen at Athens was a purely
religious or priestly functionary.(354) Therefore at their annual marriage
in spring he can hardly have been anything but a King, and she a Queen, of
May. The women who attended the Queen at the marriage ceremony would
correspond to the bridesmaids who wait on the May-queen.(355) Again, the
story, dear to poets and artists, of the forsaken and sleeping Ariadne
waked and wedded by Dionysus, resembles so closely the little drama acted
by French peasants of the Alps on May Day(356) that, considering the
character of Dionysus as a god of vegetation, we can hardly help regarding
it as the description of a spring ceremony corresponding to the French
one. In point of fact the marriage of Dionysus and Ariadne is believed by
Preller to have been acted every spring in Crete.(357) His evidence,
indeed, is inconclusive, but the view itself is probable. If I am right in
instituting the comparison, the chief difference between the French and
the Greek ceremonies must have been that in the former the sleeper was the
forsaken bridegroom, in the latter the forsaken bride; and the group of
stars in the sky, in which fancy saw Ariadne’s wedding-crown,(358) could
only have been a translation to heaven of the garland worn by the Greek
girl who played the Queen of May.

On the whole, alike from the analogy of modern folk-custom and from the
facts of ancient ritual and mythology, we are justified in concluding that
the archaic forms of tree-worship disclosed by the spring and midsummer
festivals of our peasants were practised by the Greeks and Romans in
prehistoric times. Do then these forms of tree-worship help to explain the
priesthood of Aricia, the subject of our inquiry? I believe they do. In
the first place the attributes of Diana, the goddess of the Arician grove,
are those of a tree-spirit or sylvan deity. Her sanctuaries were in
groves, indeed every grove was her sanctuary,(359) and she is often
associated with the wood-god Silvanus in inscriptions.(360) Like a
tree-spirit, she helped women in travail, and in this respect her
reputation appears to have stood high at the Arician grove, if we may
judge from the votive offerings found on the spot.(361) Again, she was the
patroness of wild animals;(362) just as in Finland the wood-god Tapio was
believed to care for the wild creatures that roamed the wood, they being
considered his cattle.(363) So, too, the Samogitians deemed the birds and
beasts of the woods sacred, doubtless because they were under the
protection of the god of the wood.(364) Again, there are indications that
domestic cattle were protected by Diana,(365) as they certainly were
supposed to be by Silvanus.(366) But we have seen that special influence
over cattle is ascribed to wood-spirits; in Finland the herds enjoyed the
protection of the wood-gods both while they were in their stalls and while
they strayed in the forest.(367) Lastly, in the sacred spring which
bubbled, and the perpetual fire which seems to have burned in the Arician
grove,(368) we may perhaps detect traces of other attributes of forest
gods, the power, namely, to make the rain to fall and the sun to
shine.(369) This last attribute perhaps explains why Virbius, the
companion deity of Diana at Nemi, was by some believed to be the sun.(370)

Thus the cult of the Arician grove was essentially that of a tree-spirit
or wood deity. But our examination of European folk-custom demonstrated
that a tree-spirit is frequently represented by a living person, who is
regarded as an embodiment of the tree-spirit and possessed of its
fertilising powers; and our previous survey of primitive belief proved
that this conception of a god incarnate in a living man is common among
rude races. Further we have seen that the living person who is believed to
embody in himself the tree-spirit is often called a king, in which
respect, again, he strictly represents the tree-spirit. For the sacred
cedar of the Gilgit tribes is called, as we have seen, “the Dreadful
King”;(371) and the chief forest god of the Finns, by name Tapio,
represented as an old man with a brown beard, a high hat of fir-cones and
a coat of tree-moss, was styled the Wood King, Lord of the Woodland,
Golden King of the Wood.(372) May not then the King of the Wood in the
Arician grove have been, like the King of May, the Grass King, and the
like, an incarnation of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation? His
title, his sacred office, and his residence in the grove all point to this
conclusion, which is confirmed by his relation to the Golden Bough. For
since the King of the Wood could only be assailed by him who had plucked
the Golden Bough, his life was safe from assault so long as the bough or
the tree on which it grew remained uninjured. In a sense, therefore, his
life was bound up with that of the tree; and thus to some extent he stood
to the tree in the same relation in which the incorporate or immanent
tree-spirit stands to it. The representation of the tree-spirit both by
the King of the Wood and by the Golden Bough (for it will hardly be
disputed that the Golden Bough was looked upon as a very special
manifestation of the divine life of the grove) need not surprise us, since
we have found that the tree-spirit is not unfrequently thus represented in
double, first by a tree or a bough, and second by a living person.

On the whole then, if we consider his double character as king and priest,
his relation to the Golden Bough, and the strictly woodland character of
the divinity of the grove, we may provisionally assume that the King of
the Wood, like the May King and his congeners of Northern Europe, was
deemed a living incarnation of the tree-spirit. As such he would be
credited with those miraculous powers of sending rain and sunshine, making
the crops to grow, women to bring forth, and flocks and herds to multiply,
which are popularly ascribed to the tree-spirit itself. The reputed
possessor of powers so exalted must have been a very important personage,
and in point of fact his influence appears to have extended far and wide.
For(373) in the days when the champaign country around was still parcelled
out among the petty tribes who composed the Latin League, the sacred grove
on the Alban Mountain is known to have been an object of their common
reverence and care. And just as the kings of Cambodia used to send
offerings to the mystic Kings of Fire and Water far in the dim depths of
the tropical forest, so, we may well believe, from all sides of the broad
Latian plain the eyes and steps of Italian pilgrims turned to the quarter
where, standing sharply out against the faint blue line of the Apennines
or the deeper blue of the distant sea, the Alban Mountain rose before
them, the home of the mysterious priest of Nemi, the King of the Wood.





CHAPTER II. THE PERILS OF THE SOUL.


    “O liebe flüchtige Seele
      Dir ist so bang und weh!”

    HEINE.




§ 1.—Royal and priestly taboos.


In the preceding chapter we saw that in early society the king or priest
is often thought to be endowed with supernatural powers or to be an
incarnation of a deity; in consequence of which the course of nature is
supposed to be more or less under his control, and he is held responsible
for bad weather, failure of the crops, and similar calamities. Thus far it
appears to be assumed that the king’s power over nature, like that over
his subjects and slaves, is exerted through definite acts of will; and
therefore if drought, famine, pestilence, or storms arise, the people
attribute the misfortune to the negligence or guilt of their king, and
punish him accordingly with stripes and bonds, or, if he remains obdurate,
with deposition and death. Sometimes, however, the course of nature, while
regarded as dependent on the king, is supposed to be partly independent of
his will. His person is considered, if we may express it so, as the
dynamical centre of the universe, from which lines of force radiate to all
quarters of the heaven; so that any motion of his—the turning of his head,
the lifting of his hand—instantaneously affects and may seriously disturb
some part of nature. He is the point of support on which hangs the balance
of the world; and the slightest irregularity on his part may overthrow the
delicate equipoise. The greatest care must, therefore, be taken both by
and of him; and his whole life, down to its minutest details, must be so
regulated that no act of his, voluntary or involuntary, may disarrange or
upset the established order of nature. Of this class of monarchs the
Mikado or Dairi, the spiritual emperor of Japan, is a typical example. He
is an incarnation of the sun goddess, the deity who rules the universe,
gods and men included; once a year all the gods wait upon him and spend a
month at his court. During that month, the name of which means “without
gods,” no one frequents the temples, for they are believed to be
deserted.(374)

The following description of the Mikado’s mode of life was written about
two hundred years ago:(375)—

“Even to this day the princes descended of this family, more particularly
those who sit on the throne, are looked upon as persons most holy in
themselves, and as Popes by birth. And, in order to preserve these
advantageous notions in the minds of their subjects, they are obliged to
take an uncommon care of their sacred persons, and to do such things,
which, examined according to the customs of other nations, would be
thought ridiculous and impertinent. It will not be improper to give a few
instances of it. He thinks that it would be very prejudicial to his
dignity and holiness to touch the ground with his feet; for this reason,
when he intends to go anywhere, he must be carried thither on men’s
shoulders. Much less will they suffer that he should expose his sacred
person to the open air, and the sun is not thought worthy to shine on his
head. There is such a holiness ascribed to all the parts of his body, that
he dares to cut off neither his hair, nor his beard, nor his nails.
However, lest he should grow too dirty, they may clean him in the night
when he is asleep; because, they say, that which is taken from his body at
that time hath been stolen from him, and that such a theft doth not
prejudice his holiness or dignity. In ancient times, he was obliged to sit
on the throne for some hours every morning, with the imperial crown on his
head, but to sit altogether like a statue, without stirring either hands
or feet, head or eyes, nor indeed any part of his body, because, by this
means, it was thought that he could preserve peace and tranquillity in his
empire; for if, unfortunately, he turned himself on one side or the other,
or if he looked a good while towards any part of his dominions, it was
apprehended that war, famine, fire, or some great misfortune was near at
hand to desolate the country. But it having been afterwards discovered
that the imperial crown was the palladium which by its mobility could
preserve peace in the empire, it was thought expedient to deliver his
imperial person, consecrated only to idleness and pleasures, from this
burthensome duty, and therefore the crown is at present placed on the
throne for some hours every morning. His victuals must be dressed every
time in new pots, and served at table in new dishes: both are very clean
and neat, but made only of common clay; that without any considerable
expense they may be laid aside, or broken, after they have served once.
They are generally broke, for fear they should come into the hands of
laymen, for they believe religiously that if any layman should presume to
eat his food out of these sacred dishes, it would swell and inflame his
mouth and throat. The like ill effect is dreaded from the Dairi’s sacred
habits; for they believe that if a layman should wear them, without the
Emperor’s express leave or command, they would occasion swellings and
pains in all parts of his body.” To the same effect an earlier account of
the Mikado says: “It was considered as a shameful degradation for him even
to touch the ground with his foot. The sun and moon were not even
permitted to shine upon his head. None of the superfluities of the body
were ever taken from him, neither his hair, his beard, nor his nails were
cut. Whatever he eat was dressed in new vessels.”(376)

Similar priestly or rather divine kings are found, at a lower level of
barbarism, on the west coast of Africa. At Shark Point near Cape Padron,
in Lower Guinea, lives the priestly king Kukulu, alone in a wood. He may
not touch a woman nor leave his house; indeed he may not even quit his
chair, in which he is obliged to sleep sitting, for if he lay down no wind
would arise and navigation would be stopped. He regulates storms, and in
general maintains a wholesome and equable state of the atmosphere.(377) In
the kingdom of Congo (West Africa) there was a supreme pontiff called
Chitomé or Chitombé, whom the negroes regarded as a god on earth and all
powerful in heaven. Hence before they would taste the new crops they
offered him the first-fruits, fearing that manifold misfortunes would
befall them if they broke this rule. When he left his residence to visit
other places within his jurisdiction, all married people had to observe
strict continence the whole time he was out; for it was supposed that any
act of incontinence would prove fatal to him. And if he were to die a
natural death, they thought that the world would perish, and the earth,
which he alone sustained by his power and merit, would immediately be
annihilated.(378) Amongst the semi-barbarous nations of the New World, at
the date of the Spanish conquest, there were found hierarchies or
theocracies like those of Japan. Some of these we have already
noticed.(379) But the high pontiff of the Zapotecs in Southern Mexico
appears to have presented a still closer parallel to the Mikado. A
powerful rival to the king himself, this spiritual lord governed Yopaa,
one of the chief cities of the kingdom, with absolute dominion. It is
impossible, we are told, to over-rate the reverence in which he was held.
He was looked on as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold nor the
sun to shine upon. He profaned his sanctity if he even touched the ground
with his foot. The officers who bore his palanquin on their shoulders were
members of the highest families; he hardly deigned to look on anything
around him; and all who met him fell with their faces to the earth,
fearing that death would overtake them if they saw even his shadow. A rule
of continence was regularly imposed on the Zapotec priests, especially
upon the high pontiff; but “on certain days in each year, which were
generally celebrated with feasts and dances, it was customary for the high
priest to become drunk. While in this state, seeming to belong neither to
heaven nor to earth, one of the most beautiful of the virgins consecrated
to the service of the gods was brought to him.” If the child she bore him
was a son, he was brought up as a prince of the blood, and the eldest son
succeeded his father on the pontifical throne.(380) The supernatural
powers attributed to this pontiff are not specified, but probably they
resembled those of the Mikado and Chitomé.

Wherever, as in Japan and West Africa, it is supposed that the order of
nature, and even the existence of the world, is bound up with the life of
the king or priest, it is clear that he must be regarded by his subjects
as a source both of infinite blessing and of infinite danger. On the one
hand, the people have to thank him for the rain and sunshine which foster
the fruits of the earth, for the wind which brings ships to their coasts,
and even for the existence of the earth beneath their feet. But what he
gives he can refuse; and so close is the dependence of nature on his
person, so delicate the balance of the system of forces whereof he is the
centre, that the slightest irregularity on his part may set up a tremor
which shall shake the earth to its foundations. And if nature may be
disturbed by the slightest involuntary act of the king, it is easy to
conceive the convulsion which his death might occasion. The death of the
Chitomé, as we have seen, was thought to entail the destruction of the
world. Clearly, therefore, out of a regard for their own safety, which
might be imperilled by any rash act of the king, and still more by his
death, the people will exact of their king or priest a strict conformity
to those rules, the observance of which is necessary for his own
preservation, and consequently for the preservation of his people and the
world. The idea that early kingdoms are despotisms in which the people
exist only for the sovereign, is wholly inapplicable to the monarchies we
are considering. On the contrary, the sovereign in them exists only for
his subjects; his life is only valuable so long as he discharges the
duties of his position by ordering the course of nature for his people’s
benefit. So soon as he fails to do so the care, the devotion, the
religious homage which they had hitherto lavished on him, cease and are
changed into hatred and contempt; he is dismissed ignominiously, and may
be thankful if he escapes with his life. Worshipped as a god by them one
day, he is killed by them as a criminal the next. But in this changed
behaviour of the people there is nothing capricious or inconsistent. On
the contrary, their conduct is entirely of a piece. If their king is their
god, he is or should be also their preserver; and if he will not preserve
them, he must make room for another who will. So long, however, as he
answers their expectations, there is no limit to the care which they take
of him, and which they compel him to take of himself. A king of this sort
lives hedged in by a ceremonious etiquette, a network of prohibitions and
observances, of which the intention is not to contribute to his dignity,
much less to his comfort, but to restrain him from conduct which, by
disturbing the harmony of nature, might involve himself, his people, and
the universe in one common catastrophe. Far from adding to his comfort,
these observances, by trammelling his every act, annihilate his freedom
and often render the very life, which it is their object to preserve, a
burden and sorrow to him.

Of the supernaturally endowed kings of Loango it is said that the more
powerful a king is, the more taboos is he bound to observe; they regulate
all his actions, his walking and his standing, his eating and drinking,
his sleeping and waking.(381) To these restraints the heir to the throne
is subject from infancy; but as he advances in life the number of
abstinences and ceremonies which he must observe increases, “until at the
moment that he ascends the throne he is lost in the ocean of rites and
taboos.”(382) The kings of Egypt, as we have seen,(383) were worshipped as
gods, and the routine of their daily life was regulated in every detail by
precise and unvarying rules. “The life of the kings of Egypt,” says
Diodorus,(384) “was not like that of other monarchs who are irresponsible
and may do just what they choose; on the contrary, everything was fixed
for them by law, not only their official duties, but even the details of
their daily life.... The hours both of day and night were arranged at
which the king had to do, not what he pleased, but what was prescribed for
him.... For not only were the times appointed at which he should transact
public business or sit in judgment; but the very hours for his walking and
bathing and sleeping with his wife, and, in short, performing every act of
life, were all settled. Custom enjoined a simple diet; the only flesh he
might eat was veal and goose, and he might only drink a prescribed
quantity of wine.” Of the taboos imposed on priests, the rules of life
observed by the Flamen Dialis at Rome furnish a striking example. As the
worship of Virbius at Nemi was conducted, as we have seen,(385) by a
Flamen, who may possibly have been the King of the Wood himself, and whose
mode of life may have resembled that of the Roman Flamen, these rules have
a special interest for us. They were such as the following: The Flamen
Dialis might not ride or even touch a horse, nor see an army under arms,
nor wear a ring which was not broken, nor have a knot on any part of his
garments; no fire except a sacred fire might be taken out of his house; he
might not touch wheaten flour or leavened bread; he might not touch or
even name a goat, a dog, raw meat, beans, and ivy; he might not walk under
a vine; the feet of his bed had to be daubed with mud; his hair could be
cut only by a free man and with a bronze knife, and his hair and nails
when cut had to be buried under a lucky tree; he might not touch a dead
body nor enter a place where one was burned; he might not see work being
done on holy days; he might not be uncovered in the open air; if a man in
bonds were taken into his house, he had to be unbound and the cords had to
be drawn up through a hole in the roof and so let down into the street.
His wife, the Flaminica, had to observe nearly the same rules, and others
of her own besides. She might not ascend more than three steps of the kind
of staircase called Greek; at a certain festival she might not comb her
hair; the leather of her shoes might not be made from a beast that had
died a natural death, but only from one that had been slain or sacrificed;
if she heard thunder she was tabooed till she had offered an expiatory
sacrifice.(386)

The burdensome observances attached to the royal or priestly office
produced their natural effect. Either men refused to accept the office,
which hence tended to fall into abeyance; or accepting it, they sank under
its weight into spiritless creatures, cloistered recluses, from whose
nerveless fingers the reigns of government slipped into the firmer grasp
of men who were often content to wield the reality of sovereignty without
its name. In some countries this rift in the supreme power deepened into a
total and permanent separation of the spiritual and temporal powers, the
old royal house retaining their purely religious functions, while the
civil government passed into the hands of a younger and more vigorous
race.

To take examples. We saw(387) that in Cambodia it is often necessary to
force the kingships of Fire and Water upon the reluctant successors, and
that in Savage Island the monarchy actually came to an end because at last
no one could be induced to accept the dangerous distinction.(388) In some
parts of West Africa, when the king dies, a family council is secretly
held to determine his successor. He on whom the choice falls is suddenly
seized, bound, and thrown into the fetish-house, where he is kept in
durance till he consents to accept the crown. Sometimes the heir finds
means of evading the honour which it is sought to thrust upon him; a
ferocious chief has been known to go about constantly armed, resolute to
resist by force any attempt to set him on the throne.(389) The Mikados of
Japan seem early to have resorted to the expedient of transferring the
honours and burdens of supreme power to their infant children; and the
rise of the Tycoons, long the temporal sovereigns of the country, is
traced to the abdication of a certain Mikado in favour of his
three-year-old son. The sovereignty having been wrested by a usurper from
the infant prince, the cause of the Mikado was championed by Yoritomo, a
man of spirit and conduct, who overthrew the usurper and restored to the
Mikado the shadow, while he retained for himself the substance, of power.
He bequeathed to his descendants the dignity he had won, and thus became
the founder of the line of Tycoons. Down to the latter half of the
sixteenth century the Tycoons were active and efficient rulers; but the
same fate overtook them which had befallen the Mikados; entangled in the
same inextricable web of custom and law, they degenerated into mere
puppets, hardly stirring from their palaces and occupied in a perpetual
round of empty ceremonies, while the real business of government was
managed by the council of state.(390) In Tonquin the monarchy ran a
similar course. Living like his predecessors in effeminacy and sloth, the
king was driven from the throne by an ambitious adventurer named Mack, who
from a fisherman had risen to be Grand Mandarin. But the king’s brother
Tring put down the usurper and restored the king, retaining, however, for
himself and his descendants the dignity of general of all the forces.
Thenceforward the kings or _dovas_, though vested with the title and pomp
of sovereignty, ceased to govern. While they lived secluded in their
palaces, all real political power was wielded by the hereditary generals
or _chovas_.(391) The custom regularly observed by the Tahitian kings of
abdicating on the birth of a son, who was immediately proclaimed sovereign
and received his father’s homage, may perhaps have originated, like the
similar custom occasionally practised by the Mikados, in a wish to shift
to other shoulders the irksome burden of royalty; for in Tahiti as
elsewhere the sovereign was subjected to a system of vexatious
restrictions.(392) In Mangaia, another Polynesian island, religious and
civil authority were lodged in separate hands, spiritual functions being
discharged by a line of hereditary kings, while the temporal government
was entrusted from time to time to a victorious war-chief, whose
investiture, however, had to be completed by the king. To the latter were
assigned the best lands, and he received daily offerings of the choicest
food.(393) American examples of the partition of authority between an
emperor and a pope have already been cited from the early history of
Mexico and Colombia.(394)




§ 2.—The nature of the soul.


But if the object of the taboos observed by a divine king or priest is to
preserve his life, the question arises, How is their observance supposed
to effect this end? To understand this we must know the nature of the
danger which threatens the king’s life, and which it is the intention of
the taboos to guard against. We must, therefore, ask: What does early man
understand by death? To what causes does he attribute it? And how does he
think it may be guarded against?

As the savage commonly explains the processes of inanimate nature by
supposing that they are produced by living beings working in or behind the
phenomena, so he explains the phenomena of life itself. If an animal lives
and moves, it can only be, he thinks, because there is a little animal
inside which moves it. If a man lives and moves, it can only be because he
has a little man inside who moves him. The animal inside the animal, the
man inside the man, is the soul. And as the activity of an animal or man
is explained by the presence of the soul, so the repose of sleep or death
is explained by its absence; sleep or trance being the temporary, death
being the permanent absence of the soul. Hence if death be the permanent
absence of the soul, the way to guard against it is either to prevent the
soul from leaving the body, or, if it does depart, to secure that it shall
return. The precautions adopted by savages to secure one or other of these
ends take the form of prohibitions or taboos, which are nothing but rules
intended to ensure either the continued presence or the return of the
soul. In short, they are life-preservers or life-guards. These general
statements will now be illustrated by examples.

Addressing some Australian blacks, a European missionary said, “I am not
one, as you think, but two.” Upon this they laughed. “You may laugh as
much as you like,” continued the missionary, “I tell you that I am two in
one; this great body that you see is one; within that there is another
little one which is not visible. The great body dies, and is buried, but
the little body flies away when the great one dies.” To this some of the
blacks replied, “Yes, yes. We also are two, we also have a little body
within the breast.” On being asked where the little body went after death,
some said it went behind the bush, others said it went into the sea, and
some said they did not know.(395) The Hurons thought that the soul had a
head and body, arms and legs; in short, that it was a complete little
model of the man himself.(396) The Eskimos believe that “the soul exhibits
the same shape as the body it belongs to, but is of a more subtle and
ethereal nature.”(397) So exact is the resemblance of the mannikin to the
man, in other words, of the soul to the body, that, as there are fat
bodies and thin bodies, so there are fat souls and thin souls;(398) as
there are heavy bodies and light bodies, long bodies and short bodies, so
there are heavy souls and light souls, long souls and short souls. The
people of Nias (an island to the west of Sumatra) think that every man,
before he is born, is asked how long or how heavy a soul he would like,
and a soul of the desired weight or length is measured out to him. The
heaviest soul ever given out weighs about ten grammes. The length of a
man’s life is proportioned to the length of his soul; children who die
young had short souls.(399) Sometimes, however, as we shall see, the human
soul is conceived not in human but in animal form.

The soul is commonly supposed to escape by the natural openings of the
body, especially the mouth and nostrils. Hence in Celebes they sometimes
fasten fish-hooks to a sick man’s nose, navel, and feet, so that if his
soul should try to escape it may be hooked and held fast.(400) One of the
“properties” of a Haida medicine-man is a hollow bone, in which he bottles
up departing souls, and so restores them to their owners.(401) The
Marquesans used to hold the mouth and nose of a dying man, in order to
keep him in life, by preventing his soul from escaping.(402) When any one
yawns in their presence the Hindus always snap their thumbs, believing
that this will hinder the soul from issuing through the open mouth.(403)
The Itonamas in South America seal up the eyes, nose, and mouth of a dying
person, in case his ghost should get out and carry off other people.(404)
In Southern Celebes, to prevent the escape of a woman’s soul at
childbirth, the nurse ties a band as tightly as possible round the body of
the expectant mother.(405) And lest the soul of the babe should escape and
be lost as soon as it is born, the Alfoers of Celebes, when a birth is
about to take place, are careful to close every opening in the house, even
the keyhole; and they stop up every chink and cranny in the walls. Also
they tie up the mouths of all animals inside and outside the house, for
fear one of them might swallow the child’s soul. For a similar reason all
persons present in the house, even the mother herself, are obliged to keep
their mouths shut the whole time the birth is taking place. When the
question was put, Why they did not hold their noses also, lest the child’s
soul should get into one of them? the answer was that breath being exhaled
as well as inhaled through the nostrils, the soul would be expelled before
it could have time to settle down.(406)

Often the soul is conceived as a bird ready to take flight. This
conception has probably left traces in most languages,(407) and it lingers
as a metaphor in poetry. But what is metaphor to a modern European poet
was sober earnest to his savage ancestor, and is still so to many people.
The Malays carry out the conception in question to its practical
conclusion. If the soul is a bird on the wing, it may be attracted by
rice, and so prevented from taking its perilous flight. Thus in Java when
a child is placed on the ground for the first time (a moment which
uncultured people seem to regard as especially dangerous), it is put in a
hen-coop and the mother makes a clucking sound, as if she were calling
hens.(408) Amongst the Battas of Sumatra, when a man returns from a
dangerous enterprise, grains of rice are placed on his head, and these
grains are called _padiruma tondi_, that is, “means to make the soul
(_tondi_) stay at home.” In Java also rice is placed on the head of
persons who have escaped a great danger or have returned home unexpectedly
after it had been supposed that they were lost.(409) In Celebes they think
that a bridegroom’s soul is apt to fly away at marriage, so coloured rice
is scattered over him to induce it to stay. And, in general, at festivals
in South Celebes rice is strewed on the head of the person in whose honour
the festival is held, with the object of detaining his soul, which at such
times is in especial danger of being lured away by envious demons.(410)

The soul of a sleeper is supposed to wander away from his body and
actually to visit the very places of which he dreams. But this absence of
the soul has its dangers, for if from any cause it should be permanently
detained away from the body, the person, deprived of his soul, must
die.(411) Many causes may detain the sleeper’s soul. Thus, his soul may
meet the soul of another sleeper and the two souls may fight; if a Guinea
negro wakens with sore bones in the morning, he thinks that his soul has
been thrashed by another soul in sleep.(412) Or it may meet the soul of a
person just deceased and be carried off by it; hence in the Aru Islands
the inmates of a house will not sleep the night after a death has taken
place in it, because the soul of the deceased is supposed to be still in
the house and they fear to meet it in a dream.(413) Again, the soul may be
prevented by physical force from returning. The Santals tell how a man
fell asleep, and growing very thirsty, his soul, in the form of a lizard,
left his body and entered a pitcher of water to drink. Just then the owner
of the pitcher happened to cover it; so the soul could not return to the
body and the man died. While his friends were preparing to burn the body
some one uncovered the pitcher to get water. The lizard thus escaped and
returned to the body, which immediately revived; so the man rose up and
asked his friends why they were weeping. They told him they thought he was
dead and were about to burn his body. He said he had been down a well to
get water but had found it hard to get out and had just returned. So they
saw it all.(414) A similar story is reported from Transylvania as follows.
In the account of a witch’s trial at Mühlbach last century it is said that
a woman had engaged two men to work in her vineyard. After noon they all
lay down to rest as usual. An hour later the men got up and tried to waken
the woman, but could not. She lay motionless with her mouth wide open.
They came back at sunset and still she lay like a corpse. Just at that
moment a big fly came buzzing past, which one of the men caught and shut
up in his leathern pouch. Then they tried again to waken the woman but
could not. Afterwards they let out the fly; it flew straight into the
woman’s mouth and she awoke. On seeing this the men had no further doubt
that she was a witch.(415)

It is a common rule with primitive people not to waken a sleeper, because
his soul is away and might not have time to get back; so if the man
wakened without his soul, he would fall sick. If it is absolutely
necessary to waken a sleeper, it must be done very gradually, to allow the
soul time to return.(416) In Bombay it is thought equivalent to murder to
change the appearance of a sleeper, as by painting his face in fantastic
colours or giving moustaches to a sleeping woman. For when the soul
returns, it will not be able to recognise its body and the person will
die.(417) The Servians believe that the soul of a sleeping witch often
leaves her body in the form of a butterfly. If during its absence her body
be turned round, so that her feet are placed where her head was before,
the butterfly soul will not find its way back into her body through the
mouth, and the witch will die.(418)

But in order that a man’s soul should quit his body, it is not necessary
that he should be asleep. It may quit him in his waking hours, and then
sickness or (if the absence is prolonged) death will be the result. Thus
the Mongols sometimes explain sickness by supposing that the patient’s
soul is absent, and either does not care to return to its body or cannot
find the way back. To secure the return of the soul it is therefore
necessary on the one hand to make its body as attractive as possible, and
on the other hand to show it the way home. To make the body attractive all
the sick man’s best clothes and most valued possessions are placed beside
him; he is washed, incensed, and made as comfortable as possible; and all
his friends march thrice round the hut calling out the sick man’s name and
coaxing his soul to return. To help the soul to find its way back a
coloured cord is stretched from the patient’s head to the door of the hut.
The priest in his robes reads a list of the horrors of hell and the
dangers incurred by souls which wilfully absent themselves from their
bodies. Then turning to the assembled friends and the patient he asks, “Is
it come?” All answer Yes, and bowing to the returning soul throw seed over
the sick man. The cord which guided the soul back is then rolled up and
placed round the patient’s neck, who must wear it for seven days without
taking it off. No one may frighten or hurt him, lest his soul, not yet
familiar with its body, should again take flight.(419) In an Indian story
a king conveys his soul into the dead body of a Brahman, and a hunchback
conveys his soul into the deserted body of the king. The hunchback is now
king and the king is a Brahman. However, the hunchback is induced to show
his skill by transferring his soul to the dead body of a parrot, and the
king seizes the opportunity to regain possession of his own body.(420) In
another Indian story a Brahman reanimates the dead body of a king by
conveying his own soul into it. Meantime the Brahman’s body has been
burnt, and his soul is obliged to remain in the body of the king.(421)

The departure of the soul is not always voluntary. It may be extracted
from the body against its will by ghosts, demons, or sorcerers. Hence,
when a funeral is passing the house, the Karens of Burma tie their
children with a special kind of string to a particular part of the house,
in case the souls of the children should leave their bodies and go into
the corpse which is passing. The children are kept tied in this way until
the corpse is out of sight.(422) And after the corpse has been laid in the
grave, but before the earth has been filled in, the mourners and friends
range themselves round the grave, each with a bamboo split lengthwise in
one hand and a little stick in the other; each man thrusts his bamboo into
the grave, and drawing the stick along the groove of the bamboo points out
to his soul that in this way it may easily climb up out of the grave.
While the earth is being filled in, the bamboos are kept out of the way,
lest the souls should be in them, and so should be inadvertently buried
with the earth as it is being thrown into the grave; and when the people
leave the spot they carry away the bamboos, begging their souls to come
with them.(423) Further, on returning from the grave each Karen provides
himself with three little hooks made of branches of trees, and calling his
spirit to follow him, at short intervals, as he returns, he makes a motion
as if hooking it, and then thrusts the hook into the ground. This is done
to prevent the soul of the living from staying behind with the soul of the
dead.(424) When a mother dies leaving a young baby, the Burmese think that
the “butterfly” or soul of the baby follows that of the mother, and that
if it is not recovered the child must die. So a wise woman is called in to
get back the baby’s soul. She places a mirror near the corpse, and on the
mirror a piece of feathery cotton down. Holding a cloth in her open hands
at the foot of the mirror, she with wild words entreats the mother not to
take with her the “butterfly” or soul of her child, but to send it back.
As the gossamer down slips from the face of the mirror she catches it in
the cloth and tenderly places it on the baby’s breast. The same ceremony
is sometimes observed when one of two children that have played together
dies, and is thought to be luring away the soul of its playmate to the
spirit-land. It is sometimes performed also for a bereaved husband or
wife.(425) In the Island of Keisar (East Indies) it is thought imprudent
to go near a grave at night, lest the ghosts should catch and keep the
soul of the passer-by.(426) The Key Islanders believe that the souls of
their forefathers, angry at not receiving food, make people sick by
detaining their souls. So they lay offerings of food on the grave and beg
their ancestors to allow the soul of the sick to return or to drive it
home speedily if it should be lingering by the way.(427)

In Bolang Mongondo, a district in the west of Celebes, all sickness is
ascribed to the ancestral spirits who have carried off the patient’s soul.
The object therefore is to bring back the patient’s soul and restore it to
the sufferer. An eye-witness has thus described the attempted cure of a
sick boy. The priestesses, who acted as physicians, made a doll of cloth
and fastened it to the point of a spear, which an old woman held upright.
Round this doll the priestesses danced, uttering charms, and chirruping as
when one calls a dog. Then the old woman lowered the point of the spear a
little, so that the priestesses could reach the doll. By this time the
soul of the sick boy was supposed to be in the doll, having been brought
into it by the incantations. So the priestesses approached it cautiously
on tiptoe and caught the soul in the many-coloured cloths which they had
been waving in the air. Then they laid the soul on the boy’s head, that
is, they wrapped his head in the cloth in which the soul was supposed to
be, and stood still for some moments with great gravity, holding their
hands on the patient’s head. Suddenly there was a jerk, the priestesses
whispered and shook their heads, and the cloth was taken off—the soul had
escaped. The priestesses gave chase to it, running round and round the
house, clucking and gesticulating as if they were driving hens into a
poultry-yard. At last they recaptured the soul at the foot of the stair
and restored it to its owner as before.(428) Much in the same way an
Australian medicine-man will sometimes bring the lost soul of a sick man
into a puppet and restore it to the patient by pressing the puppet to his
breast.(429) In Uea, one of the Loyalty Islands, the souls of the dead
seem to have been credited with the power of stealing the souls of the
living. For when a man was sick the soul-doctor would go with a large
troop of men and women to the graveyard. Here the men played on flutes and
the women whistled softly to lure the soul home. After this had gone on
for some time they formed in procession and moved homewards, the flutes
playing and the women whistling all the way, leading back the wandering
soul and driving it gently along with open palms. On entering the
patient’s dwelling they commanded the soul in a loud voice to enter his
body.(430) In Madagascar, when a sick man had lost his soul, his friends
went to the family tomb, and making a hole in it, begged the soul of the
patient’s father to give them a soul for his son, who had none. So saying
they clapped a bonnet on the hole, and folding up the soul in the bonnet,
brought it to the patient, who put the bonnet on his head, and thus
received a new soul or got back his old one.(431)

Often the abduction of a man’s soul is set down to demons. The Annamites
believe that when a man meets a demon and speaks to him, the demon inhales
the man’s breath and soul.(432) When a Dyak is about to leave a forest
through which he has been walking alone, he never forgets to ask the
demons to give him back his soul, for it may be that some forest-devil has
carried it off. For the abduction of a soul may take place without its
owner being aware of his loss, and it may happen either while he is awake
or asleep.(433) In the Moluccas when a man is unwell it is thought that
some devil has carried away his soul to the tree, mountain, or hill where
he (the devil) dwells. A sorcerer having pointed out the devil’s abode,
the friends of the patient carry thither cooked rice, fruit, fish, raw
eggs, a hen, a chicken, a silken robe, gold, armlets, etc. Having set out
the food in order they pray, saying: “We come to offer to you, O devil,
this offering of food, clothes, gold, etc.; take it and release the soul
of the patient for whom we pray. Let it return to his body and he who now
is sick shall be made whole.” Then they eat a little and let the hen loose
as a ransom for the soul of the patient; also they put down the raw eggs;
but the silken robe, the gold, and the armlets they take home with them.
As soon as they are come to the house they place a flat bowl containing
the offerings which have been brought back at the sick man’s head, and say
to him: “Now is your soul released, and you shall fare well and live to
gray hairs on the earth.”(434) A more modern account from the same region
describes how the friend of the patient, after depositing his offerings on
the spot where the missing soul is supposed to be, calls out thrice the
name of the sick person, adding, “Come with me, come with me.” Then he
returns, making a motion with a cloth as if he had caught the soul in it.
He must not look to right or left or speak a word to any one he meets, but
must go straight to the patient’s house. At the door he stands, and
calling out the sick person’s name, asks whether he is returned. Being
answered from within that he is returned, he enters and lays the cloth in
which he has caught the soul on the patient’s throat, saying, “Now you are
returned to the house.” Sometimes a substitute is provided; a doll,
dressed up in gay clothing and tinsel, is offered to the demon in exchange
for the patient’s soul with these words, “Give us back the ugly one which
you have taken away and receive this pretty one instead.”(435) Similarly
the Mongols make up a horse of birch-bark and a doll, and invite the demon
to take the doll instead of the patient and to ride away on the
horse.(436)

Demons are especially feared by persons who have just entered on a new
house. Hence at a house-warming among the Alfoers of Celebes the priest
performs a ceremony for the purpose of restoring their souls to the
inmates. He hangs up a bag at the place of sacrifice and then goes through
a list of the gods. There are so many of them that this takes him the
whole night through without stopping. In the morning he offers the gods an
egg and some rice. By this time the souls of the household are supposed to
be gathered in the bag. So the priest takes the bag, and holding it on the
head of the master of the house says, “Here you have your soul—go (soul)
to-morrow away again.” He then does the same, saying the same words, to
the housewife and all the other members of the family.(437) Amongst the
same Alfoers one way of recovering a sick man’s soul is to let down a bowl
by a belt out of a window and fish for the soul till it is caught in the
bowl and hauled up.(438) Among the same people, when a priest is bringing
back a sick man’s soul which he has caught in a cloth, he is preceded by a
girl holding the large leaf of a certain palm over his head as an umbrella
to keep him and the soul from getting wet, in case it should rain; and he
is followed by a man brandishing a sword to deter other souls from any
attempt at rescuing the captured soul.(439)

The Samoans tell how two young wizards, passing a house where a chief lay
very sick, saw a company of gods from the mountain sitting in the doorway.
They were handing from one to another the soul of the dying chief. It was
wrapped in a leaf, and had been passed from the gods inside the house to
those sitting in the doorway. One of the gods handed the soul to one of
the wizards, taking him for a god in the dark, for it was night. Then all
the gods rose up and went away; but the wizard kept the chief’s soul. In
the morning some women went with a present of fine mats to fetch a famous
physician. The wizards were sitting on the shore as the women passed, and
they said to the women, “Give us the mats and we will heal him.” So they
went to the chief’s house. He was very ill, his jaw hung down, and his end
seemed near. But the wizards undid the leaf and let the soul into him
again, and forthwith he brightened up and lived.(440)

The Battas of Sumatra believe that the soul of a living man may
transmigrate into the body of an animal. Hence, for example, the doctor is
sometimes desired to extract the patient’s soul from the body of a fowl,
in which it has been hidden away by an evil spirit.(441)

Sometimes the lost soul is brought back in a visible shape. In Melanesia a
woman knowing that a neighbour was at the point of death heard a rustling
in her house, as of a moth fluttering, just at the moment when a noise of
weeping and lamentation told her that the soul was flown. She caught the
fluttering thing between her hands and ran with it, crying out that she
had caught the soul. But though she opened her hands above the mouth of
the corpse, it did not revive.(442) The Salish or Flathead Indians of
Oregon believe that a man’s soul may be separated for a time from his body
without causing death and without the man being aware of his loss. It is
necessary, however, that the lost soul should be soon found and restored
to the man or he will die. The name of the man who has lost his soul is
revealed in a dream to the medicine-man, who hastens to inform the
sufferer of his loss. Generally a number of men have sustained a like loss
at the same time; all their names are revealed to the medicine-man, and
all employ him to recover their souls. The whole night long these soulless
men go about the village from lodge to lodge, dancing and singing. Towards
daybreak they go into a separate lodge, which is closed up so as to be
totally dark. A small hole is then made in the roof, through which the
medicine-man, with a bunch of feathers, brushes in the souls, in the shape
of bits of bone and the like, which he receives on a piece of matting. A
fire is next kindled, by the light of which the medicine-man sorts out the
souls. First he puts aside the souls of dead people, of which there are
usually several; for if he were to give the soul of a dead person to a
living man, the man would die instantly. Next he picks out the souls of
all the persons present, and making them all to sit down before him, he
takes the soul of each, in the shape of a splinter of bone, wood, or
shell, and placing it on the owner’s head, pats it with many prayers and
contortions till it descends into the heart and so resumes its proper
place.(443) In Amboina the sorcerer, to recover a soul detained by demons,
plucks a branch from a tree, and waving it to and fro as if to catch
something, calls out the sick man’s name. Returning he strikes the patient
over the head and body with the branch, into which the lost soul is
supposed to have passed, and from which it returns to the patient.(444) In
the Babar Islands offerings for evil spirits are laid at the root of a
great tree (_wokiorai_), from which a leaf is plucked and pressed on the
patient’s forehead and breast; the lost soul, which is in the leaf, is
thus restored to its owner.(445) In some other islands of the same seas,
when a man returns ill and speechless from the forest, it is inferred that
the evil spirits which dwell in the great trees have caught and kept his
soul. Offerings of food are therefore left under a tree and the soul is
brought home in a piece of wax.(446) Amongst the Dyaks of Sarawak the
priest conjures the lost soul into a cup, where it is seen by the
uninitiated as a lock of hair, but by the initiated as a miniature human
being. This is supposed to be thrust by the priest into a hole in the top
of the patient’s head.(447) In Nias the sick man’s soul is restored to him
in the shape of a firefly, visible only to the sorcerer, who catches it in
a cloth and places it on the forehead of the patient.(448)

Again, souls may be extracted from their bodies or detained on their
wanderings not only by ghosts and demons but also by men, especially by
sorcerers. In Fiji if a criminal refused to confess, the chief sent for a
scarf with which “to catch away the soul of the rogue.” At the sight, or
even at the mention of the scarf the culprit generally made a clean
breast. For if he did not, the scarf would be waved over his head till his
soul was caught in it, when it would be carefully folded up and nailed to
the end of a chief’s canoe; and for want of his soul the criminal would
pine and die.(449) The sorcerers of Danger Island used to set snares for
souls. The snares were made of stout cinet, about fifteen to thirty feet
long, with loops on either side of different sizes, to suit the different
sizes of souls; for fat souls there were large loops, for thin souls there
were small ones. When a man was sick against whom the sorcerers had a
grudge, they set up these soul-snares near his house and watched for the
flight of his soul. If in the shape of a bird or an insect it was caught
in the snare the man would infallibly die.(450) Among the Sereres of
Senegambia, when a man wishes to revenge himself on his enemy he goes to
the _Fitaure_ (chief and priest in one), and prevails on him by presents
to conjure the soul of his enemy into a large jar of red earthenware,
which is then deposited under a consecrated tree. The man whose soul is
shut up in the jar soon dies.(451) Some of the Congo negroes think that
enchanters can get possession of human souls, and enclosing them in tusks
of ivory, sell them to the white man, who makes them work for him in his
country under the sea. It is believed that very many of the coast
labourers are men thus obtained; so when these people go to trade they
often look anxiously about for their dead relations. The man whose soul is
thus sold into slavery will die “in due course, if not at the time.”(452)

In Hawaii there were sorcerers who caught souls of living people, shut
them up in calabashes, and gave them to people to eat. By squeezing a
captured soul in their hands they discovered the place where people had
been secretly buried.(453) Amongst the Canadian Indians, when a wizard
wished to kill a man, he sent out his familiar spirits, who brought him
the victim’s soul in the shape of a stone or the like. The wizard struck
the soul with a sword or an axe till it bled profusely, and as it bled the
man to whom it belonged languished and died.(454) In Amboina if a doctor
is convinced that a patient’s soul has been carried away by a demon beyond
recovery, he seeks to supply its place with a soul abstracted from another
man. For this purpose he goes by night to a house and asks, “Who’s there?”
If an inmate is incautious enough to answer, the doctor takes up from
before the door a clod of earth, into which the soul of the person who
replied is believed to have passed. This clod the doctor lays under the
sick man’s pillow, and performs certain ceremonies by which the stolen
soul is conveyed into the patient’s body. Then as he goes home the doctor
fires two shots to frighten the soul from returning to its proper
owner.(455) A Karen wizard will catch the wandering soul of a sleeper and
transfer it to the body of a dead man. The latter, therefore, comes to
life as the former dies. But the friends of the sleeper in turn engage a
wizard to steal the soul of another sleeper, who dies as the first sleeper
comes to life. In this way an indefinite succession of deaths and
resurrections is supposed to take place.(456)

The Indians of the Nass River, British Columbia, think that a doctor may
swallow his patient’s soul by mistake. A doctor who is believed to have
done so is made by the other doctors to stand over the patient, while one
of them thrusts his fingers down the doctor’s throat, another kneads him
in the stomach with his knuckles, and a third slaps him on the back. If
the soul is not in him after all, and if the same process has been
repeated upon all the doctors without success, it is concluded that the
soul must be in the head-doctor’s box. A party of doctors, therefore,
waits upon him at his house and requests him to produce his box. When he
has done so and arranged its contents on a new mat, they take him and hold
him up by the heels with his head in a hole in the floor. In this position
they wash his head, and “any water remaining from the ablution is taken
and poured upon the sick man’s head.”(457)

Other examples of the recall and recovery of souls will be found referred
to beneath.(458)

But the spiritual dangers I have enumerated are not the only ones which
beset the savage. Often he regards his shadow or reflection as his soul,
or at all events as a vital part of himself, and as such it is necessarily
a source of danger to him. For if it is trampled upon, struck, or stabbed,
he will feel the injury as if it were done to his person; and if it is
detached from him entirely (as he believes that it may be) he will die. In
the island of Wetar there are magicians who can make a man ill by stabbing
his shadow with a pike or hacking it with a sword.(459) After Sankara had
destroyed the Buddhists in India, it is said that he journeyed to Nepaul,
where he had some difference of opinion with the Grand Lama. To prove his
supernatural powers, he soared into the air. But as he mounted up, the
Grand Lama, perceiving his shadow swaying and wavering on the ground,
struck his knife into it and down fell Sankara and broke his neck.(460) In
the Babar Islands the demons get power over a man’s soul by holding fast
his shadow, or by striking and wounding it.(461) There are stones in
Melanesia on which, if a man’s shadow falls, the demon of the stone can
draw out his soul.(462) In Amboina and Uliase, two islands near the
equator, and where, therefore, there is little or no shadow cast at noon,
it is a rule not to go out of the house at mid-day, because it is supposed
that by doing so a man may lose the shadow of his soul.(463) The Mangaians
tell of a mighty warrior, Tukaitawa, whose strength waxed and waned with
the length of his shadow. In the morning, when his shadow fell longest,
his strength was greatest; but as the shadow shortened towards noon his
strength ebbed with it, till exactly at noon it reached its lowest point;
then, as the shadow stretched out in the afternoon, his strength returned.
A certain hero discovered the secret of Tukaitawa’s strength and slew him
at noon.(464) It is possible that even in lands outside the tropics the
fact of the diminished shadow at noon may have contributed, even if it did
not give rise, to the superstitious dread with which that hour has been
viewed by various peoples, as by the Greeks, ancient and modern, and by
the Roumanians of Transylvania.(465) In this fact, too, we may perhaps
detect the reason why noon was chosen by the Greeks as the hour for
sacrificing to the shadowless dead.(466) The ancients believed that in
Arabia if a hyaena trod on a man’s shadow it deprived him of the power of
speech and motion; and that if a dog, standing on a roof in the moonlight,
cast a shadow on the ground and a hyaena trod on it, the dog would fall
down as if dragged with a rope.(467) Clearly in these cases the shadow, if
not equivalent to the soul, is at least regarded as a living part of the
man or the animal, so that injury done to the shadow is felt by the person
or animal as if it were done to his body. Whoever entered the sanctuary of
Zeus on Mount Lycaeus in Arcadia was believed to lose his shadow and to
die within the year.(468) Nowhere, perhaps, does the equivalence of the
shadow to the life or soul come out more clearly than in some customs
practised to this day in South-Eastern Europe. In modern Greece, when the
foundation of a new building is being laid, it is the custom to kill a
cock, a ram, or a lamb, and to let its blood flow on the foundation stone,
under which the animal is afterwards buried. The object of the sacrifice
is to give strength and stability to the building. But sometimes, instead
of killing an animal, the builder entices a man to the foundation stone,
secretly measures his body, or a part of it, or his shadow, and buries the
measure under the foundation stone; or he lays the foundation stone upon
the man’s shadow. It is believed that the man will die within the
year.(469) The Bulgarians still observe a similar custom. If they cannot
get a human shadow they measure the shadow of the first animal that comes
that way.(470) The Roumanians of Transylvania think that he whose shadow
is thus immured will die within forty days; so persons passing by a
building which is in course of erection may hear a warning cry, “Beware
lest they take thy shadow!” Not long ago there were still shadow-traders
whose business it was to provide architects with the shadows necessary for
securing their walls.(471) In these cases the measure of the shadow is
looked on as equivalent to the shadow itself, and to bury it is to bury
the life or soul of the man, who, deprived of it, must die. Thus the
custom is a substitute for the old custom of immuring a living person in
the walls, or crushing him under the foundation stone of a new building,
in order to give strength and durability to the structure.

As some peoples believe a man’s soul to be in his shadow, so other (or the
same) peoples believe it to be in his reflection in water or a mirror.
Thus “the Andamanese do not regard their shadows but their reflections (in
any mirror) as their souls.”(472) Some of the Fijians thought that man has
two souls, a light one and a dark one; the dark one goes to Hades, the
light one is his reflection in water or a mirror.(473) When the Motumotu
of New Guinea first saw their likenesses in a looking-glass they thought
that their reflections were their souls.(474) The reflection-soul, being
external to the man, is exposed to much the same dangers as the
shadow-soul. As the shadow may be stabbed, so may the reflection. Hence an
Aztec mode of keeping sorcerers from the house was to leave a vessel of
water with a knife in it behind the door. When a sorcerer entered he was
so much alarmed at seeing his reflection in the water transfixed by a
knife that he turned and fled.(475) The Zulus will not look into a dark
pool because they think there is a beast in it which will take away their
reflections, so that they die.(476) The Basutos say that crocodiles have
the power of thus killing a man by dragging his reflection under
water.(477) In Saddle Island (Melanesia) there is a pool “into which if
any one looks he dies; the malignant spirit takes hold upon his life by
means of his reflection on the water.”(478)

We can now understand why it was a maxim both in ancient India and ancient
Greece not to look at one’s reflection in water, and why the Greeks
regarded it as an omen of death if a man dreamed of seeing himself so
reflected.(479) They feared that the water-spirits would drag the person’s
reflection (soul) under water, leaving him soulless to die. This was
probably the origin of the classical story of the beautiful Narcissus, who
pined and died in consequence of seeing his reflection in the water. The
explanation that he died for love of his own fair image was probably
devised later, after the old meaning of the story was forgotten. The same
ancient belief lingers, in a faded form, in the English superstition that
whoever sees a water-fairy must pine and die.


    “Alas, the moon should ever beam
    To show what man should never see!—
    I saw a maiden on a stream,
    And fair was she!

          “I staid to watch, a little space,
    Her parted lips if she would sing;
    The waters closed above her face
    With many a ring.

          “I know my life will fade away,
    I know that I must vainly pine,
    For I am made of mortal clay,
    But she’s divine!”


Further, we can now explain the widespread custom of covering up mirrors
or turning them to the wall after a death has taken place in the house. It
is feared that the soul, projected out of the person in the shape of his
reflection in the mirror, may be carried off by the ghost of the departed,
which is commonly supposed to linger about the house till the burial. The
custom is thus exactly parallel to the Aru custom of not sleeping in a
house after a death for fear that the soul, projected out of the body in a
dream, may meet the ghost and be carried off by it.(480) In Oldenburg it
is thought that if a person sees his image in a mirror after a death he
will die himself. So all the mirrors in the house are covered up with
white cloth.(481) In some parts of Germany after a death not only the
mirrors but everything that shines or glitters (windows, clocks, etc.) is
covered up,(482) doubtless because they might reflect a person’s image.
The same custom of covering up mirrors or turning them to the wall after a
death prevails in England, Scotland, and Madagascar.(483) The Suni
Mohammedans of Bombay cover with a cloth the mirror in the room of a dying
man and do not remove it until the corpse is carried out for burial. They
also cover the looking-glasses in their bedrooms before retiring to rest
at night.(484) The reason why sick people should not see themselves in a
mirror, and why the mirror in a sick-room is therefore covered up,(485) is
also plain; in time of sickness, when the soul might take flight so
easily, it is particularly dangerous to project the soul out of the body
by means of the reflection in a mirror. The rule is therefore precisely
parallel to the rule observed by some peoples of not allowing sick people
to sleep;(486) for in sleep the soul is projected out of the body, and
there is always a risk that it may not return. “In the opinion of the
Raskolniks a mirror is an accursed thing, invented by the devil,”(487)
perhaps on account of the mirror’s supposed power of drawing out the soul
in the reflection and so facilitating its capture.

As with shadows and reflections, so with portraits; they are often
believed to contain the soul of the person portrayed. People who hold this
belief are naturally loth to have their likenesses taken; for if the
portrait is the soul, or at least a vital part of the person portrayed,
whoever possesses the portrait will be able to exercise a fatal influence
over the original of it. Thus the Canelos Indians of South America think
that their soul is carried away in their picture. Two of them having been
photographed were so alarmed that they came back next day on purpose to
ask if it were really true that their souls had been taken away.(488) When
Mr. Joseph Thomson tried to photograph some of the Wa-teita in Eastern
Africa, they imagined that he was a magician trying to get possession of
their souls, and that if he got their likenesses they themselves would be
entirely at his mercy.(489) An Indian, whose portrait the Prince of Wied
wished to get, refused to let himself be drawn, because he believed it
would cause his death.(490) The Mandans also thought that they would soon
die if their portrait was in the hands of another; they wished at least to
have the artist’s picture as a kind of antidote or guarantee.(491) The
same belief still lingers in various parts of Europe. Some old women in
the Greek island of Carpathus were very angry a few years ago at having
their likenesses drawn, thinking that in consequence they would pine and
die.(492) Some people in Russia object to having their silhouettes taken,
fearing that if this is done they will die before the year is out.(493)
There are persons in the West of Scotland “who refuse to have their
likeness taken lest it prove unlucky; and give as instances the cases of
several of their friends who never had a day’s health after being
photographed.”(494)




§ 3.—Royal and priestly taboos (continued).


So much for the primitive conceptions of the soul and the dangers to which
it is exposed. These conceptions are not limited to one people or country;
with variations of detail they are found all over the world, and survive,
as we have seen, in modern Europe. Beliefs so deep-seated and so
widespread must necessarily have contributed to shape the mould in which
the early kingship was cast. For if every individual was at such pains to
save his own soul from the perils which threatened it from so many sides,
how much more carefully must _he_ have been guarded upon whose life hung
the welfare and even the existence of the whole people, and whom therefore
it was the common interest of all to preserve? Therefore we should expect
to find the king’s life protected by a system of precautions or safeguards
still more numerous and minute than those which in primitive society every
man adopts for the safety of his own soul. Now in point of fact the life
of the early kings is regulated, as we have seen and shall see more fully
presently, by a very exact code of rules. May we not then conjecture that
these rules are the very safeguards which on _à priori_ grounds we expect
to find adopted for the protection of the king’s life? An examination of
the rules themselves confirms this conjecture. For from this it appears
that some of the rules observed by the kings are identical with those
observed by private persons out of regard for the safety of their souls;
and even of those which seem peculiar to the king, many, if not all, are
most readily explained on the hypothesis that they are nothing but
safeguards or lifeguards of the king. I will now enumerate some of these
royal rules or taboos, offering on each of them such comments and
explanations as may serve to set the original intention of the rule in its
proper light.

As the object of the royal taboos is to isolate the king from all sources
of danger, their general effect is to compel him to live in a state of
seclusion, more or less complete, according to the number and stringency
of the taboos he observes. Now of all sources of danger none are more
dreaded by the savage than magic and witchcraft, and he suspects all
strangers of practising these black arts. To guard against the baneful
influence exerted voluntarily or involuntarily by strangers is therefore
an elementary dictate of savage prudence. Hence before strangers are
allowed to enter a district, or at least before they are permitted to
mingle freely with the people of the district, certain ceremonies are
often performed by the natives of the country for the purpose of disarming
the strangers of their magical powers, of counteracting the baneful
influence which is believed to emanate from them, or of disinfecting, so
to speak, the tainted atmosphere by which they are supposed to be
surrounded. Thus in the island of Nanumea (South Pacific) strangers from
ships or from other islands were not allowed to communicate with the
people until they all, or a few as representatives of the rest, had been
taken to each of the four temples in the island, and prayers offered that
the god would avert any disease or treachery which these strangers might
have brought with them. Meat offerings were also laid upon the altars,
accompanied by songs and dances in honour of the god. While these
ceremonies were going on, all the people except the priests and their
attendants kept out of sight.(495) On returning from an attempted ascent
of the great African mountain Kilimanjaro, which is believed by the
neighbouring tribes to be tenanted by dangerous demons, Mr. New and his
party, as soon as they reached the border of the inhabited country, were
disenchanted by the inhabitants, being sprinkled with “a professionally
prepared liquor, supposed to possess the potency of neutralising evil
influences, and removing the spell of wicked spirits.”(496) In the
interior of Yoruba (West Africa) the sentinels at the gates of towns often
oblige European travellers to wait till nightfall before they admit them,
the fear being that if the strangers were admitted by day the devils would
enter behind them.(497) Amongst the Ot Danoms of Borneo it is the custom
that strangers entering the territory should pay to the natives a certain
sum, which is spent in the sacrifice of animals (buffaloes or pigs) to the
spirits of the land and water, in order to reconcile them to the presence
of the strangers, and to induce them not to withdraw their favour from the
people of the land, but to bless the rice-harvest, etc.(498) The men of a
certain district in Borneo, fearing to look upon a European traveller lest
he should make them ill, warned their wives and children not to go near
him. These who could not restrain their curiosity killed fowls to appease
the evil spirits and smeared themselves with the blood.(499) In Laos
before a stranger can be accorded hospitality the master of the house must
offer sacrifice to the ancestral spirits; otherwise the spirits would be
offended and would send disease on the inmates.(500) In the Mentawej
Islands when a stranger enters a house where there are children, the
father or other member of the family takes the ornament which the children
wear in their hair and hands it to the stranger, who holds it in his hands
for a while and then gives it back to him. This is thought to protect the
children from the evil effect which the sight of a stranger might have
upon them.(501) At Shepherd’s Isle Captain Moresby had to be disenchanted
before he was allowed to land his boat’s crew. When he leaped ashore a
devil-man seized his right hand and waved a bunch of palm leaves over the
captain’s head. Then “he placed the leaves in my left hand, putting a
small green twig into his mouth, still holding me fast, and then, as if
with great effort, drew the twig from his mouth—this was extracting the
evil spirit—after which he blew violently, as if to speed it away. I now
held a twig between my teeth, and he went through the same process.” Then
the two raced round a couple of sticks fixed in the ground and bent to an
angle at the top, which had leaves tied to it. After some more ceremonies
the devil-man concluded by leaping to the level of Captain Moresby’s
shoulders (his hands resting on the captain’s shoulders) several times,
“as if to show that he had conquered the devil, and was now trampling him
into the earth.”(502) North American Indians “have an idea that strangers,
particularly white strangers, are ofttimes accompanied by evil spirits. Of
these they have great dread, as creating and delighting in mischief. One
of the duties of the medicine chief is to exorcise these spirits. I have
sometimes ridden into or through a camp where I was unknown or unexpected,
to be confronted by a tall, half-naked savage, standing in the middle of
the circle of lodges, and yelling in a sing-song, nasal tone, a string of
unintelligible words.”(503) When Crevaux was travelling in South America
he entered a village of the Apalai Indians. A few moments after his
arrival some of the Indians brought him a number of large black ants, of a
species whose bite is painful, fastened on palm leaves. Then all the
people of the village, without distinction of age or sex, presented
themselves to him, and he had to sting them all with the ants on their
faces, thighs, etc. Sometimes when he applied the ants too tenderly they
called out “More! more!” and were not satisfied till their skin was
thickly studded with tiny swellings like what might have been produced by
whipping them with nettles.(504) The object of this ceremony is made plain
by the custom observed in Amboina and Uliase of sprinkling sick people
with pungent spices, such as ginger and cloves, chewed fine, in order by
the prickling sensation to drive away the demon of disease which may be
clinging to their persons.(505) With a similar intention some of the
natives of Borneo and Celebes sprinkle rice upon the head or body of a
person supposed to be infested by dangerous spirits; a fowl is then
brought, which, by picking up the rice from the person’s head or body,
removes along with it the spirit or ghost which is clinging like a burr to
his skin. This is done, for example, to persons who have attended a
funeral, and who may therefore be supposed to be infested by the ghost of
the deceased.(506) Similarly Basutos, who have carried a corpse to the
grave, have their hands scratched with a knife from the tip of the thumb
to the tip of the forefinger, and magic stuff is rubbed into the
wound,(507) for the purpose, no doubt, of removing the ghost which may be
adhering to their skin. The people of Nias carefully scrub and scour the
weapons and clothes which they buy, in order to efface all connection
between the things and the persons from whom they bought them.(508) It is
probable that the same dread of strangers, rather than any desire to do
them honour, is the motive of certain ceremonies which are sometimes
observed at their reception, but of which the intention is not directly
stated. In Afghanistan and in some parts of Persia the traveller, before
he enters a village, is frequently received with a sacrifice of animal
life or food, or of fire and incense. The recent Afghan Boundary Mission,
in passing by villages in Afghanistan, was often met with fire and
incense.(509) Sometimes a tray of lighted embers is thrown under the hoofs
of the traveller’s horse, with the words, “You are welcome.”(510) On
entering a village in Central Africa Emin Pasha was received with the
sacrifice of two goats; their blood was sprinkled on the path and the
chief stepped over the blood to greet Emin.(511) Amongst the Eskimos of
Cumberland Inlet, when a stranger arrives at an encampment, the sorcerer
goes out to meet him. The stranger folds his arms and inclines his head to
one side, so as to expose his cheek, upon which the sorcerer deals a
terrible blow, sometimes felling him to the ground. Next the sorcerer in
his turn presents his cheek and receives a buffet from the stranger. Then
they kiss each other, the ceremony is over, and the stranger is hospitably
received by all.(512) Sometimes the dread of strangers and their magic is
too great to allow of their reception on any terms. Thus when Speke
arrived at a certain village the natives shut their doors against him,
“because they had never before seen a white man nor the tin boxes that the
men were carrying: ‘Who knows,’ they said, ‘but that these very boxes are
the plundering Watuta transformed and come to kill us? You cannot be
admitted.’ No persuasion could avail with them, and the party had to
proceed to the next village.”(513)

The fear thus entertained of alien visitors is often mutual. Entering a
strange land, the savage feels that he is treading enchanted ground, and
he takes steps to guard against the demons that haunt it and the magical
arts of its inhabitants. Thus on going to a strange land the Maoris
performed certain ceremonies to make it _noa_ (common), lest it might have
been previously _tapu_ (sacred).(514) When Baron Miklucho-Maclay was
approaching a village on the Maclay Coast of New Guinea, one of the
natives who accompanied him broke a branch from a tree and going aside
whispered to it for a while; then going up to each member of the party,
one after another, he spat something upon his back and gave him some blows
with the branch. Lastly, he went into the forest and buried the branch
under withered leaves in the thickest part of the jungle. This ceremony
was believed to protect the party against all treachery and danger in the
village they were approaching.(515) The idea probably was that the
malignant influences were drawn off from the persons into the branch and
buried with it in the depths of the forest. In Australia, when a strange
tribe has been invited into a district and is approaching the encampment
of the tribe which owns the land, “the strangers carry lighted bark or
burning sticks in their hands, for the purpose, they say, of clearing and
purifying the air.”(516) So when two Greek armies were advancing to the
onset, sacred men used to march in front of each, bearing lighted torches,
which they flung into the space between the hosts and then retired
unmolested.(517)

Again, it is thought that a man who has been on a journey may have
contracted some magic evil from the strangers with whom he has been
brought into contact. Hence on returning home, before he is readmitted to
the society of his tribe and friends, he has to undergo certain
purificatory ceremonies. Thus the Bechuanas “cleanse or purify themselves
after journeys by shaving their heads, etc., lest they should have
contracted from strangers some evil by witchcraft or sorcery.”(518) In
some parts of Western Africa when a man returns home after a long absence,
before he is allowed to visit his wife, he must wash his person with a
particular fluid, and receive from the sorcerer a certain mark on his
forehead, in order to counteract any magic spell which a stranger woman
may have cast on him in his absence, and which might be communicated
through him to the women of his village.(519) Two Hindoo ambassadors, who
had been sent to England by a native prince and had returned to India,
were considered to have so polluted themselves by contact with strangers
that nothing but being born again could restore them to purity. “For the
purpose of regeneration it is directed to make an image of pure gold of
the female power of nature, in the shape either of a woman or of a cow. In
this statue the person to be regenerated is enclosed, and dragged through
the usual channel. As a statue of pure gold and of proper dimensions would
be too expensive, it is sufficient to make an image of the sacred _Yoni_,
through which the person to be regenerated is to pass.” Such an image of
pure gold was made at the prince’s command, and his ambassadors were born
again by being dragged through it.(520) When Damaras return home after a
long absence, they are given a small portion of the fat of particular
animals which is supposed to possess certain virtues.(521) In some of the
Moluccas, when a brother or young blood-relation returns from a long
journey, a young girl awaits him at the door with a _caladi_ leaf in her
hand and water in the leaf. She throws the water over his face and bids
him welcome.(522) The natives of Savage Island (South Pacific) invariably
killed, not only all strangers in distress who were drifted to their
shores, but also any of their own people who had gone away in a ship and
returned home. This was done out of dread of disease. Long after they
began to venture out to ships they would not immediately use the things
they obtained from them, but hung them up in quarantine for weeks in the
bush.(523)

When precautions like these are taken on behalf of the people in general
against the malignant influence supposed to be exercised by strangers, we
shall not be surprised to find that special measures are adopted to
protect the king from the same insidious danger. In the middle ages the
envoys who visited a Tartar Khan were obliged to pass between two fires
before they were admitted to his presence, and the gifts they brought were
also carried between the fires. The reason assigned for the custom was
that the fire purged away any magic influence which the strangers might
mean to exercise over the Khan.(524) When subject chiefs come with their
retinues to visit Kalamba (the most powerful chief of the Bashilange in
the Congo Basin) for the first time or after being rebellious, they have
to bathe, men and women together, in two brooks on two successive days,
passing the nights in the open air in the market-place. After the second
bath they proceed, entirely naked, to the house of Kalamba, who makes a
long white mark on the breast and forehead of each of them. Then they
return to the market-place and dress, after which they undergo the pepper
ordeal. Pepper is dropped into the eyes of each of them, and while this is
being done the sufferer has to make a confession of all his sins, to
answer all questions that may be put to him, and to take certain vows.
This ends the ceremony, and the strangers are now free to take up their
quarters in the town for as long as they choose to remain.(525) At Kilema,
in Eastern Africa, when a stranger arrives, a medicine is made out of a
certain plant or a tree fetched from a distance, mixed with the blood of a
sheep or goat. With this mixture the stranger is besmeared or besprinkled
before he is admitted to the presence of the king.(526) The King of
Monomotapa (South-East Africa) might not wear any foreign stuffs for fear
of their being poisoned.(527) The King of Kakongo (West Africa) might not
possess or even touch European goods, except metals, arms, and articles
made of wood and ivory. Persons wearing foreign stuffs were very careful
to keep at a distance from his person, lest they should touch him.(528)
The King of Loango might not look upon the house of a white man.(529)

In the opinion of savages the acts of eating and drinking are attended
with special danger; for at these times the soul may escape from the
mouth, or be extracted by the magic arts of an enemy present. Precautions
are therefore taken to guard against these dangers. Thus of the Battas of
Sumatra it is said that “since the soul can leave the body, they always
take care to prevent their soul from straying on occasions when they have
most need of it. But it is only possible to prevent the soul from straying
when one is in the house. At feasts one may find the whole house shut up,
in order that the soul (_tondi_) may stay and enjoy the good things set
before it.”(530) In Fiji persons who suspected others of plotting against
them avoided eating in their presence, or were careful to leave no
fragment of food behind.(531) The Zafimanelo in Madagascar lock their
doors when they eat, and hardly any one ever sees them eating.(532) The
Warua will not allow any one to see them eating and drinking, being doubly
particular that no person of the opposite sex shall see them doing so. “I
had to pay a man to let me see him drink; I could not make a man let a
woman see him drink.” When offered a drink of _pombe_ they often ask that
a cloth may be held up to hide them whilst drinking. Further, each man and
woman must cook for themselves; each person must have his own fire.(533)
If these are the ordinary precautions taken by common people, the
precautions taken by kings are extraordinary. The King of Loango may not
be seen eating or drinking by man or beast under pain of death. A
favourite dog having broken into the room where the king was dining, the
king ordered it to be killed on the spot. Once the king’s own son, a boy
of twelve years old, inadvertently saw the king drink. Immediately the
king ordered him to be finely apparelled and feasted, after which he
commanded him to be cut in quarters, and carried about the city with a
proclamation that he had seen the king drink. “When the king has a mind to
drink, he has a cup of wine brought; he that brings it has a bell in his
hand, and as soon as he has delivered the cup to the king he turns his
face from him and rings the bell, on which all present fall down with
their faces to the ground, and continue so till the king has drank.... His
eating is much in the same style, for which he has a house on purpose,
where his victuals are set upon a bensa or table: which he goes to and
shuts the door; when he has done, he knocks and comes out. So that none
ever see the king eat or drink. For it is believed that if any one should,
the king shall immediately die.”(534) The rules observed by the
neighbouring King of Kakongo were similar; it was thought that the king
would die if any of his subjects were to see him drink.(535) It is a
capital offence to see the King of Dahomey at his meals. When he drinks in
public, as he does on extraordinary occasions, he hides himself behind a
curtain, or handkerchiefs are held up round his head, and all the people
throw themselves with their faces to the earth.(536) Any one who saw the
Muato Jamwo (a great potentate in the Congo Basin) eating or drinking
would certainly be put to death.(537) When the King of Tonga ate all the
people turned their backs to him.(538) In the palace of the Persian kings
there were two dining-rooms opposite each other; in one of them the king
dined, in the other his guests. He could see them through a curtain on the
door, but they could not see him. Generally the king took his meals alone;
but sometimes his wife or some of his sons dined with him.(539)

In these cases, however, the intention may perhaps be to hinder evil
influences from entering the body rather than to prevent the escape of the
soul. To the former rather than to the latter motive is to be ascribed the
custom observed by some African sultans of veiling their faces. The Sultan
of Darfur wraps up his face with a piece of white muslin, which goes round
his head several times, covering his mouth and nose first, and then his
forehead, so that only his eyes are visible. The same custom of veiling
the face as a mark of sovereignty is said to be observed in other parts of
Central Africa.(540) The Sultan of Wadai always speaks from behind a
curtain; no one sees his face except his intimates and a few favoured
persons.(541) Amongst the Touaregs of the Sahara all the men (but not the
women) keep the lower part of their face, especially the mouth, veiled
constantly; the veil is never put off, not even in eating or
sleeping.(542) In Samoa a man whose family god was the turtle might not
eat a turtle, and if he helped a neighbour to cut up and cook one he had
to wear a bandage tied over his mouth, lest an embryo turtle should slip
down his throat, grow up, and be his death.(543) In West Timor a speaker
holds his right hand before his mouth in speaking lest a demon should
enter his body, and lest the person with whom he converses should harm the
speaker’s soul by magic.(544) In New South Wales for some time after his
initiation into the tribal mysteries, a young blackfellow (whose soul at
this time is in a critical state) must always cover his mouth with a rug
when a woman is present.(545) Popular expressions in the language of
civilised peoples, such as to have one’s heart in one’s mouth, show how
natural is the idea that the life or soul may escape by the mouth or
nostrils.(546)

By an extension of the like precaution kings are sometimes forbidden ever
to leave their palaces; or, if they are allowed to do so, their subjects
are forbidden to see them abroad. We have seen that the priestly king at
Shark Point, West Africa, may never quit his house or even his chair, in
which he is obliged to sleep sitting.(547) After his coronation the King
of Loango is confined to his palace, which he may not leave.(548) The King
of Ibo (West Africa) “does not step out of his house into the town unless
a human sacrifice is made to propitiate the gods: on this account he never
goes out beyond the precincts of his premises.”(549) The kings of
Aethiopia were worshipped as gods, but were mostly kept shut up in their
palaces.(550) The kings of Sabaea (Sheba), the spice country of Arabia,
were not allowed to go out of their palaces; if they did so, the mob
stoned them to death.(551) But at the top of the palace there was a window
with a chain attached to it. If any man deemed he had suffered wrong, he
pulled the chain, and the king perceived him and called him in and gave
judgment.(552) So to this day the kings of Corea, whose persons are sacred
and receive “honours almost divine,” are shut up in their palace from the
age of twelve or fifteen; and if a suitor wishes to obtain justice of the
king he sometimes lights a great bonfire on a mountain facing the palace;
the king sees the fire and informs himself of the case.(553) The King of
Tonquin was permitted to appear abroad twice or thrice a year for the
performance of certain religious ceremonies; but the people were not
allowed to look at him. The day before he came forth notice was given to
all the inhabitants of the city and country to keep from the way the king
was to go; the women were obliged to remain in their houses and durst not
show themselves under pain of death, a penalty which was carried out on
the spot if any one disobeyed the order, even through ignorance. Thus the
king was invisible to all but his troops and the officers of his
suite.(554) In Mandalay a stout lattice-paling, six feet high and
carefully kept in repair, lined every street in the walled city and all
those in the suburbs through which the king was likely at any time to
pass. Behind this paling, which stood two feet or so from the houses, all
the people had to stay when the king or any of the queens went out. Any
one who was caught outside it by the beadles after the procession had
started was severely handled, and might think himself lucky if he got off
with a beating. No one was supposed to look through the holes in the
lattice-work, which were besides partly stopped up with flowering
shrubs.(555)

Again, magic mischief may be wrought upon a man through the remains of the
food he has partaken of, or the dishes out of which he has eaten. Thus the
Narrinyeri in South Australia think that if a man eats of the sacred
animal (totem) of his tribe, and an enemy gets hold of a portion of the
flesh, the latter can make it grow in the inside of the eater, and so
cause his death. Therefore when a man eats of his totem he is careful to
eat it all or else to conceal or destroy the remains.(556) In Tana, one of
the New Hebrides, people bury or throw into the sea the leavings of their
food, lest these should fall into the hands of the disease-makers. For if
a disease-maker finds the remnants of a meal, say the skin of a banana, he
picks it up and burns it slowly in the fire. As it burns the person who
ate the banana falls ill and sends to the disease-maker, offering him
presents if he will stop burning the banana skin.(557) Hence no one may
touch the food which the King of Loango leaves upon his plate; it is
buried in a hole in the ground. And no one may drink out of the king’s
vessel.(558) Similarly no man may drink out of the same cup or glass with
the King of Fida (in Guinea); “he hath always one kept particularly for
himself; and that which hath but once touched another’s lips he never uses
more, though it be made of metal that may be cleansed by fire.”(559)
Amongst the Alfoers of Celebes there is a priest called the _Leleen_,
whose duty appears to be to make the rice grow. His functions begin about
a month before the rice is sown, and end after the crop is housed. During
this time he has to observe certain taboos; amongst others he may not eat
or drink with any one else, and he may drink out of no vessel but his
own.(560)

We have seen that the Mikado’s food was cooked every day in new pots and
served up in new dishes; both pots and dishes were of common clay, in
order that they might be broken or laid aside after they had been once
used. They were generally broken, for it was believed that if any one else
ate his food out of these sacred dishes his mouth and throat would become
swollen and inflamed. The same ill effect was thought to be experienced by
any one who should wear the Mikado’s clothes without his leave; he would
have swellings and pains all over his body.(561) In the evil effects thus
supposed to follow upon the use of the Mikado’s vessels or clothes we see
that other side of the divine king’s or god-man’s character to which
attention has been already called. The divine person is a source of danger
as well as of blessing; he must not only be guarded, he must also be
guarded against. His sacred organism, so delicate that a touch may
disorder it, is also electrically charged with a powerful spiritual force
which may discharge itself with fatal effect on whatever comes in contact
with it. Hence the isolation of the man-god is quite as necessary for the
safety of others as for his own. His divinity is a fire, which, under
proper restraints, confers endless blessings, but, if rashly touched or
allowed to break bounds, burns and destroys what it touches. Hence the
disastrous effects supposed to attend a breach of taboo; the offender has
thrust his hand into the divine fire, which shrivels up and consumes him
on the spot. To take an example from the taboo we are considering. It
happened that a New Zealand chief of high rank and great sanctity had left
the remains of his dinner by the wayside. A slave, a stout, hungry fellow,
coming up after the chief had gone, saw the unfinished dinner, and ate it
up without asking questions. Hardly had he finished when he was informed
by a horror-stricken spectator that the food of which he had eaten was the
chief’s. “I knew the unfortunate delinquent well. He was remarkable for
courage, and had signalised himself in the wars of the tribe.... No sooner
did he hear the fatal news than he was seized by the most extraordinary
convulsions and cramp in the stomach, which never ceased till he died,
about sundown the same day. He was a strong man, in the prime of life, and
if any pakeha [European] freethinker should have said he was not killed by
the _tapu_ [taboo] of the chief, which had been communicated to the food
by contact, he would have been listened to with feelings of contempt for
his ignorance and inability to understand plain and direct evidence.”(562)
This is not a solitary case. A Maori woman having eaten of some fruit, and
being afterwards told that the fruit had being taken from a tabooed place,
exclaimed that the spirit of the chief whose sanctity had been thus
profaned would kill her. This was in the afternoon, and next day by twelve
o’clock she was dead.(563) An observer who knows the Maoris well, says,
“Tapu [taboo] is an awful weapon. I have seen a strong young man die the
same day he was tapued; the victims die under it as though their strength
ran out as water.”(564) A Maori chief’s tinder-box was once the means of
killing several persons; for having been lost by him, and found by some
men who used it to light their pipes, they died of fright on learning to
whom it had belonged. So too the garments of a high New Zealand chief will
kill any one else who wears them. A chief was observed by a missionary to
throw down a precipice a blanket which he found too heavy to carry. Being
asked by the missionary why he did not leave it on a tree for the use of a
future traveller, the chief replied that “it was the fear of its being
taken by another which caused him to throw it where he did, for if it were
worn, his tapu” (_i.e._ his spiritual power communicated by contact to the
blanket and through the blanket to the man) “would kill the person.”(565)

No wonder therefore that the savage should rank these human divinities
amongst what he regards as the dangerous classes, and should impose
exactly the same restraints upon the one as upon the other. For instance,
those who have defiled themselves by touching a dead body are regarded by
the Maoris as in a very dangerous state, and are sedulously shunned and
isolated. But the taboos observed by and towards these defiled persons
(_e.g._ they may not touch food with their hands, and the vessels used by
them may not be used by other people) are identical with those observed by
and towards sacred chiefs.(566) And, in general, the prohibition to use
the dress, vessels, etc., of certain persons and the effects supposed to
follow an infraction of the rule are exactly the same whether the persons
to whom the things belong are sacred or what we might call unclean and
polluted. As the garments which have been touched by a sacred chief kill
those who handle them, so do the things which have been touched by a
menstruous woman. An Australian blackfellow, who discovered that his wife
had lain on his blanket at her menstrual period, killed her and died of
terror himself within a fortnight.(567) Hence Australian women at these
times are forbidden under pain of death to touch anything that men use.
They are also secluded at child-birth, and all vessels used by them during
their seclusion are burned.(568) Amongst some of the Indians of North
America also women at menstruation are forbidden to touch men’s utensils,
which would be so defiled by their touch that their subsequent use would
be attended by certain mischief or misfortune.(569) Amongst the Eskimo of
Alaska no one will willingly drink out of the same cup or eat out of the
same dish that has been used by a woman at her confinement until it has
been purified by certain incantations.(570) Amongst some of the Tinneh
Indians of North America the dishes out of which girls eat during their
seclusion at puberty “are used by no other person, and wholly devoted to
their own use.”(571) Again amongst some Indian tribes of North America men
who have slain enemies are considered to be in a state of uncleanness, and
will not eat or drink out of any dish or smoke out of any pipe but their
own for a considerable time after the slaughter, and no one will willingly
use their dishes or pipes. They live in a kind of seclusion during this
time, at the end of which all the dishes and pipes used by them during
their seclusion are burned.(572) Amongst the Kafirs, boys at circumcision
live secluded in a special hut, and when they are healed all the vessels
which they had used during their seclusion and the boyish mantles which
they had hitherto worn are burned together with the hut.(573) When a young
Indian brave is out on the war-path for the first time the vessels he eats
and drinks out of must be touched by no one else.(574)

Thus the rules of ceremonial purity observed by divine kings, chiefs, and
priests, by homicides, women at child-birth, and so on, are in some
respects alike. To us these different classes of persons appear to differ
totally in character and condition; some of them we should call holy,
others we might pronounce unclean and polluted. But the savage makes no
such moral distinction between them; the conceptions of holiness and
pollution are not yet differentiated in his mind. To him the common
feature of all these persons is that they are dangerous and in danger, and
the danger in which they stand and to which they expose others is what we
should call spiritual or supernatural, that is, imaginary. The danger,
however, is not less real because it is imaginary; imagination acts upon
man as really as does gravitation, and may kill him as certainly as a dose
of prussic acid. To seclude these persons from the rest of the world so
that the dreaded spiritual danger shall neither reach them, nor spread
from them, is the object of the taboos which they have to observe. These
taboos act, so to say, as electrical insulators to preserve the spiritual
force with which these persons are charged from suffering or inflicting
harm by contact with the outer world.(575)

No one was allowed to touch the body of the King or Queen of Tahiti;(576)
and no one may touch the King of Cambodia, for any purpose whatever,
without his express command. In July 1874 the king was thrown from his
carriage and lay insensible on the ground, but not one of his suite dared
to touch him; a European coming to the spot carried the injured monarch to
his palace.(577) No one may touch the King of Corea; and if he deigns to
touch a subject, the spot touched becomes sacred, and the person thus
honoured must wear a visible mark (generally a cord of red silk) for the
rest of his life. Above all, no iron may touch the king’s body. In 1800
King Tieng-tsong-tai-oang died of a tumour in the back, no one dreaming of
employing the lancet, which would probably have saved his life. It is said
that one king suffered terribly from an abscess in the lip, till his
physician called in a jester, whose antics made the king laugh heartily,
and so the abscess burst.(578) Roman and Sabine priests might not be
shaved with iron but only with bronze razors or shears;(579) and whenever
an iron graving-tool was brought into the sacred grove of the Arval
Brothers at Rome for the purpose of cutting an inscription in stone, an
expiatory sacrifice of a lamb and a pig was offered, which was repeated
when the graving-tool was removed from the grove.(580) In Crete sacrifices
were offered to Menedemus without the use of iron, because, it was said,
Menedemus had been killed by an iron weapon in the Trojan war.(581) The
Archon of Plataeae might not touch iron; but once a year, at the annual
commemoration of the men who fell at the battle of Plataeae, he was
allowed to carry a sword wherewith to sacrifice a bull.(582) To this day a
Hottentot priest never uses an iron knife, but always a sharp splint of
quartz in sacrificing an animal or circumcising a lad.(583) Amongst the
Moquis of Arizona stone knives, hatchets, etc., have passed out of common
use, but are retained in religious ceremonies.(584) Negroes of the Gold
Coast remove all iron or steel from their person when they consult their
fetish.(585) The men who made the need-fire in Scotland had to divest
themselves of all metal.(586) In making the _clavie_ (a kind of Yule-tide
fire-wheel) at Burghead, no hammer may be used; the hammering must be done
with a stone.(587) Amongst the Jews no iron tool was used in building the
temple at Jerusalem or in making an altar.(588) The old wooden bridge
(_Pons Sublicius_) at Rome, which was considered sacred, was made and had
to be kept in repair without the use of iron or bronze.(589) It was
expressly provided by law that the temple of Jupiter Liber at Furfo might
be repaired with iron tools.(590) The council chamber at Cyzicus was
constructed of wood without any iron nails, the beams being so arranged
that they could be taken out and replaced.(591) The late Raja Vijyanagram,
a member of the Viceroy’s Council, and described as one of the most
enlightened and estimable of Hindu princes, would not allow iron to be
used in the construction of buildings within his territory, believing that
its use would inevitably be followed by small-pox and other
epidemics.(592)

This superstitious objection to iron perhaps dates from that early time in
the history of society when iron was still a novelty, and as such was
viewed by many with suspicion and dislike. For everything new is apt to
excite the awe and dread of the savage. “It is a curious superstition,”
says a recent pioneer in Borneo, “this of the Dusuns, to attribute
anything—whether good or bad, lucky or unlucky—that happens to them to
something novel which has arrived in their country. For instance, my
living in Kindram has caused the intensely hot weather we have experienced
of late.”(593) The first introduction of iron ploughshares into Poland
having been followed by a succession of bad harvests, the farmers
attributed the badness of the crops to the iron ploughshares, and
discarded them for the old wooden ones.(594) The general dislike of
innovation, which always makes itself strongly felt in the sphere of
religion, is sufficient by itself to account for the superstitious
aversion to iron entertained by kings and priests and attributed by them
to the gods; possibly this aversion may have been intensified in places by
some such accidental cause as the series of bad seasons which cast
discredit on iron ploughshares in Poland. But the disfavour in which iron
is held by the gods and their ministers has another side. The very fact
that iron is deemed obnoxious to spirits furnishes men with a weapon which
may be turned against the spirits when occasion serves. As their dislike
of iron is supposed to be so great that they will not approach persons and
things protected by the obnoxious metal, iron may obviously be employed as
a charm for banning ghosts and other dangerous spirits. And it often is so
used. Thus when Scotch fishermen were at sea, and one of them happened to
take the name of God in vain, the first man who heard him called out
“Cauld airn,” at which every man of the crew grasped the nearest bit of
iron and held it between his hands for a while.(595) In Morocco iron is
considered a great protection against demons; hence it is usual to place a
knife or dagger under a sick man’s pillow.(596) In India “the mourner who
performs the ceremony of putting fire into the dead person’s mouth carries
with him a piece of iron: it may be a key or a knife, or a simple piece of
iron, and during the whole time of his separation (for he is unclean for a
certain time, and no one will either touch him or eat or drink with him,
neither can he change his clothes(597)) he carries the piece of iron about
with him to keep off the evil spirit. In Calcutta the Bengali clerks in
the Government Offices used to wear a small key on one of their fingers
when they had been chief mourners.”(598) In the north-east of Scotland
immediately after a death had taken place, a piece of iron, such as a nail
or a knitting-wire, used to be stuck into all the meal, butter, cheese,
flesh, and whisky in the house, “to prevent death from entering them.” The
neglect of this precaution is said to have been closely followed by the
corruption of the food and drink; the whisky has been known to become as
white as milk.(599) When iron is used as a protective charm after a death,
as in these Hindu and Scotch customs, the spirit against which it is
directed is the ghost of the deceased.(600)

There is a priestly king to the north of Zengwih in Burma, revered by the
Sotih as the highest spiritual and temporal authority, into whose house no
weapon or cutting instrument may be brought.(601) This rule may perhaps be
explained by a custom observed by various peoples after a death; they
refrain from the use of sharp instruments so long as the ghost of the
deceased is supposed to be near, lest they should wound it. Thus after a
death the Roumanians of Transylvania are careful not to leave a knife
lying with the sharp edge uppermost as long as the corpse remains in the
house, “or else the soul will be forced to ride on the blade.”(602) For
seven days after a death, the corpse being still in the house, the Chinese
abstain from the use of knives and needles, and even of chopsticks, eating
their food with their fingers.(603) Amongst the Innuit (Eskimos) of Alaska
for four days after a death the women in the village do no sewing, and for
five days the men do not cut wood with an axe.(604) On the third, sixth,
ninth, and fortieth days after the funeral the old Prussians and
Lithuanians used to prepare a meal, to which, standing at the door, they
invited the soul of the deceased. At these meals they sat silent round the
table and used no knives, and the women who served up the food were also
without knives. If any morsels fell from the table they were left lying
there for the lonely souls that had no living relations or friends to feed
them. When the meal was over the priest took a broom and swept the souls
out of the house, saying, “Dear souls, ye have eaten and drunk. Go forth,
go forth.”(605) In cutting the nails and combing the hair of a dead prince
in South Celebes only the back of the knife and of the comb may be
used.(606) The Germans say that a knife should not be left edge upwards,
because God and the spirits dwell there, or because it will cut the face
of God and the angels.(607) We can now understand why no cutting
instrument may be taken into the house of the Burmese pontiff. Like so
many priestly kings, he is probably regarded as divine, and it is
therefore right that his sacred spirit should not be exposed to the risk
of being cut or wounded whenever it quits his body to hover invisible in
the air or to fly on some distant mission.

We have seen that the Flamen Dialis was forbidden to touch or even name
raw flesh.(608) In the Pelew Islands when a raid has been made on a
village and a head carried off, the relations of the slain man are tabooed
and have to submit to certain observances in order to escape the wrath of
his ghost. They are shut up in the house, touch no raw flesh, and chew
beetel over which an incantation has been uttered by the exorcist. After
this the ghost of the slaughtered man goes away to the enemy’s country in
pursuit of his murderer.(609) The taboo is probably based on the common
belief that the soul or spirit of the animal is in the blood. As tabooed
persons are believed to be in a perilous state—for example, the relations
of the slain man are liable to the attacks of his indignant ghost—it is
especially necessary to isolate them from contact with spirits; hence the
prohibition to touch raw meat. But as usual the taboo is only the special
enforcement in particular circumstances of a general rule; in other words,
its observance is particularly enjoined in circumstances which are
supposed especially to call for its application, but apart from such
special circumstances the prohibition is also observed, though less
strictly, as an ordinary rule of life. Thus some of the Esthonians will
not taste blood because they believe that it contains the animal’s soul,
which would enter the body of the person who tasted the blood.(610) Some
Indian tribes of North America, “through a strong principle of religion,
abstain in the strictest manner from eating the blood of any animal, as it
contains the life and spirit of the beast.” These Indians “commonly pull
their new-killed venison (before they dress it) several times through the
smoke and flame of the fire, both by the way of a sacrifice and to consume
the blood, life, or animal spirits of the beast, which with them would be
a most horrid abomination to eat.”(611) Many of the Slave, Hare, and
Dogrib Indians scruple to taste the blood of game; hunters of the former
tribes collect the blood in the animal’s paunch and bury it in the
snow.(612) Jewish hunters poured out the blood of the game they had killed
and covered it up with dust. They would not taste the blood, believing
that the soul or life of the animal was in the blood, or actually was the
blood.(613) The same belief was held by the Romans,(614) and is shared by
the Arabs,(615) and by some of the Papuan tribes of New Guinea.(616)

It is a common rule that royal blood must not be shed upon the ground.
Hence when a king or one of his family is to be put to death a mode of
execution is devised by which the royal blood shall not be spilt upon the
earth. About the year 1688 the generalissimo of the army rebelled against
the King of Siam and put him to death “after the manner of royal
criminals, or as princes of the blood are treated when convicted of
capital crimes, which is by putting them into a large iron caldron, and
pounding them to pieces with wooden pestles, because none of their royal
blood must be spilt on the ground, it being, by their religion, thought
great impiety to contaminate the divine blood by mixing it with
earth.”(617) Other Siamese modes of executing a royal person are
starvation, suffocation, stretching him on a scarlet cloth and thrusting a
billet of odoriferous “saunders wood” into his stomach,(618) or lastly,
sewing him up in a leather sack with a large stone and throwing him into
the river; sometimes the sufferer’s neck is broken with sandal-wood clubs
before he is thrown into the water.(619) When Kublai Khan defeated and
took his uncle Nayan, who had rebelled against him, he caused Nayan to be
put to death by being wrapt in a carpet and tossed to and fro till he
died, “because he would not have the blood of his Line Imperial spilt upon
the ground or exposed in the eye of Heaven and before the Sun.”(620)
“Friar Ricold mentions the Tartar maxim: ‘One Khan will put another to
death to get possession of the throne, but he takes great care that the
blood be not spilt. For they say that it is highly improper that the blood
of the Great Khan should be spilt upon the ground; so they cause the
victim to be smothered somehow or other.’ The like feeling prevails at the
court of Burma, where a peculiar mode of execution without bloodshed is
reserved for princes of the blood.”(621) In Tonquin the ordinary mode of
execution is beheading, but persons of the blood royal are strangled.(622)
In Ashantee the blood of none of the royal family may be shed; if one of
them is guilty of a great crime he is drowned in the river Dah.(623) In
Madagascar the blood of nobles might not be shed; hence when four
Christians of that class were to be executed they were burned alive.(624)
When a young king of Uganda comes of age all his brothers are burnt except
two or three, who are preserved to keep up the succession.(625) The
reluctance to shed royal blood seems to be only a particular case of a
general reluctance to shed blood or at least to allow it to fall on the
ground. Marco Polo tells us that in his day persons found on the streets
of Cambaluc (Pekin) at unseasonable hours were arrested, and if found
guilty of a misdemeanour were beaten with a stick. “Under this punishment
people sometimes die, but they adopt it in order to eschew bloodshed, for
their _Bacsis_ say that it is an evil thing to shed man’s blood.”(626)
When Captain Christian was shot by the Manx Government at the Restoration
in 1660, the spot on which he stood was covered with white blankets, that
his blood might not fall on the ground.(627) Amongst some primitive
peoples, when the blood of a tribesman has to be shed it is not suffered
to fall upon the ground, but is received upon the bodies of his fellow
tribesmen. Thus in some Australian tribes boys who are being circumcised
are laid on a platform, formed by the living bodies of the tribesmen;(628)
and when a boy’s tooth is knocked out as an initiatory ceremony, he is
seated on the shoulders of a man, on whose breast the blood flows and may
not be wiped away.(629) When Australian blacks bleed each other as a cure
for headache, and so on, they are very careful not to spill any of the
blood on the ground, but sprinkle it on each other.(630) We have already
seen that in the Australian ceremony for making rain the blood which is
supposed to imitate the rain is received upon the bodies of the
tribesmen.(631) In South Celebes at child-birth a female slave stands
under the house (the houses being raised on posts above the ground) and
receives in a basin on her head the blood which trickles through the
bamboo floor.(632) The unwillingness to shed blood is extended by some
peoples to the blood of animals. When the Wanika in Eastern Africa kill
their cattle for food, “they either stone or beat the animal to death, so
as not to shed the blood.”(633) Amongst the Damaras cattle killed for food
are suffocated, but when sacrificed they are speared to death.(634) But
like most pastoral tribes in Africa, both the Wanika and Damaras very
seldom kill their cattle, which are indeed commonly invested with a kind
of sanctity.(635) In killing an animal for food the Easter Islanders do
not shed its blood, but stun it or suffocate it in smoke.(636) The
explanation of the reluctance to shed blood on the ground is probably to
be found in the belief that the soul is in the blood, and that therefore
any ground on which it may fall necessarily becomes taboo or sacred. In
New Zealand anything upon which even a drop of a high chief’s blood
chances to fall becomes taboo or sacred to him. For instance, a party of
natives having come to visit a chief in a fine new canoe, the chief got
into it, but in doing so a splinter entered his foot, and the blood
trickled on the canoe, which at once became sacred to him. The owner
jumped out, dragged the canoe ashore opposite the chief’s house, and left
it there. Again, a chief in entering a missionary’s house knocked his head
against a beam, and the blood flowed. The natives said that in former
times the house would have belonged to the chief.(637) As usually happens
with taboos of universal application, the prohibition to spill the blood
of a tribesman on the ground applies with peculiar stringency to chiefs
and kings, and is observed in their case long after it has ceased to be
observed in the case of others.

We have seen that the Flamen Dialis was not allowed to walk under a
trellised vine.(638) The reason for this prohibition was perhaps as
follows. It has been shown that plants are considered as animate beings
which bleed when cut, the red juice which exudes from some plants being
regarded as the blood of the plant.(639) The juice of the grape is
therefore naturally conceived as the blood of the vine.(640) And since, as
we have just seen, the soul is often believed to be in the blood, the
juice of the grape is regarded as the soul, or as containing the soul, of
the vine. This belief is strengthened by the intoxicating effects of wine.
For, according to primitive notions, all abnormal mental states, such as
intoxication or madness, are caused by the entrance of a spirit into the
person; such mental states, in other words, are regarded as forms of
possession or inspiration. Wine, therefore, is considered on two distinct
grounds as a spirit or containing a spirit; first because, as a red juice,
it is identified with the blood of the plant, and second because it
intoxicates or inspires. Therefore if the Flamen Dialis had walked under a
trellised vine, the spirit of the vine, embodied in the clusters of
grapes, would have been immediately over his head and might have touched
it, which for a person like him in a state of permanent taboo(641) would
have been highly dangerous. This interpretation of the prohibition will be
made probable if we can show, first, that wine has been actually viewed by
some peoples as blood and intoxication as inspiration produced by drinking
the blood; and, second, that it is often considered dangerous, especially
for tabooed persons, to have either blood or a living person over their
heads.

With regard to the first point, we are informed by Plutarch that of old
the Egyptian kings neither drank wine nor offered it in libations to the
gods, because they held it to be the blood of beings who had once fought
against the gods, the vine having sprung from their rotting bodies; and
the frenzy of intoxication was explained by the supposition that the
drunken man was filled with the blood of the enemies of the gods.(642) The
Aztecs regarded _pulque_ or the wine of the country as bad, on account of
the wild deeds which men did under its influence. But these wild deeds
were believed to be the acts, not of the drunken man, but of the wine-god
by whom he was possessed and inspired; and so seriously was this theory of
inspiration held that if any one spoke ill of or insulted a tipsy man, he
was liable to be punished for disrespect to the wine-god incarnate in his
votary. Hence, says Sahagun, it was believed, not without ground, that the
Indians intoxicated themselves on purpose to commit with impunity crimes
for which they would certainly have been punished if they had committed
them sober.(643) Thus it appears that on the primitive view intoxication
or the inspiration produced by wine is exactly parallel to the inspiration
produced by drinking the blood of animals.(644) The soul or life is in the
blood, and wine is the blood of the vine. Hence whoever drinks the blood
of an animal is inspired with the soul of the animal or of the god, who,
as we have seen,(645) is often supposed to enter into the animal before it
is slain; and whoever drinks wine drinks the blood, and so receives into
himself the soul or spirit, of the god of the vine.

With regard to the second point, the fear of passing under blood or under
a living person, we are told that some of the Australian blacks have a
dread of passing under a leaning tree or even under the rails of a fence.
The reason they give is that a woman may have been upon the tree or fence,
and some blood from her may have fallen on it and might fall from it on
them.(646) In Ugi, one of the Solomon Islands, a man will never, if he can
help it, pass under a tree which has fallen across the path, for the
reason that a woman may have stepped over it before him.(647) Amongst the
Karens of Burma “going under a house, especially if there are females
within, is avoided; as is also the passing under trees of which the
branches extend downwards in a particular direction, and the butt-end of
fallen trees, etc.”(648) The Siamese think it unlucky to pass under a rope
on which women’s clothes are hung, and to avert evil consequences the
person who has done so must build a chapel to the earth-spirit.(649)

Probably in all such cases the rule is based on a fear of being brought
into contact with blood, especially the blood of women. From a like fear a
Maori will never lean his back against the wall of a native house.(650)
For the blood of women is believed to have disastrous effects upon males.
In the Encounter Bay tribe of South Australia boys are warned that if they
see the blood of women they will early become gray-headed and their
strength will fail prematurely.(651) Men of the Booandik tribe think that
if they see the blood of their women they will not be able to fight
against their enemies and will be killed; if the sun dazzles their eyes at
a fight, the first woman they afterwards meet is sure to get a blow from
their club.(652) In the island of Wetar it is thought that if a man or a
lad comes upon a woman’s blood he will be unfortunate in war and other
undertakings, and that any precautions he may take to avoid the misfortune
will be vain.(653) The people of Ceram also believe that men who see
women’s blood will be wounded in battle.(654) Similarly the Ovahereró
(Damaras) of South Africa think that if they see a lying-in woman shortly
after child-birth they will become weaklings and will be shot when they go
to war.(655) It is an Esthonian belief that men who see women’s blood will
suffer from an eruption on the skin.(656)

Again, the reason for not passing under dangerous objects, like a vine or
women’s blood, is a fear that they may come in contact with the head; for
among primitive people the head is peculiarly sacred. The special sanctity
attributed to it is sometimes explained by a belief that it is the seat of
a spirit which is very sensitive to injury or disrespect. Thus the Karens
suppose that a being called the _tso_ resides in the upper part of the
head, and while it retains its seat no harm can befall the person from the
efforts of the seven _Kelahs_, or personified passions. “But if the _tso_
becomes heedless or weak certain evil to the person is the result. Hence
the head is carefully attended to, and all possible pains are taken to
provide such dress and attire as will be pleasing to the _tso_.”(657) The
Siamese think that a spirit called _Khuan_, or _Chom Kuan_, dwells in the
human head, of which it is the guardian spirit. The spirit must be
carefully protected from injury of every kind; hence the act of shaving or
cutting the hair is accompanied with many ceremonies. The _Khuan_ is very
sensitive on points of honour, and would feel mortally insulted if the
head in which he resides were touched by the hand of a stranger. When Dr.
Bastian, in conversation with a brother of the king of Siam, raised his
hand to touch the prince’s skull in order to illustrate some medical
remarks he was making, a sullen and threatening murmur bursting from the
lips of the crouching courtiers warned him of the breach of etiquette he
had committed, for in Siam there is no greater insult to a man of rank
than to touch his head. If a Siamese touch the head of another with his
foot, both of them must build chapels to the earth-spirit to avert the
omen. Nor does the guardian spirit of the head like to have the hair
washed too often; it might injure or incommode him. It was a grand
solemnity when the king of Burmah’s head was washed with water taken from
the middle of the river. Whenever the native professor, from whom Dr.
Bastian took lessons in Burmese at Mandalay, had his head washed, which
took place as a rule once a month, he was generally absent for three days
together, that time being consumed in preparing for, and recovering from,
the operation of head-washing. Dr. Bastian’s custom of washing his head
daily gave rise to much remark.(658)

Again, the Burmese think it an indignity to have any one, especially a
woman, over their heads, and for this reason Burmese houses have never
more than one story. The houses are raised on posts above the ground, and
whenever anything fell through the floor Dr. Bastian had always difficulty
in persuading a servant to fetch it from under the house. In Rangoon a
priest, summoned to the bedside of a sick man, climbed up a ladder and got
in at the window rather than ascend the staircase, to reach which he must
have passed under a gallery. A pious Burman of Rangoon, finding some
images of Buddha in a ship’s cabin, offered a high price for them, that
they might not be degraded by sailors walking over them on the deck.(659)
Similarily the Cambodians esteem it a grave offence to touch a man’s head;
some of them will not enter a place where anything whatever is suspended
over their heads; and the meanest Cambodian would never consent to live
under an inhabited room. Hence the houses are built of one story only; and
even the Government respects the prejudice by never placing a prisoner in
the stocks under the floor of a house, though the houses are raised high
above the ground.(660) The same superstition exists amongst the Malays;
for an early traveller reports that in Java people “wear nothing on their
heads, and say that nothing must be on their heads ... and if any person
were to put his hand upon their head they would kill him; and they do not
build houses with storeys, in order that they may not walk over each
other’s heads.”(661) It is also found in full force throughout Polynesia.
Thus of Gattanewa, a Marquesan chief, it is said that “to touch the top of
his head, or any thing which had been on his head was sacrilege. To pass
over his head was an indignity never to be forgotten. Gattanewa, nay, all
his family, scorned to pass a gateway which is ever closed, or a house
with a door; all must be as open and free as their unrestrained manners.
He would pass under nothing that had been raised by the hand of man, if
there was a possibility of getting round or over it. Often have I seen him
walk the whole length of our barrier, in preference to passing between our
water-casks; and at the risk of his life scramble over the loose stones of
a wall, rather than go through the gateway.”(662) Marquesan women have
been known to refuse to go on the decks of ships for fear of passing over
the heads of chiefs who might be below.(663) But it was not the Marquesan
chiefs only whose heads were sacred; the head of every Marquesan was
taboo, and might neither be touched nor stepped over by another; even a
father might not step over the head of his sleeping child.(664) No one was
allowed to be over the head of the king of Tonga.(665) In Hawaii (the
Sandwich Islands) if a man climbed upon a chief’s house or upon the wall
of his yard, he was put to death; if his shadow fell on a chief, he was
put to death; if he walked in the shadow of a chief’s house with his head
painted white or decked with a garland or wetted with water, he was put to
death.(666) In Tahiti any one who stood over the king or queen, or passed
his hand over their heads, might be put to death.(667) Until certain rites
were performed over it, a Tahitian infant was especially taboo; whatever
touched the child’s head, while it was in this state, became sacred and
was deposited in a consecrated place railed in for the purpose at the
child’s house. If a branch of a tree touched the child’s head, the tree
was cut down; and if in its fall it injured another tree so as to
penetrate the bark, that tree also was cut down as unclean and unfit for
use. After the rites were performed, these special taboos ceased; but the
head of a Tahitian was always sacred, he never carried anything on it, and
to touch it was an offence.(668) The head of a Maori chief was so sacred
that “if he only touched it with his fingers, he was obliged immediately
to apply them to his nose, and snuff up the sanctity which they had
acquired by the touch, and thus restore it to the part from whence it was
taken.”(669) In some circumstances the tabooed person is forbidden to
touch his head at all. Thus in North America, Tinneh girls at puberty,
Creek lads during the year of their initiation into manhood, and young
braves on their first war-path, are forbidden to scratch their heads with
their fingers, and are provided with a stick for the purpose.(670) But to
return to the Maoris. On account of the sacredness of his head “a chief
could not blow the fire with his mouth, for the breath being sacred,
communicated his sanctity to it, and a brand might be taken by a slave, or
a man of another tribe, or the fire might be used for other purposes, such
as cooking, and so cause his death.”(671) It is a crime for a sacred
person in New Zealand to leave his comb, or anything else which has
touched his head, in a place where food has been cooked, or to suffer
another person to drink out of any vessel which has touched his lips.
Hence when a chief wishes to drink he never puts his lips to the vessel,
but holds his hands close to his mouth so as to form a hollow, into which
water is poured by another person, and thence is allowed to flow into his
mouth. If a light is needed for his pipe, the burning ember taken from the
fire must be thrown away as soon as it is used; for the pipe becomes
sacred because it has touched his mouth; the coal becomes sacred because
it has touched the pipe; and if a particle of the sacred cinder were
replaced on the common fire, the fire would also become sacred and could
no longer be used for cooking.(672) Some Maori chiefs, like other
Polynesians, object to go down into a ship’s cabin from fear of people
passing over their heads.(673) Dire misfortune was thought by the Maoris
to await those who entered a house where any article of animal food was
suspended over their heads. “A dead pigeon, or a piece of pork hung from
the roof was a better protection from molestation than a sentinel.”(674)
If I am right, the reason for the special objection to having animal food
over the head is the fear of bringing the sacred head into contact with
the spirit of the animal; just as the reason why the Flamen Dialis might
not walk under a vine was the fear of bringing his sacred head into
contact with the spirit of the vine.

When the head was considered so sacred that it might not even be touched
without grave offence, it is obvious that the cutting of the hair must
have been a delicate and difficult operation. The difficulties and dangers
which, on the primitive view, beset the operation are of two kinds. There
is first the danger of disturbing the spirit of the head, which may be
injured in the process and may revenge itself upon the person who molests
him. Secondly, there is the difficulty of disposing of the shorn locks.
For the savage believes that the sympathetic connection which exists
between himself and every part of his body continues to exist even after
the physical connection has been severed, and that therefore he will
suffer from any harm that may befall the severed parts of his body, such
as the clippings of his hair or the parings of his nails. Accordingly he
takes care that these severed portions of himself shall not be left in
places where they might either be exposed to accidental injury or fall
into the hands of malicious persons who might work magic on them to his
detriment or death. Such dangers are common to all, but sacred persons
have more to fear from them than ordinary people, so the precautions taken
by them are proportionately stringent. The simplest way of evading the
danger is of course not to cut the hair at all; and this is the expedient
adopted where the danger is thought to be more than usually great. The
Frankish kings were not allowed to cut their hair.(675) A Haida
medicine-man may neither cut nor comb his hair, so it is always long and
tangled.(676) Amongst the Alfoers of Celebes the _Leleen_ or priest who
looks after the rice-fields may not cut his hair during the time that he
exercises his special functions, that is, from a month before the rice is
sown until it is housed.(677) In Ceram men do not cut their hair: if
married men did so, they would lose their wives; if young men did so, they
would grow weak and enervated.(678) In Timorlaut, married men may not cut
their hair for the same reason as in Ceram, but widowers and men on a
journey may do so after offering a fowl or a pig in sacrifice.(679) Here
men on a journey are specially permitted to cut their hair; but elsewhere
men travelling abroad have been in the habit of leaving their hair uncut
until their return. The reason for the latter custom is probably the
danger to which, as we have seen, a traveller is believed to be exposed
from the magic arts of the strangers amongst whom he sojourns; if they got
possession of his shorn hair, they might work his destruction through it.
The Egyptians on a journey kept their hair uncut till they returned
home.(680) “At Tâif when a man returned from a journey his first duty was
to visit the Rabba and poll his hair.”(681) The custom of keeping the hair
unshorn during a dangerous expedition seems to have been observed, at
least occasionally, by the Romans.(682) Achilles kept unshorn his yellow
hair, because his father had vowed to offer it to the river Sperchius if
ever his son came home from the wars beyond the sea.(683) Again, men who
have taken a vow of vengeance sometimes keep their hair unshorn till they
have fulfilled their vow. Thus of the Marquesans we are told that
“occasionally they have their head entirely shaved, except one lock on the
crown, which is worn loose or put up in a knot. But the latter mode of
wearing the hair is only adopted by them when they have a solemn vow, as
to revenge the death of some near relation, etc. In such case the lock is
never cut off until they have fulfilled their promise.”(684) Six thousand
Saxons once swore that they would not cut their hair nor shave their
beards until they had taken vengeance on their enemies.(685) On one
occasion a Hawaiian taboo is said to have lasted thirty years “during
which the men were not allowed to trim their beards, etc.”(686) While his
vow lasted, a Nazarite might not have his hair cut: “All the days of the
vow of his separation there shall no razor come upon his head.”(687)
Possibly in this case there was a special objection to touching the
tabooed man’s head with iron. The Roman priests, as we have seen, were
shorn with bronze knives. The same feeling probably gave rise to the
European rule that a child’s nails should not be cut during the first
year, but that if it is absolutely necessary to shorten them they should
be bitten off by the mother or nurse.(688) For in all parts of the world a
young child is believed to be especially exposed to supernatural dangers,
and particular precautions are taken to guard it against them; in other
words, the child is under a number of taboos, of which the rule just
mentioned is one. “Among Hindus the usual custom seems to be that the
nails of a first-born child are cut at the age of six months. With other
children a year or two is allowed to elapse.”(689) The Slave, Hare, and
Dogrib Indians of North America do not cut the nails of female children
till they are four years of age.(690) In some parts of Germany it is
thought that if a child’s hair is combed in its first year the child will
be unlucky;(691) or that if a boy’s hair is cut before his seventh year he
will have no courage.(692)

But when it is necessary to cut the hair, precautions are taken to lessen
the dangers which are supposed to attend the operation. Amongst the Maoris
many spells were uttered at hair-cutting; one, for example, was spoken to
consecrate the obsidian knife with which the hair was cut; another was
pronounced to avert the thunder and lightning which hair-cutting was
believed to cause.(693) “He who has had his hair cut is in the immediate
charge of the Atua (spirit); he is removed from the contact and society of
his family and his tribe; he dare not touch his food himself; it is put
into his mouth by another person; nor can he for some days resume his
accustomed occupations or associate with his fellow men.”(694) The person
who cuts the hair is also tabooed; his hands having been in contact with a
sacred head, he may not touch food with them or engage in any other
employment; he is fed by another person with food cooked over a sacred
fire. He cannot be released from the taboo before the following day, when
he rubs his hands with potato or fern root which has been cooked on a
sacred fire; and this food having been taken to the head of the family in
the female line and eaten by her, his hands are freed from the taboo. In
some parts of New Zealand the most sacred day of the year was that
appointed for hair-cutting; the people assembled in large numbers on that
day from all the neighbourhood.(695) It is an affair of state when the
king of Cambodia’s hair is cut. The priests place on the barber’s fingers
certain old rings set with large stones, which are supposed to contain
spirits favourable to the kings, and during the operation the Brahmans
keep up a noisy music to drive away the evil spirits.(696) The hair and
nails of the Mikado could only be cut while he was asleep,(697) perhaps
because his soul being then absent from his body, there was less chance of
injuring it with the shears.

But even when the hair and nails have been safely cut, there remains the
difficulty of disposing of them, for their owner believes himself liable
to suffer from any harm that may befall them. Thus, an Australian girl,
sick of a fever, attributed her illness to the fact that some months
before a young man had come behind her and cut off a lock of her hair; she
was sure he had buried it and that it was rotting. “Her hair,” she said,
“was rotting somewhere, and her _Marm-bu-la_ (kidney fat) was wasting
away, and when her hair had completely rotted, she would die.”(698) A
Marquesan chief told Lieutenant Gamble that he was extremely ill, the
Happah tribe having stolen a lock of his hair and buried it in a plantain
leaf for the purpose of taking his life. Lieut. Gamble argued with him,
but in vain; die he must unless the hair and the plantain leaf were
brought back to him; and to obtain them he had offered the Happahs the
greater part of his property. He complained of excessive pain in the head,
breast and sides.(699) When an Australian blackfellow wishes to get rid of
his wife, he cuts off a lock of her hair in her sleep, ties it to his
spear-thrower, and goes with it to a neighbouring tribe, where he gives it
to a friend. His friend sticks the spear-thrower up every night before the
camp fire, and when it falls down it is a sign that his wife is dead.(700)
The way in which the charm operates was explained to Mr. Howitt by a
Mirajuri man. “You see,” he said, “when a blackfellow doctor gets hold of
something belonging to a man and roasts it with things, and sings over it,
the fire catches hold of the smell of the man, and that settles the poor
fellow.”(701) In Germany it is a common notion that if birds find a
person’s cut hair, and build their nests with it, the person will suffer
from headache;(702) sometimes it is thought that he will have an eruption
on the head.(703) Again it is thought that cut or combed out hair may
disturb the weather by producing rain and hail, thunder and lightning. We
have seen that in New Zealand a spell was uttered at hair-cutting to avert
thunder and lightning. In the Tirol, witches are supposed to use cut or
combed out hair to make hail-stones or thunder-storms with.(704) Thlinket
Indians have been known to attribute stormy weather to the fact that a
girl had combed her hair outside of the house.(705) The Romans seem to
have held similar views, for it was a maxim with them that no one on
shipboard should cut his hair or nails except in a storm,(706) that is,
when the mischief was already done. In West Africa, when the Mani of
Chitombe or Jumba died, the people used to run in crowds to the corpse and
tear out his hair, teeth, and nails, which they kept as a rain-charm,
believing that otherwise no rain would fall. The Makoko of Anzikos begged
the missionaries to give him half their beards as a rain-charm.(707) In
some Victorian tribes the sorcerer used to burn human hair in time of
drought; it was never burned at other times for fear of causing a deluge
of rain. Also when the river was low, the sorcerer would place human hair
in the stream to increase the supply of water.(708)

To preserve the cut hair and nails from injury and from the dangerous uses
to which they may be put by sorcerers, it is necessary to deposit them in
some safe place. Hence the natives of the Maldives carefully keep the
cuttings of their hair and nails and bury them, with a little water, in
the cemeteries; “for they would not for the world tread upon them nor cast
them in the fire, for they say that they are part of their body and demand
burial as it does; and, indeed, they fold them neatly in cotton; and most
of them like to be shaved at the gates of temples and mosques.”(709) In
New Zealand the severed hair was deposited on some sacred spot of ground
“to protect it from being touched accidentally or designedly by any
one.”(710) The shorn locks of a chief were gathered with much care and
placed in an adjoining cemetery.(711) The Tahitians buried the cuttings of
their hair at the temples.(712) The cut hair and nails of the Flamen
Dialis were buried under a lucky tree.(713) The hair of the Vestal virgins
was hung upon an ancient lotus-tree.(714) In Germany the clippings of hair
used often to be buried under an elder-bush.(715) In Oldenburg cut hair
and nails are wrapt in a cloth which is deposited in a hole in an
elder-tree three days before the new moon; the hole is then plugged
up.(716) In the West of Northumberland it is thought that if the first
parings of a child’s nails are buried under an ash-tree, the child will
turn out a fine singer.(717) In Amboina before a child may taste sago-pap
for the first time, the father cuts off a lock of the child’s hair which
he buries under a sago palm.(718) In the Aru Islands, when a child is able
to run alone, a female relation cuts off a lock of its hair and deposits
it on a banana-tree.(719) In the island of Roti it is thought that the
first hair which a child gets is not his own and that, if it is not cut
off, it will make him weak and ill. Hence, when the child is about a month
old, his hair is cut off with much ceremony. As each of the friends who
are invited to the ceremony enters the house he goes up to the child, cuts
off a little of its hair and drops it into a cocoa-nut shell full of
water. Afterwards the father or another relation takes the hair and packs
it into a little bag made of leaves, which he fastens to the top of a
palm-tree. Then he gives the leaves of the palm a good shaking, climbs
down, and goes home without speaking to any one.(720) Indians of the Yukon
territory, Alaska, do not throw away their cut hair and nails, but tie
them up in little bundles and place them in the crotches of trees or
anywhere where they will not be disturbed by animals. For “they have a
superstition that disease will follow the disturbance of such remains by
animals.”(721) The clipped hair and nails are often buried in any secret
place, not necessarily in a temple or cemetery or under a tree, as in the
cases already mentioned. In Swabia it is said that cut hair should be
buried in a place where neither sun nor moon shines, therefore in the
ground, under a stone, etc.(722) In Danzig it is buried in a bag under the
threshold.(723) In Ugi, one of the Solomon Islands, men bury their hair
lest it should fall into the hands of an enemy who would make magic with
it and so bring sickness or calamity on them.(724) The Zend Avesta directs
that the clippings of hair and the parings of nails shall be placed in
separate holes, and that three, six, or nine furrows shall be drawn round
each hole with a metal knife.(725) In the Grihya-Sûtras it is provided
that the hair cut from a child’s head at the end of the first, third,
fifth, or seventh year shall be buried in the earth at a place covered
with grass or in the neighbourhood of water.(726) The Madi or Moru tribe
of Central Africa bury the parings of their nails in the ground.(727) The
Kafirs carry still further this dread of allowing any portion of
themselves to fall into the hands of an enemy; for not only do they bury
their cut hair and nails in a sacred place, but when one of them cleans
the head of another he preserves the insects which he finds, “carefully
delivering them to the person to whom they originally appertained,
supposing, according to their theory, that as they derived their support
from the blood of the man from whom they were taken, should they be killed
by another the blood of his neighbour would be in his possession, thus
placing in his hands the power of some superhuman influence.”(728) Amongst
the Wanyoro of Central Africa all cuttings of the hair and nails are
carefully stored under the bed and afterwards strewed about among the tall
grass.(729) In North Guinea they are carefully hidden (it is not said
where) “in order that they may not be used as a fetish for the destruction
of him to whom they belong.”(730) In Bolang Mongondo (Celebes) the first
hair cut from a child’s head is kept in a young cocoa-nut, which is
commonly hung on the front of the house, under the roof.(731)

Sometimes the severed hair and nails are preserved, not to prevent them
from falling into the hands of a magician, but that the owner may have
them at the resurrection of the body, to which some races look forward.
Thus the Incas of Peru “took extreme care to preserve the nail-parings and
the hairs that were shorn off or torn out with a comb; placing them in
holes or niches in the walls, and if they fell out, any other Indian that
saw them picked them up and put them in their places again. I very often
asked different Indians, at various times, why they did this, in order to
see what they would say, and they all replied in the same words, saying,
‘Know that all persons who are born must return to life’ (they have no
word to express resuscitation), ‘and the souls must rise out of their
tombs with all that belonged to their bodies. We, therefore, in order that
we may not have to search for our hair and nails at a time when there will
be much hurry and confusion, place them in one place, that they may be
brought together more conveniently, and, whenever it is possible, we are
also careful to spit in one place.’ ”(732) In Chile this custom of
stuffing the shorn hair into holes in the wall is still observed, it being
thought the height of imprudence to throw the hair away.(733) Similarly
the Turks never throw away the parings of their nails, but carefully keep
them in cracks of the walls or of the boards, in the belief that they will
be needed at the resurrection.(734) Some of the Esthonians keep the
parings of their finger and toe nails in their bosom, in order to have
them at hand when they are asked for them at the day of judgment.(735) The
Fors of Central Africa object to cut any one else’s nails, for should the
part cut off be lost and not delivered into its owner’s hands, it will
have to be made up to him somehow or other after death. The parings are
buried in the ground.(736) To spit upon the hair before throwing it away
is thought in some parts of Europe sufficient to prevent its being used by
witches.(737) Spitting as a protective charm is well known.

Some people burn their loose hair to save it from falling into the power
of sorcerers. This is done by the Patagonians and some of the Victorian
tribes.(738) The Makololo of South Africa either burn it or bury it
secretly,(739) and the same alternative is sometimes adopted by the
Tirolese.(740) Cut and combed out hair is burned in Pomerania and
sometimes at Liége.(741) In Norway the parings of nails are either burned
or buried, lest the elves or the Finns should find them and make them into
bullets wherewith to shoot the cattle.(742) This destruction of the hair
or nails plainly involves an inconsistency of thought. The object of the
destruction is avowedly to prevent these severed portions of the body from
being used by sorcerers. But the possibility of their being so used
depends upon the supposed sympathetic connection between them and the man
from whom they were severed. And if this sympathetic connection still
exists, clearly these severed portions cannot be destroyed without injury
to the man.

Before leaving this subject, on which I have perhaps dwelt too long, it
may be well to call attention to the motive assigned for cutting a young
child’s hair in Roti.(743) In that island the first hair is regarded as a
danger to the child, and its removal is intended to avert the danger. The
reason of this may be that as a young child is almost universally supposed
to be in a tabooed or dangerous state, it is necessary, in removing the
taboo, to destroy the separable parts of the child’s body on the ground
that they are infected, so to say, by the virus of the taboo and as such
are dangerous. The cutting of the child’s hair would thus be exactly
parallel to the destruction of the vessels which have been used by a
tabooed person.(744) This view is borne out by a practice, observed by
some Australians, of burning off part of a woman’s hair after childbirth
as well as burning every vessel which has been used by her during her
seclusion.(745) Here the burning of the woman’s hair seems plainly
intended to serve the same purpose as the burning of the vessels used by
her; and as the vessels are burned because they are believed to be tainted
with a dangerous infection, so, we must suppose, is also the hair. We can,
therefore, understand the importance attached by many peoples to the first
cutting of a child’s hair and the elaborate ceremonies by which the
operation is accompanied.(746) Again, we can understand why a man should
poll his head after a journey.(747) For we have seen that a traveller is
often believed to contract a dangerous infection from strangers and that,
therefore, on his return home he is obliged to submit to various
purificatory ceremonies before he is allowed to mingle freely with his own
people.(748) On my hypothesis the polling of the hair is simply one of
these purificatory or disinfectant ceremonies. The cutting of the hair
after a vow may have the same meaning. It is a way of ridding the man of
what has been infected by the dangerous state of taboo, sanctity, or
uncleanness (for all these are only different expressions for the same
primitive conception) under which he laboured during the continuance of
the vow. Similarly at some Hindu places of pilgrimage on the banks of
rivers men who have committed great crimes or are troubled by uneasy
consciences have every hair shaved off by professional barbers before they
plunge into the sacred stream, from which “they emerge new creatures, with
all the accumulated guilt of a long life effaced.”(749)

As might have been expected, the superstitions of the savage cluster thick
about the subject of food; and he abstains from eating many animals and
plants, wholesome enough in themselves, but which for one reason or
another he considers would prove dangerous or fatal to the eater. Examples
of such abstinence are too familiar and far too numerous to quote. But if
the ordinary man is thus deterred by superstitious fear from partaking of
various foods, the restraints of this kind which are laid upon sacred or
tabooed persons, such as kings and priests, are still more numerous and
stringent. We have already seen that the Flamen Dialis was forbidden to
eat or even name several plants and animals, and that the flesh diet of
the Egyptian kings was restricted to veal and goose.(750) The _Gangas_ or
fetish priests of the Loango Coast are forbidden to eat or even see a
variety of animals and fish, in consequence of which their flesh diet is
extremely limited; often they live only on herbs and roots, though they
may drink fresh blood.(751) The heir to the throne of Loango is forbidden
from infancy to eat pork; from early childhood he is interdicted the use
of the _cola_ fruit in company; at puberty he is taught by a priest not to
partake of fowls except such as he has himself killed and cooked; and so
the number of taboos goes on increasing with his years.(752) In Fernando
Po the king after installation is forbidden to eat _cocco_ (_arum
acaule_), deer, and porcupine, which are the ordinary foods of the
people.(753) Amongst the Murrams of Manipur (a district of Eastern India,
on the border of Burma), “there are many prohibitions in regard to the
food, both animal and vegetable, which the chief should eat, and the
Murrams say the chief’s post must be a very uncomfortable one.”(754) To
explain the ultimate reason why any particular food is prohibited to a
whole tribe or to certain of its members would commonly require a far more
intimate knowledge of the history and beliefs of the tribe than we
possess. The general motive of such prohibitions is doubtless the same
which underlies the whole taboo system, namely, the conservation of the
tribe and the individual.

It would be easy to extend the list of royal and priestly taboos, but the
above may suffice as specimens. To conclude this part of our subject it
only remains to state summarily the general conclusions to which our
inquiries have thus far conducted us. We have seen that in savage or
barbarous society there are often found men to whom the superstition of
their fellows ascribes a controlling influence over the general course of
nature. Such men are accordingly adored and treated as gods. Whether these
human divinities also hold temporal sway over the lives and fortunes of
their fellows, or whether their functions are purely spiritual and
supernatural, in other words, whether they are kings as well as gods or
only the latter, is a distinction which hardly concerns us here. Their
supposed divinity is the essential fact with which we have to deal. In
virtue of it they are a pledge and guarantee to their worshippers of the
continuance and orderly succession of those physical phenomena upon which
mankind depends for subsistence. Naturally, therefore, the life and health
of such a god-man are matters of anxious concern to the people whose
welfare and even existence are bound up with his; naturally he is
constrained by them to conform to such rules as the wit of early man has
devised for averting the ills to which flesh is heir, including the last
ill, death. These rules, as an examination of them has shown, are nothing
but the maxims with which, on the primitive view, every man of common
prudence must comply if he would live long in the land. But while in the
case of ordinary men the observance of the rules is left to the choice of
the individual, in the case of the god-man it is enforced under penalty of
dismissal from his high station, or even of death. For his worshippers
have far too great a stake in his life to allow him to play fast and loose
with it. Therefore all the quaint superstitions, the old-world maxims, the
venerable saws which the ingenuity of savage philosophers elaborated long
ago, and which old women at chimney corners still impart as treasures of
great price to their descendants gathered round the cottage fire on winter
evenings—all these antique fancies clustered, all these cobwebs of the
brain were spun about the path of the old king, the human god, who,
immeshed in them like a fly in the toils of a spider, could hardly stir a
limb for the threads of custom, “light as air but strong as links of
iron,” that crossing and recrossing each other in an endless maze bound
him fast within a network of observances from which death or deposition
alone could release him.

To students of the past the life of the old kings and priests thus teems
with instruction. In it was summed up all that passed for wisdom when the
world was young. It was the perfect pattern after which every man strove
to shape his life; a faultless model constructed with rigorous accuracy
upon the lines laid down by a barbarous philosophy. Crude and false as
that philosophy may seem to us, it would be unjust to deny it the merit of
logical consistency. Starting from a conception of the vital principle as
a tiny being or soul existing in, but distinct and separable from, the
living being, it deduces for the practical guidance of life a system of
rules which in general hangs well together and forms a fairly complete and
harmonious whole. The flaw—and it is a fatal one—of the system lies not in
its reasoning, but in its premises; in its conception of the nature of
life, not in any irrelevancy of the conclusions which it draws from that
conception. But to stigmatise these premises as ridiculous because we can
easily detect their falseness, would be ungrateful as well as
unphilosophical. We stand upon the foundation reared by the generations
that have gone before, and we can but dimly realise the painful and
prolonged efforts which it has cost humanity to struggle up to the point,
no very exalted one after all, which we have reached. Our gratitude is due
to the nameless and forgotten toilers, whose patient thought and active
exertions have largely made us what we are. The amount of new knowledge
which one age, certainly which one man, can add to the common store is
small, and it argues stupidity or dishonesty, besides ingratitude, to
ignore the heap while vaunting the few grains which it may have been our
privilege to add to it. There is indeed little danger at present of
undervaluing the contributions which modern times and even classical
antiquity have made to the general advancement of our race. But when we
pass these limits, the case is different. Contempt and ridicule or
abhorrence and denunciation are too often the only recognition vouchsafed
to the savage and his ways. Yet of the benefactors whom we are bound
thankfully to commemorate, many, perhaps most, were savages. For when all
is said and done our resemblances to the savage are still far more
numerous than our differences from him; and what we have in common with
him, and deliberately retain as true and useful, we owe to our savage
forefathers who slowly acquired by experience and transmitted to us by
inheritance those seemingly fundamental ideas which we are apt to regard
as original and intuitive. We are like heirs to a fortune which has been
handed down for so many ages that the memory of those who built it up is
lost, and its possessors for the time being regard it as having been an
original and unalterable possession of their race since the beginning of
the world. But reflection and inquiry should satisfy us that to our
predecessors we are indebted for much of what we thought most our own, and
that their errors were not wilful extravagances or the ravings of
insanity, but simply hypotheses, justifiable as such at the time when they
were propounded, but which a fuller experience has proved to be
inadequate. It is only by the successive testing of hypotheses and
rejection of the false that truth is at last elicited. After all, what we
call truth is only the hypothesis which is found to work best. Therefore
in reviewing the opinions and practices of ruder ages and races we shall
do well to look with leniency upon their errors as inevitable slips made
in the search for truth, and to give them the benefit of that indulgence
which we may one day stand in need of ourselves: _cum excusatione itaque
veteres audiendi sunt_.





CHAPTER III. KILLING THE GOD.


    “Sed adhuc supersunt aliae superstitiones, quarum secreta pandenda
    sunt, ... ut et in istis profanis religionibus sciatis mortes esse
    hominum consecratas.”—FIRMICUS MATERNUS, _De errore profanarum
    religionum_, c. 6.




§ 1.—Killing the divine king.


Lacking the idea of eternal duration primitive man naturally supposes the
gods to be mortal like himself. The Greenlanders believed that a wind
could kill their most powerful god, and that he would certainly die if he
touched a dog. When they heard of the Christian God, they kept asking if
he _never_ died, and being informed that he did not, they were much
surprised and said that he must be a very great god indeed.(755) In answer
to the inquiries of Colonel Dodge, a North American Indian stated that the
world was made by the Great Spirit. Being asked which Great Spirit he
meant, the good one or the bad one, “Oh, neither of _them_” replied he,
“the Great Spirit that made the world is dead long ago. He could not
possibly have lived as long as this.”(756) A tribe in the Philippine
Islands told the Spanish conquerors that the grave of the Creator was upon
the top of Mount Cabunian.(757) Heitsi-eibib, a god or divine hero of the
Hottentots, died several times and came to life again. His graves are
generally to be met with in narrow passes between mountains.(758) The
grave of Zeus, the great god of Greece, was shown to visitors in Crete as
late as about the beginning of our era.(759) The body of Dionysus was
buried at Delphi beside the golden statue of Apollo, and his tomb bore the
inscription, “Here lies Dionysus dead, the son of Semele.”(760) According
to one account, Apollo himself was buried at Delphi; for Pythagoras is
said to have carved an inscription on his tomb, setting forth how the god
had been killed by the python and buried under the tripod.(761) Cronus was
buried in Sicily,(762) and the graves of Hermes, Aphrodite, and Ares were
shown in Hermopolis, Cyprus, and Thrace.(763)

If the great invisible gods are thus supposed to die, it is not to be
expected that a god who dwells in the flesh and blood of a man should
escape the same fate. Now primitive peoples, as we have seen, sometimes
believe that their safety and even that of the world is bound up with the
life of one of these god-men or human incarnations of the divinity.
Naturally, therefore, they take the utmost care of his life, out of a
regard for their own. But no amount of care and precaution will prevent
the man-god from growing old and feeble and at last dying. His worshippers
have to lay their account with this sad necessity and to meet it as best
they can. The danger is a formidable one; for if the course of nature is
dependent on the man-god’s life, what catastrophes may not be expected
from the gradual enfeeblement of his powers and their final extinction in
death? There is only one way of averting these dangers. The man-god must
be killed as soon as he shows symptoms that his powers are beginning to
fail, and his soul must be transferred to a vigorous successor before it
has been seriously impaired by the threatened decay. The advantages of
thus putting the man-god to death instead of allowing him to die of old
age and disease are, to the savage, obvious enough. For if the man-god
dies what we call a natural death, it means, according to the savage, that
his soul has either voluntarily departed from his body and refuses to
return, or more commonly that it has been extracted or at least detained
in its wanderings by a demon or sorcerer.(764) In any of these cases the
soul of the man-god is lost to his worshippers; and with it their
prosperity is gone and their very existence endangered. Even if they could
arrange to catch the soul of the dying god as it left his lips or his
nostrils and so transfer it to a successor, this would not effect their
purpose; for, thus dying of disease, his soul would necessarily leave his
body in the last stage of weakness and exhaustion, and as such it would
continue to drag out a feeble existence in the body to which it might be
transferred. Whereas by killing him his worshippers could, in the first
place, make sure of catching his soul as it escaped and transferring it to
a suitable successor; and, in the second place, by killing him before his
natural force was abated, they would secure that the world should not fall
into decay with the decay of the man-god. Every purpose, therefore, was
answered, and all dangers averted by thus killing the man-god and
transferring his soul, while yet at its prime, to a vigorous successor.

Some of the reasons for preferring a violent death to the slow death of
old age or disease are obviously as applicable to common men as to the
man-god. Thus the Mangaians think that “the spirits of those who die a
natural death are excessively feeble and weak, as their bodies were at
dissolution; whereas the spirits of those who are slain in battle are
strong and vigorous, their bodies not having been reduced by
disease.”(765) Hence, men sometimes prefer to kill themselves or to be
killed before they grow feeble, in order that in the future life their
souls may start fresh and vigorous as they left their bodies, instead of
decrepit and worn out with age and disease. Thus in Fiji, “self-immolation
is by no means rare, and they believe that as they leave this life, so
they will remain ever after. This forms a powerful motive to escape from
decrepitude, or from a crippled condition, by a voluntary death.”(766) Or,
as another observer of the Fijians puts it more fully, “the custom of
voluntary suicide on the part of the old men, which is among their most
extraordinary usages, is also connected with their superstitions
respecting a future life. They believe that persons enter upon the
delights of their elysium with the same faculties, mental and physical,
that they possess at the hour of death, in short, that the spiritual life
commences where the corporeal existence terminates. With these views, it
is natural that they should desire to pass through this change before
their mental and bodily powers are so enfeebled by age as to deprive them
of their capacity for enjoyment. To this motive must be added the contempt
which attaches to physical weakness among a nation of warriors, and the
wrongs and insults which await those who are no longer able to protect
themselves. When therefore a man finds his strength declining with the
advance of age, and feels that he will soon be unequal to discharge the
duties of this life, and to partake in the pleasures of that which is to
come, he calls together his relations, and tells them that he is now worn
out and useless, that he sees they are all ashamed of him, and that he has
determined to be buried.” So on a day appointed they meet and bury him
alive.(767) In Vaté (New Hebrides) the aged were buried alive at their own
request. It was considered a disgrace to the family of an old chief if he
was not buried alive.(768) Of the Kamants, a Jewish tribe in Abyssinia, it
is reported that “they never let a person die a natural death, but if any
of their relatives is nearly expiring, the priest of the village is called
to cut his throat; if this be omitted, they believe that the departed soul
has not entered the mansions of the blessed.”(769)

But it is with the death of the god-man—the divine king or priest—that we
are here especially concerned. The people of Congo believed, as we have
seen, that if their pontiff the Chitomé were to die a natural death, the
world would perish, and the earth, which he alone sustained by his power
and merit, would immediately be annihilated. Accordingly when he fell ill
and seemed likely to die, the man who was destined to be his successor
entered the pontiff’s house with a rope or a club and strangled or clubbed
him to death.(770) The Ethiopian kings of Meroe were worshipped as gods;
but whenever the priests chose, they sent a messenger to the king,
ordering him to die, and alleging an oracle of the gods as their authority
for the command. This command the kings always obeyed down to the reign of
Ergamenes, a contemporary of Ptolemy II, King of Egypt. Having received a
Greek education which emancipated him from the superstitions of his
countrymen, Ergamenes ventured to disregard the command of the priests,
and, entering the Golden Temple with a body of soldiers, put the priests
to the sword.(771) In the kingdom of Unyoro in Central Africa, custom
still requires that as soon as the king falls seriously ill or begins to
break up from age, he shall be killed by his own wives; for, according to
an old prophecy, the throne will pass away from the dynasty in the event
of the king dying a natural death.(772) When the king of Kibanga, on the
Upper Congo, seems near his end, the sorcerers put a rope round his neck,
which they draw gradually tighter till he dies.(773) It seems to have been
a Zulu custom to put the king to death as soon as he began to have
wrinkles or gray hairs. At least this seems implied in the following
passage, written by one who resided for some time at the court of the
notorious Zulu tyrant Chaka, in the early part of this century: “The
extraordinary violence of the king’s rage with me was mainly occasioned by
that absurd nostrum, the hair oil, with the notion of which Mr. Farewell
had impressed him as being a specific for removing all indications of age.
From the first moment of his having heard that such a preparation was
attainable, he evinced a solicitude to procure it, and on every occasion
never forgot to remind us of his anxiety respecting it; more especially on
our departure on the mission his injunctions were particularly directed to
this object. It will be seen that it is one of the barbarous customs of
the Zoolas in their choice or election of their kings that he must neither
have wrinkles nor gray hairs, as they are both distinguishing marks of
disqualification for becoming a monarch of a warlike people. It is also
equally indispensable that their king should never exhibit those proofs of
having become unfit and incompetent to reign; it is therefore important
that they should conceal these indications so long as they possibly can.
Chaka had become greatly apprehensive of the approach of gray hairs; which
would at once be the signal for him to prepare to make his exit from this
sublunary world, it being always followed by the death of the
monarch.”(774)

The custom of putting kings to death as soon as they suffered from any
personal defect prevailed two centuries ago in the Kafir kingdoms of
Sofala, to the north of the present Zululand. These kings of Sofala, as we
have seen,(775) were regarded as gods by their people, being entreated to
give rain or sunshine, according as each might be wanted. Nevertheless a
slight bodily blemish, such as the loss of a tooth, was considered a
sufficient cause for putting one of these god-men to death, as we learn
from the following passage of an old historian. “Contiguous to the domains
of the Quiteva [the king of the country bordering on the river Sofala],
are those of another prince called Sedanda. This prince becoming afflicted
with leprosy, resolved on following implicitly the laws of the country,
and poisoning himself, conceiving his malady to be incurable, or at least
that it would render him so loathsome in the eyes of his people that they
would with difficulty recognise him. In consequence he nominated his
successor, holding as his opinion that sovereigns who should serve in all
things as an example to their people ought to have no defect whatever,
even in their persons; that when any defects may chance to befall them
they cease to be worthy of life and of governing their dominions; and
preferring death in compliance with this law to life, with the reproach of
having been its violator. But this law was not observed with equal
scrupulosity by one of the Quitevas, who, having lost a tooth and feeling
no disposition to follow the practice of his predecessors, published to
the people that he had lost a front tooth, in order that when they might
behold, they yet might be able to recognise him; declaring at the same
time that he was resolved on living and reigning as long as he could,
esteeming his existence requisite for the welfare of his subjects. He at
the same time loudly condemned the practice of his predecessors, whom he
taxed with imprudence, nay, even with madness, for having condemned
themselves to death for casual accidents to their persons, confessing
plainly that it would be with much regret, even when the course of nature
should bring him to his end, that he should submit to die. He observed,
moreover, that no reasonable being, much less a monarch, ought to
anticipate the scythe of time; and, abrogating this mortal law, he
ordained that all his successors, if sane, should follow the precedent he
gave, and the new law established by him.”(776)

This King of Sofala was, therefore, a bold reformer like Ergamenes, King
of Ethiopia. We may conjecture that the ground for putting the Ethiopian
kings to death was, as in the case of the Zulu and Sofala kings, the
appearance on their person of any bodily defect or sign of decay; and that
the oracle which the priests alleged as the authority for the royal
execution was to the effect that great calamities would result from the
reign of a king who had any blemish on his body; just as an oracle warned
Sparta against a “lame reign,” that is, the reign of a lame king.(777)
This conjecture is confirmed by the fact that the kings of Ethiopia were
chosen for their size, strength, and beauty long before the custom of
killing them was abolished.(778) To this day the Sultan of Wadâi must have
no obvious bodily defect, and a king of Angoy cannot be crowned if he has
a single blemish, such as a broken or filed tooth or the scar of an old
wound.(779) It is only natural, therefore, to suppose, especially with the
other African examples before us, that any bodily defect or symptom of old
age appearing on the person of the Ethiopian monarch was the signal for
his execution. At a later time it is recorded that if the King of Ethiopia
became maimed in any part of his body all his courtiers had to suffer the
same mutilation.(780) But this rule may perhaps have been instituted at
the time when the custom of killing the king for any personal defect was
abolished; instead of compelling the king to die because, _e.g._, he had
lost a tooth, all his subjects would be obliged to lose a tooth, and thus
the invidious superiority of the subjects over the king would be
cancelled. A rule of this sort is still observed in the same region at the
court of the Sultans of Darfur. When the Sultan coughs, every one makes
the sound _ts ts_ by striking the tongue against the root of the upper
teeth; when he sneezes, the whole assembly utters a sound like the cry of
the jeko; when he falls off his horse, all his followers must fall off
likewise; if any one of them remains in the saddle, no matter how high his
rank, he is laid on the ground and beaten.(781) At the court of the King
of Uganda in Central Africa, when the king laughs, every one laughs; when
he sneezes, every one sneezes; when he has a cold, every one pretends to
have a cold; when he has his hair cut, so has every one.(782) At the court
of Boni in Celebes it is a rule that whatever the king does all the
courtiers must do. If he stands, they stand; if he sits, they sit; if he
falls off his horse, they fall off their horses; if he bathes, they bathe,
and passers-by must go into the water in the dress, good or bad, which
they happen to have on.(783) But to return to the death of the divine man.
The old Prussians acknowledged as their supreme lord a ruler who governed
them in the name of the gods, and was known as God’s Mouth (_Kirwaido_).
When he felt himself weak and ill, if he wished to leave a good name
behind him, he had a great heap made of thorn-bushes and straw, on which
he mounted and delivered a long sermon to the people, exhorting them to
serve the gods and promising to go to the gods and speak for the people.
Then he took some of the perpetual fire which burned in front of the holy
oak-tree, and lighting the pile with it burned himself to death.(784)

In the cases hitherto described, the divine king or priest is suffered by
his people to retain office until some outward defect, some visible
symptom of failing health or advancing age warns them that he is no longer
equal to the discharge of his divine duties; but not until such symptoms
have made their appearance is he put to death. Some peoples, however,
appear to have thought it unsafe to wait for even the slightest symptom of
decay and have preferred to kill the king while he was still in the full
vigour of life. Accordingly, they have fixed a term beyond which he might
not reign, and at the close of which he must die, the term fixed upon
being short enough to exclude the probability of his degenerating
physically in the interval. In some parts of Southern India the period
fixed was twelve years. Thus, according to an old traveller, in the
province of Quilacare “There is a Gentile house of prayer, in which there
is an idol which they hold in great account, and every twelve years they
celebrate a great feast to it, whither all the Gentiles go as to a
jubilee. This temple possesses many lands and much revenue; it is a very
great affair. This province has a king over it; who has not more than
twelve years to reign from jubilee to jubilee. His manner of living is in
this wise, that is to say, when the twelve years are completed, on the day
of this feast there assemble together innumerable people, and much money
is spent in giving food to Bramans. The king has a wooden scaffolding
made, spread over with silken hangings; and on that day he goes to bathe
at a tank with great ceremonies and sound of music, after that he comes to
the idol and prays to it, and mounts on to the scaffolding, and there
before all the people he takes some very sharp knives and begins to cut
off his nose, and then his ears and his lips and all his members and as
much flesh of himself as he can; and he throws it away very hurriedly
until so much of his blood is spilled that he begins to faint, and then he
cuts his throat himself. And he performs this sacrifice to the idol; and
whoever desires to reign other twelve years, and undertake this martyrdom
for love of the idol, has to be present looking on at this; and from that
place they raise him up as king.”(785)

Formerly the Samorin or King of Calicut, on the Malabar coast, had also to
cut his throat in public at the end of a twelve years’ reign. But towards
the end of the seventeenth century the rule had been modified as follows:
“A new custom is followed by the modern Samorins, that jubilee is
proclaimed throughout his dominions, at the end of twelve years, and a
tent is pitched for him in a spacious plain, and a great feast is
celebrated for ten or twelve days, with mirth and jollity, guns firing
night and day, so at the end of the feast any four of the guests that have
a mind to gain a crown by a desperate action, in fighting their way
through 30 or 40,000 of his guards, and kill the Samorin in his tent, he
that kills him succeeds him in his empire. In anno 1695, one those
jubilees happened, and the tent pitched near Pennany, a sea-port of his,
about fifteen leagues to the southward of Calicut. There were but three
men that would venture on that desperate action, who fell in, with sword
and target among the guard, and, after they had killed and wounded many
were themselves killed. One of the desperados had a nephew of fifteen or
sixteen years of age, that kept close by his uncle in the attack on the
guards, and, when he saw him fall, the youth got through the guards into
the tent, and made a stroke at his Majesty’s head, and had certainly
despatched him, if a large brass lamp which was burning over his head, had
not marred the blow; but, before he could make another he was killed by
the guards; and, I believe, the same Samorin reigns yet. I chanced to come
that time along the coast and heard the guns for two or three days and
nights successively.”(786)

In some places it appears that the people could not trust the king to
remain in full bodily and mental vigour for more than a year; hence at the
end of a year’s reign he was put to death, and a new king appointed to
reign in his turn a year, and suffer death at the end of it. At least this
is the conclusion to which the following evidence points. According to the
historian Berosus, who as a Babylonian priest spoke with ample knowledge,
there was annually celebrated in Babylon a festival called the Sacaea. It
began on the 16th day of the month Lous, and lasted for five days. During
these five days masters and servants changed places, the servants giving
orders and the masters obeying them. A prisoner condemned to death was
dressed in the king’s robes, seated on the king’s throne, allowed to issue
whatever commands he pleased, to eat, drink, and enjoy himself, and to lie
with the king’s concubines. But at the end of the five days he was
stripped of his royal robes, scourged, and crucified.(787) This custom
might perhaps have been explained as merely a grim jest perpetrated in a
season of jollity at the expense of an unhappy criminal. But one
circumstance—the leave given to the mock king to enjoy the king’s
concubines—is decisive against this interpretation. Considering the
jealous seclusion of an oriental despot’s harem we may be quite certain
that permission to invade it would never have been granted by the despot,
least of all to a condemned criminal, except for the very gravest cause.
This cause could hardly be other than that the condemned man was about to
die in the king’s stead, and that to make the substitution perfect it was
necessary he should enjoy the full rights of royalty during his brief
reign. There is nothing surprising in this substitution. The rule that the
king must be put to death either on the appearance of any symptom of
bodily decay or at the end of a fixed period is certainly one which,
sooner or later, the kings would seek to abolish or modify. We have seen
that in Ethiopia and Sofala the rule was boldly set aside by enlightened
monarchs; and that in Calicut the old custom of killing the king at the
end of twelve years was changed into a permission granted to any one at
the end of the twelve years’ period to attack the king, and, in the event
of killing him, to reign in his stead; though, as the king took care at
these times to be surrounded by his guards, the permission was little more
than a form. Another way of modifying the stern old rule is seen in the
Babylonian custom just described. When the time drew near for the king to
be put to death (in Babylon this appears to have been at the end of a
single year’s reign) he abdicated for a few days, during which a temporary
king reigned and suffered in his stead. At first the temporary king may
have been an innocent person, possibly a member of the king’s own family;
but with the growth of civilisation the sacrifice of an innocent person
would be revolting to the public sentiment, and accordingly a condemned
criminal would be invested with the brief and fatal sovereignty. In the
sequel we shall find other examples of a dying criminal representing a
dying god. For we must not forget that the king is slain in his character
of a god, his death and resurrection, as the only means of perpetuating
the divine life unimpaired, being deemed necessary for the salvation of
his people and the world.

In some places this modified form of the old custom has been further
softened down. The king still abdicates annually for a short time and his
place is filled by a more or less nominal sovereign; but at the close of
his short reign the latter is no longer killed, though sometimes a mock
execution still survives as a memorial of the time when he was actually
put to death. To take examples. In the month of Méac (February) the King
of Cambodia annually abdicated for three days. During this time he
performed no act of authority, he did not touch the seals, he did not even
receive the revenues which fell due. In his stead there reigned a
temporary king called Sdach Méac, that is, King February. The office of
temporary king was hereditary in a family distantly connected with the
royal house, the sons succeeding the fathers and the younger brothers the
elder brothers, just as in the succession to the real sovereignty. On a
favourable day fixed by the astrologers the temporary king was conducted
by the mandarins in triumphal procession. He rode one of the royal
elephants, seated in the royal palanquin, and escorted by soldiers who,
dressed in appropriate costumes, represented the neighbouring peoples of
Siam, Annam, Laos, and so on. Instead of the golden crown he wore a peaked
white cap, and his regalia, instead of being of gold encrusted with
diamonds, were of rough wood. After paying homage to the real king, from
whom he received the sovereignty for three days, together with all the
revenues accruing during that time (though this last custom has been
omitted for some time), he moved in procession round the palace and
through the streets of the capital. On the third day, after the usual
procession, the temporary king gave orders that the elephants should
trample under foot the “mountain of rice,” which was a scaffold of bamboo
surrounded by sheaves of rice. The people gathered up the rice, each man
taking home a little with him to secure a good harvest. Some of it was
also taken to the king, who had it cooked and presented to the monks.(788)

In Siam on the sixth day of the moon in the sixth month (the end of April)
a temporary king is appointed, who for three days enjoys the royal
prerogatives, the real king remaining shut up in his palace. This
temporary king sends his numerous satellites in all directions to seize
and confiscate whatever they can find in the bazaar and open shops; even
the ships and junks which arrive in harbour during the three days are
confiscated to him and must be redeemed. He goes to a field in the middle
of the city, whither is brought a gilded plough drawn by gaily-decked
oxen. After the plough has been anointed and the oxen rubbed with incense,
the mock king traces nine furrows with the plough, followed by aged dames
of the palace scattering the first seed of the season. As soon as the nine
furrows are drawn, the crowd of spectators rushes in and scrambles for the
seed which has just been sown, believing that, mixed with the seed-rice,
it will ensure a plentiful crop. Then the oxen are unyoked, and rice,
maize, sesame, sago, bananas, sugar-cane, melons, etc. are set before
them; whatever they eat first will, it is thought, be dear in the year
following, though some people interpret the omen in the opposite sense.
During this time the temporary king stands leaning against a tree with his
right foot resting on his left knee. From standing thus on one foot he is
popularly known as King Hop; but his official title is Phaya Phollathep,
“Lord of the Heavenly Hosts.”(789) He is a sort of Minister of
Agriculture; all disputes about fields, rice, and so on, are referred to
him. There is moreover another ceremony in which he personates the king.
It takes place in the second month (which falls in the cold season) and
lasts three days. He is conducted in procession to an open place opposite
the Temple of the Brahmans, where there are a number of poles dressed like
May-poles, upon which the Brahmans swing. All the while that they swing
and dance, the Lord of the Heavenly Hosts has to stand on one foot upon a
seat which is made of bricks plastered over, covered with a white cloth,
and hung with tapestry. He is supported by a wooden frame with a gilt
canopy, and two Brahmans stand one on each side of him. The dancing
Brahmans carry buffalo horns with which they draw water from a large
copper caldron and sprinkle it on the people; this is supposed to bring
good luck, causing the people to dwell in peace and quiet, health and
prosperity. The time during which the Lord of the Heavenly Hosts has to
stand on one foot is about three hours. This is thought “to prove the
dispositions of the Devattas and spirits.” If he lets his foot down “he is
liable to forfeit his property and have his family enslaved by the king;
as it is believed to be a bad omen, portending destruction to the state,
and instability to the throne. But if he stand firm he is believed to have
gained a victory over evil spirits, and he has moreover the privilege,
ostensibly at least, of seizing any ship which may enter the harbour
during these three days, and taking its contents, and also of entering any
open shop in the town and carrying away what he chooses.”(790)

In Upper Egypt on the first day of the solar year by Coptic reckoning,
that is on 10th September, when the Nile has generally reached its highest
point, the regular government is suspended for three days and every town
chooses its own ruler. This temporary lord wears a sort of tall fool’s cap
and a long flaxen beard, and is enveloped in a strange mantle. With a wand
of office in his hand and attended by men disguised as scribes,
executioners, etc., he proceeds to the Governor’s house. The latter allows
himself to be deposed; and the mock king, mounting the throne, holds a
tribunal, to the decisions of which even the governor and his officials
must bow. After three days the mock king is condemned to death; the
envelope or shell in which he was encased is committed to the flames, and
from its ashes the Fellah creeps forth.(791)

Sometimes the temporary king occupies the throne, not annually, but once
for all at the beginning of each reign. Thus in the kingdom of Jambi (in
Sumatra) it is the custom that at the beginning of a new reign a man of
the people should occupy the throne and exercise the royal prerogatives
for a single day. The origin of the custom is explained by a tradition
that there were once five royal brothers, the four elder of whom all
declined the crown on the ground of various bodily defects, leaving it to
their youngest brother. But the eldest occupied the throne for one day,
and reserved for his descendants a similar privilege at the beginning of
every reign. Thus the office of temporary king is hereditary in a family
akin to the royal house.(792) In Bilaspur it seems to be the custom, after
the death of a Rajah, for a Brahman to eat rice out of the dead Rajah’s
hand, and then to occupy the throne for a year. At the end of the year the
Brahman receives presents and is dismissed from the territory, being
forbidden apparently to return. “The idea seems to be that the spirit of
the Rájá enters into the Bráhman who eats the _khír_ (rice and milk) out
of his hand when he is dead, as the Brahman is apparently carefully
watched during the whole year, and not allowed to go away.” The same or a
similar custom is believed to obtain among the hill states about
Kángrá.(793) At the installation of a prince of Carinthia a peasant, in
whose family the office was hereditary, ascended a marble stone which
stood surrounded by meadows in a spacious valley; on his right stood a
black mother-cow, on his left an ugly mare. A rustic crowd gathered about
him. Then the future prince, dressed as a peasant and carrying a
shepherd’s staff, drew near, attended by courtiers and magistrates. On
perceiving him the peasant called out, “Who is this whom I see coming so
proudly along?” The people answered, “The prince of the land.” The peasant
was then prevailed on to surrender the marble seat to the prince on
condition of receiving sixty pence, the cow and mare, and exemption from
taxes. But before yielding his place he gave the prince a light blow on
the cheek.(794)

Some points about these temporary kings deserve to be specially noticed
before we pass to the next branch of the evidence. In the first place, the
Cambodian and Siamese examples bring clearly out the fact that it is
especially the divine or supernatural functions of the king which are
transferred to his temporary substitute. This appears from the belief that
by keeping up his foot the temporary king of Siam gained a victory over
the evil spirits; whereas by letting it down he imperilled the existence
of the state. Again, the Cambodian ceremony of trampling down the
“mountain of rice,” and the Siamese ceremony of opening the ploughing and
sowing, are charms to produce a plentiful harvest, as appears from the
belief that those who carry home some of the trampled rice or of the seed
sown will thereby secure a good crop. But the task of making the crops
grow, thus deputed to the temporary kings, is one of the supernatural
functions regularly supposed to be discharged by kings in primitive
society. The rule that the mock king must stand on one foot upon a raised
seat in the rice-field was perhaps originally meant as a charm to make the
crop grow high; at least this was the object of a similar ceremony
observed by the old Prussians. The tallest girl, standing on one foot upon
a seat, with her lap full of cakes, a cup of brandy in her right hand and
a piece of elm-bark or linden-bark in her left, prayed to the god
Waizganthos that the flax might grow as high as she was standing. Then,
after draining the cup, she had it refilled, and poured the brandy on the
ground as an offering to Waizganthos, and threw down the cakes for his
attendant sprites. If she remained steady on one foot throughout the
ceremony, it was an omen that the flax crop would be good; but if she let
her foot down, it was feared that the crop might fail.(795) The gilded
plough with which the Siamese mock king opens the ploughing may be
compared with the bronze ploughs which the Etruscans employed at the
ceremony of founding cities;(796) in both cases the use of iron was
probably forbidden on superstitious grounds.(797)

Another point to notice about these temporary kings is that in two places
(Cambodia and Jambi) they come of a stock which is believed to be akin to
the royal family. If the view here taken of the origin of these temporary
kingships is correct, the fact that the temporary king is sometimes of the
same race as the real king admits of a ready explanation. When the king
first succeeded in getting the life of another accepted as a sacrifice in
lieu of his own, he would have to show that the death of that other would
serve the purpose quite as well as his own would have done. Now it was as
a god that the king had to die; therefore the substitute who died for him
had to be invested, at least for the occasion, with the divine attributes
of the king. This, as we have just seen, was certainly the case with the
temporary kings of Siam and Cambodia; they were invested with the
supernatural functions, which in an earlier stage of society were the
special attributes of the king. But no one could so well represent the
king in his divine character as his son, who might be supposed to share
the divine afflatus of his father. No one, therefore, could so
appropriately die for the king and, through him, for the whole people, as
the king’s son. There is evidence that amongst the Semites of Western Asia
(the very region where the redemption of the king’s life by the sacrifice
of another comes out so unmistakably in the Sacaean festival) the king, in
a time of national danger, sometimes gave his own son to die as a
sacrifice for the people. Thus Philo of Byblus, in his work on the Jews,
says: “It was an ancient custom in a crisis of great danger that the ruler
of a city or nation should give his beloved son to die for the whole
people, as a ransom offered to the avenging demons; and the children thus
offered were slain with mystic rites. So Cronus, whom the Phoenicians call
Israel, being king of the land and having an only-begotten son called
Jeoud (for in the Phoenician tongue Jeoud signifies ‘only-begotten’),
dressed him in royal robes and sacrificed him upon an altar in a time of
war, when the country was in great danger from the enemy.”(798) When the
King of Moab was besieged by the Israelites and hard beset, he took his
eldest son, who should have reigned in his stead, and offered him for a
burnt offering on the wall.(799) But amongst the Semites the practice of
sacrificing their children was not confined to kings. In times of great
calamity, such as pestilence, drought, or defeat in war, the Phoenicians
used to sacrifice one of their dearest to Baal. “Phoenician history,” says
an ancient writer, “is full of such sacrifices.”(800) When the
Carthaginians were defeated and besieged by Agathocles, they ascribed
their disasters to the wrath of Baal; for whereas in former times they had
been wont to sacrifice to him their own children, they had latterly fallen
into the habit of buying children and rearing them to be victims. So, to
appease the angry god, two hundred children of the noblest families were
picked out for sacrifice, and the tale of victims was swelled by not less
than three hundred more who volunteered to die for the fatherland. They
were sacrificed by being placed, one by one, on the sloping hands of the
brazen image, from which they rolled into a pit of fire.(801) If an
aristocracy thus adopted the practice of sacrificing other people’s
children instead of their own, kings may very well have followed or set
the example. A final mitigation of the custom would be the substitution of
condemned criminals for innocent victims. Such a substitution is known to
have taken place in the human sacrifices annually offered in Rhodes to
Baal.(802)

The custom of sacrificing children, especially the first born, is not
peculiarly Semitic. In some tribes of New South Wales the first-born child
of every woman was eaten by the tribe as part of a religious
ceremony.(803) The Indians of Florida sacrificed their first-born male
children.(804) Amongst the people of Senjero in Eastern Africa we are told
that many families “must offer up their first-born sons as sacrifices,
because once upon a time, when summer and winter were jumbled together in
a bad season, and the fruits of the earth would not ripen, the soothsayers
enjoined it. At that time a great pillar of iron is said to have stood at
the entrance of the capital, which by the advice of the soothsayers was
broken down by order of the king, upon which the seasons became regular
again. To avert the recurrence of such a confusion of the seasons, the
soothsayers are reported to have enjoined the king to pour human blood
once a year on the base of the broken shaft of the pillar, and also upon
the throne. Since then certain families are obliged to deliver up their
first-born sons, who are sacrificed at an appointed time.”(805) The
heathen Russians often sacrificed their first-born to the god Perun.(806)

The condemnation and pretended death by fire of the mock king in Egypt is
probably a reminiscence of a real custom of burning him. Evidence of a
practice of burning divine personages will be forthcoming later on. In
Bilaspur the expulsion of the Brahman who had occupied the king’s throne
for a year is perhaps a substitute for putting him to death.

The explanation here given of the custom of killing divine persons
assumes, or at least is readily combined with, the idea that the soul of
the slain divinity is transmitted to his successor. Of this transmission I
have no direct proof; and so far a link in the chain of evidence is
wanting. But if I cannot prove by actual examples this succession to the
soul of the slain god, it can at least be made probable that such a
succession was supposed to take place. For it has been already shown that
the soul of the incarnate deity is often supposed to transmigrate at death
into another incarnation;(807) and if this takes place when the death is a
natural one, there seems no reason why it should not take place when the
death is a violent one. Certainly the idea that the soul of a dying person
may be transmitted to his successor is perfectly familiar to primitive
peoples. In Nias the eldest son usually succeeds his father in the
chieftainship. But if from any bodily or mental defect the eldest son is
incapacitated from ruling, the father determines in his life-time which of
his sons shall succeed him. In order, however, to establish his right of
succession it is necessary that the son upon whom his father’s choice
falls shall catch in his mouth or in a bag the last breath, and with it
the soul, of the dying chief. For whoever catches his last breath is chief
equally with the appointed successor. Hence the other brothers, and
sometimes also strangers, crowd round the dying man to catch his soul as
it passes. The houses in Nias are raised above the ground on posts, and it
has happened that when the dying man lay with his face on the floor, one
of the candidates has bored a hole in the floor and sucked in the chief’s
last breath through a bamboo tube. When the chief has no son, his soul is
caught in a bag, which is fastened to an image made to represent the
deceased; the soul is then believed to pass into the image.(808) Amongst
the Takilis or Carrier Indians of North-West America, when a corpse is
burned the priest pretends to catch the soul of the deceased in his hands,
which he closes with many gesticulations. He then communicates the
captured soul to the dead man’s successor by throwing his hands towards
and blowing upon him. The person to whom the soul is thus communicated
takes the name and rank of the deceased. On the death of a chief the
priest thus fills a responsible and influential position, for he may
transmit the soul to whom he will, though, doubtless, he generally follows
the regular line of succession.(809) Algonkin women who wished to become
mothers flocked to the side of a dying person in the hope of receiving and
being impregnated by the passing soul. Amongst the Seminoles of Florida
when a woman died in childbed the infant was held over her face to receive
her parting spirit.(810) The Romans caught the breath of dying friends in
their mouths, and so received into themselves the soul of the
departed.(811) The same custom is said to be still practised in
Lancashire.(812) We may therefore fairly suppose that when the divine king
or priest is put to death his spirit is believed to pass into his
successor.




§ 2.—Killing the tree-spirit.


It remains to ask what light the custom of killing the divine king or
priest sheds upon the subject of our inquiry. In the first chapter we saw
reason to suppose that the King of the Wood was regarded as an incarnation
of the tree-spirit or of the spirit of vegetation, and that as such he
would be endowed, in the belief of his worshippers, with a supernatural
power of making the trees to bear fruit, the crops to grow, and so on. His
life must therefore have been held very precious by his worshippers, and
was probably hedged in by a system of elaborate precautions or taboos like
those by which, in so many places, the life of the god-man has been
guarded against the malignant influence of demons and sorcerers. But we
have seen that the very value attached to the life of the man-god
necessitates his violent death as the only means of preserving it from the
inevitable decay of age. The same reasoning would apply to the King of the
Wood; he too had to be killed in order that the divine spirit, incarnate
in him, might be transferred in unabated vigour to his successor. The rule
that he held office till a stronger should slay him might be supposed to
secure both the preservation of his divine life in full vigour and its
transference to a suitable successor as soon as that vigour began to be
impaired. For so long as he could maintain his position by the strong
hand, it might be inferred that his natural force was not abated; whereas
his defeat and death at the hands of another proved that his strength was
beginning to fail and that it was time his divine life should be lodged in
a less dilapidated tabernacle. This explanation of the rule that the King
of the Wood had to be slain by his successor at least renders that rule
perfectly intelligible. Moreover it is countenanced by the analogy of the
Chitombé, upon whose life the existence of the world was supposed to hang,
and who was therefore slain by his successor as soon as he showed signs of
breaking up. Again, the terms on which in later times the King of Calicut
held office are identical with those attached to the office of King of the
Wood, except that whereas the former might be assailed by a candidate at
any time, the King of Calicut might only be attacked once every twelve
years. But as the leave granted to the King of Calicut to reign so long as
he could defend himself against all comers was a mitigation of the old
rule which set a fixed term to his life, so we may conjecture that the
similar permission granted to the King of the Wood was a mitigation of an
older custom of putting him to death at the end of a set period. In both
cases the new rule gave to the god-man at least a chance for his life,
which under the old rule was denied him; and people probably reconciled
themselves to the change by reflecting that so long as the god-man could
maintain himself by the sword against all assaults, there was no reason to
apprehend that the fatal decay had set in.

The conjecture that the King of the Wood was formerly put to death at the
expiry of a set term, without being allowed a chance for his life, will be
confirmed if evidence can be adduced of a custom of periodically killing
his counterparts, the human representatives of the tree-spirit, in
Northern Europe. Now in point of fact such a custom has left unmistakable
traces of itself in the rural festivals of the peasantry. To take
examples.

In Lower Bavaria the Whitsuntide representative of the tree-spirit—the
_Pfingstl_ as he was called—was clad from top to toe in leaves and
flowers. On his head he wore a high pointed cap, the ends of which rested
on his shoulders, only two holes being left in it for his eyes. The cap
was covered with water flowers and surmounted with a nosegay of peonies.
The sleeves of his coat were also made of water-plants, and the rest of
his body was enveloped in alder and hazel leaves. On each side of him
marched a boy holding up one of the _Pfingstl_’s arms. These two boys
carried drawn swords, and so did most of the others who formed the
procession. They stopped at every house where they hoped to receive a
present; and the people, in hiding, soused the leaf-clad boy with water.
All rejoiced when he was well drenched. Finally he waded into the brook up
to his middle; whereupon one of the boys, standing on the bridge,
pretended to cut off his head.(813) At Wurmlingen in Swabia a score of
young fellows dress themselves on Whit-Monday in white shirts and white
trousers, with red scarves round their waists and swords hanging from the
scarves. They ride on horse-back into the wood, led by two trumpeters
blowing their trumpets. In the wood they cut down leafy oak branches, in
which they envelop from head to foot him who was the last of their number
to ride out of the village. His legs, however, are encased separately, so
that he may be able to mount his horse again. Further, they give him a
long artificial neck, with an artificial head and a false face on the top
of it. Then a May-tree is cut, generally an aspen or beech about ten feet
high; and being decked with coloured handkerchiefs and ribbons it is
entrusted to a special “May-bearer.” The cavalcade then returns with music
and song to the village. Amongst the personages who figure in the
procession are a Moorish king with a sooty face and a crown on his head, a
Dr. Iron-Beard, a corporal, and an executioner. They halt on the village
green, and each of the characters makes a speech in rhyme. The executioner
announces that the leaf-clad man has been condemned to death and cuts off
his false head. Then the riders race to the May-tree, which has been set
up a little way off. The first man who succeeds in wrenching it from the
ground as he gallops past keeps it with all its decorations. The ceremony
is observed every second or third year.(814)

In Saxony and Thüringen there is a Whitsuntide ceremony called “chasing
the Wild Man out of the bush,” or “fetching the Wild Man out of the wood.”
A young fellow is enveloped in leaves or moss and called the Wild Man. He
hides in the wood and the other lads of the village go out to seek him.
They find him, lead him captive out of the wood, and fire at him with
blank muskets. He falls like dead to the ground, but a lad dressed as a
doctor bleeds him, and he comes to life again. At this they rejoice and
binding him fast on a waggon take him to the village, where they tell all
the people how they have caught the Wild Man. At every house they receive
a gift.(815) In the Erzgebirge the following custom was annually observed
at Shrovetide about the beginning of the seventeenth century. Two men
disguised as Wild Men, the one in brushwood and moss, the other in straw,
were led about the streets, and at last taken to the market-place, where
they were chased up and down, shot and stabbed. Before falling they reeled
about with strange gestures and spirted blood on the people from bladders
which they carried. When they were down, the huntsmen placed them on
boards and carried them to the alehouse, the miners marching beside them
and winding blasts on their mining tools as if they had taken a noble head
of game.(816) A very similar Shrovetide custom is still observed in the
neighbourhood of Schluckenau (Bohemia). A man dressed up as a Wild Man is
chased through several streets till he comes to a narrow lane across which
a cord is stretched. He stumbles over the cord and, falling to the ground,
is overtaken and caught by his pursuers. The executioner runs up and stabs
with his sword a bladder filled with blood which the Wild Man wears round
his body; so the Wild Man dies, while a stream of blood reddens the
ground. Next day a straw-man, made up to look like the Wild Man, is placed
on a litter, and, accompanied by a great crowd, is taken to a pool into
which it is thrown by the executioner. The ceremony is called “burying the
Carnival.”(817)

In Semic (Bohemia) the custom of beheading the King is observed on
Whit-Monday. A troop of young people disguise themselves; each is girt
with a girdle of bark and carries a wooden sword and a trumpet of
willow-bark. The King wears a robe of tree-bark adorned with flowers, on
his head is a crown of bark decked with flowers and branches, his feet are
wound about with ferns, a mask hides his face, and for a sceptre he has a
hawthorn switch in his hand. A lad leads him through the village by a rope
fastened to his foot, while the rest dance about, blow their trumpets, and
whistle. In every farmhouse the King is chased round the room, and one of
the troop, amid much noise and outcry, strikes with his sword a blow on
the King’s robe of bark till it rings again. Then a gratuity is
demanded.(818) The ceremony of decapitation, which is here somewhat
slurred over, is carried out with a greater semblance of reality in other
parts of Bohemia. Thus in some villages of the Königgrätz district on
Whit-Monday the girls assemble under one lime-tree and the young men under
another, all dressed in their best and tricked out with ribbons. The young
men twine a garland for the Queen and the girls for the King. When they
have chosen the King and Queen they all go in procession, two and two, to
the alehouse, from the balcony of which the crier proclaims the names of
the King and Queen. Both are then invested with the insignia of their
dignity and are crowned with the garlands, while the music plays up. Then
some one gets on a bench and accuses the King of various offences, such as
ill-treating the cattle. The King appeals to witnesses and a trial ensues,
at the close of which the judge, who carries a white wand as his badge of
office, pronounces a verdict of “guilty” or “not guilty.” If the verdict
is “guilty” the judge breaks his wand, the King kneels on a white cloth,
all heads are bared, and a soldier sets three or four hats, one above the
other, on the King’s head. The judge then pronounces the word “guilty”
thrice in a loud voice, and orders the crier to behead the King. The crier
obeys by striking off the King’s hats with his wooden sword.(819)

But perhaps, for our purpose, the most instructive of these mimic
executions is the following Bohemian one, which has been in part described
already.(820) In some places of the Pilsen district (Bohemia) on
Whit-Monday the King is dressed in bark, ornamented with flowers and
ribbons; he wears a crown of gilt paper and rides a horse, which is also
decked with flowers. Attended by a judge, an executioner and other
characters, and followed by a train of soldiers, all mounted, he rides to
the village square, where a hut or arbour of green boughs has been erected
under the May-trees, which are firs, freshly cut, peeled to the top, and
dressed with flowers and ribbons. After the dames and maidens of the
village have been criticised and a frog beheaded, in the way already
described, the cavalcade rides to a place previously determined upon, in a
straight, broad street. Here they draw up in two lines and the King takes
to flight. He is given a short start and rides off at full speed, pursued
by the whole troop. If they fail to catch him he remains King for another
year, and his companions must pay his score at the alehouse in the
evening. But if they overtake and catch him he is scourged with hazel rods
or beaten with the wooden swords and compelled to dismount. Then the
executioner asks, “Shall I behead this King?” The answer is given, “Behead
him;” the executioner brandishes his axe, and with the words, “One, two,
three, let the King headless be!” he strikes off the King’s crown. Amid
the loud cries of the bystanders the King sinks to the ground; then he is
laid on a bier and carried to the nearest farmhouse.(821)

In the personages who are thus slain in mimicry it is impossible not to
recognise representatives of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation, as
he is supposed to manifest himself in spring. The bark, leaves, and
flowers in which the actors are dressed, and the season of the year at
which they appear, show that they belong to the same class as the Grass
King, King of the May, Jack-in-the-Green, and other representatives of the
vernal spirit of vegetation which we examined in the first chapter. As if
to remove any possible doubt on this head, we find that in two cases(822)
these slain men are brought into direct connection with May-trees, which
are (as we have seen) the impersonal, as the May King, Grass King, etc.,
are the personal representatives of the tree-spirit. The drenching of the
_Pfingstl_ with water and his wading up to the middle into the brook are,
therefore, no doubt rain-charms like those which have been already
described.(823)

But if these personages represent, as they certainly do, the spirit of
vegetation in spring, the question arises, Why kill them? What is the
object of slaying the spirit of vegetation at any time and above all in
spring, when his services are most wanted? The only answer to this
question seems to be given in the explanation already proposed of the
custom of killing the divine king or priest. The divine life, incarnate in
a material and mortal body, is liable to be tainted and corrupted by the
weakness of the frail medium in which it is for a time enshrined; and if
it is to be saved from the increasing enfeeblement which it must
necessarily share with its human incarnation as he advances in years, it
must be detached from him before, or at least as soon as, he exhibits
signs of decay, in order to be transferred to a vigorous successor. This
is done by killing the old representative of the god and conveying the
divine spirit from him to a new incarnation. The killing of the god, that
is, of his human incarnation, is, therefore, only a necessary step to his
revival or resurrection in a better form. Far from being an extinction of
the divine spirit, it is only the beginning of a purer and stronger
manifestation of it. If this explanation holds good of the custom of
killing divine kings and priests in general, it is still more obviously
applicable to the custom of annually killing the representative of the
tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation in spring. For the decay of vegetation
in winter is readily interpreted by primitive man as an enfeeblement of
the spirit of vegetation; the spirit has (he thinks) grown old and weak
and must therefore be renovated by being slain and brought to life in a
younger and fresher form. Thus the killing of the representative of the
tree-spirit in spring is regarded as a means to promote and quicken the
growth of vegetation. For the killing of the tree-spirit is associated
always (we must suppose) implicitly, and sometimes explicitly also, with a
revival or resurrection of him in a more youthful and vigorous form. Thus
in the Saxon and Thüringen custom, after the Wild Man has been shot he is
brought to life again by a doctor;(824) and in the Wurmlingen ceremony
there figures a Dr. Iron-Beard, who probably once played a similar part;
certainly in another spring ceremony (to be described presently) Dr.
Iron-Beard pretends to restore a dead man to life. But of this revival or
resurrection of the god we shall have more to say anon.

The points of similarity between these North European personages and the
subject of our inquiry—the King of the Wood or priest of Nemi—are
sufficiently striking. In these northern maskers we see kings, whose dress
of bark and leaves, along with the hut of green boughs and the fir-trees
under which they hold their court, proclaim them unmistakably as, like
their Italian counterpart, Kings of the Wood. Like him they die a violent
death; but like him they may escape from it for a time by their bodily
strength and agility; for in several of these northern customs the flight
and pursuit of the king is a prominent part of the ceremony, and in one
case at least if the king can outrun his pursuers he retains his life and
his office for another year. In this last case, in fact, the king holds
office on condition of running for his life once a year, just as the King
of Calicut in later times held office on condition of defending his life
against all comers once every twelve years, and just as the priest of Nemi
held office on condition of defending himself against any assault at any
time. In all these cases the life of the god-man is prolonged on condition
of showing, in a severe physical contest of fight or flight, that his
bodily strength is not decayed, and that, therefore, the violent death,
which sooner or later is inevitable, may for the present be postponed.
With regard to flight it is noticeable that flight figured conspicuously
both in the legend and the practice of the King of the Wood. He had to be
a runaway slave (_fugitivus_) in memory of the flight of Orestes, the
traditional founder of the worship; hence the Kings of the Wood are
described by an ancient writer as “both strong of hand and fleet of
foot.”(825) Perhaps if we knew the ritual of the Arician grove fully we
might find that the king was allowed a chance for his life by flight, like
his Bohemian brother. We may conjecture that the annual flight of the
priestly king at Rome (_regifugium_)(826) was at first a flight of the
same kind; in other words, that he was originally one of those divine
kings who are either put to death after a fixed period or allowed to prove
by the strong hand or the fleet foot that their divinity is vigorous and
unimpaired. One more point of resemblance may be noted between the Italian
King of the Wood and his northern counterparts. In Saxony and Thüringen
the representative of the tree-spirit, after being killed, is brought to
life again by a doctor. This is exactly what legend affirmed to have
happened to the first King of the Wood at Nemi, Hippolytus or Virbius, who
after he had been killed by his horses was restored to life by the
physician Aesculapius.(827) Such a legend tallies well with the theory
that the slaying of the King of the Wood was only a step to his revival or
resurrection in his successor.

It has been assumed that the mock killing of the Wild Man and of the King
in North European folk-custom is a modern substitute for an ancient custom
of killing them in earnest. Those who best know the tenacity of life
possessed by folk-custom and its tendency, with the growth of
civilisation, to dwindle from solemn ritual into mere pageant and pastime,
will be least likely to question the truth of this assumption. That human
sacrifices were commonly offered by the ancestors of the civilised races
of North Europe (Celts, Teutons, and Slavs) is certain.(828) It is not,
therefore, surprising that the modern peasant should do in mimicry what
his forefathers did in reality. We know as a matter of fact that in other
parts of the world mock human sacrifices have been substituted for real
ones. Thus Captain Bourke was informed by an old chief that the Indians of
Arizona used to offer human sacrifices at the Feast of Fire when the days
are shortest. The victim had his throat cut, his breast opened, and his
heart taken out by one of the priests. This custom was abolished by the
Mexicans, but for a long time afterwards a modified form of it was
secretly observed as follows. The victim, generally a young man, had his
throat cut, and blood was allowed to flow freely; but the medicine-men
sprinkled “medicine” on the gash, which soon healed up, and the man
recovered.(829) So in the ritual of Artemis at Halae in Attica, a man’s
throat was cut and the blood allowed to gush out, but he was not
killed.(830) At the funeral of a chief in Nias slaves are sacrificed; a
little of their hair is cut off, and then they are beheaded. The victims
are generally purchased for the purpose, and their number is proportioned
to the wealth and power of the deceased. But if the number required is
excessively great or cannot be procured, some of the chief’s own slaves
undergo a sham sacrifice. They are told, and believe, that they are about
to be decapitated; their heads are placed on a log and their necks struck
with the back of a sword. The fright drives some of them crazy.(831) When
a Hindoo has killed or ill-treated an ape, a bird of prey of a certain
kind, or a cobra capella, in the presence of the worshippers of Vishnu, he
must expiate his offence by the pretended sacrifice and resurrection of a
human being. An incision is made in the victim’s arm, the blood flows, he
grows faint, falls, and feigns to die. Afterwards he is brought to life by
being sprinkled with blood drawn from the thigh of a worshipper of Vishnu.
The crowd of spectators is fully convinced of the reality of this
simulated death and resurrection.(832) Sometimes the mock sacrifice is
carried out, not on a living person but on an image. Thus an Indian
law-book, the _Calica Puran_, prescribes that when the sacrifice of lions,
tigers, or human beings is required, an image of a lion, tiger, or man
shall be made with butter, paste, or barley meal, and sacrificed
instead.(833) Some of the Gonds of India formerly offered human
sacrifices; they now sacrifice straw-men instead.(834) Colonel Dalton was
told that in some of their villages the Bhagats (Hindooised Oraons)
“annually make an image of a man in wood, put clothes and ornaments on it,
and present it before the altar of a Mahádeo. The person who officiates as
priest on the occasion says: ‘O, Mahádeo, we sacrifice this man to you
according to ancient customs. Give us rain in due season, and a plentiful
harvest.’ Then with one stroke of the axe the head of the image is struck
off, and the body is removed and buried.”(835)




§ 3.—Carrying out Death.


Thus far I have offered an explanation of the rule which required that the
priest of Nemi should be slain by his successor. The explanation claims to
be no more than probable; our scanty knowledge of the custom and of its
history forbids it to be more. But its probability will be augmented in
proportion to the extent to which the motives and modes of thought which
it assumes can be proved to have operated in primitive society. Hitherto
the god with whose death and resurrection we have been chiefly concerned
has been the tree-god. Tree-worship may perhaps be regarded (though this
is a conjecture) as occupying an intermediate place in the history of
religion, between the religion of the hunter and shepherd on the one side,
whose gods are mostly animals, and the religion of the husbandman on the
other hand, in whose worship the cultivated plants play a leading part. If
then I can show that the custom of killing the god and the belief in his
resurrection originated, or at least existed, in the hunting and pastoral
stage of society, when the slain god was an animal, and survived into the
agricultural stage, when the slain god was the corn or a human being
representing the corn, the probability of my explanation will have been
considerably increased. This I shall attempt to do in the remainder of
this chapter, in the course of which I hope to clear up some obscurities
which still remain, and to answer some objections which may have suggested
themselves to the reader.

We start from the point at which we left off—the spring customs of
European peasantry. Besides the ceremonies already described there are two
kindred sets of observances in which the simulated death of a divine or
supernatural being is a leading feature. These observances are commonly
known as “Burying the Carnival,” and “Driving or carrying out Death.” Both
customs are chiefly practised, or at least best known, on German and
Slavonic ground. The former custom is observed on the last day of the
Carnival, namely, Shrove Tuesday (_Fastnacht_), or on the first day of
Lent, namely, Ash Wednesday. The latter custom is commonly observed on the
Fourth Sunday in Lent, which hence gets the name of Dead Sunday
(_Todtensonntag_); but in some places it is observed a week earlier; in
others again, as amongst the Czechs of Bohemia, a week later. Originally
the date of the celebration of the “Carrying out Death” appears not to
have been fixed, but to have depended on the appearance of the first
swallow or of some other natural phenomenon.(836) A Bohemian form of the
custom of “Burying the Carnival” has been already described.(837) The
following Swabian form is obviously similar. In the neighbourhood of
Tübingen on Shrove Tuesday a straw-man, called the Shrovetide Bear, is
made up; he is dressed in a pair of old trousers, and a fresh
black-pudding or two squirts filled with blood are inserted in his neck.
After a formal condemnation he is beheaded, laid in a coffin, and on Ash
Wednesday is buried in the churchyard. This is called “Burying the
Carnival” (“_die Fastnacht vergraben_”).(838) Amongst some of the Saxons
of Transylvania the Carnival is hung. Thus at Braller on Ash Wednesday or
Shrove Tuesday two white and two chestnut horses draw a sledge on which is
placed a straw-man swathed in a white cloth; beside him is a cart-wheel
which is kept turning round. Two lads disguised as old men follow the
sledge lamenting. The rest of the village lads, mounted on horseback and
decked with ribbons, accompany the procession, which is headed by two
girls crowned with evergreen and drawn in a waggon or sledge. A trial is
held under a tree, at which lads disguised as soldiers pronounce sentence
of death. The two old men try to rescue the straw-man and to fly with him,
but to no purpose; he is caught by the two girls and handed over to the
executioner, who hangs him on a tree. In vain the old men try to climb up
the tree and take him down; they always tumble down, and at last in
despair they throw themselves on the ground and weep and howl for the
hanged man. An official then makes a speech in which he declares that the
Carnival was condemned to death because he had done them harm, by wearing
out their shoes and making them tired and sleepy.(839) At the “Burial of
Carnival” in Lechrain, a man dressed as a woman in black clothes is
carried on a litter or bier by four men; he is lamented over by men
disguised as women in black clothes, then thrown down before the village
dung-heap, drenched with water, buried in the dung-heap, and covered with
straw.(840) Similarly in Schörzingen, near Schömberg, the “Carnival
(Shrovetide) Fool” was carried all about the village on a bier, preceded
by a man dressed in white, and followed by a devil who was dressed in
black and carried chains, which he clanked. One of the train collected
gifts. After the procession the Fool was buried under straw and dung.(841)
In Rottweil the “Carnival Fool” is made drunk on Ash Wednesday and buried
under straw amid loud lamentation.(842) In Wurmlingen the Fool is
represented by a young fellow enveloped in straw, who is led about the
village by a rope as a “Bear” on Shrove Tuesday and the preceding day. He
dances to the flute. Then on Ash Wednesday a straw-man is made, placed on
a trough, carried out of the village to the sound of drums and mournful
music, and buried in a field.(843) In Altdorf and Weingarten on Ash
Wednesday the Fool, represented by a straw-man, is carried about and then
thrown into the water to the accompaniment of melancholy music. In other
villages of Swabia the part of fool is played by a live person, who is
thrown into the water after being carried about in procession.(844) At
Balwe, in Westphalia, a straw-man is made on Shrove Tuesday and thrown
into the river amid rejoicings. This is called, as usual, “Burying the
Carnival.”(845) On the evening of Shrove Tuesday, the Esthonians make a
straw figure called _metsik_ or “wood-spirit;” one year it is dressed with
a man’s coat and hat, next year with a hood and a petticoat. This figure
is stuck on a long pole, carried across the boundary of the village with
loud cries of joy, and fastened to the top of a tree in the wood. The
ceremony is believed to be a protection against all kinds of
misfortune.(846) Sometimes the resurrection of the pretended dead person
is enacted. Thus, in some parts of Swabia, on Shrove Tuesday Dr.
Iron-Beard professes to bleed a sick man, who thereupon falls as dead to
the ground; but the doctor at last restores him to life by blowing air
into him through a tube.(847) In the Harz mountains, when Carnival is
over, a man is laid on a baking-trough and carried with dirges to a grave;
but in the grave, instead of the man, a glass of brandy is placed. A
speech is delivered and then the people return to the village-green or
meeting-place, where they smoke the long clay pipes which are distributed
at funerals. On the morning of Shrove Tuesday in the following year the
brandy is dug up and the festival begins by every one tasting the brandy
which, as the phrase goes, has come to life again.(848)

The ceremony of “Carrying out Death” presents much the same features as
“Burying the Carnival;” except that the figure of Death is oftener drowned
or burned than buried, and that the carrying out of Death is generally
followed by a ceremony, or at least accompanied by a profession, of
bringing in Summer, Spring, or Life. Thus, in some villages of Thüringen
on the Fourth Sunday of Lent, the children used to carry a puppet of
birchen twigs through the village, and then threw it into a pool, while
they sang, “We carry the old Death out behind the herdsman’s old house; we
have got Summer, and Kroden’s(?) power is destroyed.”(849) In one village
of Thüringen (Dobschwitz near Gera), the ceremony of “Driving out Death”
is still annually observed on the 1st of March. The young people make up a
figure of straw or the like materials, dress it in old clothes which they
have begged from the houses in the village, and carry it out and throw it
into the river. On returning to the village they announce the fact to the
people, and receive eggs and other victuals as a reward. In other villages
of Thüringen, in which the population was originally Slavonic, the
carrying out of the puppet is accompanied with the singing of a song,
which begins, “Now we carry Death out of the village and Spring into the
village.”(850) In Bohemia the children go out with a straw-man,
representing Death, to the end of the village, where they burn it,
singing—


    “Now carry we Death out of the village,
    The new Summer into the village,
    Welcome dear Summer,
    Green little corn!”(851)


At Tabor (Bohemia) the figure of Death is carried out of the town and
flung from a high rock into the water, while they sing—


    “Death swims on the water,
    Summer will soon be here,
    We carried Death away for you,
    We brought the Summer.
    And do thou, O holy Marketa,
    Give us a good year
    For wheat and for rye.”(852)


In other parts of Bohemia they carry Death to the end of the village,
singing—


    “We carry Death out of the village,
    And the New Year into the village.
    Dear Spring, we bid you welcome,
    Green grass, we bid you welcome.”


Behind the village they erect a pyre, on which they burn the straw figure,
reviling and scoffing at it the while. Then they return, singing—


    “We have carried away Death,
    And brought Life back.
    He has taken up his quarters in the village,
    Therefore sing joyous songs.”(853)


At Nürnberg, girls of seven to eighteen years of age, dressed in their
best, carry through the streets a little open coffin in which is a doll,
hidden under a shroud. Others carry a beech branch, with an apple fastened
to it for a head, in an open box. They sing, “We carry Death into the
water, it is well,” or, “We carry Death into the water, carry him in and
out again.”(854)

The effigy of Death is often regarded with fear and treated with marks of
hatred and contempt. In Lusatia the figure is sometimes made to look in at
the window of a house, and it is believed that some one in the house will
die within the year unless his life is redeemed by the payment of
money.(855) Again, after throwing the effigy away, the bearers sometimes
run home lest Death should follow them; and if one of them falls in
running, it is believed that he will die within the year.(856) At Chrudim,
in Bohemia, the figure of Death is made out of a cross, with a head and
mask stuck at the top, and a shirt stretched out on it. On the Fifth
Sunday in Lent the boys take this effigy to the nearest brook or pool, and
standing in a line throw it into the water. Then they all plunge in after
it; but as soon as it is caught no one more may enter the water. The boy
who did not enter the water or entered it last will die within the year,
and he is obliged to carry the Death back to the village. The effigy is
then burned.(857) On the other hand it is believed that no one will die
within the year in the house out of which the figure of Death has been
carried;(858) and the village out of which Death has been driven is
sometimes supposed to be protected against sickness and plague.(859) In
some villages of Austrian Silesia on the Saturday before Dead Sunday an
effigy is made of old clothes, hay, and straw, for the purpose of driving
Death out of the village. On Sunday the people, armed with sticks and
straps, assemble before the house where the figure is lodged. Four lads
then draw the effigy by cords through the village amid exultant shouts,
while all the others beat it with their sticks and straps. On reaching a
field which belongs to a neighbouring village they lay down the figure,
cudgel it soundly, and scatter the fragments over the field. The people
believe that the village from which Death has been thus carried out will
be safe from any infectious disease for the whole year.(860) In Slavonia
the figure of Death is cudgelled and then rent in two.(861) In Poland the
effigy, made of hemp and straw, is flung into a pool or swamp with the
words, “The devil take thee.”(862)

The custom of “sawing the Old Woman,” which is or used to be observed in
Italy and Spain on the Fourth Sunday in Lent, is doubtless, as Grimm
supposes, merely another form of the custom of “carrying out Death.” A
great hideous figure representing the oldest woman of the village was
dragged out and sawn in two, amid a prodigious noise made with cow-bells,
pots and pans, etc.(863) In Palermo the ceremony used to be still more
realistic. At Mid-Lent an old woman was drawn through the streets on a
cart, attended by two men dressed in the costume of the _Compagnia
de’Bianchi_, a society or religious order whose function it was to attend
and console prisoners condemned to death. A scaffold was erected in a
public square; the old woman mounted it, and two mock executioners
proceeded, amid a storm of huzzas and hand-clapping, to saw through her
neck or rather through a bladder of blood which had been previously fitted
to her neck. The blood gushed out and the old woman pretended to swoon and
die. The last of these mock executions took place in 1737.(864) At
Florence, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the Old Woman was
represented by a figure stuffed with walnuts and dried figs and fastened
to the top of a ladder. At Mid-Lent this effigy was sawn through the
middle under the _Loggie_ of the Mercato Nuovo, and as the dried fruits
tumbled out they were scrambled for by the crowd. A trace of the custom is
still to be seen in the practice, observed by urchins, of secretly pinning
paper ladders to the shoulders of women of the lower classes who happen to
show themselves in the streets on the morning of Mid-Lent.(865) A similar
custom is observed by urchins in Rome; and at Naples on the 1st of April
boys cut strips of cloth into the shape of saws, smear them with gypsum,
and strike passers-by with their “saws” on the back, thus imprinting the
figure of a saw upon their clothes.(866) At Montalto in Calabria boys go
about at Mid-Lent with little saws made of cane and jeer at old people,
who therefore generally stay indoors on that day. The Calabrian women meet
together at this time and feast on figs, chestnuts, honey, etc.; this they
call “sawing the Old Woman”—a reminiscence probably of a custom like the
old Florentine one.(867)

In Barcelona on the day in question boys run about the streets, some with
saws, others with billets of wood, others again with cloths in which they
collect gratuities. They sing a song in which it is said that they are
looking for the oldest woman of the city for the purpose of sawing her in
two in honour of Mid-Lent; at last, pretending to have found her, they saw
something in two and burn it. A like custom is found amongst the South
Slavs. In Lent the Croats tell their children that at noon an old woman is
being sawn in two outside the gates; and in Carniola also the saying is
current that at Mid-Lent an old woman is taken out of the village and sawn
in two. The North Slavonian expression for keeping Mid-Lent is _bábu
rezati_, that is, “sawing the Old Wife.”(868)

In the preceding ceremonies the return of Spring, Summer, or Life, as a
sequel to the expulsion of Death, is only implied or at most announced. In
the following ceremonies it is plainly enacted. In some parts of Bohemia
the effigy of Death is buried at sunset; then the girls go out into the
wood and cut down a young tree with a green crown, hang a doll dressed as
a woman on it, deck the whole with green, red, and white ribbons, and
march in procession with their _Líto_ (Summer) into the village,
collecting gifts and singing—


    “We carried Death out of the village,
    We are carrying Summer into the village.”(869)


In many Silesian villages the figure of Death, after being treated with
respect, is stripped of its clothes and flung with curses into the water,
or torn in pieces in a field. Then a fir-tree adorned with ribbons,
coloured egg-shells, and motley bits of cloth, is carried through the
streets by boys who collect pennies and sing—


    “We have carried Death out,
    We are bringing the dear Summer back,
    The Summer and the May
    And all the flowers gay.”(870)


At Eisenach on the Fourth Sunday in Lent young people used to fasten a
straw-man, representing Death, to a wheel, which they trundled to the top
of a hill. Then setting fire to the figure they allowed it and the wheel
to roll downhill. Next they cut a tall fir-tree, tricked it out with
ribbons, and set it up in the plain. The men then climbed the tree to
fetch down the ribbons.(871) In Upper Lusatia the figure of Death, made of
straw and rags, is dressed in a veil furnished by the last bride and a
shirt furnished by the house in which the last death occurred. Thus
arrayed the figure is stuck on the end of a long pole and carried at full
speed by the tallest and strongest girl, while the rest pelt the effigy
with sticks and stones. Whoever hits it will be sure to live through the
year. In this way Death is carried out of the village and thrown into the
water or over the boundary of the next village. On their way home each one
breaks a green branch and carries it gaily with him till he reaches the
village, when he throws it away. Sometimes the young people of the next
village, upon whose land the figure has been thrown, run after them and
hurl it back, not wishing to have Death among them. Hence the two parties
occasionally come to blows.(872)

In these cases Death is represented by the puppet which is thrown away,
Summer or Life by the branches or trees which are brought back. But
sometimes a new potency of life seems to be attributed to the image of
Death itself, and by a kind of resurrection it becomes the instrument of
the general revival. Thus in some parts of Lusatia women alone are
concerned in carrying out Death, and suffer no male to meddle with it.
Attired in mourning, which they wear the whole day, they make a puppet of
straw, clothe it in a white shirt, and give it a broom in one hand and a
scythe in the other. Singing songs and pursued by urchins throwing stones,
they carry the puppet to the village boundary, where they tear it in
pieces. Then they cut down a fine tree, hang the shirt on it, and carry it
home singing.(873) On the Feast of Ascension the Saxons of a village near
Hermanstadt (Transylvania) observe the ceremony of “carrying out Death” in
the following manner. After forenoon church all the school-girls repair to
the house of one of their number, and there dress up the Death. This is
done by tying a threshed-out corn-sheaf into the rough semblance of a head
and body, while the arms are simulated by a broomstick stuck horizontally.
The figure is dressed in the Sunday clothes of a village matron. It is
then displayed at the window that all people may see it on their way to
afternoon church. As soon as vespers are over the girls seize the effigy
and, singing a hymn, carry it in procession round the village. Boys are
excluded from the procession. After the procession has traversed the
village from end to end, the figure is taken to another house and stripped
of its attire; the naked straw bundle is then thrown out of the window to
the boys, who carry it off and fling it into the nearest stream. This is
the first act of the drama. In the second, one of the girls is solemnly
invested with the clothes and ornaments previously worn by the figure of
Death, and, like it, is led in procession round the village to the singing
of the same hymns as before. The ceremony ends with a feast at the house
of the girl who acted the chief part; as before, the boys are excluded.
“According to popular belief, it is allowed to eat fruit only after this
day, as now the ‘Death,’ that is, the unwholesomeness—has been expelled
from them. Also the river in which the Death has been drowned may now be
considered fit for public bathing. If this ceremony be neglected in the
village where it is customary, such neglect is supposed to entail death to
one of the young people, or loss of virtue to a girl.”(874)

In the first of these two ceremonies the tree which is brought home after
the destruction of the figure of Death is plainly equivalent to the trees
or branches which, in the preceding customs, were brought back as
representatives of Summer or Life, after Death had been thrown away or
destroyed. But the transference of the shirt worn by the effigy of Death
to the tree clearly indicates that the tree is a kind of revivification,
in a new form, of the destroyed effigy.(875) This comes out also in the
Transylvanian custom; the dressing of a girl in the clothes worn by the
Death, and the leading her about the village to the same songs which had
been sung when the Death was being carried about, show that she is
intended to be a kind of resuscitation of the being whose effigy has just
been destroyed. These examples therefore suggest that the Death whose
demolition is represented in these ceremonies cannot be regarded as the
purely destructive agent which we understand by Death. If the tree which
is brought back as an embodiment of the reviving vegetation of spring is
clothed in the shirt worn by the Death which has been just destroyed, the
object certainly cannot be to check and counteract the revival of
vegetation; it can only be to foster and promote it. Therefore the being
which has just been destroyed—the so-called Death—must be supposed to be
endowed with a vivifying and quickening influence, which it can
communicate to the vegetable and even the animal world. This ascription of
a life-giving virtue to the figure of Death is put beyond a doubt by the
custom, observed in some places, of taking pieces of the straw effigy of
Death and placing them in the fields to make the crops grow, or in the
manger to make the cattle thrive. Thus in Spachendorf (Austrian Silesia)
the figure of Death made of straw, brushwood, and rags, is carried out
with wild songs to an open place outside the village and there burned, and
while it is burning a general struggle takes place for the pieces, which
are pulled out of the flames with bare hands. Each one who secures a
fragment of the effigy ties it to a branch of the largest tree in his
garden, or buries it in his field, in the belief that this causes the
crops to grow better.(876) In the Troppau district (Austrian Silesia) the
straw figure which the boys make on the Fourth Sunday in Lent is dressed
by the girls in woman’s clothes and hung with ribbons, necklace, and
garlands. Attached to a long pole it is carried out of the village,
followed by a troop of young people of both sexes, who alternately frolic,
lament, and sing songs. Arrived at its destination—a field outside the
village—the figure is stripped of its clothes and ornaments; then the
crowd rushes on it and tears it to bits, scuffling for the fragments.
Every one tries to get a wisp of the straw of which the effigy was made,
because such a wisp, placed in the manger, is believed to make the cattle
thrive.(877) Or the straw is put in the hens’ nest, it being supposed that
this prevents the hens from carrying away their eggs, and makes them brood
much better.(878) The same attribution of a fertilising power to the
figure of Death appears in the belief that if the bearers of the figure,
after throwing it away, meet cattle and strike them with their sticks,
this will render the cattle prolific.(879) Perhaps the sticks had been
previously used to beat the Death,(880) and so had acquired the
fertilising power ascribed to the effigy. In Leipzig at Mid-Lent men and
women of the lowest class used to carry through all the streets a straw
effigy of Death, which they exhibited to young wives, and finally threw
into the river, alleging that this made young wives fruitful, cleansed the
city, and averted the plague and other sickness from the inhabitants for
that year.(881)

It seems hardly possible to separate from the May-trees the trees or
branches which are brought into the village after the destruction of the
Death. The bearers who bring them in profess to be bringing in the
Summer;(882) therefore the trees obviously represent the Summer; and the
doll which is sometimes attached to the Summer-tree is a duplicate
representative of the Summer, just as the May is sometimes represented at
the same time by a May-tree and a May Lady.(883) Further, the Summer-trees
are adorned like May-trees with ribbons, etc.; like May-trees, when large,
they are planted in the ground and climbed up; and like May-trees, when
small, they are carried from door to door by boys or girls singing songs
and collecting money.(884) And as if to demonstrate the identity of the
two sets of customs the bearers of the Summer-tree sometimes announce that
they are bringing in the Summer and the May.(885) The customs, therefore,
of bringing in the May and bringing in the Summer are essentially the
same; and the Summer-tree is merely another form of the May-tree, the only
distinction (besides that of name) being in the time at which they are
respectively brought in; for while the May-tree is usually fetched in on
the 1st of May or at Whitsuntide, the Summer-tree is fetched in on the
Fourth Sunday in Lent. Therefore, if the explanation here adopted of the
May-tree (namely, that it is an embodiment of the tree-spirit or spirit of
vegetation) is correct, the Summer-tree must likewise be an embodiment of
the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. But we have seen that the
Summer-tree is in some cases a revivification of the effigy of Death. It
follows, therefore, that in these cases the effigy called Death must be an
embodiment of the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation. This inference is
confirmed, first, by the vivifying and fertilising influence which the
fragments of the effigy of Death are believed to exercise both on
vegetable and on animal life;(886) for this influence, as we saw in the
first chapter, is supposed to be a special attribute of the tree-spirit.
It is confirmed, secondly, by observing that the effigy of Death is
sometimes composed of birchen twigs, of the branch of a beech-tree, of a
threshed-out corn-sheaf, or of hemp;(887) and that sometimes it is hung on
a little tree and so carried about by girls collecting money,(888) just as
is done with the May-tree and the May Lady, and with the Summer-tree and
the doll attached to it. In short we are driven to regard the expulsion of
Death and the bringing in of Summer as, in some cases at least, merely
another form of that death and resuscitation of the spirit of vegetation
in spring which we saw enacted in the killing and resurrection of the Wild
Man.(889) The burial and resurrection of the Carnival is probably another
way of expressing the same idea. The burying of the representative of the
Carnival under a dung-heap is natural, if he is supposed to possess a
quickening and fertilising influence like that ascribed to the effigy of
Death. By the Esthonians, indeed, the straw figure which is carried out of
the village in the usual way on Shrove Tuesday is not called the Carnival,
but the Wood-spirit (_Metsik_), and the identity of it with the
wood-spirit is further shown by fixing it to the top of a tree in the
wood, where it remains for a year, and is besought almost daily with
prayers and offerings to protect the herds; for like a true wood-spirit
the _Metsik_ is a patron of cattle. Sometimes the _Metsik_ is made of
sheafs of corn.(890) Therefore, we may fairly conjecture that the names
Carnival, Death, and Summer, are comparatively late and inadequate
expressions for the beings personified or embodied in the customs
described. The very abstractness of the names bespeaks a modern origin;
the personification of times and seasons like the Carnival and Summer, or
of an abstract notion like death, is hardly primitive. But the ceremonies
themselves bear the stamp of a dateless antiquity; therefore we can hardly
help supposing that in their origin the ideas which they embodied were of
a more simple and concrete order. The conception of a tree, perhaps of a
particular kind of tree (for some savages have no word for tree in
general), or even of an individual tree, is sufficiently concrete to
supply a basis from which by a gradual process of generalisation the wider
conception of a spirit of vegetation might be reached. But this general
conception of vegetation would readily be confounded with the season in
which it manifests itself; hence the substitution of Spring, Summer, or
May for the tree-spirit or spirit of vegetation would be easy and natural.
Again the concrete notion of the dying tree or dying vegetation would by a
similar process of generalisation glide into a notion of death in general;
so that instead of the carrying out of the dying or dead vegetation in
spring (as a preliminary to its revival) we should in time get a carrying
out of Death itself. The view that in these spring ceremonies Death meant
originally the dying or dead vegetation of winter has the high support of
W. Mannhardt; and he confirms it by the analogy of the name Death as
applied to the spirit of the ripe corn. Commonly the spirit of the ripe
corn is conceived, not as dead, but as old, and hence it goes by the name
of the Old Man or the Old Woman. But in some places the last sheaf cut at
harvest, which is generally believed to be the seat of the corn spirit, is
called “the Dead One;” children are warned against entering the
corn-fields because Death sits in the corn; and, in a game played by Saxon
children in Transylvania at the maize harvest, Death is represented by a
child completely covered with maize leaves.(891)

The supposition that behind the conceptions of Death, Carnival, Summer,
etc., as embodied in these spring ceremonies, there lurk older and more
concrete notions is to a certain extent countenanced by the fact that in
Russia funeral ceremonies like those of “Burying the Carnival” and
“Carrying out Death” are celebrated under the names, not of Death or the
Carnival, but of certain mythic figures, Kostrubonko, Kostroma, Kupalo,
Lada, and Yarilo. These Russian ceremonies are observed both in spring and
at midsummer. Thus “in Little Russia it used to be the custom at
Eastertide to celebrate the funeral of a being called Kostrubonko, the
deity of the spring. A circle was formed of singers who moved slowly
around a girl who lay on the ground as if dead, and as they went they
sang—


    ‘Dead, dead is our Kostrubonko!
    Dead, dead is our dear one!’


until the girl suddenly sprang up, on which the chorus joyfully exclaimed—


    ‘Come to life, come to life has our Kostrubonko!
    Come to life, come to life has our dear one!’ ”(892)


On the Eve of St. John (Midsummer Eve) a figure of Kupalo is made of straw
and “is dressed in woman’s clothes, with a necklace and a floral crown.
Then a tree is felled, and, after being decked with ribbons, is set up on
some chosen spot. Near this tree, to which they give the name of Marena
[Winter or Death], the straw figure is placed, together with a table, on
which stand spirits and viands. Afterwards a bonfire is lit, and the young
men and maidens jump over it in couples, carrying the figure with them. On
the next day they strip the tree and the figure of their ornaments, and
throw them both into a stream.”(893) On St. Peter’s Day (29th June) or on
the following Sunday, “the Funeral of Kostroma” or of Lada or of Yarilo is
celebrated in Russia. In the Governments of Penza and Simbirsk the
“funeral” used to be represented as follows. A bonfire was kindled on the
28th of June, and on the next day the maidens chose one of their number to
play the part of Kostroma. Her companions saluted her with deep
obeisances, placed her on a board, and carried her to the bank of a
stream. There they bathed her in the water, while the oldest girl made a
basket of lime-tree bark and beat it like a drum. Then they returned to
the village and ended the day with processions, games, and dances.(894) In
the Murom district, Kostroma was represented by a straw figure dressed in
woman’s clothes and flowers. This was laid in a trough and carried with
songs to the bank of a lake or river. Here the crowd divided into two
sides, of which the one attacked and the other defended the figure. At
last the assailants gained the day, stripped the figure of its dress and
ornaments, tore it in pieces, trod the straw of which it was made under
foot, and flung it into the stream; while the defenders of the figure hid
their faces in their hands and pretended to bewail the death of
Kostroma.(895) In the district of Kostroma the burial of Yarilo was
celebrated on the 29th or 30th of June. The people chose an old man and
gave him a small coffin containing a Priapus-like figure representing
Yarilo. This he carried out of the town, followed by women chanting dirges
and expressing by their gestures grief and despair. In the open fields a
grave was dug, and into it the figure was lowered amid weeping and
wailing, after which games and dances were begun, “calling to mind the
funeral games celebrated in old times by the pagan Slavonians.”(896) In
Little Russia the figure of Yarilo was laid in a coffin and carried
through the streets after sunset surrounded by drunken women, who kept
repeating mournfully, “He is dead! he is dead!” The men lifted and shook
the figure as if they were trying to recall the dead man to life. Then
they said to the women, “Women, weep not. I know what is sweeter than
honey.” But the women continued to lament and chant, as they do at
funerals. “Of what was he guilty? He was so good. He will arise no more. O
how shall we part from thee? What is life without thee? Arise, if only for
a brief hour. But he rises not, he rises not.” At last the Yarilo was
buried in a grave.(897)

These Russian customs are plainly of the same nature as those which in
Austria and Germany are known as “Burying the Carnival” and “Carrying out
Death.” Therefore if my interpretation of the latter is right, the Russian
Kostroma, Yarilo, etc. must also have been originally embodiments of the
spirit of vegetation, and their death must have been regarded as a
necessary preliminary to their revival. The revival as a sequel to the
death is enacted in the first of the ceremonies described, the death and
resurrection of Kostrubonko. The reason why in some of these Russian
ceremonies the death of the spirit of vegetation is celebrated at
midsummer may be that the decline of summer is dated from Midsummer Day,
after which the days begin to shorten, and the sun sets out on his
downward journey—


            “To the darksome hollows
    Where the frosts of winter lie.”


Such a turning-point of the year, when vegetation might be thought to
share the incipient though still almost imperceptible decay of summer,
might very well be chosen by primitive man as a fit moment for resorting
to those magic ceremonies by which he hopes to stay the decline, or at
least to ensure the revival, of plant life.

But while the death of vegetation appears to have been represented in all,
and its revival in some, of these spring and midsummer ceremonies, there
are features in some of them which can hardly be explained on this
hypothesis alone. The solemn funeral, the lamentations, and the mourning
attire, which often characterise these ceremonies, are indeed appropriate
at the death of the beneficent spirit of vegetation. But what shall we say
of the glee with which the effigy is often carried out, of the sticks and
stones with which it is assailed, and the taunts and curses which are
hurled at it? What shall we say of the dread of the effigy evinced by the
haste with which the bearers scamper home as soon as they have thrown it
away, and by the belief that some one must soon die in any house into
which it has looked? This dread might perhaps be explained by a belief
that there is a certain infectiousness in the dead spirit of vegetation
which renders its approach dangerous. But this explanation, besides being
rather strained, does not cover the rejoicings which often attend the
carrying out of Death.

We must therefore recognise two distinct and seemingly opposite features
in these ceremonies; on the one hand, sorrow for the death, and affection
and respect for the dead; on the other hand, fear and hatred of the dead,
and rejoicings at his death. How the former of these features is to be
explained I have attempted to show; how the latter came to be so closely
associated with the former is a question which I shall try to answer in
the sequel.

Before we quit these European customs to go farther afield, it will be
well to notice that occasionally the expulsion of Death or of a mythic
being is conducted without any visible representative of the personage
expelled. Thus at Königshain, near Görlitz (Silesia), all the villagers,
young and old, used to go out with straw torches to the top of a
neighbouring hill, called _Todtenstein_ (Death-stone), where they lit
their torches, and so returned home singing, “We have driven out Death, we
are bringing back Summer.”(898) In Albania young people light torches of
resinous wood on Easter Eve, and march in procession through the village
brandishing them. At last they throw the torches into the river, saying,
“Ha, Kore, we fling you into the river, like these torches, that you may
return no more.” Some say that the intention of the ceremony is to drive
out winter; but Kore is conceived as a malignant being who devours
children.(899)

In the Kânagrâ district, India, there is a custom observed by young girls
in spring which closely resembles some of the European spring ceremonies
just described. It is called the _Ralî Ka melâ_, or fair of Rali, the
_Ralî_ being a small painted earthen image of Siva or Pârvatî. It lasts
through most of Chet (March-April) up to the Sankrânt of Baisâkh (April),
and is in vogue all over the Kânagrâ district. Its celebration is entirely
confined to young girls. On a morning in March all the young girls of the
village take small baskets of _dûb_ grass and flowers to a certain fixed
spot, where they throw them in a heap. Round this heap they stand in a
circle and sing. This goes on every day for ten days, till the heap of
grass and flowers has reached a fair height. Then they cut in the jungle
two branches having three prongs at one end, and place them, prongs
downwards, over the heap of flowers, so as to make two tripods or
pyramids. On the single uppermost points of these branches they get an
image-maker to construct two clay images, one to represent Siva, and the
other Pârvatî. The girls then divide themselves into two parties, one for
Siva and one for Pârvatî, and marry the images in the usual way, leaving
out no part of the ceremony. After the marriage they have a feast, the
cost of which is defrayed by contributions solicited from their parents.
Then at the next Sankrânt (Baisâkh) they all go together to the riverside,
throw the images into a deep pool, and weep over the place, as though they
were performing funeral obsequies. The boys of the neighbourhood often
annoy them by diving after the images, bringing them up, and waving them
about while the girls are crying over them. The object of the fair is said
to be to secure a good husband.(900)

That in this Indian ceremony the deities Siva and Pârvatî are conceived as
spirits of vegetation seems to be proved by the fact that their images are
placed on branches over a heap of grass and flowers. Here, as often in
European folk-custom, the divinities of vegetation are represented in
duplicate, by plants and by puppets. The marriage of these Indian deities
in spring corresponds to the European ceremonies in which the marriage of
the vernal spirits of vegetation is represented by the King and Queen of
May, the May Bride, Bridegroom of the May, etc.(901) The throwing of the
images into the water, and the mourning for them, are the equivalents of
the European customs of throwing the dead spirit of vegetation (under the
name of Death, Yarilo, Kostroma, etc.) into the water and lamenting over
it. Again, in India, as often in Europe, the rite is performed exclusively
by females. The notion that the ceremony was effective for procuring
husbands to the girls can be explained by the quickening and fertilising
influence which the spirit of vegetation is believed to exert upon human
and animal, as well as upon vegetable life.(902)




§ 4.—Adonis.


But it is in Egypt and Western Asia that the death and resurrection of
vegetation appear to have been most widely celebrated with ceremonies like
those of modern Europe. Under the names of Osiris, Adonis, Thammuz, Attis,
and Dionysus, the Egyptians, Syrians, Babylonians, Phrygians, and Greeks
represented the decay and revival of vegetation with rites which, as the
ancients themselves recognised, were substantially the same, and which
find their parallels in the spring and midsummer customs of our European
peasantry. The nature and worship of these deities have been discussed at
length by many learned writers; all that I propose to do is to sketch
those salient features in their ritual and legends which seem to establish
the view here taken of their nature. We begin with Adonis or Thammuz.

The worship of Adonis was practised by the Semitic peoples of Syria, from
whom it was borrowed by the Greeks as early at least as the fifth century
before Christ. The name Adonis is the Phoenician _Adon_, “lord.”(903) He
was said to have been a fair youth, beloved by Aphrodite (the Semitic
Astarte), but slain by a boar in his youthful prime. His death was
annually lamented with a bitter wailing, chiefly by women; images of him,
dressed to resemble corpses, were carried out as to burial and then thrown
into the sea or into springs;(904) and in some places his revival was
celebrated on the following day.(905) But the ceremonies varied somewhat
both in the manner and the season of their celebration in different
places. At Alexandria images of Adonis and Aphrodite were displayed on two
couches; beside them were set ripe fruits of all kinds, cakes, plants
growing in flower pots, and green bowers twined with anise. The marriage
of the lovers was celebrated one day, and on the next the image of Adonis
was borne by women attired as mourners, with streaming hair and bared
breasts, to the sea-shore and committed to the waves.(906) The date at
which this Alexandrian ceremony was observed is not expressly stated; but
from the mention of the ripe fruits it has been inferred that it took
place in late summer.(907) At Byblus the death of Adonis was annually
mourned with weeping, wailing, and beating of the breast; but next day he
was believed to come to life again and ascend up to heaven in the presence
of his worshippers.(908) This celebration appears to have taken place in
spring; for its date was determined by the discoloration of the river
Adonis, and this has been observed by modern travellers to occur in
spring. At that season the red earth washed down from the mountains by the
rain tinges the water of the river and even the sea for a great way with a
blood-red hue, and the crimson stain was believed to be the blood of
Adonis, annually wounded to death by the boar on Mount Lebanon.(909)
Again, the red anemone(910) was said to have sprung from the blood of
Adonis; and as the anemone blooms in Syria about Easter, this is a fresh
proof that the festival of Adonis, or at least one of his festivals, was
celebrated in spring. The name of the flower is probably derived from
Naaman (“darling”), which seems to have been an epithet of Adonis. The
Arabs still call the anemone “wounds of the Naaman.”(911)

The resemblance of these ceremonies to the Indian and European ceremonies
previously described is obvious. In particular, apart from the somewhat
doubtful date of its celebration, the Alexandrian ceremony is almost
identical with the Indian. In both of them the marriage of two divinities,
whose connection with vegetation seems indicated by the fresh plants with
which they are surrounded, is celebrated in effigy, and the effigies are
afterwards mourned over and thrown into the water.(912) From the
similarity of these customs to each other and to the spring and midsummer
customs of modern Europe we should naturally expect that they all admit of
a common explanation. Hence, if the explanation here adopted of the latter
is correct, the ceremony of the death and resurrection of Adonis must also
have been a representation of the decay and revival of vegetation. The
inference thus based on the similarity of the customs is confirmed by the
following features in the legend and ritual of Adonis. His connection with
vegetation comes out at once in the common story of his birth. He was said
to have been born from a myrrh-tree, the bark of which bursting, after a
ten months’ gestation, allowed the lovely infant to come forth. According
to some, a boar rent the bark with his tusk and so opened a passage for
the babe. A faint rationalistic colour was given to the legend by saying
that his mother was a woman named Myrrh, who had been turned into a
myrrh-tree soon after she had conceived the child.(913) Again the story
that Adonis spent half, or according to others a third, of the year in the
lower world and the rest of it in the upper world,(914) is explained most
simply and naturally by supposing that he represented vegetation,
especially the corn, which lies buried in the earth half the year and
reappears above ground the other half. Certainly of the annual phenomena
of nature there is none which suggests so obviously the idea of a yearly
death and resurrection as the disappearance and reappearance of vegetation
in autumn and spring. Adonis has been taken for the sun; but there is
nothing in the sun’s annual course within the temperate and tropical zones
to suggest that he is dead for half or a third of the year and alive for
the other half or two-thirds. He might, indeed, be conceived as weakened
in winter,(915) but dead he could not be thought to be; his daily
reappearance contradicts the supposition. Within the arctic circle, where
the sun annually disappears for a continuous period of from twenty-four
hours to six months, according to the latitude, his annual death and
resurrection would certainly be an obvious idea; but no one has suggested
that the Adonis worship came from those regions. On the other hand the
annual death and revival of vegetation is a conception which readily
presents itself to men in every stage of savagery and civilisation; and
the vastness of the scale on which this yearly decay and regeneration
takes place, together with man’s intimate dependence on it for
subsistence, combine to render it the most striking annual phenomenon in
nature, at least within the temperate zones. It is no wonder that a
phenomenon so important, so striking, and so universal should, by
suggesting similar ideas, have given rise to similar rites in many lands.
We may, therefore, accept as probable an explanation of the Adonis worship
which accords so well with the facts of nature and with the analogy of
similar rites in other lands, and which besides is countenanced by a
considerable body of opinion amongst the ancients themselves.(916)

The character of Thammuz or Adonis as a corn-spirit comes out plainly in
an account of his festival given by an Arabic writer of the tenth century.
In describing the rites and sacrifices observed at the different seasons
of the year by the heathen Syrians of Harran, he says:—“Thammuz (July). In
the middle of this month is the festival of el-Bûgât, that is, of the
weeping women, and this is the Tâ-uz festival, which is celebrated in
honour of the god Tâ-uz. The women bewail him, because his lord slew him
so cruelly, ground his bones in a mill, and then scattered them to the
wind. The women (during this festival) eat nothing which has been ground
in a mill, but limit their diet to steeped wheat, sweet vetches, dates,
raisins, and the like.”(917) Thammuz (of which Tâ-uz is only another form
of pronunciation) is here like Burns’s John Barleycorn—


    “They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
        The marrow of his bones;
    But a miller us’d him worst of all,
        For he crush’d him between two stones.”(918)


But perhaps the best proof that Adonis was a deity of vegetation is
furnished by the gardens of Adonis, as they were called. These were
baskets or pots filled with earth, in which wheat, barley, lettuces,
fennel, and various kinds of flowers were sown and tended for eight days,
chiefly or exclusively by women. Fostered by the sun’s heat, the plants
shot up rapidly, but having no root withered as rapidly away, and at the
end of eight days were carried out with the images of the dead Adonis, and
flung with them into the sea or into springs.(919) At Athens these
ceremonies were observed at midsummer. For we know that the fleet which
Athens fitted out against Syracuse, and by the destruction of which her
power was permanently crippled, sailed at midsummer, and by an ominous
coincidence the sombre rites of Adonis were being celebrated at the very
time. As the troops marched down to the harbour to embark, the streets
through which they passed were lined with coffins and corpse-like
effigies, and the air was rent with the noise of women wailing for the
dead Adonis. The circumstance cast a gloom over the sailing of the most
splendid armament that Athens ever sent to sea.(920)

These gardens of Adonis are most naturally interpreted as representatives
of Adonis or manifestations of his power; they represented him, true to
his original nature, in vegetable form, while the images of him, with
which they were carried out and cast into the water, represented him in
his later anthropomorphic form. All these Adonis ceremonies, if I am
right, were originally intended as charms to promote the growth and
revival of vegetation; and the principle by which they were supposed to
produce this effect was sympathetic magic. As was explained in the first
chapter, primitive people suppose that by representing or mimicking the
effect which they desire to produce they actually help to produce it; thus
by sprinkling water they make rain, by lighting a fire they make sunshine,
and so on. Similarly by mimicking the growth of crops, they hope to insure
a good harvest. The rapid growth of the wheat and barley in the gardens of
Adonis was intended to make the corn shoot up; and the throwing of the
gardens and of the images into the water was a charm to secure a due
supply of fertilising rain.(921) The same, I take it, was the object of
throwing the effigies of Death and the Carnival into water in the
corresponding ceremonies of modern Europe. We have seen that the custom of
drenching a leaf-clad person (who undoubtedly personifies vegetation) with
water is still resorted to in Europe for the express purpose of producing
rain.(922) Similarly the custom of throwing water on the last corn cut at
harvest, or on the person who brings it home (a custom observed in Germany
and France, and till quite lately in England and Scotland), is in some
places practised with the avowed intent to procure rain for the next
year’s crops. Thus in Wallachia and amongst the Roumanians of
Transylvania, when a girl is bringing home a crown made of the last ears
of corn cut at harvest, all who meet her hasten to throw water on her, and
two farm-servants are placed at the door for the purpose; for they believe
that if this were not done, the crops next year would perish from
drought.(923) So amongst the Saxons of Transylvania, the person who wears
the wreath made of the last corn cut (sometimes the reaper who cut the
last corn also wears the wreath) is drenched with water to the skin; for
the wetter he is the better will be next year’s harvest, and the more
grain there will be threshed out.(924) At the spring ploughing in Prussia,
when the ploughmen and sowers returned in the evening from their work in
the fields, the farmer’s wife and the servants used to splash water over
them. The ploughmen and sowers retorted by seizing every one, throwing
them into the pond, and ducking them under the water. The farmer’s wife
might claim exemption on payment of a forfeit; but every one else had to
be ducked. By observing this custom they hoped to ensure a due supply of
rain for the seed.(925) Also after harvest in Prussia, the person who wore
a wreath made of the last corn cut was drenched with water, while a prayer
was uttered that “as the corn had sprung up and multiplied through the
water, so it might spring up and multiply in the barn and granary.”(926)
In a Babylonian legend, the goddess Istar (Astarte, Aphrodite) descends to
Hades to fetch the water of life with which to restore to life the dead
Thammuz, and it appears that the water was thrown over him at a great
mourning ceremony, at which men and women stood round the funeral pyre of
Thammuz lamenting.(927) This legend, as Mannhardt points out, is probably
a mythical explanation of a Babylonian festival resembling the Syrian
festival of Adonis. At this festival, which doubtless took place in the
month Thammuz (June-July)(928) and therefore about midsummer, the dead
Thammuz was probably represented in effigy, water was poured over him, and
he came to life again. This Babylonian legend is, therefore, of
importance, since it confirms the view that the purpose for which the
images and gardens of Adonis were thrown into the water was to effect the
resurrection of the god, that is, to secure the revival of vegetation. The
connection of Thammuz with vegetation is proved by a fragment of a
Babylonian hymn, in which Thammuz is described as dwelling in the midst of
a great tree at the centre of the earth.(929)

The opinion that the gardens of Adonis are essentially charms to promote
the growth of vegetation, especially of the crops, and that they belong to
the same class of customs as those spring and midsummer folk-customs of
modern Europe which have been described, does not rest for its evidence
merely on the intrinsic probability of the case. Fortunately, we are able
to show that gardens of Adonis (if we may use the expression in a general
sense) are still planted, first, by a primitive race at their sowing
season, and, second, by European peasants at midsummer. Amongst the Oraons
and Mundas of Bengal, when the time comes for planting out the rice which
has been grown in seed-beds, a party of young people of both sexes go to
the forest and cut a young Karma tree, or the branch of one. Bearing it in
triumph they return dancing, singing, and beating drums, and plant it in
the middle of the village dancing-ground. A sacrifice is offered to the
tree; and next morning the youth of both sexes, linked arm-in-arm, dance
in a great circle round the Karma tree, which is decked with strips of
coloured cloth and sham bracelets and necklets of plaited straw. As a
preparation for the festival, the daughters of the head-man of the village
cultivate blades of barley in a peculiar way. The seed is sown in moist,
sandy soil, mixed with turmeric, and the blades sprout and unfold of a
pale yellow or primrose colour. On the day of the festival the girls take
up these blades and carry them in baskets to the dancing-ground, where,
prostrating themselves reverentially, they place some of the plants before
the Karma tree. Finally, the Karma tree is taken away and thrown into a
stream or tank.(930) The meaning of planting these barley blades and then
presenting them to the Karma tree is hardly open to question. We have seen
that trees are supposed to exercise a quickening influence upon the growth
of crops, and that amongst the very people in question—the Mundas or
Mundaris—“the grove deities are held responsible for the crops.”(931)
Therefore, when at the season for planting out the rice the Mundas bring
in a tree and treat it with so much respect, their object can only be to
foster thereby the growth of the rice which is about to be planted out;
and the custom of causing barley blades to sprout rapidly and then
presenting them to the tree must be intended to subserve the same purpose,
perhaps by reminding the tree-spirit of his duty towards the crops, and
stimulating his activity by this visible example of rapid vegetable
growth. The throwing of the Karma tree into the water is to be interpreted
as a rain-charm. Whether the barley blades are also thrown into the water
is not said; but, if my interpretation of the custom is right, probably
they are so. A distinction between this Bengal custom and the Greek rites
of Adonis is that in the former the tree-spirit appears in his original
form as a tree; whereas in the Adonis worship he appears in
anthropomorphic form, represented as a dead man, though his vegetable
nature is indicated by the gardens of Adonis, which are, so to say, a
secondary manifestation of his original power as a tree-spirit.

In Sardinia the gardens of Adonis are still planted in connection with the
great midsummer festival which bears the name of St. John. At the end of
March or on the 1st of April a young man of the village presents himself
to a girl and asks her to be his _comare_ (gossip or sweetheart), offering
to be her _compare_. The invitation is considered as an honour by the
girl’s family, and is gladly accepted. At the end of May the girl makes a
pot of the bark of the cork-tree, fills it with earth, and sows a handful
of wheat and barley in it. The pot being placed in the sun and often
watered, the corn sprouts rapidly and has a good head by Midsummer Eve
(St. John’s Eve, 23d June). The pot is then called _Erme_ or _Nenneri_. On
St. John’s Day the young man and the girl, dressed in their best,
accompanied by a long retinue and preceded by children gambolling and
frolicking, move in procession to a church outside the village. Here they
break the pot by throwing it against the door of the church. Then they sit
down in a ring on the grass and eat eggs and herbs to the music of flutes.
Wine is mixed in a cup and passed round, each one drinking as it passes.
Then they join hands and sing “Sweethearts of St. John” (_Compare e comare
di San Giovanni_) over and over again, the flutes playing the while. When
they tire of singing, they stand up and dance gaily in a ring till
evening. This is the general Sardinian custom. As practised at Ozieri it
has some special features. In May the pots are made of cork-bark and
planted with corn, as already described. Then on the Eve of St. John the
window-sills are draped with rich cloths, on which the pots are placed,
adorned with crimson and blue silk and ribbons of various colours. On each
of the pots they used formerly to place a statuette or cloth doll dressed
as a woman, or a Priapus-like figure made of paste; but this custom,
rigorously forbidden by the Church, has fallen into disuse. The village
swains go about in a troop to look at the pots and their decorations and
to wait for the girls, who assemble on the public square to celebrate the
festival. Here a great bonfire is kindled, round which they dance and make
merry. Those who wish to be “Sweethearts of St. John” act as follows. The
young man stands on one side of the bonfire and the girl on the other, and
they, in a manner, join hands by each grasping one end of a long stick,
which they pass three times backwards and forwards across the fire, thus
thrusting their hands thrice rapidly into the flames. This seals their
relationship to each other. Dancing and music go on till late at
night.(932) The correspondence of these Sardinian pots of grain to the
gardens of Adonis seems complete, and the images formerly placed in them
answer to the images of Adonis which accompanied his gardens.

This Sardinian custom is one of those midsummer customs, once celebrated
in many parts of Europe, a chief feature of which is the great bonfire
round which people dance and over which they leap. Examples of these
customs have already been cited from Sweden and Bohemia.(933) These
examples sufficiently prove the connection of the midsummer bonfire with
vegetation; for both in Sweden and Bohemia an essential part of the
festival is the raising of a May-pole or Midsummer-tree, which in Bohemia
is burned in the bonfire. Again, in the Russian midsummer ceremony cited
above,(934) the straw figure of Kupalo, the representative of vegetation,
is placed beside a May-pole or Midsummer-tree and then carried to and fro
across a bonfire. Kupalo is here represented in duplicate, in tree-form by
the Midsummer-tree, and in anthropomorphic form by the straw effigy, just
as Adonis was represented both by an image and a garden of Adonis; and the
duplicate representatives of Kupalo, like those of Adonis, are finally
cast into water. In the Sardinian custom the Gossips or Sweethearts of St.
John probably correspond to the Lord and Lady or King and Queen of May. In
the province of Blekinge (Sweden), part of the midsummer festival is the
election of a Midsummer Bride, who chooses her bridegroom; a collection is
made for the pair, who for the time being are looked upon as man and
wife.(935) Such Midsummer pairs are probably, like the May pairs,
representatives of the spirit of vegetation in its reproductive capacity;
they represent in flesh and blood what the images of Siva and Pârvatî in
the Indian ceremony, and the images of Adonis and Aphrodite in the
Alexandrian ceremony, represented in effigy. The reason why ceremonies
whose aim is to foster the growth of vegetation should thus be associated
with bonfires; why in particular the representative of vegetation should
be burned in tree-form or passed across the fire in effigy or in the form
of a living couple, will be explained later on. Here it is enough to have
proved the fact of such association and therefore to have obviated the
objection which might have been raised to my interpretation of the
Sardinian custom, on the ground that the bonfires have nothing to do with
vegetation. One more piece of evidence may here be given to prove the
contrary. In some parts of Germany young men and girls leap over midsummer
bonfires for the express purpose of making the hemp or flax grow
tall.(936) We may, therefore, assume that in the Sardinian custom the
blades of wheat and barley which are forced on in pots for the midsummer
festival, and which correspond so closely to the gardens of Adonis, form
one of those widely-spread midsummer ceremonies, the original object of
which was to promote the growth of vegetation, and especially of the
crops. But as, by an easy extension of ideas, the spirit of vegetation was
believed to exercise a beneficent influence over human as well as animal
life, the gardens of Adonis would be supposed, like the May-trees or
May-boughs, to bring good luck to the family or to the individual who
planted them; and even after the idea had been abandoned that they
operated actively to bring good luck, omens might still be drawn from them
as to the good or bad fortune of families or individuals. It is thus that
magic dwindles into divination. Accordingly we find modes of divination
practised at midsummer which resemble more or less closely the gardens of
Adonis. Thus an anonymous Italian writer of the sixteenth century has
recorded that it was customary to sow barley and wheat a few days before
the festival of St. John (Midsummer Day) and also before that of St.
Vitus; and it was believed that the person for whom they were sown would
be fortunate and get a good husband or a good wife, if the grain sprouted
well; but if they sprouted ill, he or she would be unlucky.(937) In
various parts of Italy and all over Sicily it is still customary to put
plants in water or in earth on the Eve of St. John, and from the manner in
which they are found to be blooming or fading on St. John’s Day omens are
drawn, especially as to fortune in love. Amongst the plants used for this
purpose are _Ciuri di S. Giuvanni_ (St. John’s wort?) and nettles.(938) In
Prussia two hundred years ago the farmers used to send out their servants,
especially their maids, to gather St. John’s wort on Midsummer Eve or
Midsummer Day (St. John’s Day). When they had fetched it, the farmer took
as many plants as there were persons and stuck them in the wall or between
the beams; and it was thought that the person whose plant did not bloom
would soon fall sick or die. The rest of the plants were tied in a bundle,
fastened to the end of a pole, and set up at the gate or wherever the corn
would be brought in at the next harvest. This bundle was called _Kupole_;
the ceremony was known as Kupole’s festival; and at it the farmer prayed
for a good crop of hay, etc.(939) This Prussian custom is particularly
notable, inasmuch as it strongly confirms the opinion expressed above that
Kupalo (doubtless identical with Kupole) was originally a deity of
vegetation.(940) For here Kupalo is represented by a bundle of plants
specially associated with midsummer in folk-custom; and her influence over
vegetation is plainly signified by placing her plant-formed representative
over the place where the harvest is brought in, as well as by the prayers
for a good crop which are uttered on the occasion. A fresh argument is
thus supplied in support of the conclusion that the Death, whose analogy
to Kupalo, Yarilo, etc., has been shown, was originally a personification
of vegetation, more especially of vegetation as dying or dead in winter.
Further, my interpretation of the gardens of Adonis is confirmed by
finding that in this Prussian custom the very same kind of plants are used
to form the gardens of Adonis (as we may call them) and the image of the
deity. Nothing could set in a stronger light the truth of the view that
the gardens of Adonis are merely another manifestation of the god himself.

The last example of the gardens of Adonis which I shall cite is the
following. At the approach of Easter, Sicilian women sow wheat, lentils,
and canary-seed in plates, which are kept in the dark and watered every
two days. The plants soon shoot up; the stalks are tied together with red
ribbons, and the plates containing them are placed on the sepulchres
which, with effigies of the dead Christ, are made up in Roman Catholic and
Greek churches on Good Friday,(941) just as the gardens of Adonis were
placed on the grave of the dead Adonis.(942) The whole custom—sepulchres
as well as plates of sprouting grain—is probably nothing but a
continuation, under a different name, of the Adonis worship.




§ 5.—Attis.


The next of those gods, whose supposed death and resurrection struck such
deep roots into the religious faith and ritual of Western Asia, is Attis.
He was to Phrygia what Adonis was to Syria. Like Adonis, he appears to
have been a god of vegetation, and his death and resurrection were
annually mourned and rejoiced over at a festival in spring. The legends
and rites of the two gods were so much alike that the ancients themselves
sometimes identified them.(943) Attis was said to have been a fair youth
who was beloved by the great Phrygian goddess Cybele. Two different
accounts of his death were current. According to the one, he was killed by
a boar, like Adonis. According to the other, he mutilated himself under a
pine-tree, and died from the effusion of blood. The latter is said to have
been the local story told by the people of Pessinus, a great centre of
Cybele worship, and the whole legend of which it forms a part is stamped
with a character of rudeness and savagery that speaks strongly for its
antiquity.(944) But the genuineness of the other story seems also vouched
for by the fact that his worshippers, especially the people of Pessinus,
abstained from eating swine.(945) After his death Attis is said to have
been changed into a pine-tree.(946) The ceremonies observed at his
festival are not very fully known, but their general order appears to have
been as follows.(947) At the spring equinox (22d March) a pine-tree was
cut in the woods and brought into the sanctuary of Cybele, where it was
treated as a divinity. It was adorned with woollen bands and wreaths of
violets, for violets were said to have sprung from the blood of Attis, as
anemones from the blood of Adonis; and the effigy of a young man was
attached to the middle of the tree.(948) On the second day (23d March) the
chief ceremony seems to have been a blowing of trumpets.(949) The third
day (24th March) was known as the Day of Blood: the high priest drew blood
from his arms and presented it as an offering.(950) It was perhaps on this
day or night that the mourning for Attis took place over an effigy, which
was afterwards solemnly buried.(951) The fourth day (25th March) was the
Festival of Joy (_Hilaria_), at which the resurrection of Attis was
probably celebrated—at least the celebration of his resurrection seems to
have followed closely upon that of his death.(952) The Roman festival
closed on 27th March with a procession to the brook Almo, in which the
bullock-cart of the goddess, her image, and other sacred objects were
bathed. But this bath of the goddess is known to have also formed part of
her festival in her Asiatic home. On returning from the water the cart and
oxen were strewn with fresh spring flowers.(953)

The original character of Attis as a tree-spirit is brought out plainly by
the part which the pine-tree plays in his legend and ritual. The story
that he was a human being transformed into a pine-tree is only one of
those transparent attempts at rationalising the old beliefs which meet us
so frequently in mythology. His tree origin is further attested by the
story that he was born of a virgin, who conceived by putting in her bosom
a ripe almond or pomegranate.(954) The bringing in of the pine-tree from
the wood, decked with violets and woollen bands, corresponds to bringing
in the May-tree or Summer-tree in modern folk-custom; and the effigy which
was attached to the pine-tree was only a duplicate representative of the
tree-spirit or Attis. At what point of the ceremonies the violets and the
effigy were attached to the tree is not said, but we should assume this to
be done after the mimic death and burial of Attis. The fastening of his
effigy to the tree would then be a representation of his coming to life
again in tree-form, just as the placing of the shirt of the effigy of
Death upon a tree represents the revival of the spirit of vegetation in a
new form.(955) After being attached to the tree, the effigy was kept for a
year and then burned.(956) We have seen that this was apparently sometimes
done with the May-pole;(957) and we shall see presently that the effigy of
the corn-spirit, made at harvest, is often preserved till it is replaced
by a new effigy at next year’s harvest. The original intention of thus
preserving the effigy for a year and then replacing it by a new one was
doubtless to maintain the spirit of vegetation in fresh and vigorous life.
The bathing of the image of Cybele was probably a rain-charm, like the
throwing of the effigies of Death and of Adonis into the water. Like
tree-spirits in general, Attis appears to have been conceived as
exercising power over the growth of corn, or even to have been identified
with the corn. One of his epithets was “very fruitful;” he was addressed
as the “reaped green (or yellow) ear of corn,” and the story of his
sufferings, death, and resurrection was interpreted as the ripe grain
wounded by the reaper, buried in the granary, and coming to life again
when sown in the ground.(958) His worshippers abstained from eating seeds
and the roots of vegetables,(959) just as at the Adonis ceremonies women
abstained from eating corn ground in a mill. Such acts would probably have
been esteemed a sacrilegious partaking of the life or of the bruised and
broken body of the god.

From inscriptions it appears that both at Pessinus and Rome the high
priest of Cybele was regularly called Attis.(960) It is therefore a
reasonable conjecture that the high priest played the part of the
legendary Attis at the annual festival.(961) We have seen that on the Day
of Blood he drew blood from his arms, and this may have been an imitation
of the self-inflicted death of Attis under the pine-tree. It is not
inconsistent with this supposition that Attis was also represented at
these ceremonies by an effigy; for we have already had cases in which the
divine being is first represented by a living person and afterwards by an
effigy, which is then burned or otherwise destroyed.(962) Perhaps we may
go a step farther and conjecture that this mimic killing of the priest (if
it was such), accompanied by a real effusion of his blood, was in Phrygia,
as it has been elsewhere, a substitute for a human sacrifice which in
earlier times was actually offered. Professor W. M. Ramsay, whose
authority on all questions relating to Phrygia no one will dispute, is of
opinion that at these Phrygian ceremonies “the representative of the god
was probably slain each year by a cruel death, just as the god himself
died.”(963) We know from Strabo(964) that the priests of Pessinus were at
one time potentates as well as priests; they may, therefore, have belonged
to that class of divine kings or popes whose duty it was to die each year
for their people and the world. As a god of vegetation, annually slain,
the representative of Attis would be parallel to the Wild Man, the King,
etc., of north European folk-custom, and to the Italian priest of Nemi.




§ 6.—Osiris.


There seem to be some grounds for believing that Osiris, the great god of
ancient Egypt, was one of those personifications of vegetation, whose
annual death and resurrection have been celebrated in so many lands. But
as the chief of the gods he appears to have absorbed the attributes of
other deities, so that his character and rites present a complex of
heterogeneous elements which, with the scanty evidence at our disposal, it
is hardly possible to sort out. It may be worth while, however, to put
together some of the facts which lend support to the view that Osiris or
at least one of the deities out of whom he was compounded was a god of
vegetation, analogous to Adonis and Attis.

The outline of his myth is as follows.(965) Osiris was the son of the
earth-god Qeb (or Seb, as the name is sometimes transliterated).(966)
Reigning as a king on earth, he reclaimed the Egyptians from savagery,
gave them laws, and taught them to worship the gods. Before his time the
Egyptians had been cannibals. But Isis, the sister and wife of Osiris,
discovered wheat and barley growing wild, and Osiris introduced the
cultivation of these grains amongst his people, who forthwith abandoned
cannibalism and took kindly to a corn diet.(967) Afterwards Osiris
travelled over the world diffusing the blessings of civilisation wherever
he went. But on his return his brother Set (whom the Greeks called
Typhon), with seventy-two others, plotted against him, and having
inveigled him into a beautifully decorated coffer, they nailed it down on
him, soldered it fast with molten lead, and flung it into the Nile. It
floated down to the sea. This happened on the 17th day of the month Athyr.
Isis put on mourning, and wandered disconsolately up and down seeking the
body, till at last she found it at Byblus, on the Syrian coast, whither it
had drifted with the waves. An _erica_ tree had shot up and enfolded the
coffer within its stem, and the King of Byblus, admiring the fine growth
of the tree, had caused it to be cut down and converted into a pillar of
his palace. From him Isis obtained leave to open the trunk of the tree,
and having taken out the coffer, she carried it away with her. But she
left it to visit her son Horus at Butus in the Delta, and Typhon found the
coffer as he was hunting a boar by the light of a full moon.(968) He
recognised the body of Osiris, rent it into fourteen pieces, and scattered
them abroad. Isis sailed up and down the marshes in a papyrus boat seeking
the fragments, and as she found each she buried it. Hence many graves of
Osiris were shown in Egypt. Others said that Isis left an effigy of Osiris
in every city, pretending it was his body, in order that Osiris might be
worshipped in many places, and to prevent Typhon from discovering the real
corpse. Afterwards her son Horus fought against Typhon, conquered him, and
bound him fast. But Isis, to whom he had been delivered, loosed his bonds
and let him go. This angered Horus, and he pulled the crown from his
mother’s head; but Hermes replaced it with a helmet made in the shape of a
cow’s head. Typhon was subsequently defeated in two other battles. The
rest of the myth included the dismemberment of Horus and the beheading of
Isis.

So much for the myth of Osiris. Of the annual rites with which his death
and burial were celebrated we unfortunately know very little. The mourning
lasted five days,(969) from the 8th to the 12th of the month Athyr.(970)
The ceremonies began with the “earth-ploughing,” that is, with the opening
of the field labours, when the waters of the Nile are sinking. The other
rites included the search for the mangled body of Osiris, the rejoicings
at its discovery, and its solemn burial. The burial took place on the 11th
of November, and was accompanied by the recitation of lamentations from
the liturgical books. These lamentations, of which several copies have
been discovered in modern times, were put in the mouth of Isis and
Nephthys, sisters of Osiris. “In form and substance,” says Brugsch, “they
vividly recall the dirges chanted at the Adonis’ rites over the dead
god.”(971) Next day was the joyous festival of Sokari, that being the name
under which the hawk-headed Osiris of Memphis was invoked. The solemn
processions of priests which on this day wound round the temples with all
the pomp of banners, images, and sacred emblems, were amongst the most
stately pageants that ancient Egypt could show. The whole festival ended
on the 16th of November with a special rite called the erection of the
_Tatu_, _Tat_, or _Ded_ pillar.(972) This pillar appears from the
monuments to have been a column with cross bars at the top, like the yards
of a mast, or more exactly like the superposed capitals of a pillar.(973)
On a Theban tomb the king himself, assisted by his relations and a priest,
is represented hauling at the ropes by which the pillar is being raised.
The pillar was interpreted, at least in later Egyptian theology, as the
backbone of Osiris. It might very well be a conventional representation of
a tree stripped of its leaves; and if Osiris was a tree-spirit, the bare
trunk and branches of a tree might naturally be described as his backbone.
The erection of the column would then be, as Erman interprets it, a
representation of the resurrection of Osiris, which, as we learn from
Plutarch, appears to have been celebrated at his mysteries.(974) Perhaps
the ceremony which Plutarch describes as taking place on the third day of
the festival (the 19th day of the month Athyr) may also have referred to
the resurrection. He says that on that day the priests carried the sacred
ark down to the sea. Within the ark was a golden casket, into which
drinking-water was poured. A shout then went up that Osiris was found.
Then some mould was mixed with water, and out of the paste thus formed a
crescent-shaped image was fashioned, which was then dressed in robes and
adorned.(975)

The general similarity of the myth and ritual of Osiris to those of Adonis
and Attis is obvious. In all three cases we see a god whose untimely and
violent death is mourned by a loving goddess and annually celebrated by
their worshippers. The character of Osiris as a deity of vegetation is
brought out by the legend that he was the first to teach men the use of
corn, and by the fact that his annual festival began with ploughing the
earth. He is said also to have introduced the cultivation of the
vine.(976) In one of the chambers dedicated to Osiris in the great temple
of Isis at Philae the dead body of Osiris is represented with stalks of
corn springing from it, and a priest is watering the stalks from a pitcher
which he holds in his hand. The accompanying inscription sets forth that
“This is the form of him whom one may not name, Osiris of the mysteries,
who springs from the returning waters.”(977) It would seem impossible to
devise a more graphic way of representing Osiris as a personification of
the corn; while the inscription proves that this personification was the
kernel of the mysteries of the god, the innermost secret that was only
revealed to the initiated. In estimating the mythical character of Osiris
very great weight must be given to this monument. The legend that his
mangled remains were scattered up and down the land may be a mythical way
of expressing either the sowing or the winnowing of the grain. The latter
interpretation is supported by the story that Isis placed the severed
limbs of Osiris on a corn-sieve.(978) Or the legend may be a reminiscence
of the custom of slaying a human victim (probably considered as a
representative of the corn-spirit) and distributing his flesh or
scattering his ashes over the fields to fertilise them. We have already
seen that in modern Europe the figure of “Death” is sometimes torn in
pieces, and that the fragments are then buried in the fields to make the
crops grow well.(979) Later on we shall meet with examples of human
victims being treated in the same way. With regard to the ancient
Egyptians, we have it on the authority of Manetho that they used to burn
red-haired men and scatter their ashes with winnowing-fans.(980) That this
custom was not, as might perhaps have been supposed, a mere way of
wreaking their spite on foreigners, amongst whom rather than amongst the
native Egyptians red-haired people would generally be found, appears from
the fact that the oxen which were sacrificed had also to be red; a single
black or white hair found on a beast would have disqualified it for the
sacrifice.(981) The red hair of the human victims was thus probably
essential; the fact that they were generally foreigners was only
accidental. If, as I conjecture, these human sacrifices were intended to
promote the growth of the crops—and the _winnowing_ of their ashes seems
to support this view—red-haired victims were perhaps selected as best
fitted to represent the spirit of the golden grain. For when a god is
represented by a living person, it is natural that the human
representative should be chosen on the ground of his supposed resemblance
to the god. Hence the ancient Mexicans, conceiving the maize as a personal
being who went through the whole course of life between seed-time and
harvest, sacrificed new-born babes when the maize was sown, older children
when it had sprouted, and so on till it was fully ripe, when they
sacrificed old men.(982) A name for Osiris was the “crop” or
“harvest”;(983) and the ancients sometimes explained him as a
personification of the corn.(984)

But Osiris was not only a corn-spirit; he was also a tree-spirit, and this
was probably his original character; for, as we have already observed, the
corn-spirit seems to be only an extension of the older tree-spirit. His
character as a tree-spirit was represented very graphically in a ceremony
described by Firmicus Maternus.(985) A pine-tree was cut down, the centre
was hollowed out, and with the wood thus excavated an image of Osiris was
made, which was then “buried” in the hollow of the tree. Here, again, it
is hard to imagine how the conception of a tree as tenanted by a personal
being could be more plainly expressed. The image of Osiris thus made was
kept for a year and then burned, exactly as was done with the image of
Attis which was attached to the pine-tree. The ceremony of cutting the
tree, as described by Firmicus Maternus, appears to be alluded to by
Plutarch.(986) It was probably the ritual counterpart of the mythical
discovery of the body of Osiris enclosed in the _erica_ tree. We may
conjecture that the erection of the _Tatu_ pillar at the close of the
annual festival of Osiris(987) was identical with the ceremony described
by Firmicus; it is to be noted that in the myth the _erica_ tree formed a
pillar in the King’s house. Like the similar custom of cutting a pine-tree
and fastening an image to it in the rites of Attis, the ceremony perhaps
belonged to that class of customs of which the bringing in the May-pole is
among the most familiar. As to the pine-tree in particular, at Denderah
the tree of Osiris is a conifer, and the coffer containing the body of
Osiris is here represented as enclosed within the tree.(988) A pine-cone
is often represented on the monuments as offered to Osiris, and a MS. of
the Louvre speaks of the cedar as sprung from Osiris.(989) The sycamore
and the tamarisk are also his trees. In inscriptions he is spoken of as
residing in them;(990) and his mother Nut is frequently represented in a
sycamore.(991) In a sepulchre at How (Diospolis Parva) a tamarisk is
represented overshadowing the coffer of Osiris; and in the series of
sculptures which represent the mystic history of Osiris in the great
temple of Isis at Philae, a tamarisk is depicted with two men pouring
water on it. The inscription on this last monument leaves no doubt, says
Brugsch, that the verdure of the earth is believed to be connected with
the verdure of the tree, and that the sculpture refers to the grave of
Osiris at Philae, of which Plutarch says that it was overshadowed by a
_methide_ plant, taller than any olive-tree. This sculpture, it may be
observed, occurs in the same chamber in which Osiris is represented as a
corpse with ears of corn sprouting from him.(992) In inscriptions Osiris
is referred to as “the one in the tree,” “the solitary one in the acacia,”
etc.(993) On the monuments he sometimes appears as a mummy covered with a
tree or with plants.(994) It accords with the character of Osiris as a
tree-spirit that his worshippers were forbidden to injure fruit-trees, and
with his character as a god of vegetation in general that they were not
allowed to stop up wells of water, which are so important for purposes of
irrigation in hot southern lands.(995)

The original meaning of the goddess Isis is still more difficult to
determine than that of her brother and husband Osiris. Her attributes and
epithets were so numerous that in the hieroglyphics she is called “the
many-named,” “the thousand-named,” and in Greek inscriptions “the
myriad-named.”(996) Tiele confesses candidly that “it is now impossible to
tell precisely to what natural phenomena the character of Isis at first
referred.”(997) Mr. Renouf states that Isis was the Dawn,(998) but without
assigning any reason whatever for the identification. There are at least
some grounds for seeing in her a goddess of corn. According to Diodorus,
whose authority appears to have been the Egyptian historian Manetho, the
discovery of wheat and barley was attributed to Isis, and at her festivals
stalks of these grains were carried in procession to commemorate the boon
she had conferred on men. Further, at harvest-time, when the Egyptian
reapers had cut the first stalks, they laid them down and beat their
breasts, lamenting and calling upon Isis.(999) Amongst the epithets by
which she is designated on the inscriptions are “creatress of the green
crop,” “the green one, whose greenness is like the greenness of the
earth,” and “mistress of bread.”(1000) According to Brugsch she is “not
only the creatress of the fresh verdure of vegetation which covers the
earth, but is actually the green corn-field itself, which is personified
as a goddess.”(1001) This is confirmed by her epithet _Sochit_ or
_Sochet_, meaning “a corn-field,” a sense which the word still retains in
Coptic.(1002) It is in this character of a corn-goddess that the Greeks
conceived Isis, for they identified her with Demeter.(1003) In a Greek
epigram she is described as “she who has given birth to the fruits of the
earth,” and “the mother of the ears of corn,”(1004) and in a hymn composed
in her honour she speaks of herself as “queen of the wheat-field,” and is
described as “charged with the care of the fruitful furrow’s wheat-rich
path.”(1005)

Osiris has been sometimes interpreted as the sun-god; and this view has
been held by so many distinguished writers in modern times that a few
words of reply seem called for. If we inquire on what evidence Osiris has
been identified with the sun or the sun-god, it will be found on
examination that the evidence is minute in quantity and dubious, where it
is not absolutely worthless, in quality. The diligent Jablonski, the first
modern scholar to collect and examine the testimony of classical writers
on Egyptian religion, says that it can be shown in many ways that Osiris
is the sun, and that he could produce a cloud of witnesses to prove it,
but that it is needless to do so, since no learned man is ignorant of the
fact.(1006) Of the writers whom he condescends to quote, the only two who
expressly identify Osiris with the sun are Diodorus and Macrobius. The
passage in Diodorus runs thus:(1007) “It is said that the aboriginal
inhabitants of Egypt, looking up to the sky, and smitten with awe and
wonder at the nature of the universe, supposed that there were two gods,
eternal and primeval, the sun and the moon, of whom they named the sun
Osiris and the moon Isis.” Even if Diodorus’s authority for this statement
is Manetho, as there is some ground for believing,(1008) little or no
weight can be attached to it. For it is plainly a philosophical, and
therefore a late, explanation of the first beginnings of Egyptian
religion, reminding us of Kant’s familiar saying about the starry heavens
and the moral law rather than of the rude traditions of a primitive
people. Jablonski’s second authority, Macrobius, is no better but rather
worse. For Macrobius was the father of that large family of mythologists
who resolve all or most gods into the sun. According to him Mercury was
the sun, Mars was the sun, Janus was the sun, Saturn was the sun, so was
Jupiter, also Nemesis, likewise Pan, etc.(1009) It was, therefore, nearly
a matter of course that he should identify Osiris with the sun.(1010) But
apart from the general principle, so frankly enunciated by Professor
Maspero, that all the gods are the sun (“_Comme tous les dieux, Osiris est
le soleil_”),(1011) Macrobius has not much cause to show for identifying
Osiris in particular with the sun. He argues that Osiris must be the sun
because an eye was one of his symbols. The premise is correct,(1012) but
what exactly it has to do with the conclusion is not clear. The opinion
that Osiris was the sun is also mentioned, but not accepted, by
Plutarch,(1013) and it is referred to by Firmicus Maternus.(1014)

Amongst modern Egyptologists, Lepsius, in identifying Osiris with the sun,
appears to rely mainly on the passage of Diodorus already quoted. But the
monuments, he adds, also show “that down to a late time Osiris was
sometimes conceived as _Ra_. In this quality he is named _Osiris-Ra_ even
in the ‘Book of the Dead,’ and Isis is often called ‘the royal consort of
Ra.’ ”(1015) That Ra was both the physical sun and the sun-god is of
course undisputed; but with every deference for the authority of so great
a scholar as Lepsius, it may be doubted whether such identification can be
taken as evidence of the original character of Osiris. For the religion of
ancient Egypt(1016) may be described as a confederacy of local cults
which, while maintaining against each other a certain measure of jealous
and even hostile independence, were yet constantly subjected to the fusing
and amalgamating action of political centralisation and philosophical
reflection. The history of the religion appears to have largely consisted
of a struggle between these opposite forces or tendencies. On the one side
there was the conservative tendency to preserve the local cults with all
their distinctive features, fresh, sharp, and crisp, as they had been
handed down from an immemorial past. On the other side there was the
progressive tendency, favoured by the gradual fusion of the people under a
powerful central government, first to dull the edge of these provincial
distinctions, and finally to break them down completely and merge them in
a single national religion. The conservative party probably mustered in
its ranks the great bulk of the people, their prejudices and affections
being warmly enlisted in favour of the local deity, with whose temple and
rites they had been familiar from childhood; and the popular aversion to
change, based on the endearing effect of old association, must have been
strongly reinforced by the less disinterested opposition of the local
clergy, whose material interests would necessarily suffer with any decay
of their shrines. On the other hand the kings, whose power and glory rose
with the political and ecclesiastical consolidation of the nation, were
the natural champions of religious unity; and their efforts would be
seconded by the cultured and reflecting minority, who could hardly fail to
be shocked by the many barbarous and revolting elements in the local
rites. As usual in such cases, the process of religious unification
appears to have been largely effected by discovering points of similarity,
real or imaginary, between various local gods, which were thereupon
declared to be only different names or manifestations of the same god.

Of the deities who thus acted as centres of attraction, absorbing in
themselves a multitude of minor divinities, by far the most important was
the sun-god Ra. There appear to have been few gods in Egypt who were not
at one time or other identified with him. Ammon of Thebes, Horus of the
East, Horus of Edfu, Chnum of Elephantine, Atum of Heliopolis, all were
regarded as one god, the sun. Even the water-god Sobk, in spite of his
crocodile shape, did not escape the same fate. Indeed one king, Amenhôtep
IV, undertook to sweep away all the old gods at a stroke and replace them
by a single god, the “great living disc of the sun.”(1017) In the hymns
composed in his honour, this deity is referred to as “the living disc of
the sun, besides whom there is none other.” He is said to have made “the
far heaven” and “men, beasts, and birds; he strengtheneth the eyes with
his beams, and when he showeth himself, all flowers live and grow, the
meadows flourish at his upgoing and are drunken at his sight, all cattle
skip on their feet, and the birds that are in the marsh flutter for joy.”
It is he “who bringeth the years, createth the months, maketh the days,
calculateth the hours, the lord of time, by whom men reckon.” In his zeal
for the unity of god, the king commanded to erase the names of all other
gods from the monuments, and to destroy their images. His rage was
particularly directed against the god Ammon, whose name and likeness were
effaced wherever they were found; even the sanctity of the tomb was
violated in order to destroy the memorials of the hated god. In some of
the halls of the great temples at Carnac, Luxor, and other places, all the
names of the gods, with a few chance exceptions, were scratched out. In no
inscription cut in this king’s reign was any god mentioned save the sun.
He even changed his own name, Amenhôtep, because it was compounded of
Ammon, and took instead the name of Chuen-’eten, “gleam of the sun’s
disc.” His death was followed by a violent reaction. The old gods were
reinstated in their rank and privileges; their names and images were
restored; and new temples were built. But all the shrines and palaces
reared by the late king were thrown down; even the sculptures that
referred to him and to his god in rock-tombs and on the sides of hills
were erased or filled up with stucco; his name appears on no later
monument, and was carefully omitted from all official lists.

This attempt of King Amenhôtep IV is only an extreme example of a tendency
which appears to have been at work on the religion of Egypt as far back as
we can trace it. Therefore, to come back to our point, in attempting to
discover the original character of any Egyptian god, no weight can be
given to the identification of him with other gods, least of all with the
sun-god Ra. Far from helping to follow up the trail, these identifications
only cross and confuse it. The best evidence for the original character of
the Egyptian gods is to be found in their ritual and myths, so far as
these are known (which unfortunately is little enough), and in the figured
representations of them on the monuments. It is on evidence drawn from
these sources that I rely mainly for the interpretation of Osiris as a
deity of vegetation.

Amongst a younger generation of scholars, Tiele is of opinion that Osiris
is the sun, because “in the hymns, his accession to the throne of his
father is compared to the rising of the sun, and it is even said of him in
so many words: ‘He glitters on the horizon, he sends out rays of light
from his double feather and inundates the world with it, as the sun from
out the highest heaven.’ ”(1018) By the same token Marie Antoinette must
have been a goddess of the morning star, because Burke saw her at
Versailles “just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated
sphere she just began to move in,—glittering like the morning star, full
of life, and splendour, and joy.” If such comparisons prove anything, they
prove that Osiris was _not_ the sun. There are always two terms to a
comparison; a thing cannot be compared to itself. But Tiele also appeals
to the monuments. What is his evidence? Osiris is sometimes represented by
a figure surmounted by “the so-called Tat pillar, entirely made up of a
kind of superimposed capitals, one of which has a rude face scratched upon
it.” Tiele is of opinion that this rude face is “intended, no doubt, to
represent the shining sun.”(1019) If every “rude face scratched” is to be
taken as a symbol of the shining sun, sun-worship will be discovered in
some unexpected places. But, on the whole, Tiele, like Jablonski,
prudently keeps to the high ground of vague generalities, and the result
of his occasional descents to the level of facts is not such as to
encourage him to prolong his stay. “Were we to come down to details,” he
says, “and to attend to slight variations, we should be lost in an ocean
of symbolism and mysticism.”(1020) This is like De Quincey’s attitude
towards murder. “General principles I will suggest. But as to any
particular case, once for all I will have nothing to do with it.” There is
no having a man who takes such lofty ground.

Mr. Le Page Renouf also considers that Osiris is the sun,(1021) and his
position is still stronger than Tiele’s. For whereas Tiele produces bad
arguments for his view, Mr. Renouf produces none at all, and therefore
cannot possibly be confuted.

The ground upon which some recent writers seem chiefly to rely for the
identification of Osiris with the sun is that the story of his death fits
better with the solar phenomena than with any other in nature. It may
readily be admitted that the daily appearance and disappearance of the sun
might very naturally be expressed by a myth of his death and resurrection;
and writers who regard Osiris as the sun are careful to emphasise the fact
that it is the diurnal, and not the annual, course of the sun to which
they understand the myth to apply. Mr. Renouf expressly admits that the
Egyptian sun cannot with any show of reason be described as dead in
winter.(1022) But if his _daily_ death was the theme of the legend, why
was it celebrated by an _annual_ ceremony? This fact alone seems fatal to
the interpretation of the myth as descriptive of sunset and sunrise.
Again, though the sun may be said to die daily, in what sense can he be
said to be torn in pieces?(1023)

In the course of our inquiry, it has, I trust, been made clear that there
is another natural phenomenon to which the conception of death and
resurrection is as applicable as to sunset and sunrise, and which, as a
matter of fact has been so conceived and represented in folk-custom. This
phenomenon is the annual growth and decay of vegetation. A strong reason
for interpreting the death of Osiris as the decay of vegetation rather
than as the sunset is to be found in the general (though not unanimous)
voice of antiquity, which classed together the worship and myths of
Osiris, Adonis, Attis, Dionysus, and Demeter, as religions of essentially
the same type.(1024) The consensus of ancient opinion on this subject
seems too great to be rejected as a mere fancy. So closely did the rites
of Osiris resemble those of Adonis at Byblus that some of the people of
Byblus themselves maintained that it was Osiris and not Adonis whose death
was mourned by them.(1025) Such a view could certainly not have been held
if the rituals of the two gods had not been so alike as to be almost
indistinguishable. Again, Herodotus found the similarity between the rites
of Osiris and Dionysus so great, that he thought it impossible the latter
could have arisen independently; they must, he thought, have been recently
borrowed, with slight alterations, by the Greeks from the Egyptians.(1026)
Again, Plutarch, a very intelligent student of comparative religion,
insists upon the detailed resemblance of the rites of Osiris to those of
Dionysus.(1027) We cannot reject the evidence of such intelligent and
trustworthy witnesses on plain matters of fact which fell under their own
cognisance. Their explanations of the worships it is indeed possible to
reject, for the meaning of religious cults is often open to question; but
resemblances of ritual are matters of observation. Therefore, those who
explain Osiris as the sun are driven to the alternative of either
dismissing as mistaken the testimony of antiquity to the similarity of the
rites of Osiris, Adonis, Attis, Dionysus, and Demeter, or of interpreting
all these rites as sun-worship. No modern scholar has fairly faced and
accepted either side of this alternative. To accept the former would be to
affirm that we know the rites of these deities better than the men who
practised, or at least who witnessed them. To accept the latter would
involve a wrenching, clipping, mangling, and distorting of myth and ritual
from which even Macrobius shrank.(1028) On the other hand, the view that
the essence of all these rites was the mimic death and revival of
vegetation, explains them separately and collectively in an easy and
natural way, and harmonises with the general testimony borne by antiquity
to their substantial similarity. The evidence for thus explaining Adonis,
Attis, and Osiris has now been presented to the reader; it remains to do
the same for Dionysus and Demeter.




§ 7.—Dionysus.


The Greek god Dionysus or Bacchus(1029) is best known as the god of the
vine, but he was also a god of trees in general. Thus we are told that
almost all the Greeks sacrificed to “Dionysus of the tree.”(1030) In
Boeotia one of his titles was “Dionysus in the tree.”(1031) His image was
often merely an upright post, without arms, but draped in a mantle, with a
bearded mask to represent the head, and with leafy boughs projecting from
the head or body to show the nature of the deity.(1032) On a vase his rude
effigy is depicted appearing out of a low tree or bush.(1033) He was the
patron of cultivated trees;(1034) prayers were offered to him that he
would make the trees grow;(1035) and he was especially honoured by
husbandmen, chiefly fruit-growers, who set up an image of him, in the
shape of a natural tree-stump, in their orchards.(1036) He was said to
have discovered all tree-fruits, amongst which apples and figs are
particularly mentioned;(1037) and he was himself spoken of as doing a
husbandman’s work.(1038) He was referred to as “well-fruited,” “he of the
green fruit,” and “making the fruit to grow.”(1039) One of his titles was
“teeming” or “bursting” (as of sap or blossoms);(1040) and there was a
Flowery Dionysus in Attica and at Patrae in Achaea.(1041) Amongst the
trees particularly sacred to him, in addition to the vine, was the
pine-tree.(1042) The Delphic oracle commanded the Corinthians to worship a
particular pine-tree “equally with the god,” so they made two images of
Dionysus out of it, with red faces and gilt bodies.(1043) In art a wand,
tipped with a pine-cone, is commonly carried by the god or his
worshippers.(1044) Again, the ivy and the fig-tree were especially
associated with him. In the Attic township of Acharnae there was a
Dionysus Ivy;(1045) at Lacedaemon there was a Fig Dionysus; and in Naxos,
where figs were called _meilicha_, there was a Dionysus Meilichios, the
face of whose image was made of fig-wood.(1046)

Like the other gods of vegetation whom we have been considering, Dionysus
was believed to have died a violent death, but to have been brought to
life again; and his sufferings, death, and resurrection were enacted in
his sacred rites. The Cretan myth, as related by Firmicus, ran thus. He
was said to have been the bastard son of Jupiter (Zeus), a Cretan king.
Going abroad, Jupiter transferred the throne and sceptre to the child
Dionysus, but, knowing that his wife Juno (Hera) cherished a jealous
dislike of the child, he entrusted Dionysus to the care of guards upon
whose fidelity he believed he could rely. Juno, however, bribed the
guards, and amusing the child with toys and a cunningly-wrought
looking-glass lured him into an ambush, where her satellites, the Titans,
rushed upon him, cut him limb from limb, boiled his body with various
herbs and ate it. But his sister Minerva, who had shared in the deed, kept
his heart and gave it to Jupiter on his return, revealing to him the whole
history of the crime. In his rage, Jupiter put the Titans to death by
torture, and, to soothe his grief for the loss of his son, made an image
in which he enclosed the child’s heart, and then built a temple in his
honour.(1047) In this version a Euhemeristic turn has been given to the
myth by representing Jupiter and Juno (Zeus and Hera) as a king and queen
of Crete. The guards referred to are the mythical Curetes who danced a
war-dance round the infant Dionysus as they are said to have done round
the infant Zeus.(1048) Pomegranates were supposed to have sprung from the
blood of Dionysus,(1049) as anemones from the blood of Adonis and violets
from the blood of Attis. According to some, the severed limbs of Dionysus
were pieced together, at the command of Zeus, by Apollo, who buried them
on Parnassus.(1050) The grave of Dionysus was shown in the Delphic temple
beside a golden statue of Apollo.(1051) Thus far the resurrection of the
slain god is not mentioned, but in other versions of the myth it is
variously related. One version, which represented Dionysus as a son of
Demeter, averred that his mother pieced together his mangled limbs and
made him young again.(1052) In others it is simply said that shortly after
his burial he rose from the dead and ascended up to heaven;(1053) or that
Zeus raised him up as he lay mortally wounded;(1054) or that Zeus
swallowed the heart of Dionysus and then begat him afresh by Semele,(1055)
who in the common legend figures as mother of Dionysus. Or, again, the
heart was pounded up and given in a potion to Semele, who thereby
conceived him.(1056)

Turning from the myth to the ritual, we find that the Cretans celebrated a
biennial(1057) festival at which the sufferings and death of Dionysus were
represented in every detail.(1058) Where the resurrection formed part of
the myth, it also was enacted at the rites,(1059) and it even appears that
a general doctrine of resurrection, or at least of immortality, was
inculcated on the worshippers; for Plutarch, writing to console his wife
on the death of their infant daughter, comforts her with the thought of
the immortality of the soul as taught by tradition and revealed in the
mysteries of Dionysus.(1060)

A different form of the myth of the death and resurrection of Dionysus is
that he descended into Hades to bring up his mother Semele from the
dead.(1061) The local Argive tradition was that he descended through the
Alcyonian lake; and his return from the lower world, in other words his
resurrection, was annually celebrated on the spot by the Argives, who
summoned him from the water by trumpet blasts, while they threw a lamb
into the lake as an offering to the warder of the dead.(1062) Whether this
was a spring festival does not appear, but the Lydians certainly
celebrated the advent of Dionysus in spring; the god was supposed to bring
the season with him.(1063) Deities of vegetation, who are supposed to pass
a certain portion of each year underground, naturally come to be regarded
as gods of the lower world or of the dead. Both Dionysus and Osiris were
so conceived.(1064)

A feature in the mythical character of Dionysus, which at first sight
appears inconsistent with his nature as a deity of vegetation, is that he
was often conceived and represented in animal shape, especially in the
form, or at least with the horns, of a bull. Thus he is spoken of as
“cow-born,” “bull,” “bull-shaped,” “bull-faced,” “bull-browed,”
“bull-horned,” “horn-bearing,” “two-horned,” “horned.”(1065) He was
believed to appear, at least occasionally, as a bull.(1066) His images
were often, as at Cyzicus, made in bull shape,(1067) or with bull
horns;(1068) and he was painted with horns.(1069) Types of the horned
Dionysus are found amongst the surviving monuments of antiquity.(1070) On
one statuette he appears clad in a bull’s hide, the head, horns, and hoofs
hanging down behind.(1071) At his festivals Dionysus was believed to
appear in bull form. The women of Elis hailed him as a bull, and prayed
him to come with his bull’s-foot. They sang, “Come here, Dionysus, to thy
holy temple by the sea; come with the Graces to thy temple, rushing with
thy bull’s-foot, O goodly bull, O goodly bull!”(1072) According to the
myth, it was in the shape of a bull that he was torn to pieces by the
Titans;(1073) and the Cretans, in representing the sufferings and death of
Dionysus, tore a live bull to pieces with their teeth.(1074) Indeed, the
rending and devouring of live bulls and calves appear to have been a
regular feature of the Dionysiac rites.(1075) The practice of representing
the god in bull form or with some of the features of a bull, the belief
that he appeared in bull form to his worshippers at the sacred rites, and
the legend that it was in bull form that he had been torn in pieces—all
these facts taken together leave no room to doubt that in rending and
devouring a live bull at his festival his worshippers believed that they
were killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood.

Another animal whose form Dionysus assumed was the goat. One of his names
was “_Kid._”(1076) To save him from the wrath of Hera, his father Zeus
changed him into a kid;(1077) and when the gods fled to Egypt to escape
the fury of Typhon, Dionysus was turned into a goat.(1078) Hence when his
worshippers rent in pieces a live goat and devoured it raw,(1079) they
must have believed that they were eating the body and blood of the god.

This custom of killing a god in animal form, which we shall examine more
fully presently, belongs to a very early stage in human culture, and is
apt in later times to be misunderstood. The advance of thought tends to
strip the old animal and plant gods of their bestial and vegetable husk,
and to leave their human attributes (which are always the kernel of the
conception) as the final and sole residuum. In other words, animal and
plant gods tend to become purely anthropomorphic. When they have become
wholly or nearly so, the animals and plants which were at first the
deities themselves, still retain a vague and ill-understood connection
with the anthropomorphic gods which have been developed out of them. The
origin of the relationship between the deity and the animal or plant
having been forgotten, various stories are invented to explain it. These
explanations may follow one of two lines according as they are based on
the habitual or on the exceptional treatment of the sacred animal or
plant. The sacred animal was habitually spared, and only exceptionally
slain; and accordingly the myth might be devised to explain either why it
was spared or why it was killed. Devised for the former purpose, the myth
would tell of some service rendered to the deity by the animal; devised
for the latter purpose, the myth would tell of some injury inflicted by
the animal on the god. The reason given for sacrificing goats to Dionysus
is an example of a myth of the latter sort. They were sacrificed to him,
it was said, because they injured the vine.(1080) Now the goat, as we have
seen, was originally an embodiment of the god himself. But when the god
had divested himself of his animal character and had become essentially
anthropomorphic, the killing of the goat in his worship came to be
regarded no longer as a slaying of the god himself, but as a sacrifice to
him; and since some reason had to be assigned why the goat in particular
should be sacrificed, it was alleged that this was a punishment inflicted
on the goat for injuring the vine, the object of the god’s especial care.
Thus we have the strange spectacle of a god sacrificed to himself on the
ground that he is his own enemy. And as the god is supposed to partake of
the victim offered to him, it follows that, when the victim is the god’s
old self, the god eats of his own flesh. Hence the goat-god Dionysus is
represented as eating raw goat’s blood;(1081) and the bull-god Dionysus is
called “eater of bulls.”(1082) On the analogy of these instances we may
conjecture that wherever a god is described as the eater of a particular
animal, the animal in question was originally nothing but the god
himself.(1083)

All this, however, does not explain why a deity of vegetation should
appear in animal form. But the consideration of this point had better be
deferred till we have discussed the character and attributes of Demeter.
Meantime it remains to point out that in some places, instead of an
animal, a human being was torn in pieces at the rites of Dionysus. This
was the custom in Chios and Tenedos;(1084) and at Potniae in Boeotia the
tradition ran that it had been formerly the custom to sacrifice to the
goat-smiting Dionysus a child, for whom a goat was afterwards
substituted.(1085) At Orchomenus the human victim was taken from the women
of a certain family, called the Oleiae. At the annual festival the priest
of Dionysus pursued these women with a drawn sword, and if he overtook one
of them he had a right to slay her. This right was exercised as late as
Plutarch’s time.(1086) As the slain bull or goat represented the slain
god, so, we may suppose, the human victim also represented him. It is
possible, however, that a tradition of human sacrifice may sometimes have
been a mere misinterpretation of a sacrificial ritual in which an animal
victim was treated as a human being. For example, at Tenedos the new-born
calf sacrificed to Dionysus was shod in buskins, and the mother cow was
tended like a woman in child-bed.(1087)




§ 8.—Demeter and Proserpine.


The Greek myth of Demeter and Proserpine is substantially identical with
the Syrian myth of Aphrodite (Astarte) and Adonis, the Phrygian myth of
Cybele and Attis, and the Egyptian myth of Isis and Osiris. In the Greek
myth, as in its Asiatic and Egyptian counterparts, a
goddess—Demeter—mourns the loss of a loved one—Proserpine—who personifies
the vegetation, more especially the corn, which dies in summer(1088) to
revive in spring. But in the Greek myth the loved and lost one is the
daughter instead of the husband or lover of the goddess; and the mother as
well as the daughter is a goddess of the corn.(1089) Thus, as modern
scholars have recognised,(1090) Demeter and Proserpine are merely a
mythical reduplication of the same natural phenomenon. Proserpine, so ran
the Greek myth,(1091) was gathering flowers when the earth gaped, and
Pluto, lord of the Dead, issuing from the abyss, carried her off on his
golden car to be his bride in the gloomy subterranean world. Her sorrowing
mother Demeter sought her over land and sea, and learning from the Sun her
daughter’s fate, she suffered not the seed to grow, but kept it hidden in
the ground, so that the whole race of men would have died of hunger if
Zeus had not sent and fetched Proserpine from the nether world. Finally it
was agreed that Proserpine should spend a third, or according to others a
half,(1092) of each year with Pluto underground, but should come forth in
spring to dwell with her mother and the gods in the upper world. Her
annual death and resurrection, that is, her annual descent into the under
world and her ascension from it, appear to have been represented in her
rites.(1093)

With regard to the name Demeter, it has been plausibly argued by
Mannhardt(1094) that the first part of the word is derived from _dēai_, a
Cretan word for “barley”;(1095) and that thus Demeter means the
Barley-mother or the Corn-mother; for the root of the word appears to have
been applied to different kinds of grain by different branches of the
Aryans, and even of the Greeks themselves.(1096) As Crete appears to have
been one of the most ancient seats of the worship of Demeter,(1097) it is
not surprising that her name should be of Cretan origin. This explanation
of the name Demeter is supported by a host of analogies which the
diligence of Mannhardt has collected from modern European folk-lore, and
of which the following are specimens. In Germany the corn is very commonly
personified under the name of the Corn-mother. Thus in spring, when the
wind sets the corn in wave-like motion, the peasants say, “There comes the
Corn-mother,” or “The Corn-mother is running over the field,” or “The
Corn-mother is going through the corn.”(1098) When children wish to go
into the fields to pull the blue corn-flowers or the red poppies, they are
told not to do so, because the Corn-mother is sitting in the corn and will
catch them.(1099) Or again she is called, according to the crop, the
Rye-mother or the Pea-mother, and children are warned against straying in
the rye or among the peas by threats of the Rye-mother or the Pea-mother.
In Norway also the Pea-mother is said to sit among the peas.(1100) Similar
expressions are current among the Slavs. The Poles and Czechs warn
children against the Corn-mother who sits in the corn. Or they call her
the Old Corn-woman, and say that she sits in the corn and strangles the
children who tread it down.(1101) The Lithuanians say, “The Old Rye-woman
sits in the corn.”(1102) Again the Corn-mother is believed to make the
crop grow. Thus in the neighbourhood of Magdeburg it is sometimes said,
“It will be a good year for flax; the Flax-mother has been seen.” At
Dinkelsbühl (Bavaria) down to fifteen or twenty years ago, people believed
that when the crops on a particular farm compared unfavourably with those
of the neighbourhood, the reason was that the Corn-mother had punished the
farmer for his sins.(1103) In a village of Styria it is said that the
Corn-mother, in the shape of a female puppet made out of the last sheaf of
corn and dressed in white, may be seen at midnight in the corn-fields,
which she fertilises by passing through them; but if she is angry with a
farmer, she withers up all his corn.(1104)

Further, the Corn-mother plays an important part in harvest customs. She
is believed to be present in the handful of corn which is left standing
last on the field; and with the cutting of this last handful she is
caught, or driven away, or killed. In the first of these cases, the last
sheaf is carried joyfully home and honoured as a divine being. It is
placed in the barn, and at threshing the corn-spirit appears again.(1105)
In the district of Hadeln (Hanover) the reapers stand round the last sheaf
and beat it with sticks in order to drive the Corn-mother out of it. They
call to each other, “There she is! hit her! Take care she doesn’t catch
you!” The beating goes on till the grain is completely threshed out; then
the Corn-mother is believed to be driven away.(1106) In the neighbourhood
of Danzig the person who cuts the last ears of corn makes them into a
doll, which is called the Corn-mother or the Old Woman, and is brought
home on the last waggon.(1107) In some parts of Holstein the last sheaf is
dressed in woman’s clothes and called the Corn-mother. It is carried home
on the last waggon, and then thoroughly drenched with water. The drenching
with water is doubtless a rain-charm.(1108) In the district of Bruck in
Styria the last sheaf, called the Corn-mother, is made up into the shape
of a woman by the oldest married woman in the village, of an age from
fifty to fifty-five years. The finest ears are plucked out of it and made
into a wreath, which, twined with flowers, is carried on her head by the
prettiest girl of the village to the farmer or squire, while the
Corn-mother is laid down in the barn to keep off the mice.(1109) In other
villages of the same district the Corn-mother, at the close of harvest, is
carried by two lads at the top of a pole. They march behind the girl who
wears the wreath to the squire’s house, and while he receives the wreath
and hangs it up in the hall, the Corn-mother is placed on the top of a
pile of wood, where she is the centre of the harvest supper and dance.
Afterwards she is hung up in the barn and remains there till the threshing
is over. The man who gives the last stroke at threshing is called the son
of the Corn-mother; he is tied up in the Corn-mother, beaten, and carried
through the village. The wreath is dedicated in church on the following
Sunday; and on Easter Eve the grain is rubbed out of it by a seven years’
old girl and scattered amongst the young corn. At Christmas the straw of
the wreath is placed in the manger to make the cattle thrive.(1110) Here
the fertilising power of the Corn-mother is plainly brought out by
scattering the seed taken from her body (for the wreath is made out of the
Corn-mother) among the new corn; and her influence over animal life is
indicated by placing the straw in the manger. At Westerhüsen in Saxony the
last corn cut is made in the shape of a woman decked with ribbons and
cloth. It is fastened on a pole and brought home on the last waggon. One
of the people on the waggon keeps waving the pole, so that the figure
moves as if alive. It is placed on the threshing-floor, and stays there
till the threshing is done.(1111) Amongst the Slavs also the last sheaf is
known as the Rye-mother, the Wheat-mother, the Oats-mother, the
Barley-mother, etc., according to the crop. In the district of Tarnow,
Galicia, the wreath made out of the last stalks is called the
Wheat-mother, Rye-mother, or Pea-mother. It is placed on a girl’s head and
kept till spring, when some of the grain is mixed with the
seed-corn.(1112) Here again the fertilising power of the Corn-mother is
indicated. In France, also, in the neighbourhood of Auxerre, the last
sheaf goes by the name of the Mother of the Wheat, Mother of the Barley,
Mother of the Rye, or Mother of the Oats. It is left standing in the field
till the last waggon is about to wend homewards. Then a puppet is made out
of it, dressed with clothes belonging to the farmer, and adorned with a
crown and a blue or white scarf. A branch of a tree is stuck in the breast
of the puppet, which is now called the Ceres. At the dance in the evening
the Ceres is placed in the middle of the floor, and the reaper who reaped
fastest dances round it with the prettiest girl for his partner. After the
dance a pyre is made. All the girls, each wearing a wreath, strip the
puppet, pull it to pieces, and place it on the pyre, along with the
flowers with which it was adorned. Then the girl who was the first to
finish reaping sets fire to the pile, and all pray that Ceres may give a
fruitful year. Here, as Mannhardt observes, the old custom has remained
intact, though the name Ceres is a bit of schoolmaster’s learning.(1113)
In Upper Britanny the last sheaf is always made into human shape; but if
the farmer is a married man, it is made double and consists of a little
corn-puppet placed inside of a large one. This is called the Mother-sheaf.
It is delivered to the farmer’s wife, who unties it and gives drink-money
in return.(1114)

Sometimes the last sheaf is called, not the Corn-mother, but the
Harvest-mother or the Great Mother. In the province of Osnabrück (Hanover)
it is called the Harvest-mother; it is made up in female form, and then
the reapers dance about with it. In some parts of Westphalia the last
sheaf at the rye harvest is made especially heavy by fastening stones in
it. It is brought home on the last waggon and is called the Great Mother,
though no special shape is given it. In the district of Erfurt a very
heavy sheaf (not necessarily the last) is called the Great Mother, and is
carried on the last waggon to the barn, where it is lifted down by all
hands amid a fire of jokes.(1115)

Sometimes again the last sheaf is called the Grandmother, and is adorned
with flowers, ribbons, and a woman’s apron. In East Prussia, at the rye or
wheat harvest, the reapers call out to the woman who binds the last sheaf,
“You are getting the Old Grandmother.” In the neighbourhood of Magdeburg
the men and women servants strive who shall get the last sheaf, called the
Grandmother. Whoever gets it will be married in the next year, but his or
her spouse will be old; if a girl gets it, she will marry a widower; if a
man gets it, he will marry an old crone. In Silesia the Grandmother—a huge
bundle made up of three or four sheaves by the person who tied the last
sheaf—was formerly fashioned into a rude likeness of the human form.(1116)
In the neighbourhood of Belfast the last sheaf is sometimes called Granny.
It is not cut in the usual way, but all the reapers throw their sickles at
it and try to bring it down. It is plaited and kept till the (next?)
autumn. Whoever gets it will marry in the course of the year.(1117)

Oftener the last sheaf is called the Old Woman or the Old Man. In Germany
it is often shaped and dressed as a woman, and the person who cuts it or
binds it is said to “get the Old Woman.”(1118) At Altisheim in Swabia when
all the corn of a farm has been cut except a single strip, all the reapers
stand in a row before the strip; each cuts his share rapidly, and he who
gives the last cut “has the Old Woman.”(1119) When the sheaves are being
set up in heaps, the person who gets hold of the Old Woman, which is the
largest and thickest of all the sheaves, is jeered at by the rest, who
sing out to him, “He has the Old Woman and must keep her.”(1120) The woman
who binds the last sheaf is sometimes herself called the Old Woman, and it
is said that she will be married in the next year.(1121) In Neusaass, West
Prussia, both the last sheaf—which is dressed up in jacket, hat and
ribbons—and the woman who binds it are called the Old Woman. Together they
are brought home on the last waggon and are drenched with water.(1122) At
Hornkampe, near Tiegenhof (West Prussia), when a man or woman lags behind
the rest in binding the corn, the other reapers dress up the last sheaf in
the form of a man or woman, and this figure goes by the laggard’s name, as
“the old Michael,” “the idle Trine.” It is brought home on the last
waggon, and, as it nears the house, the bystanders call out to the
laggard, “You have got the Old Woman and must keep her.”(1123)

In these customs, as Mannhardt has remarked, the person who is called by
the same name as the last sheaf and sits beside it on the last waggon is
obviously identified with it; he or she represents the corn-spirit which
has been caught in the last sheaf; in other words, the corn-spirit is
represented in duplicate, by a human being and by a sheaf.(1124) The
identification of the person with the sheaf is made still clearer by the
custom of wrapping up in the last sheaf the person who cuts or binds it.
Thus at Hermsdorf in Silesia it used to be the regular custom to tie up in
the last sheaf the woman who had bound it.(1125) At Weiden in Bavaria it
is the cutter, not the binder, of the last sheaf who is tied up in
it.(1126) Here the person wrapt up in the corn represents the corn-spirit,
exactly as a person wrapt in branches or leaves represents the
tree-spirit.(1127)

The last sheaf, designated as the Old Woman, is often distinguished from
the other sheaves by its size and weight. Thus in some villages of West
Prussia the Old Woman is made twice as long and thick as a common sheaf,
and a stone is fastened in the middle of it. Sometimes it is made so heavy
that a man can barely lift it.(1128) Sometimes eight or nine sheaves are
tied together to make the Old Woman, and the man who sets it up complains
of its weight.(1129) At Itzgrund, in Saxe-Coburg, the last sheaf, called
the Old Woman, is made large with the express intention of thereby
securing a good crop next year.(1130) Thus the custom of making the last
sheaf unusually large or heavy is a charm, working by sympathetic magic,
to secure a large and heavy crop in the following year.

In Denmark also the last sheaf is made larger than the others, and is
called the Old Rye-woman or the Old Barley-woman. No one likes to bind it,
because whoever does so will, it is believed, marry an old man or an old
woman. Sometimes the last wheat-sheaf, called the Old Wheat-woman, is made
up in human shape, with head, arms, and legs, is dressed in clothes and
carried home on the last waggon, the harvesters sitting beside it,
drinking and huzzaing.(1131) Of the person who binds the last sheaf it is
said, “She (or he) is the Old Rye-woman.”(1132)

In Scotland, when the last corn was cut after Hallowmas, the female figure
made out of it was sometimes called the Carlin or Carline, _i.e._ the Old
Woman. But if cut before Hallowmas, it was called the Maiden; if cut after
sunset, it was called the Witch, being supposed to bring bad luck.(1133)
We shall return to the Maiden presently. In County Antrim, down to a few
years ago, when the sickle was finally expelled by the reaping machine,
the few stalks of corn left standing last on the field were plaited
together; then the reapers, blindfolded, threw their sickles at the
plaited corn, and whoever happened to cut it through took it home with him
and put it over his door. This bunch of corn was called the
Carley(1134)—probably the same word as Carlin.

Similar customs are observed by Slavonic peoples. Thus in Poland the last
sheaf is commonly called the Baba, that is, the Old Woman. “In the last
sheaf,” it is said, “sits the Baba.” The sheaf itself is also called the
Baba, and is sometimes composed of twelve smaller sheaves lashed
together.(1135) In some parts of Bohemia the Baba, made out of the last
sheaf, has the figure of a woman with a great straw hat. It is carried
home on the last harvest-waggon and delivered, along with a garland, to
the farmer by two girls. In binding the sheaves the women strive not to be
last, for she who binds the last sheaf will have a child next year.(1136)
The last sheaf is tied up with others into a large bundle, and a green
branch is stuck on the top of it.(1137) Sometimes the harvesters call out
to the woman who binds the last sheaf, “She has the Baba,” or “She is the
Baba.” She has then to make a puppet, sometimes in female, sometimes in
male form, out of the corn; the puppet is occasionally dressed with
clothes, often with flowers and ribbons only. The cutter of the last
stalks, as well as the binder of the last sheaf, was also called Baba; and
a doll, called the Harvest-woman, was made out of the last sheaf and
adorned with ribbons. The oldest reaper had to dance, first with this
doll, and then with the farmer’s wife.(1138) In the district of Cracow,
when a man binds the last sheaf, they say, “The Grandfather is sitting in
it;” when a woman binds it, they say, “The Baba is sitting in it,” and the
woman herself is wrapt up in the sheaf, so that only her head projects out
of it. Thus encased in the sheaf, she is carried on the last
harvest-waggon to the house, where she is drenched with water by the whole
family. She remains in the sheaf till the dance is over, and for a year
she retains the name of Baba.(1139)

In Lithuania the name for the last sheaf is Boba (Old Woman), answering to
the Polish name Baba. The Boba is said to sit in the corn which is left
standing last.(1140) The person who binds the last sheaf or digs the last
potato is the subject of much banter, and receives and long retains the
name of the Old Rye-woman or the Old Potato-woman.(1141) The last
sheaf—the Boba—is made into the form of a woman, carried solemnly through
the village on the last harvest-waggon, and drenched with water at the
farmer’s house; then every one dances with it.(1142)

In Russia also the last sheaf is often shaped and dressed as a woman, and
carried with dance and song to the farmhouse. Out of the last sheaf the
Bulgarians make a doll which they call the Corn-queen or Corn-mother; it
is dressed in a woman’s shirt, carried round the village, and then thrown
into the river in order to secure plenty of rain and dew for the next
year’s crop. Or it is burned and the ashes strewn on the fields, doubtless
to fertilise them.(1143) The name Queen, as applied to the last sheaf, has
its analogies in Northern Europe. Thus Brand quotes from Hutchinson’s
_History of Northumberland_ the following: “I have seen, in some places,
an image apparelled in great finery, crowned with flowers, a sheaf of corn
placed under her arm, and a sycle in her hand, carried out of the village
in the morning of the conclusive reaping day, with music and much clamour
of the reapers, into the field, where it stands fixed on a pole all day,
and when the reaping is done, is brought home in like manner. This they
call the Harvest Queen, and it represents the Roman Ceres.”(1144) From
Cambridge also Dr. E. D. Clarke reported that “at the Hawkie
[harvest-home], as it is called, I have seen a clown dressed in woman’s
clothes, having his face painted, his head decorated with ears of corn,
and bearing about him other symbols of Ceres, carried in a waggon, with
great pomp and loud shouts, through the streets, the horses being covered
with white sheets; and when I inquired the meaning of the ceremony, was
answered by the people, that they were drawing the Harvest Queen.”(1145)

Often the customs we have been examining are practised, not on the harvest
field, but on the threshing-floor. The spirit of the corn, fleeing before
the reapers as they cut down the corn, quits the cut corn and takes refuge
in the barn, where it appears in the last sheaf threshed, either to perish
under the blows of the flail or to flee thence to the still unthreshed
corn of a neighbouring farm.(1146) Thus the last corn to be threshed is
called the Mother-corn or the Old Woman. Sometimes the person who gives
the last stroke with the flail is called the Old Woman, and is wrapt in
the straw of the last sheaf, or has a bundle of straw fastened on his
back. Whether wrapt in the straw or carrying it on his back, he is carted
through the village amid general laughter. In some districts of Bavaria,
Thüringen, etc., the man who threshes the last sheaf is said to have the
Old Woman or the Old Corn-woman; he is tied up in straw, carried or carted
about the village, and set down at last on the dunghill, or taken to the
threshing-floor of a neighbouring farmer who has not finished his
threshing.(1147) In Poland the man who gives the last stroke at threshing
is called Baba (Old Woman); he is wrapt in corn and wheeled through the
village.(1148) Sometimes in Lithuania the last sheaf is not threshed, but
is fashioned into female shape and carried to the barn of a neighbour who
has not finished his threshing.(1149) In some parts of Sweden, when a
stranger woman appears on the threshing-floor, a flail is put round her
body, stalks of corn are wound round her neck, a crown of ears is placed
on her head, and the threshers call out, “Behold the Corn-woman.” Here the
stranger woman, thus suddenly appearing, is taken to be the corn-spirit
who has just been expelled by the flails from the corn-stalks.(1150) In
other cases the farmer’s wife represents the corn-spirit. Thus in the
Commune of Saligné, Canton de Poiret (Vendée), the farmer’s wife, along
with the last sheaf, is tied up in a sheet, placed on a litter, and
carried to the threshing machine, under which she is shoved. Then the
woman is drawn out and the sheaf is threshed by itself, but the woman is
tossed in the sheet (in imitation of winnowing).(1151) It would be
impossible to express more clearly the identification of the woman with
the corn than by this graphic imitation of threshing and winnowing her.

In these customs the spirit of the ripe corn is regarded as old, or at
least as of mature age. Hence the names of Mother, Grandmother, Old Woman,
etc. But in other cases the corn-spirit is conceived as young, sometimes
as a child who is separated from its mother by the stroke of the sickle.
This last view appears in the Polish custom of calling out to the man who
cuts the last handful of corn, “You have cut the navel-string.”(1152) In
some districts of West Prussia the figure made out of the last sheaf is
called the Bastard, and a boy is wrapt up in it. The woman who binds the
last sheaf and represents the Corn-mother, is told that she is about to be
brought to bed; she cries like a woman in travail, and an old woman in the
character of grandmother acts as midwife. At last a cry is raised that the
child is born; whereupon the boy who is tied up in the sheaf whimpers and
squalls like an infant. The grandmother wraps a sack, in imitation of
swaddling bands, round the pretended baby, and it is carried joyfully to
the barn, lest it catch cold in the open air.(1153) In other parts of
North Germany, the last sheaf, or the puppet made out of it, is called the
Child, the Harvest Child, etc. In the North of England the last handful of
corn was cut by the prettiest girl and dressed up as the Corn Baby or Kern
Baby; it was brought home to music, set up in a conspicuous place at the
harvest supper, and generally kept in the parlour for the rest of the
year. The girl who cut it was the Harvest Queen.(1154) In Kent the Ivy
Girl is (or was) “a figure composed of some of the best corn the field
produces, and made as well as they can into a human shape; this is
afterwards curiously dressed by the women, and adorned with paper
trimmings, cut to resemble a cap, ruffles, handkerchief, etc., of the
finest lace. It is brought home with the last load of corn from the field
upon the waggon, and they suppose entitles them to a supper at the expense
of the employer.”(1155) In the neighbourhood of Balquhidder, Perthshire,
the last handful of corn is cut by the youngest girl on the field, and is
made into the rude form of a female doll, clad in a paper dress, and
decked with ribbons. It is called the Maiden, and is kept in the
farmhouse, generally above the chimney, for a good while, sometimes till
the Maiden of the next year is brought in. The writer of this book
witnessed the ceremony of cutting the Maiden at Balquhidder in September
1888.(1156) On some farms on the Gareloch, Dumbartonshire, about sixty
years ago the last handful of standing corn was called the Maiden. It was
divided in two, plaited, and then cut with the sickle by a girl, who, it
was thought, would be lucky and would soon be married. When it was cut the
reapers gathered together and threw their sickles in the air. The Maiden
was dressed with ribbons and hung in the kitchen near the roof, where it
was kept for several years with the date attached. Sometimes five or six
Maidens might be seen hanging at once on hooks. The harvest supper was
called the Kirn.(1157) In other farms on the Gareloch the last handful of
corn was called the Maidenhead or the Head; it was neatly plaited,
sometimes decked with ribbons, and hung in the kitchen for a year, when
the grain was given to the poultry.(1158) In the North of Scotland, the
Maiden is kept till Christmas morning, and then divided among the cattle
“to make them thrive all the year round.”(1159) In Aberdeenshire also the
last sheaf (called the clyack sheaf) was formerly cut, as it is still cut
at Balquhidder, by the youngest girl on the field; then it was dressed in
woman’s clothes, carried home in triumph, and kept till Christmas or New
Year’s morning, when it was given to a mare in foal, or, failing such, to
the oldest cow.(1160) Lastly, a somewhat maturer, but still youthful age
is assigned to the corn-spirit by the appellations of Bride, Oats-bride,
and Wheat-bride, which in Germany and Scotland are sometimes bestowed both
on the last sheaf and on the woman who binds it.(1161) Sometimes the idea
implied in these names is worked out more fully by representing the
productive powers of vegetation as bride and bridegroom. Thus in some
parts of Germany a man and woman dressed in straw and called the Oats-wife
and the Oats-man, or the Oats-bride and the Oats-bridegroom dance at the
harvest festival; then the corn-stalks are plucked from their bodies till
they stand as bare as a stubble field. In Silesia, the woman who binds the
last sheaf is called the Wheat-bride or the Oats-bride. With the harvest
crown on her head, a bridegroom by her side, and attended by bridesmaids,
she is brought to the farmhouse with all the solemnity of a wedding
procession.(1162)

The harvest customs just described are strikingly analogous to the spring
customs which we reviewed in the first chapter. (1.) As in the spring
customs the tree-spirit is represented both by a tree and by a
person,(1163) so in the harvest customs the corn-spirit is represented
both by the last sheaf and by the person who cuts or binds or threshes it.
The equivalence of the person to the sheaf is shown by giving him or her
the same name as the sheaf, or _vice versâ_; by wrapping him or her in the
sheaf; and by the rule observed in some places, that when the sheaf is
called the Mother, it must be cut by the oldest married woman; but when it
is called the Maiden, it must be cut by the youngest girl.(1164) Here the
age of the personal representative of the corn-spirit corresponds with
that of the supposed age of the corn-spirit, just as the human victims
offered by the Mexicans to promote the growth of the maize varied with the
age of the maize.(1165) For in the Mexican, as in the European, custom the
human beings were probably representatives of the corn-spirit rather than
victims offered to him. (2.) Again, the same fertilising influence which
the tree-spirit is supposed to exert over vegetation, cattle, and even
women(1166) is ascribed to the corn-spirit. Thus, its supposed influence
on vegetation is shown by the practice of taking some of the grain of the
last sheaf (in which the corn-spirit is regularly supposed to be present),
and scattering it among the young corn in spring.(1167) Its influence on
cattle is shown by giving the straw of the last sheaf to the cattle at
Christmas with the express intention of making them thrive.(1168) Lastly,
its influence on women is indicated by the custom of delivering the
Mother-sheaf, made into the likeness of a pregnant woman, to the farmer’s
wife;(1169) by the belief that the woman who binds the last sheaf will
have a child next year;(1170) perhaps, too, by the idea that the person
who gets it will marry next year.(1171)

Plainly, therefore, these spring and harvest customs are based on the same
ancient modes of thought, and form parts of the same primitive heathendom,
which was doubtless practised by our forefathers long before the dawn of
history, as it is practised to this day by many of their descendants.
Amongst the marks of a primitive religion, we may note the following:—

(1.) No special class of persons is set apart for the performance of the
rites; in other words, there are no priests. The rites may be performed by
any one, as occasion demands.

(2.) No special places are set apart for the performance of the rites; in
other words, there are no temples. The rites may be performed anywhere, as
occasion demands.

(3.) Spirits, not gods, are recognised. (_a._) As distinguished from gods,
spirits are restricted in their operations to definite departments of
nature. Their names are general, not proper. Their attributes are generic,
rather than individual; in other words, there is an indefinite number of
spirits of each class, and the individuals of a class are all much alike;
they have no definitely marked individuality; no accepted traditions are
current as to their origin, life, adventures, and character. (_b._) On the
other hand gods, as distinguished from spirits, are not exclusively
restricted in their operations to definite departments of nature. It is
true that there is generally some one department over which they preside
as their special province; but they are not rigorously confined to it;
they can exert their power for good or evil in many other spheres of
nature and life. Again, they bear individual or proper names, such as
Ceres, Proserpine, Bacchus; and their individual characters and histories
are fixed by current myths and the representations of art.

(4.) The rites are magical rather than propitiatory. In other words, the
desired objects are attained, not by propitiating the favour of divine
beings through sacrifice, prayer, and praise, but by ceremonies which, as
has been explained,(1172) are believed to influence the course of nature
directly through a physical sympathy or resemblance between the rite and
the effect which it is the intention of the rite to produce.

Judged by these tests, the spring and harvest customs of our European
peasantry deserve to rank as primitive. For no special class of persons
and no special places are set exclusively apart for their performance;
they may be performed by any one, master or man, mistress or maid, boy or
girl; they are practised, not in temples or churches, but in the woods and
meadows, beside brooks, in barns, on harvest fields and cottage floors.
The supernatural beings whose existence is taken for granted in them are
spirits rather than deities; their functions are limited to certain
well-defined departments of nature; their names are general, like the
Barley-mother, the Old Woman, the Maiden, not proper names like Ceres,
Proserpine, Bacchus. Their generic attributes are known, but their
individual histories and characters are not the subject of myths. For they
exist in classes rather than as individuals, and the members of each class
are indistinguishable. For example, every farm has its Corn-mother, or its
Old Woman, or its Maiden; but every Corn-mother is much like every other
Corn-mother, and so with the Old Women and Maidens. Lastly, in these
harvest, as in the spring, customs, the ritual is magical rather than
propitiatory. This is shown by throwing the Corn-mother into the river in
order to secure rain and dew for the crops;(1173) by making the Old Woman
heavy in order to get a heavy crop next year;(1174) by strewing grain from
the last sheaf amongst the young crops in spring;(1175) and giving the
last sheaf to the cattle to make them thrive.(1176)

Further, the custom of keeping the puppet—the representative of the
corn-spirit—till next harvest, is a charm to maintain the corn-spirit in
life and activity throughout the year.(1177) This is proved by a similar
custom observed by the ancient Peruvians, and thus described by the
historian Acosta. “They take a certain portion of the most fruitefull of
the Mays [_i.e._ maize] that growes in their farmes, the which they put in
a certaine granary which they doe call _Pirua_, with certaine ceremonies,
watching three nightes; they put this Mays in the richest garments they
have, and beeing thus wrapped and dressed, they worship this _Pirua_, and
hold it in great veneration, saying it is the mother of the mays of their
inheritances, and that by this means the mays augments and is preserved.
In this moneth [the sixth month, answering to May] they make a particular
sacrifice, and the witches demaund of this _Pirua_, if it hath strength
sufficient to continue untill the next yeare; and if it answers no, then
they carry this Mays to the farme to burne, whence they brought it,
according to every man’s power; then they make another _Pirua_, with the
same ceremonies, saying that they renue it, to the end the seede of Mays
may not perish, and if it answers that it hath force sufficient to last
longer, they leave it untill the next yeare. This foolish vanity
continueth to this day, and it is very common amongest the Indians to have
these _Piruas_.”(1178) There seems to be some error in this description of
the custom. Probably it was the dressed-up bunch of maize, not the granary
(_Pirua_), which was worshipped by the Peruvians and regarded as the
Mother of the Maize. This is confirmed by what we know of the Peruvian
custom from another source. The Peruvians, we are told, believed all
useful plants to be animated by a divine being who causes their growth.
According to the particular plant, these divine beings were called the
Maize-mother (_Zara-mama_), the Quinoa-mother (_Quinoa-mama_), the
Cocoa-mother (_Coca-mama_), and the Potato-mother (_Axo-mama_). Figures of
these divine mothers were made respectively of ears of maize and leaves of
the quinoa and cocoa plants; they were dressed in women’s clothes and
worshipped. Thus the Maize-mother was represented by a puppet made of
stalks of maize, dressed in full female attire; and the Indians believed
that “as mother, it had the power of producing and giving birth to much
maize.”(1179) Probably, therefore, Acosta misunderstood his informant, and
the Mother of the Maize which he describes was not the granary (_Pirua_)
but the bunch of maize dressed in rich vestments. The Peruvian Mother of
the Maize, like the harvest Maiden at Balquhidder, was kept for a year in
order that by her means the corn might grow and multiply. But lest her
strength might not suffice to last out the year, she was asked in the
course of the year how she felt, and if she answered that she felt weak,
she was burned and a fresh Mother of the Maize made, “to the end the seede
of Mays may not perish.” Here, it may be observed, we have a strong
confirmation of the explanation already given of the custom of killing the
god, both periodically and occasionally. The Mother of the Maize was
allowed, as a rule, to live through a year, that being the period during
which her strength might reasonably be supposed to last unimpaired; but on
any symptom of her strength failing she was put to death and a fresh and
vigorous Mother of the Maize took her place, lest the maize which depended
on her for its existence should languish and decay.

Hardly less clearly does the same train of thought come out in the harvest
customs formerly observed by the Zapotecs of Mexico. At harvest the
priests, attended by the nobles and people, went in procession to the
maize fields, where they picked out the largest and finest sheaf. This
they took with great ceremony to the town or village, and placed it in the
temple upon an altar adorned with wild flowers. After sacrificing to the
harvest god, the priests carefully wrapt up the sheaf in fine linen and
kept it till seed-time. Then the priests and nobles met again at the
temple, one of them bringing the skin of a wild beast, elaborately
ornamented, in which the linen cloth containing the sheaf was enveloped.
The sheaf was then carried once more in procession to the field from which
it had been taken. Here a small cavity or subterranean chamber had been
prepared, in which the precious sheaf was deposited, wrapt in its various
envelopes. After sacrifice had been offered to the gods of the fields for
an abundant crop, the chamber was closed and covered over with earth.
Immediately thereafter the sowing began. Finally, when the time of harvest
drew near, the buried sheaf was solemnly disinterred by the priests, who
distributed the grain to all who asked for it. The packets of grain so
distributed were carefully preserved as talismans till the harvest.(1180)
In these ceremonies, which continued to be annually celebrated long after
the Spanish conquest, the intention of keeping the finest sheaf buried in
the maize field from seed-time to harvest was undoubtedly to quicken the
growth of the maize.

In the Punjaub, to the east of the Jumna, when the cotton boles begin to
burst, it is usual “to select the largest plant in the field, and having
sprinkled it with butter-milk and rice-water, it is bound all over with
pieces of cotton, taken from the other plants of the field. This selected
plant is called Sirdar, or Bhogaldaí, _i.e._ mother-cotton, from bhogla, a
name sometimes given to a large cotton-pod, and daí (for daiya) a mother,
and after salutations are made to it, prayers are offered that the other
plants may resemble it in the richness of their produce.”(1181)

If the reader still feels any doubts as to the original meaning of the
harvest customs practised by our peasantry, these doubts may be dispelled
by comparing the harvest customs of the Dyaks of Borneo. At harvest the
Dyaks of Northern Borneo have a special feast, the object of which is “to
secure the soul of the rice, which if not so detained, the produce of
their farms would speedily rot and decay.” The mode of securing the soul
of the rice varies in different tribes. Sometimes the priest catches it,
in the form of a few grains of rice, in a white cloth. Sometimes a large
shed is erected outside the village, and near it is reared a high and
spacious altar. The corner-posts of the altar are lofty bamboos with leafy
tops, from one of which there hangs a long narrow streamer of white cloth.
Here gaily-dressed men and women dance with slow and solemn steps.
Suddenly the elders and priests rush at the white streamer, seize the end
of it, and begin dancing and swaying to and fro, amid a burst of wild
music and the yells of the spectators. An elder leaps on the altar and
shakes the bamboos violently, whereupon small stones, bunches of hair and
grains of rice fall at the feet of the dancers and are carefully picked up
by attendants. These grains of rice are the soul of the rice. At
sowing-time some of this soul of the rice is planted with the other seeds,
“and is thus propagated and communicated.”(1182) The same need of securing
the soul of the rice, if the crop is to thrive, is keenly felt by the
Karens of Burma. When a rice-field does not flourish, they suppose that
the soul (_kelah_) of the rice is in some way detained from the rice. If
the soul cannot be called back, the crop will fail. The following formula
is used in recalling the _kelah_ (soul) of the rice: “O come,
rice-_kelah_, come! Come to the field. Come to the rice. With seed of each
gender, come. Come from the river Kho, come from the river Kaw; from the
place where they meet, come. Come from the West, come from the East. From
the throat of the bird, from the maw of the ape, from the throat of the
elephant. Come from the sources of rivers and their mouths. Come from the
country of the Shan and Burman. From the distant kingdoms come. From all
granaries come. O rice-_kelah_, come to the rice.”(1183) Again, the
European custom of representing the corn-spirit in the double form of
bride and bridegroom(1184) is paralleled by a custom observed at the
rice-harvest in Java. Before the reapers begin to cut the rice, the priest
or sorcerer picks out a number of ears of rice, which are tied together,
smeared with ointment, and adorned with flowers. Thus decked out, the ears
are called the _padi-pëngantèn_, that is, the Rice-bride and the
Rice-bridegroom; their wedding feast is celebrated, and the cutting of the
rice begins immediately afterwards. Later on, when the rice is being got
in, a bridal chamber is partitioned off in the barn, and furnished with a
new mat, a lamp, and all kinds of toilet articles. Sheaves of rice, to
represent the wedding guests, are placed beside the Rice-bride and the
Rice-bridegroom. Not till this has been done may the whole harvest be
housed in the barn. And for the first forty days after the rice has been
housed, no one may enter the barn, for fear of disturbing the newly-wedded
pair.(1185)

Compared with the Corn-mother of Germany and the harvest Maiden of
Balquhidder, the Demeter and Proserpine of Greece are late products of
religious growth. But, as Aryans, the Greeks must at one time or another
have observed harvest customs like those which are still practised by
Celts, Teutons, and Slavs, and which, far beyond the limits of the Aryan
world, have been practised by the Incas of Peru, the Dyaks of Borneo, and
the Malays of Java—a sufficient proof that the ideas on which these
customs rest are not confined to any one race, but naturally suggest
themselves to all untutored peoples engaged in agriculture. It is
probable, therefore, that Demeter and Proserpine, those stately and
beautiful figures of Greek mythology, grew out of the same simple beliefs
and practices which still prevail among our modern peasantry, and that
they were represented by rude dolls made out of the yellow sheaves on many
a harvest-field long before their breathing images were wrought in bronze
and marble by the master hands of Phidias and Praxiteles. A reminiscence
of that olden time—a scent, so to say, of the harvest-field—lingered to
the last in the title of the Maiden (_Kore_) by which Proserpine was
commonly known. Thus if the prototype of Demeter is the Corn-mother of
Germany, the prototype of Proserpine is the harvest Maiden, which, autumn
after autumn, is still made from the last sheaf on the Braes of
Balquhidder. Indeed if we knew more about the peasant-farmers of ancient
Greece we should probably find that even in classical times they continued
annually to fashion their Corn-mothers (Demeters) and Maidens
(Proserpines) out of the ripe corn on the harvest fields. But
unfortunately the Demeter and Proserpine whom we know are the denizens of
towns, the majestic inhabitants of lordly temples; it was for such
divinities alone that the refined writers of antiquity had eyes; the rude
rites performed by rustics amongst the corn were beneath their notice.
Even if they noticed them, they probably never dreamed of any connection
between the puppet of corn-stalks on the sunny stubble-field and the
marble divinity in the shady coolness of the temple. Still the writings
even of these town-bred and cultured persons afford us an occasional
glimpse of a Demeter as rude as the rudest that a remote German village
can show. Thus the story that Iasion begat a child Plutus (“wealth,”
“abundance”) by Demeter on a thrice-ploughed field,(1186) may be compared
with the West Prussian custom of the mock birth of a child on the harvest
field.(1187) In this Prussian custom the pretended mother represents the
Corn-mother (_Žytniamatka_); the pretended child represents the Corn-baby,
and the whole ceremony is a charm to ensure a crop next year.(1188) There
are other folk-customs, observed both in spring and at harvest, with which
the legend of the begetting of the child Plutus is probably still more
intimately connected. Their general purport is to impart fertility to the
fields by performing, or at least mimicking, upon them the process of
procreation.(1189) Another glimpse of the savage under the civilised
Demeter will be afforded farther on, when we come to deal with another
aspect of these agricultural divinities.

The reader may have observed that in modern folk-customs the corn-spirit
is generally represented either by a Corn-mother (Old Woman, etc.) or by a
Maiden (Corn-baby, etc.), not both by a Corn-mother and by a Maiden. Why
then did the Greeks represent the corn both as a mother and a daughter? In
the Breton custom the mother-sheaf—a large figure made out of the last
sheaf with a small corn-doll inside of it—clearly represents both the
Corn-mother and the Corn-daughter, the latter still unborn.(1190) Again,
in the Prussian custom just described, the woman who plays the part of
Corn-mother represents the ripe corn; the child appears to represent next
year’s corn, which may be regarded, naturally enough, as the child of this
year’s corn, since it is from the seed of this year’s harvest that next
year’s corn will spring. Demeter would thus be the ripe corn of this year;
Proserpine the seed-corn taken from it and sown in autumn, to reappear in
spring. The descent of Proserpine into the lower world(1191) would thus be
a mythical expression for the sowing of the seed; her reappearance in
spring(1192) would express the sprouting of the young corn. Thus the
Proserpine of this year becomes the Demeter of the next, and this may very
well have been the original form of the myth. But when with the advance of
religious thought the corn came to be personified, no longer as a being
that went through the whole cycle of birth, growth, reproduction, and
death within a year, but as an immortal goddess, consistency requires that
one of the two personifications, the mother or the daughter, should be
sacrificed. But the double conception of the corn as mother and daughter
was too old and too deeply rooted in the popular mind to be eradicated by
logic, and so room had to be found in the reformed myth both for mother
and daughter. This was done by assigning to Proserpine the rôle of the
corn sown in autumn and sprouting in spring, while Demeter was left to
play the somewhat vague and ill-defined part of mother of the corn, who
laments its annual disappearance underground, and rejoices over its
reappearance in spring. Thus instead of a regular succession of divine
beings, each living a year and then giving birth to her successor, the
reformed myth exhibits the conception of two divine and immortal beings,
one of whom annually disappears into and reappears from the ground, while
the other has little to do but to weep and rejoice at the appropriate
times.

This explanation of the double personification of the corn in Greek myth
assumes that both personifications (Demeter and Proserpine) are original.
But if we assume that the Greek myth started with a single
personification, the after-growth of a second personification may perhaps
be explained as follows. On looking over the peasant harvest customs which
have been passed under review, it may be noticed that they involve two
distinct conceptions of the corn-spirit. For whereas in some of the
customs the corn-spirit is treated as immanent in the corn, in others it
is regarded as external to it. Thus when a particular sheaf is called by
the name of the corn-spirit, and is dressed in clothes and treated with
reverence,(1193) the corn-spirit is clearly regarded as immanent in the
corn. But when the corn-spirit is said to make the corn grow by passing
through it, or to blight the corn of those against whom she has a
grudge,(1194) she is clearly conceived as quite separate from, though
exercising power over, the corn. Conceived in the latter way the
corn-spirit is in a fair way to become a deity of the corn, if she has not
become so already. Of these two conceptions, that of the corn-spirit as
immanent in the corn is doubtless the older, since the view of nature as
animated by indwelling spirits appears to have generally preceded the view
of it as controlled by deities external to it; to put it shortly, animism
precedes deism. In the harvest customs of our European peasantry the
conception of the corn-spirit as immanent appears to be the prevalent one;
the conception of it as external occurs rather as an exception. In Greek
mythology, on the other hand, Demeter is distinctly conceived in the
latter way; she is the deity of the corn rather than the spirit immanent
in it.(1195) The process of thought which seems to be chiefly instrumental
in producing the transition from the one mode of conception to the other
is anthropomorphism, or the gradual investment of the immanent spirits
with more and more of the attributes of humanity. As men emerge from
savagery the tendency to anthropomorphise or humanise their divinities
gains strength; and the more anthropomorphic these become, the wider is
the breach which severs them from those natural objects of which they were
at first merely the animating spirits or souls. But in the progress
upwards from savagery, men of the same generation do not march abreast;
and though the anthropomorphic gods may satisfy the religious wants of
more advanced individuals, the more backward members of the community will
cling by preference to the older animistic notions. Now when the spirit of
any natural object (as the corn) has been invested with human qualities,
detached from the object, and converted into a deity controlling it, the
object itself is, by the withdrawal of its spirit, left inanimate, it
becomes, so to say, a spiritual vacuum. But the popular fancy, intolerant
of such a vacuum, in other words, unable to conceive anything as
inanimate, immediately creates a fresh mythical being, with which it
peoples the vacant object. Thus the same natural object is now represented
in mythology by two separate beings; first, by the old spirit now
separated from it and raised to the rank of a deity; second, by the new
spirit, freshly created by the popular fancy to supply the place vacated
by the old spirit on its elevation to a higher sphere. The problem for
mythology now is, having got two separate personifications of the same
object, what to do with them? How are their relations to each other to be
adjusted, and room found for both in the mythological system? When the old
spirit or new deity is conceived as creating or producing the object in
question, the problem is easily solved. Since the object is believed to be
produced by the old spirit, and animated by the new one, the latter, as
the soul of the object, must also owe its existence to the former; thus
the old spirit will stand to the new one as producer to produced, that is
(in mythology), as parent to child, and if both spirits are conceived as
female, their relation will be that of mother and daughter. In this way,
starting from a single personification of the corn as female, mythology
might in time reach a double personification of it as mother and daughter.
It would be very rash to affirm that this was the way in which the myth of
Demeter and Proserpine actually took shape; but it seems a legitimate
conjecture that the reduplication of deities, of which Demeter and
Proserpine furnish an example, may sometimes have arisen in the way
indicated. For example, among the pairs of deities whom we have been
considering, it has been shown that there are grounds for regarding both
Isis and her companion god Osiris as personifications of the corn.(1196)
On the hypothesis just suggested, Isis would be the old corn-spirit, and
Osiris would be the newer one, whose relationship to the old spirit was
variously explained as that of brother, husband, and son;(1197) for of
course mythology would always be free to account for the coexistence of
the two divinities in more ways than one. Further, this hypothesis offers
at least a possible explanation of the relation of Virbius to the Arician
Diana. The latter, as we have seen,(1198) was a tree-goddess; and if, as I
have conjectured, the Flamen Virbialis was no other than the priest of
Nemi himself, that is, the King of the Wood, Virbius must also have been a
tree-spirit. On the present hypothesis he was the newer tree-spirit, whose
relation to the old tree-spirit (Diana) was explained by representing him
as her favourite or lover. It must not, however, be forgotten that this
proposed explanation of such pairs of deities as Demeter and Proserpine,
Isis and Osiris, Diana and Virbius, is purely conjectural, and is only
given for what it is worth.




§ 9.—Lityerses.


In the preceding pages an attempt has been made to show that in the
Corn-mother and harvest Maiden of Northern Europe we have the prototypes
of Demeter and Proserpine. But an essential feature is still wanting to
complete the resemblance. A leading incident in the Greek myth is the
death and resurrection of Proserpine; it is this incident which, coupled
with the nature of the goddess as a deity of vegetation, links the myth
with the cults of Adonis, Attis, Osiris, and Dionysus; and it is in virtue
of this incident that the myth is considered in this chapter. It remains,
therefore, to see whether the conception of the annual death and
resurrection of a god, which figures so prominently in these great Greek
and Oriental worships, has not also its origin in the rustic rites
observed by reapers and vine-dressers amongst the corn-shocks and the
vines.

Our general ignorance of the popular superstitions and customs of the
ancients has already been confessed. But the obscurity which thus hangs
over the first beginnings of ancient religion is fortunately dissipated to
some extent in the present case. The worships of Osiris, Adonis, and Attis
had their respective seats, as we have seen, in Egypt, Syria, and Phrygia;
and in each of these countries certain harvest and vintage customs are
known to have been observed, the resemblance of which to each other and to
the national rites struck the ancients themselves, and, compared with the
harvest customs of modern peasants and barbarians, seem to throw some
light on the origin of the rites in question.

It has been already mentioned, on the authority of Diodorus, that in
ancient Egypt the reapers were wont to lament over the first sheaf cut,
invoking Isis as the goddess to whom they owed the discovery of
corn.(1199) To the plaintive song or cry sung or uttered by Egyptian
reapers the Greeks gave the name of Maneros, and explained the name by a
story that Maneros, the only son of the first Egyptian king, invented
agriculture, and, dying an untimely death, was thus lamented by the
people.(1200) It appears, however, that the name Maneros is due to a
misunderstanding of the formula _mââ-ne-hra_, “come thou back,” which has
been discovered in various Egyptian writings, for example in the dirge of
Isis in the Book of the Dead.(1201) Hence we may suppose that the cry
_mââ-ne-hra_ was chanted by the reapers over the cut corn as a dirge for
the death of the corn-spirit (Isis or Osiris) and a prayer for its return.
As the cry was raised over the first ears reaped, it would seem that the
corn-spirit was believed by the Egyptians to be present in the first corn
cut and to die under the sickle. We have seen that in Java the first ears
of rice are taken to represent the Corn-bride and the
Corn-bridegroom.(1202) In parts of Russia the first sheaf is treated much
in the same way that the last sheaf is treated elsewhere. It is reaped by
the mistress herself, taken home and set in the place of honour near the
holy pictures; afterwards it is threshed separately, and some of its grain
is mixed with the next year’s seed-corn.(1203)

In Phoenicia and Western Asia a plaintive song, like that chanted by the
Egyptian corn-reapers, was sung at the vintage and probably (to judge by
analogy) also at harvest. This Phoenician song was called by the Greeks
Linus or Ailinus and explained, like Maneros, as a lament for the death of
a youth named Linus.(1204) According to one story Linus was brought up by
a shepherd, but torn to pieces by his dogs.(1205) But, like Maneros, the
name Linus or Ailinus appears to have originated in a verbal
misunderstanding, and to be nothing more than the cry _ai lanu_, that is
“woe to us,” which the Phoenicians probably uttered in mourning for
Adonis;(1206) at least Sappho seems to have regarded Adonis and Linus as
equivalent.(1207)

In Bithynia a like mournful ditty, called Bormus or Borimus, was chanted
by Mariandynian reapers. Bormus was said to have been a handsome youth,
the son of King Upias or of a wealthy and distinguished man. One summer
day, watching the reapers at work in his fields, he went to fetch them a
drink of water and was never heard of more. So the reapers sought for him,
calling him in plaintive strains, which they continued to use ever
afterwards.(1208)

In Phrygia the corresponding song, sung by harvesters both at reaping and
at threshing, was called Lityerses. According to one story, Lityerses was
a bastard son of Midas, King of Phrygia. He used to reap the corn, and had
an enormous appetite. When a stranger happened to enter the corn-field or
to pass by it, Lityerses gave him plenty to eat and drink, then took him
to the corn-fields on the banks of the Maeander and compelled him to reap
along with him. Lastly, he used to wrap the stranger in a sheaf, cut off
his head with a sickle, and carry away his body, wrapt in the corn stalks.
But at last he was himself slain by Hercules, who threw his body into the
river.(1209) As Hercules was probably reported to have slain Lityerses in
the same way that Lityerses slew others (as Theseus treated Sinis and
Sciron), we may infer that Lityerses used to throw the bodies of his
victims into the river. According to another version of the story,
Lityerses, a son of Midas, used to challenge people to a reaping match
with him, and if he vanquished them he used to thrash them; but one day he
met with a stronger reaper, who slew him.(1210)

There are some grounds for supposing that in these stories of Lityerses we
have the description of a Phrygian harvest custom in accordance with which
certain persons, especially strangers passing the harvest field, were
regularly regarded as embodiments of the corn-spirit and as such were
seized by the reapers, wrapt in sheaves, and beheaded, their bodies, bound
up in the corn-stalks, being afterwards thrown into water as a rain-charm.
The grounds for this supposition are, first, the resemblance of the
Lityerses story to the harvest customs of European peasantry, and, second,
the fact that human beings have been commonly killed by savage races to
promote the fertility of the fields. We will examine these grounds
successively, beginning with the former.

In comparing the story with the harvest customs of Europe,(1211) three
points deserve special attention, namely: I. the reaping match and the
binding of persons in the sheaves; II. the killing of the corn-spirit or
his representatives; III. the treatment of visitors to the harvest-field
or of strangers passing it.

I. In regard to the first head, we have seen that in modern Europe the
person who cuts or binds or threshes the last sheaf is often exposed to
rough treatment at the hands of his fellow-labourers. For example, he is
bound up in the last sheaf, and, thus encased, is carried or carted about,
beaten, drenched with water, thrown on a dunghill, etc. Or, if he is
spared this horseplay, he is at least the subject of ridicule or is
believed destined to suffer some misfortune in the course of the year.
Hence the harvesters are naturally reluctant to give the last cut at
reaping or the last stroke at threshing or to bind the last sheaf, and
towards the close of the work this reluctance produces an emulation among
the labourers, each striving to finish his task as fast as possible, in
order that he may escape the invidious distinction of being last.(1212)
For example, in the neighbourhood of Danzig, when the winter corn is cut
and mostly bound up in sheaves, the portion which still remains to be
bound is divided amongst the women binders, each of whom receives a swath
of equal length to bind. A crowd of reapers, children, and idlers gathers
round to witness the contest, and at the word, “Seize the Old Man,” the
women fall to work, all binding their allotted swaths as hard as they can.
The spectators watch them narrowly, and the woman who cannot keep pace
with the rest and consequently binds the last sheaf has to carry the Old
Man (that is, the last sheaf made up in the form of a man) to the
farmhouse and deliver it to the farmer with the words, “Here I bring you
the Old Man.” At the supper which follows, the Old Man is placed at the
table and receives an abundant portion of food which, as he cannot eat it,
falls to the share of the woman who carried him. Afterwards the Old Man is
placed in the yard and all the people dance round him. Or the woman who
bound the last sheaf dances for a good while with the Old Man, while the
rest form a ring round them; afterwards they all, one after the other,
dance a single round with him. Further, the woman who bound the last sheaf
goes herself by the name of the Old Man till the next harvest, and is
often mocked with the cry, “Here comes the Old Man.”(1213) At Aschbach,
Bavaria, when the reaping is nearly finished, the reapers say, “Now we
will drive out the Old Man.” Each of them sets himself to reap a patch of
corn and reaps as fast as he can; he who cuts the last handful or the last
stalk is greeted by the rest with an exulting cry, “You have the Old Man.”
Sometimes a black mask is fastened on the reaper’s face and he is dressed
in woman’s clothes; or if the reaper is a woman, she is dressed in man’s
clothes; a dance follows. At the supper the Old Man gets twice as large a
portion of food as the others. At threshing, the proceedings are the same;
the person who gives the last stroke is said to have the Old Man.(1214)

These examples illustrate the contests in reaping, threshing, and binding
which take place amongst the harvesters, on account of their unwillingness
to suffer the ridicule and personal inconvenience attaching to the
individual who happens to finish his work last. It will be remembered that
the person who is last at reaping, binding, or threshing, is regarded as
the representative of the corn-spirit,(1215) and this idea is more fully
expressed by binding him or her in corn-stalks. The latter custom has been
already illustrated, but a few more instances may be added. At Kloxin,
near Stettin, the harvesters call out to the woman who binds the last
sheaf, “You have the Old Man, and must keep him.” The Old Man is a great
bundle of corn decked with flowers and ribbons, and fashioned into a rude
semblance of the human form. It is fastened on a rake or strapped on a
horse, and brought with music to the village. In delivering the Old Man to
the farmer, the woman says—


    “Here, dear Sir, is the Old Man.
    He can stay no longer on the field,
    He can hide himself no longer,
    He must come into the village.
    Ladies and gentlemen, pray be so kind
    As to give the Old Man a present.”


Forty or fifty years ago the custom was to tie up the woman herself in
pease-straw, and bring her with music to the farmhouse, where the
harvesters danced with her till the pease-straw fell off.(1216) In other
villages round Stettin, when the last harvest-waggon is being loaded,
there is a regular race amongst the women, each striving not to be last.
For she who places the last sheaf on the waggon is called the Old Man, and
is completely swathed in corn-stalks; she is also decked with flowers, and
flowers and a helmet of straw are placed on her head. In solemn procession
she carries the harvest-crown to the squire, over whose head she holds it
while she utters a string of good wishes. At the dance which follows, the
Old Man has the right to choose his (or rather her) partner; it is an
honour to dance with him.(1217) At Blankenfelde, in the district of
Potsdam, the woman who binds the last sheaf at the rye-harvest is saluted
with the cry, “You have the Old Man.” A woman is then tied up in the last
sheaf in such a way that only her head is left free; her hair also is
covered with a cap made of rye-stalks, adorned with ribbons and flowers.
She is called the Harvest-man, and must keep dancing in front of the last
harvest-waggon till it reaches the squire’s house, where she receives a
present, and is released from her envelope of corn.(1218) At Gommern, near
Magdeburg, the reaper who cuts the last ears of corn is often wrapt up in
corn-stalks so completely that it is hard to see whether there is a man in
the bundle or not. Thus wrapt up he is taken by another stalwart reaper on
his back, and carried round the field amid the joyous cries of the
harvesters.(1219) At Neuhausen, near Merseburg, the person who binds the
last sheaf is wrapt in ears of oats and saluted as the Oats-man, whereupon
the others dance round him.(1220) At Brie, Isle de France, the farmer
himself is tied up in the _first_ sheaf.(1221) At the harvest-home at
Udvarhely, Transylvania, a person is encased in corn-stalks, and wears on
his head a crown made out of the last ears cut. On reaching the village he
is soused with water over and over.(1222) At Dingelstedt, in the district
of Erfurt, about fifty years ago it was the custom to tie up a man in the
last sheaf. He was called the Old Man, and was brought home on the last
waggon, amid huzzas and music. On reaching the farmyard he was rolled
round the barn and drenched with water.(1223) At Nördlingen, Bavaria, the
man who gives the last stroke at threshing is wrapt in straw and rolled on
the threshing-floor.(1224) In some parts of Oberpfalz, Bavaria, he is said
to “get the Old Man,” is wrapt in straw, and carried to a neighbour who
has not yet finished his threshing.(1225) In Thüringen a sausage is stuck
in the last sheaf at threshing, and thrown, with the sheaf, on the
threshing-floor. It is called the _Barrenwurst_ or _Banzenwurst_, and is
eaten by all the threshers. After they have eaten it a man is encased in
pease-straw, and thus attired is led through the village.(1226)

“In all these cases the idea is that the spirit of the corn—the Old Man of
vegetation—is driven out of the corn last cut or last threshed, and lives
in the barn during the winter. At sowing-time he goes out again to the
fields to resume his activity as animating force among the sprouting
corn.”(1227)

Much the same ideas are attached to the last corn in India; for we are
told that in the Central Provinces, “when the reaping is nearly done,
about a _bisvá_, say a rood of land, of corn is left standing in the
cultivator’s last field, and the reapers rest a little. Then they rush at
this _bisvá_, tear it up, and cast it into the air, shouting victory to
Omkár Maháráj or Jhámájí, or Rámjí Dás, etc., according to their
respective possessions. A sheaf is made up of this corn, tied to a bamboo,
and stuck up in the last harvest cart, and carried home in triumph. It is
fastened up in the threshing-floor to a tree, or to the cattle-shed, where
its services are essential in averting the evil-eye.”(1228)

II. Passing to the second point of comparison between the Lityerses story
and European harvest customs, we have now to see that in the latter the
corn-spirit is often believed to be killed at reaping or threshing. In the
Romsdal and other parts of Norway, when the haymaking is over, the people
say that “the Old Hay-man has been killed.” In some parts of Bavaria the
man who gives the last stroke at threshing is said to have killed the
Corn-man, the Oats-man, or the Wheat-man, according to the crop.(1229) In
the Canton of Tillot, in Lothringen, at threshing the last corn the men
keep time with their flails, calling out as they thresh, “We are killing
the Old Woman! We are killing the Old Woman!” If there is an old woman in
the house she is warned to save herself, or she will be struck dead.(1230)
In Lithuania, near Ragnit, the last handful of corn is left standing by
itself, with the words, “The Old Woman (_Boba_) is sitting in there.” Then
a young reaper whets his scythe, and, with a strong sweep, cuts down the
handful. It is now said of him that “He has cut off the Boba’s head;” and
he receives a gratuity from the farmer and a jugful of water over his head
from the farmer’s wife.(1231) According to another account, every
Lithuanian reaper makes haste to finish his task; for the Old Rye-woman
lives in the last stalks, and whoever cuts the last stalks kills the Old
Rye-woman, and by killing her he brings trouble on himself.(1232) In
Wilkischken (district of Tilsit) the man who cuts the last corn goes by
the name of “The killer of the Rye-woman.”(1233) In Lithuania, again, the
corn-spirit is believed to be killed at threshing as well as at reaping.
When only a single pile of corn remains to be threshed, all the threshers
suddenly step back a few paces, as if at the word of command. Then they
fall to work plying their flails with the utmost rapidity and vehemence,
till they come to the last bundle. Upon this they fling themselves with
almost frantic fury, straining every nerve, and raining blows on it till
the word “Halt!” rings out sharply from the leader. The man whose flail is
the last to fall after the command to stop has been given is immediately
surrounded by all the rest, crying out that “He has struck the Old
Rye-woman dead.” He has to expiate the deed by treating them to brandy;
and, like the man who cuts the last corn, he is known as “The killer of
the Old Rye-woman.”(1234) Sometimes in Lithuania the slain corn-spirit was
represented by a puppet. Thus a female figure was made out of corn-stalks,
dressed in clothes, and placed on the threshing-floor, under the heap of
corn which was to be threshed last. Whoever thereafter gave the last
stroke at threshing “struck the Old Woman dead.”(1235) We have already had
examples of burning the figure which represents the corn-spirit.(1236)
Sometimes, again, the corn-spirit is represented by a man, who lies down
under the last corn; it is threshed upon his body, and the people say that
“the Old Man is being beaten to death.”(1237) We have already seen that
sometimes the farmer’s wife is thrust, together with the last sheaf, under
the threshing-machine, as if to thresh her, and that afterwards a pretence
is made of winnowing her.(1238) At Volders, in the Tyrol, husks of corn
are stuck behind the neck of the man who gives the last stroke at
threshing, and he is throttled with a straw garland. If he is tall, it is
believed that the corn will be tall next year. Then he is tied on a bundle
and flung into the river.(1239) In Carinthia, the thresher who gave the
last stroke, and the person who untied the last sheaf on the
threshing-floor, are bound hand and foot with straw bands, and crowns of
straw are placed on their heads. Then they are tied, face to face, on a
sledge, dragged through the village, and flung into a brook.(1240) The
custom of throwing the representative of the corn-spirit into a stream,
like that of drenching him with water, is, as usual, a rain-charm.(1241)

III. Thus far the representatives of the corn-spirit have generally been
the man or woman who cuts, binds, or threshes the last corn. We now come
to the cases in which the corn-spirit is represented either by a stranger
passing the harvest-field (as in the Lityerses tale), or by a visitor
entering it for the first time. All over Germany it is customary for the
reapers or threshers to lay hold of passing strangers and bind them with a
rope made of corn-stalks, till they pay a forfeit; and when the farmer
himself or one of his guests enters the field or the threshing-floor for
the first time, he is treated in the same way. Sometimes the rope is only
tied round his arm or his feet or his neck.(1242) But sometimes he is
regularly swathed in corn. Thus at Solör in Norway, whoever enters the
field, be he the master or a stranger, is tied up in a sheaf and must pay
a ransom. In the neighbourhood of Soest, when the farmer visits the
flax-pullers for the first time, he is completely enveloped in flax.
Passers-by are also surrounded by the women, tied up in flax, and
compelled to stand brandy.(1243) At Nördlingen strangers are caught with
straw ropes and tied up in a sheaf till they pay a forfeit. At Brie, Isle
de France, when any one who does not belong to the farm passes by the
harvest-field, the reapers give chase. If they catch him, they bind him in
a sheaf and bite him, one after the other, in the forehead, crying “You
shall carry the key of the field.”(1244) “To have the key” is an
expression used by harvesters elsewhere in the sense of to cut or bind or
thresh the last sheaf;(1245) hence, it is equivalent to the phrases “You
have the Old Man,” “You are the Old Man,” which are addressed to the
cutter, binder, or thresher of the last sheaf. Therefore, when a stranger,
as at Brie, is tied up in a sheaf and told that he will “carry the key of
the field,” it is as much as to say that he is the Old Man, that is, an
embodiment of the corn-spirit.

Thus, like Lityerses, modern reapers lay hold of a passing stranger and
tie him up in a sheaf. It is not to be expected that they should complete
the parallel by cutting off his head; but if they do not take such a
strong step, their language and gestures are at least indicative of a
desire to do so. For instance, in Mecklenburg on the first clay of
reaping, if the master or mistress or a stranger enters the field, or
merely passes by it, all the mowers face towards him and sharpen their
scythes, clashing their whet-stones against them in unison, as if they
were making ready to mow. Then the woman who leads the mowers steps up to
him and ties a band round his left arm. He must ransom himself by payment
of a forfeit.(1246) Near Ratzeburg when the master or other person of mark
enters the field or passes by it, all the harvesters stop work and march
towards him in a body, the men with their scythes in front. On meeting him
they form up in line, men and women. The men stick the poles of their
scythes in the ground, as they do in whetting them; then they take off
their caps and hang them on the scythes, while their leader stands forward
and makes a speech. When he has done, they all whet their scythes in
measured time very loudly, after which they put on their caps. Two of the
women binders then come forward; one of them ties the master or stranger
(as the case may be) with corn-ears or with a silken band; the other
delivers a rhyming address. The following are specimens of the speeches
made by the reaper on these occasions. In some parts of Pomerania every
passer-by is stopped, his way being barred with a corn-rope. The reapers
form a circle round him and sharpen their scythes, while their leader
says—


    “The men are ready,
    The scythes are bent,
    The corn is great and small,
    The gentleman must be mowed.”


Then the process of whetting the scythes is repeated.(1247) At Ramin, in
the district of Stettin, the stranger, standing encircled by the reapers,
is thus addressed—


    “We’ll stroke the gentleman
    With our naked sword,
    Wherewith we shear meadows and fields.
    We shear princes and lords.
    Labourers are often athirst;
    If the gentleman will stand beer and brandy
    The joke will soon be over.
    But, if our prayer he does not like,
    The sword has a right to strike.”(1248)


That in these customs the whetting of the scythes is really meant as a
preliminary to mowing appears from the following variation of the
preceding customs. In the district of Lüneburg when any one enters the
harvest-field, he is asked whether he will engage a good fellow. If he
says yes, the harvesters mow some swaths, yelling and screaming, and then
ask him for drink-money.(1249)

On the threshing-floor strangers are also regarded as embodiments of the
corn-spirit, and are treated accordingly. At Wiedingharde in Schleswig
when a stranger comes to the threshing-floor he is asked “Shall I teach
you the flail-dance?” If he says yes, they put the arms of the
threshing-flail round his neck (as if he were a sheaf of corn), and press
them together so tightly that he is nearly choked.(1250) In some parishes
of Wermland (Sweden) when a stranger enters the threshing-floor where the
threshers are at work, they say that “they will teach him the
threshing-song.” Then they put a flail round his neck and a straw rope
about his body. Also, as we have seen, if a stranger woman enters the
threshing-floor, the threshers put a flail round her body and a wreath of
corn-stalks round her neck, and call out, “See the Corn-woman! See! that
is how the Corn-maiden looks!”(1251)

In these customs, observed both on the harvest-field and on the
threshing-floor, a passing stranger is regarded as a personification of
the corn, in other words, as the corn-spirit; and a show is made of
treating him like the corn by mowing, binding, and threshing him. If the
reader still doubts whether European peasants can really regard a passing
stranger in this light, the following custom should set their doubts at
rest. During the madder-harvest in the Dutch province of Zealand a
stranger passing by a field where the people are digging the madder-roots
will sometimes call out to them _Koortspillers_ (a term of reproach). Upon
this, two of the fleetest runners make after him, and, if they catch him,
they bring him back to the madder-field and bury him in the earth up to
his middle at least, jeering at him the while; then they ease nature
before his face.(1252) This last act is to be explained as follows. The
spirit of the corn and of other cultivated plants is sometimes conceived,
not as immanent in the plant, but as its owner; hence the cutting of the
corn at harvest, the digging of the roots, and the gathering of fruit from
the fruit-trees are each and all of them acts of spoliation, which strip
him of his property and reduce him to poverty. Hence he is often known as
“the Poor Man” or “the Poor Woman.” Thus in the neighbourhood of Eisenach
a small sheaf is sometimes left standing on the field for “the Poor Old
Woman.”(1253) At Marksuhl, near Eisenach, the puppet formed out of the
last sheaf is itself called “the Poor Woman.” At Alt Lest in Silesia the
man who binds the last sheaf is called the Beggar-man.(1254) In a village
near Roeskilde, in Zealand (Denmark), old-fashioned peasants sometimes
make up the last sheaf into a rude puppet, which is called the
Rye-beggar.(1255) In Southern Schonen the sheaf which is bound last is
called the Beggar; it is made bigger than the rest and is sometimes
dressed in clothes. In the district of Olmütz the last sheaf is called the
Beggar; it is given to an old woman, who must carry it home, limping on
one foot.(1256) Thus when the corn-spirit is conceived as a being who is
robbed of his store and impoverished by the harvesters, it is natural that
his representative—the passing stranger—should upbraid them; and it is
equally natural that they should seek to disable him from pursuing them
and recapturing the stolen property. Now, it is an old superstition that
by easing nature on the spot where a robbery is committed, the robbers
secure themselves, for a certain time, against interruption.(1257) The
fact, therefore, that the madder-diggers resort to this proceeding in
presence of the stranger proves that they consider themselves robbers and
him as the person robbed. Regarded as such, he must be the natural owner
of the madder-roots; that is, their spirit or demon; and this conception
is carried out by burying him, like the madder-roots, in the ground.(1258)
The Greeks, it may be observed, were quite familiar with the idea that a
passing stranger may be a god. Homer says that the gods in the likeness of
foreigners roam up and down cities.(1259)

Thus in these harvest-customs of modern Europe the person who cuts, binds,
or threshes the last corn is treated as an embodiment of the corn-spirit
by being wrapt up in sheaves, killed in mimicry by agricultural
implements, and thrown into the water.(1260) These coincidences with the
Lityerses story seem to prove that the latter is a genuine description of
an old Phrygian harvest-custom. But since in the modern parallels the
killing of the personal representative of the corn-spirit is necessarily
omitted or at most enacted only in mimicry, it is necessary to show that
in rude society human beings have been commonly killed as an agricultural
ceremony to promote the fertility of the fields. The following examples
will make this plain.

The Indians of Guayaquil (Ecuador) used to sacrifice human blood and the
hearts of men when they sowed their fields.(1261) At a Mexican
harvest-festival, when the first-fruits of the season were offered to the
sun, a criminal was placed between two immense stones, balanced opposite
each other, and was crushed by them as they fell together. His remains
were buried, and a feast and dance followed. This sacrifice was known as
“the meeting of the stones.”(1262) Another series of human sacrifices
offered in Mexico to make the maize thrive has been already referred
to.(1263) The Pawnees annually sacrificed a human victim in spring when
they sowed their fields. The sacrifice was believed to have been enjoined
on them by the Morning Star, or by a certain bird which the Morning Star
had sent to them as its messenger. The bird was stuffed and preserved as a
powerful “medicine.” They thought that an omission of this sacrifice would
be followed by the total failure of the crops of maize, beans, and
pumpkins. The victim was a captive of either sex. He was clad in the
gayest and most costly attire, was fattened on the choicest food, and
carefully kept in ignorance of his doom. When he was fat enough, they
bound him to a cross in the presence of the multitude, danced a solemn
dance, then cleft his head with a tomahawk and shot him with arrows.
According to one trader, the squaws then cut pieces of flesh from the
victim’s body, with which they greased their hoes; but this was denied by
another trader who had been present at the ceremony. Immediately after the
sacrifice the people proceeded to plant their fields. A particular account
has been preserved of the sacrifice of a Sioux girl by the Pawnees in
April 1837 or 1838. The girl had been kept for six months and well
treated. Two days before the sacrifice she was led from wigwam to wigwam,
accompanied by the whole council of chiefs and warriors. At each lodge she
received a small billet of wood and a little paint, which she handed to
the warrior next to her. In this way she called at every wigwam, receiving
at each the same present of wood and paint. On the 22d of April she was
taken out to be sacrificed, attended by the warriors, each of whom carried
two pieces of wood which he had received from her hands. She was burned
for some time over a slow fire, and then shot to death with arrows. The
chief sacrificer next tore out her heart and devoured it. While her flesh
was still warm it was cut in small pieces from the bones, put in little
baskets, and taken to a neighbouring cornfield. Here the head chief took a
piece of the flesh from a basket and squeezed a drop of blood upon the
newly-deposited grains of corn. His example was followed by the rest, till
all the seed had been sprinkled with the blood; it was then covered up
with earth.(1264)

A West African queen used to sacrifice a man and woman in the month of
March. They were killed with spades and hoes, and their bodies buried in
the middle of a field which had just been tilled.(1265) At Lagos in Guinea
it was the custom annually to impale a young girl alive soon after the
spring equinox in order to secure good crops. Along with her were
sacrificed sheep and goats, which, with yams, heads of maize, and
plantains, were hung on stakes on each side of her. The victims were bred
up for the purpose in the king’s seraglio, and their minds had been so
powerfully wrought upon by the fetish men that they went cheerfully to
their fate.(1266) A similar sacrifice is still annually offered at Benin,
Guinea.(1267) The Marimos, a Bechuana tribe, sacrifice a human being for
the crops. The victim chosen is generally a short, stout man. He is seized
by violence or intoxicated and taken to the fields, where he is killed
amongst the wheat to serve as “seed” (so they phrase it). After his blood
has coagulated in the sun it is burned along with the frontal bone, the
flesh attached to it, and the brain; the ashes are then scattered over the
ground to fertilise it. The rest of the body is eaten.(1268)

The Gonds of India, a Dravidian race, kidnapped Brahman boys, and kept
them as victims to be sacrificed on various occasions. At sowing and
reaping, after a triumphal procession, one of the lads was slain by being
punctured with a poisoned arrow. His blood was then sprinkled over the
ploughed field or the ripe crop, and his flesh was devoured.(1269)

But the best known case of human sacrifices, systematically offered to
ensure good crops, is supplied by the Khonds or Kandhs, another Dravidian
race in Bengal. Our knowledge of them is derived from the accounts written
by British officers who, forty or fifty years ago, were engaged in putting
them down.(1270) The sacrifices were offered to the Earth Goddess, Tari
Pennu or Bera Pennu, and were believed to ensure good crops and immunity
from all disease and accidents. In particular, they were considered
necessary in the cultivation of turmeric, the Khonds arguing that the
turmeric could not have a deep red colour without the shedding of
blood.(1271) The victim or Meriah was acceptable to the goddess only if he
had been purchased, or had been born a victim—that is, the son of a victim
father—or had been devoted as a child by his father or guardian. Khonds in
distress often sold their children for victims, “considering the
beatification of their souls certain, and their death, for the benefit of
mankind, the most honourable possible.” A man of the Panua tribe was once
seen to load a Khond with curses, and finally to spit in his face, because
the Khond had sold for a victim his own child, whom the Panua had wished
to marry. A party of Khonds, who saw this, immediately pressed forward to
comfort the seller of his child, saying, “Your child has died that all the
world may live, and the Earth Goddess herself will wipe that spittle from
your face.”(1272) The victims were often kept for years before they were
sacrificed. Being regarded as consecrated beings, they were treated with
extreme affection, mingled with deference, and were welcomed wherever they
went. A Meriah youth, on attaining maturity, was generally given a wife,
who was herself usually a Meriah or victim; and with her he received a
portion of land and farm-stock. Their offspring were also victims. Human
sacrifices were offered to the Earth Goddess by tribes, branches of
tribes, or villages, both at periodical festivals and on extraordinary
occasions. The periodical sacrifices were generally so arranged by tribes
and divisions of tribes that each head of a family was enabled, at least
once a year, to procure a shred of flesh for his fields, generally about
the time when his chief crop was laid down.(1273)

The mode of performing these tribal sacrifices was as follows. Ten or
twelve days before the sacrifice, the victim was devoted by cutting off
his hair, which, until then, was kept unshorn. Crowds of men and women
assembled to witness the sacrifice; none might be excluded, since the
sacrifice was declared to be “for all mankind.” It was preceded by several
days of wild revelry and gross debauchery.(1274) On the day before the
sacrifice the victim, dressed in a new garment, was led forth from the
village in solemn procession, with music and dancing, to the Meriah grove,
which was a clump of high forest trees standing a little way from the
village and untouched by the axe. In this grove the victim was tied to a
post, which was sometimes placed between two plants of the sankissar
shrub. He was then anointed with oil, ghee, and turmeric, and adorned with
flowers; and “a species of reverence, which it is not easy to distinguish
from adoration,” was paid to him throughout the day.(1275) A great
struggle now arose to obtain the smallest relic from his person; a
particle of the turmeric paste with which he was smeared, or a drop of his
spittle, was esteemed of sovereign virtue, especially by the women. The
crowd danced round the post to music, and, addressing the earth, said, “O
God, we offer this sacrifice to you; give us good crops, seasons, and
health.”(1276)

On the last morning the orgies, which had been scarcely interrupted during
the night, were resumed, and continued till noon, when they ceased, and
the assembly proceeded to consummate the sacrifice. The victim was again
anointed with oil, and each person touched the anointed part, and wiped
the oil on his own head. In some places the victim was then taken in
procession round the village, from door to door, where some plucked hair
from his head, and others begged for a drop of his spittle, with which
they anointed their heads.(1277) As the victim might not be bound nor make
any show of resistance, the bones of his arms and, if necessary, his legs
were broken; but often this precaution was rendered unnecessary by
stupefying him with opium.(1278) The mode of putting him to death varied
in different places. One of the commonest modes seems to have been
strangulation, or squeezing to death. The branch of a green tree was cleft
several feet down the middle; the victim’s neck (in other places, his
chest) was inserted in the cleft, which the priest, aided by his
assistants, strove with all his force to close.(1279) Then he wounded the
victim slightly with his axe, whereupon the crowd rushed at the victim and
cut the flesh from the bones, leaving the head and bowels untouched.
Sometimes he was cut up alive.(1280) In Chinna Kimedy he was dragged along
the fields, surrounded by the crowd, who, avoiding his head and
intestines, hacked the flesh from his body with their knives till he
died.(1281) Another very common mode of sacrifice in the same district was
to fasten the victim to the proboscis of a wooden elephant, which revolved
on a stout post, and, as it whirled round, the crowd cut the flesh from
the victim while life remained. In some villages Major Campbell found as
many as fourteen of these wooden elephants, which had been used at
sacrifices.(1282) In one district the victim was put to death slowly by
fire. A low stage was formed, sloping on either side like a roof; upon it
the victim was placed, his limbs wound round with cords to confine his
struggles. Fires were then lighted and hot brands applied, to make him
roll up and down the slopes of the stage as long as possible; for the more
tears he shed the more abundant would be the supply of rain. Next day the
body was cut to pieces.(1283)

The flesh cut from the victim was instantly taken home by the persons who
had been deputed by each village to bring it. To secure its rapid arrival,
it was sometimes forwarded by relays of men, and conveyed with postal
fleetness fifty or sixty miles.(1284) In each village all who stayed at
home fasted rigidly until the flesh arrived. The bearer deposited it in
the place of public assembly, where it was received by the priest and the
heads of families. The priest divided it into two portions, one of which
he offered to the Earth Goddess by burying it in a hole in the ground with
his back turned, and without looking. Then each man added a little earth
to bury it, and the priest poured water on the spot from a hill gourd. The
other portion of flesh he divided into as many shares as there were heads
of houses present. Each head of a house rolled his shred of flesh in
leaves, and buried it in his favourite field, placing it in the earth
behind his back without looking.(1285) In some places each man carried his
portion of flesh to the stream which watered his fields, and there hung it
on a pole.(1286) For three days thereafter no house was swept; and, in one
district, strict silence was observed, no fire might be given out, no wood
cut, and no strangers received. The remains of the human victim (namely,
the head, bowels, and bones) were watched by strong parties the night
after the sacrifice; and next morning they were burned, along with a whole
sheep, on a funeral pile. The ashes were scattered over the fields, laid
as paste over the houses and granaries, or mixed with the new corn to
preserve it from insects.(1287) Sometimes, however, the head and bones
were buried, not burnt.(1288) After the suppression of the human
sacrifices, inferior victims were substituted in some places; for
instance, in the capital of Chinna Kimedy a goat took the place of a human
victim.(1289)

In these Khond sacrifices the Meriahs are represented by our authorities
as victims offered to propitiate the Earth Goddess. But from the treatment
of the victims both before and after death it appears that the custom
cannot be explained as merely a propitiatory sacrifice. A part of the
flesh certainly was offered to the Earth Goddess, but the rest of the
flesh was buried by each householder in his fields, and the ashes of the
other parts of the body were scattered over the fields, laid as paste on
the granaries, or mixed with the new corn. These latter customs imply that
to the body of the Meriah there was ascribed a direct or intrinsic power
of making the crops to grow, quite independent of the indirect efficacy
which it might have as an offering to secure the good-will of the deity.
In other words, the flesh and ashes of the victim were believed to be
endowed with a magical or physical power of fertilising the land. The same
intrinsic power was ascribed to the blood and tears of the Meriah, his
blood causing the redness of the turmeric and his tears producing rain;
for it can hardly be doubted that, originally at least, the tears were
supposed to produce rain, not merely to prognosticate it. Similarly the
custom of pouring water on the buried flesh of the Meriah was no doubt a
rain-charm. Again, intrinsic supernatural power as an attribute of the
Meriah appears in the sovereign virtue believed to reside in anything that
came from his person, as his hair or spittle. The ascription of such power
to the Meriah indicates that he was much more than a mere man sacrificed
to propitiate a deity. Once more, the extreme reverence paid him points to
the same conclusion. Major Campbell speaks of the Meriah as “being
regarded as something more than mortal,”(1290) and Major Macpherson says,
“A species of reverence, which it is not easy to distinguish from
adoration, is paid to him.”(1291) In short, the Meriah appears to have
been regarded as divine. As such, he may originally have represented the
Earth deity or perhaps a deity of vegetation; though in later times he
came to be regarded rather as a victim offered to a deity than as himself
an incarnate deity. This later view of the Meriah as a victim rather than
a god may perhaps have received undue emphasis from the European writers
who have described the Khond religion. Habituated to the later idea of
sacrifice as an offering made to a god for the purpose of conciliating his
favour, European observers are apt to interpret all religious slaughter in
this sense, and to suppose that wherever such slaughter takes place, there
must necessarily be a deity to whom the slaughter is believed by the
slayers to be acceptable. Thus their preconceived ideas unconsciously
colour and warp their descriptions of savage rites.

The same custom of killing the representative of a god, of which strong
traces appear in the Khond sacrifices, may perhaps be detected in some of
the other human sacrifices described above. Thus the ashes of the
slaughtered Marimo were scattered over the fields; the blood of the
Brahman lad was put on the crop and field; and the blood of the Sioux girl
was allowed to trickle on the seed.(1292) Again, the identification of the
victim with the corn, in other words, the view that he is an embodiment or
spirit of the corn, is brought out in the pains which seem to be taken to
secure a physical correspondence between him and the natural object which
he embodies or represents. Thus the Mexicans killed young victims for the
young corn and old ones for the ripe corn; the Marimos sacrifice, as
“seed,” a short, fat man, the shortness of his stature corresponding to
that of the young corn, his fatness to the condition which it is desired
that the crops may attain; and the Pawnees fattened their victims probably
with the same view. Again, the identification of the victim with the corn
comes out in the African custom of killing him with spades and hoes, and
the Mexican custom of grinding him, like corn, between two stones.

One more point in these savage customs deserves to be noted. The Pawnee
chief devoured the heart of the Sioux girl, and the Marimos and Gonds ate
the victim’s flesh. If, as we suppose, the victim was regarded as divine,
it follows that in eating his flesh his worshippers were partaking of the
body of their god. To this point we shall return later on.

The savage rites just described offer analogies to the harvest customs of
Europe. Thus the fertilising virtue ascribed to the corn-spirit is shown
equally in the savage custom of mixing the victim’s blood or ashes with
the seed-corn and the European custom of mixing the grain from the last
sheaf with the young corn in spring.(1293) Again, the identification of
the person with the corn appears alike in the savage custom of adapting
the age and stature of the victim to the age and stature (actual or
expected) of the crop; in the Scotch and Styrian rules that when the
corn-spirit is conceived as the Maiden the last corn shall be cut by a
young maiden, but when it is conceived as the Corn-mother it shall be cut
by an old woman;(1294) in the Lothringian warning given to old women to
save themselves when the Old Woman is being killed, that is, when the last
corn is being threshed;(1295) and in the Tyrolese expectation that if the
man who gives the last stroke at threshing is tall, the next year’s corn
will be tall also.(1296) Further, the same identification is implied in
the savage custom of killing the representative of the corn-spirit with
hoes or spades or by grinding him between stones, and in the European
custom of pretending to kill him with the scythe or the flail. Once more
the Khond custom of pouring water on the buried flesh of the victim is
parallel to the European customs of pouring water on the personal
representative of the corn-spirit or plunging him into a stream.(1297)
Both the Khond and the European customs are rain-charms.

To return now to the Lityerses story. It has been shown that in rude
society human beings have been commonly killed to promote the growth of
the crops. There is therefore no improbability in the supposition that
they may once have been killed for a like purpose in Phrygia and Europe;
and when Phrygian legend and European folk-custom, closely agreeing with
each other, point to the conclusion that men were so slain, we are bound,
provisionally at least, to accept the conclusion. Further, both the
Lityerses story and European harvest customs agree in indicating that the
person slain was slain as a representative of the corn-spirit, and this
indication is in harmony with the view which savages appear to take of the
victim slain to make the crops flourish. On the whole, then, we may fairly
suppose that both in Phrygia and in Europe the representative of the
corn-spirit was annually killed upon the harvest-field. Grounds have been
already shown for believing that similarly in Europe the representative of
the tree-spirit was annually slain. The proofs of these two remarkable and
closely analogous customs are entirely independent of each other. Their
coincidence seems to furnish fresh presumption in favour of both.

To the question, how was the representative of the corn-spirit chosen? one
answer has been already given. Both the Lityerses story and European
folk-custom show that passing strangers were regarded as manifestations of
the corn-spirit escaping from the cut or threshed corn, and as such were
seized and slain. But this is not the only answer which the evidence
suggests. According to one version of the Phrygian legend the victims of
Lityerses were not passing strangers but persons whom he had vanquished in
a reaping contest; and though it is not said that he killed, but only that
he thrashed them, we can hardly avoid supposing that in one version of the
story the vanquished reapers, like the strangers in the other version,
were said to have been wrapt up by Lityerses in corn-sheaves and so
beheaded. The supposition is countenanced by European harvest-customs. We
have seen that in Europe there is sometimes a contest amongst the reapers
to avoid being last, and that the person who is vanquished in this
competition, that is, who cuts the last corn, is often roughly handled. It
is true we have not found that a pretence is made of killing him; but on
the other hand we have found that a pretence is made of killing the man
who gives the last stroke at threshing, that is, who is vanquished in the
threshing contest.(1298) Now, since it is in the character of
representative of the corn-spirit that the thresher of the last corn is
slain in mimicry, and since the same representative character attaches (as
we have seen) to the cutter and binder as well as to the thresher of the
last corn, and since the same repugnance is evinced by harvesters to be
last in any one of these labours, we may conjecture that a pretence has
been commonly made of killing the reaper and binder as well as the
thresher of the last corn, and that in ancient times this killing was
actually carried out. This conjecture is corroborated by the common
superstition that whoever cuts the last corn must die soon.(1299)
Sometimes it is thought that the person who binds the last sheaf on the
field will die in the course of next year.(1300) The reason for fixing on
the reaper, binder, or thresher of the last corn as the representative of
the corn-spirit may be this. The corn-spirit is supposed to lurk as long
as he can in the corn, retreating before the reapers, the binders, and the
threshers at their work. But when he is forcibly expelled from his
ultimate refuge in the last corn cut or the last sheaf bound or the last
grain threshed, he necessarily assumes some other form than that of the
corn-stalks which had hitherto been his garments or body. And what form
can the expelled corn-spirit assume more naturally than that of the person
who stands nearest to the corn from which he (the corn-spirit) has just
been expelled? But the person in question is necessarily the reaper,
binder, or thresher of the last corn. He or she, therefore, is seized and
treated as the corn-spirit himself.

Thus the person who was killed on the harvest-field as the representative
of the corn-spirit may have been either a passing stranger or the
harvester who was last at reaping, binding, or threshing. But there is a
third possibility, to which ancient legend and modern folk-custom alike
point. Lityerses not only put strangers to death; he was himself slain,
and probably in the same way as he had slain others, namely, by being
wrapt in a corn-sheaf, beheaded, and cast into the river; and it is
implied that this happened to Lityerses on his own land. Similarly in
modern harvest-customs the pretence of killing appears to be carried out
quite as often on the person of the master (farmer or squire) as on that
of strangers.(1301) Now when we remember that Lityerses was said to have
been the son of the King of Phrygia, and combine with this the tradition
that he was put to death, apparently as a representative of the
corn-spirit, we are led to conjecture that we have here another trace of
the custom of annually slaying one of those divine or priestly kings who
are known to have held ghostly sway in many parts of Western Asia and
particularly in Phrygia. The custom appears, as we have seen,(1302) to
have been so far modified in places that the king’s son was slain in the
king’s stead. Of the custom thus modified the story of Lityerses would
therefore be a reminiscence.

Turning now to the relation of the Phrygian Lityerses to the Phrygian
Attis, it may be remembered that at Pessinus—the seat of a priestly
kingship—the high-priest appears to have been annually slain in the
character of Attis, a god of vegetation, and that Attis was described by
an ancient authority as “a reaped ear of corn.”(1303) Thus Attis, as an
embodiment of the corn-spirit, annually slain in the person of his
representative, might be thought to be ultimately identical with
Lityerses, the latter being simply the rustic prototype out of which the
state religion of Attis was developed. It may have been so; but, on the
other hand, the analogy of European folk-custom warns us that amongst the
same people two distinct deities of vegetation may have their separate
personal representatives, both of whom are slain in the character of gods
at different times of the year. For in Europe, as we have seen, it appears
that one man was commonly slain in the character of the tree-spirit in
spring, and another in the character of the corn-spirit in autumn. It may
have been so in Phrygia also. Attis was especially a tree-god, and his
connection with corn may have been only such an extension of the power of
a tree-spirit as is indicated in customs like the Harvest-May.(1304)
Again, the representative of Attis appears to have been slain in spring;
whereas Lityerses must have been slain in summer or autumn, according to
the time of the harvest in Phrygia.(1305) On the whole, then, while we are
not justified in regarding Lityerses as the prototype of Attis, the two
may be regarded as parallel products of the same religious idea, and may
have stood to each other as in Europe the Old Man of harvest stands to the
Wild Man, the Leaf Man, etc., of spring. Both were spirits or deities of
vegetation, and the personal representatives of both were annually slain.
But whereas the Attis worship became elevated into the dignity of a state
religion and spread to Italy, the rites of Lityerses seem never to have
passed the limits of their native Phrygia, and always retained their
character of rustic ceremonies performed by peasants on the harvest-field.
At most a few villages may have clubbed together, as amongst the Khonds,
to procure a human victim to be slain as representative of the corn-spirit
for their common benefit. Such victims may have been drawn from the
families of priestly kings or kinglets, which would account for the
legendary character of Lityerses as the son of a Phrygian king. When
villages did not so club together, each village or farm may have procured
its own representative of the corn-spirit by dooming to death either a
passing stranger or the harvester who cut, bound, or threshed the last
sheaf. It is hardly necessary to add that in Phrygia, as in Europe, the
old barbarous custom of killing a man on the harvest-field or the
threshing-floor had doubtless passed into a mere pretence long before the
classical era, and was probably regarded by the reapers and threshers
themselves as no more than a rough jest which the license of a
harvest-home permitted them to play off on a passing stranger, a comrade,
or even on their master himself.

I have dwelt on the Lityerses song at length because it affords so many
points of comparison with European and savage folk-custom. The other
harvest songs of Western Asia and Egypt, to which attention has been
called above,(1306) may now be dismissed much more briefly. The similarity
of the Bithynian Bormus(1307) to the Phrygian Lityerses helps to bear out
the interpretation which has been given of the latter. Bormus, whose death
or rather disappearance was annually mourned by the reapers in a plaintive
song, was, like Lityerses, a king’s son or at least the son of a wealthy
and distinguished man. The reapers whom he watched were at work on his own
fields, and he disappeared in going to fetch water for them; according to
one version of the story he was carried off by the (water) nymphs.(1308)
Viewed in the light of the Lityerses story and of European folk-custom,
this disappearance of Bormus is probably a reminiscence of the custom of
binding the farmer himself in a corn-sheaf and throwing him into the
water. The mournful strain which the reapers sang was probably a
lamentation over the death of the corn-spirit, slain either in the cut
corn or in the person of a human representative; and the call which they
addressed to him may have been a prayer that the corn-spirit might return
in fresh vigour next year.

The Phoenician Linus song was sung at the vintage, at least in the west of
Asia Minor, as we learn from Homer; and this, combined with the legend of
Syleus, suggests that in ancient times passing strangers were handled by
vintagers and vine-diggers in much the same way as they are said to have
been handled by the reaper Lityerses. The Lydian Syleus, so ran the
legend, compelled passers-by to dig for him in his vineyard, till Hercules
came and killed him and dug up his vines by the roots.(1309) This seems to
be the outline of a legend like that of Lityerses; but neither ancient
writers nor modern folk-custom enable us to fill in the details.(1310)
But, further, the Linus song was probably sung also by Phoenician reapers,
for Herodotus compares it to the Maneros song, which, as we have seen, was
a lament raised by Egyptian reapers over the cut corn. Further, Linus was
identified with Adonis, and Adonis has some claims to be regarded as
especially a corn-deity.(1311) Thus the Linus lament, as sung at harvest,
would be identical with the Adonis lament; each would be the lamentation
raised by reapers over the dead corn-spirit. But whereas Adonis, like
Attis, grew into a stately figure of mythology, adored and mourned in
splendid cities far beyond the limits of his Phoenician home, Linus
appears to have remained a simple ditty sung by reapers and vintagers
among the corn-sheaves and the vines. The analogy of Lityerses and of
folk-custom, both European and savage, suggests that in Phoenicia the
slain corn-spirit—the dead Adonis—may formerly have been represented by a
human victim; and this suggestion is possibly supported by the Harrân
legend that Thammuz (Adonis) was slain by his cruel lord, who ground his
bones in a mill and scattered them to the wind.(1312) For in Mexico, as we
have seen, the human victim at harvest was crushed between two stones; and
both in India and Africa the ashes of the victim were scattered over the
fields.(1313) But the Harrân legend may be only a mythical way of
expressing the grinding of corn in the mill and the scattering of the
seed. It seems worth suggesting that the mock king who was annually killed
at the Babylonian festival of the Sacaea on the 16th of the month Lous may
have represented Thammuz himself. For the historian Berosus, who records
the festival and its date, probably used the Macedonian calendar, since he
dedicated his history to Antiochus Soter; and in his day the Macedonian
month Lous appears to have corresponded to the Babylonian month
Thammuz.(1314) If this conjecture is right, the view that the mock king at
the Sacaea was slain in the character of a god would be established.

There is a good deal more evidence that in Egypt the slain corn-spirit—the
dead Osiris—was represented by a human victim, whom the reapers slew on
the harvest-field, mourning his death in a dirge, to which the Greeks,
through a verbal misunderstanding, gave the name of Maneros.(1315) For the
legend of Busiris seems to preserve a reminiscence of human sacrifices
once offered by the Egyptians in connection with the worship of Osiris.
Busiris was said to have been an Egyptian king who sacrificed all
strangers on the altar of Zeus. The origin of the custom was traced to a
barrenness which afflicted the land of Egypt for nine years. A Cyprian
seer informed Busiris that the barrenness would cease if a man were
annually sacrificed to Zeus. So Busiris instituted the sacrifice. But when
Hercules came to Egypt, and was being dragged to the altar to be
sacrificed, he burst his bonds and slew Busiris and his son.(1316) Here
then is a legend that in Egypt a human victim was annually sacrificed to
prevent the failure of the crops, and a belief is implied that an omission
of the sacrifice would have entailed a recurrence of that infertility
which it was the object of the sacrifice to prevent. So the Pawnees, as we
have seen, believed that an omission of the human sacrifice at planting
would have been followed by a total failure of their crops. The name
Busiris was in reality the name of a city, _pe-Asar_, “the house of
Osiris”(1317) the city being so called because it contained the grave of
Osiris. The human sacrifices were said to have been offered at his grave,
and the victims were red-haired men, whose ashes were scattered abroad by
means of winnowing-fans.(1318) In the light of the foregoing discussion,
this Egyptian tradition admits of a consistent and fairly probable
explanation. Osiris, the corn-spirit, was annually represented at harvest
by a stranger, whose red hair made him a suitable representative of the
ripe corn. This man, in his representative character, was slain on the
harvest-field, and mourned by the reapers, who prayed at the same time
that the corn-spirit might revive and return (_mââ-ne-rha_, Maneros) with
renewed vigour in the following year. Finally, the victim, or some part of
him, was burned, and the ashes scattered by winnowing-fans over the fields
to fertilise them. Here the choice of the representative on the ground of
his resemblance to the corn which he was to represent agrees with the
Mexican and African customs already described.(1319) Similarly the Romans
sacrificed red-haired puppies in spring, in the belief that the crops
would thus grow ripe and ruddy;(1320) and to this day in sowing wheat a
Bavarian sower will sometimes wear a golden ring, that the corn may grow
yellow.(1321) Again, the scattering of the Egyptian victim’s ashes is
identical with the Marimo and Khond custom.(1322) His identification with
the corn comes out again in the fact that his ashes were winnowed; just as
in Vendée a pretence is made of threshing and winnowing the farmer’s wife,
regarded as an embodiment of the corn-spirit; or as in Mexico the victim
was ground between stones; or as in Africa he was slain with spades and
hoes.(1323) The story that the fragments of Osiris’s body were scattered
up and down the land, and buried by Isis on the spots where they
lay,(1324) may very well be a reminiscence of a custom, like that observed
by the Khonds, of dividing the human victim in pieces and burying the
pieces, often at intervals of many miles from each other, in the fields.
However, it is possible that the story of the dismemberment of Osiris,
like the similar story told of Thammuz, may have been simply a mythical
expression for the scattering of the seed. Once more, the story that the
body of Osiris enclosed in a coffer was thrown by Typhon into the Nile
perhaps points to a custom of throwing the body of the victim, or at least
a portion of it, into the Nile as a rain-charm, or rather to make the Nile
rise. For a similar purpose Phrygian reapers seem to have thrown the
headless bodies of their victims, wrapt in corn-sheaves, into a river, and
the Khonds poured water on the buried flesh of the human victim. Probably
when Osiris ceased to be represented by a human victim, an effigy of him
was annually thrown into the Nile, just as the effigy of his Syrian
counterpart, Adonis, used to be thrown into the sea at Alexandria. Or
water may have been simply poured over it, as on the monument already
mentioned a priest is seen pouring water over the body of Osiris, from
which corn stalks are sprouting. The accompanying inscription, “This is
Osiris of the mysteries, who springs from the returning waters,” bears out
the view that at the mysteries of Osiris a water-charm or irrigation-charm
was regularly performed by pouring water on his effigy, or by throwing it
into the Nile.

It may be objected that the red-haired victims were slain as
representatives not of Osiris, but of his enemy Typhon; for the victims
were called Typhonian, and red was the colour of Typhon, black the colour
of Osiris.(1325) The answer to this objection must be reserved for the
present. Meantime it may be pointed out that if Osiris is often
represented on the monuments as black, he is still more commonly depicted
as green,(1326) appropriately enough for a corn-god, who may be conceived
as black while the seed is under ground, but as green after it has
sprouted. So the Greeks recognised both a green and a black Demeter,(1327)
and sacrificed to the green Demeter in spring with mirth and
gladness.(1328)

Thus, if I am right, the key to the mysteries of Osiris is furnished by
the melancholy cry of the Egyptian reapers, which down to Roman times
could be heard year after year sounding across the fields, announcing the
death of the corn-spirit, the rustic prototype of Osiris. Similar cries,
as we have seen, were also heard on all the harvest-fields of Western
Asia. By the ancients they are spoken of as songs; but to judge from the
analysis of the names Linus and Maneros, they probably consisted only of a
few words uttered in a prolonged musical note which could be heard for a
great distance. Such sonorous and long-drawn cries, raised by a number of
strong voices in concert, must have had a striking effect, and could
hardly fail to arrest the attention of any traveller who happened to be
within hearing. The sounds, repeated again and again, could probably be
distinguished with tolerable ease even at a distance; but to a Greek
traveller in Asia or Egypt the foreign words would commonly convey no
meaning, and he might take them, not unnaturally, for the name of some one
(Maneros, Linos, Lityerses, Bormus), upon whom the reapers were calling.
And if his journey led him through more countries than one, as Bithynia
and Phrygia, or Phoenicia and Egypt, while the corn was being reaped, he
would have an opportunity of comparing the various harvest cries of the
different peoples. Thus we can readily account for the fact that these
harvest cries were so often noted and compared with each other by the
Greeks. Whereas, if they had been regular songs, they could not have been
heard at such distances, and therefore could not have attracted the
attention of so many travellers; and, moreover, even if the traveller were
within hearing of them, he could not so easily have picked out the words.
To this day Devonshire reapers utter cries of the same sort, and perform
on the field a ceremony exactly analogous to that in which, if I am not
mistaken, the rites of Osiris originated. The cry and the ceremony are
thus described by an observer who wrote in the first half of this century.
“After the wheat is all cut, on most farms in the north of Devon, the
harvest people have a custom of ‘crying the neck.’ I believe that this
practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in that part of the country.
It is done in this way. An old man, or some one else well acquainted with
the ceremonies used on the occasion (when the labourers are reaping the
last field of wheat), goes round to the shocks and sheaves, and picks out
a little bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up
very neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully.
This is called ‘the neck’ of wheat, or wheaten-ears. After the field is
cut out, and the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and
the women, stand round in a circle. The person with ‘the neck’ stands in
the centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops and holds it
near the ground, and all the men forming the ring take off their hats,
stooping and holding them with both hands towards the ground. They then
all begin at once in a very prolonged and harmonious tone to cry ‘the
neck!’ at the same time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating
their arms and hats above their heads; the person with ‘the neck’ also
raising it on high. This is done three times. They then change their cry
to ‘wee yen!’—‘way yen!’—which they sound in the same prolonged and slow
manner as before, with singular harmony and effect, three times. This last
cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms as in crying
‘the neck.’... After having thus repeated ‘the neck’ three times, and ‘wee
yen,’ or ‘way yen,’ as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and
joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about
and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets ‘the neck’ and runs
as hard as he can down to the farmhouse, where the dairymaid or one of the
young female domestics stands at the door prepared with a pail of water.
If he who holds ‘the neck’ can manage to get into the house, in any way
unseen, or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands
with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise,
he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. On a fine still
autumn evening, the ‘crying of the neck’ has a wonderful effect at a
distance, far finer than that of the Turkish muezzin, which Lord Byron
eulogises so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells in
Christendom. I have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and
sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. About three years
back, on some high grounds, where our people were harvesting, I heard six
or seven ‘necks’ cried in one night, although I know that some of them
were four miles off. They are heard through the quiet evening air, at a
considerable distance sometimes.”(1329) Again, Mrs. Bray tells how,
travelling in Devonshire, “she saw a party of reapers standing in a circle
on a rising ground, holding their sickles aloft. One in the middle held up
some ears of corn tied together with flowers, and the party shouted three
times (what she writes as) ‘Arnack, arnack, arnack, we _haven_, we
_haven_, we _haven_.’ They went home, accompanied by women and children
carrying boughs of flowers, shouting and singing. The man-servant who
attended Mrs. Bray, said, ‘it was only the people making their games, as
they always did, _to the spirit of harvest_.’ ”(1330) Here, as Miss Burne
remarks, “ ‘arnack, we haven!’ is obviously in the Devon dialect, ‘a neck
(or nack)! we have un!’ ” “The neck” is generally hung up in the
farmhouse, where it sometimes remains for two or three years.(1331) A
similar custom is still observed in some parts of Cornwall, as I am
informed by my friend Professor J. H. Middleton. “The last sheaf is decked
with ribbons. Two strong-voiced men are chosen and placed (one with the
sheaf) on opposite sides of a valley. One shouts, ‘I’ve gotten it.’ The
other shouts, ‘What hast gotten?’ The first answers, ‘I’se gotten the
neck.’ ”

In these Devonshire and Cornish customs a particular bunch of ears,
generally the last left standing,(1332) is conceived as the neck of the
corn-spirit, who is consequently beheaded when the bunch is cut down.
Similarly in Shropshire the name “neck,” or “the gander’s neck,” used to
be commonly given to the last handful of ears left standing in the middle
of the field, when all the rest of the corn was cut. It was plaited
together, and the reapers, standing ten or twenty paces off, threw their
sickles at it. Whoever cut it through was said to have cut off the
gander’s neck. The “neck” was taken to the farmer’s wife, who was supposed
to keep it in the house “for good luck” till the next harvest came
round.(1333) Near Trèves, the man who reaps the last standing corn “cuts
the goat’s neck off.”(1334) At Faslane, on the Gareloch (Dumbartonshire),
the last handful of standing corn was sometimes called the “head.”(1335)
At Aurich, in East Friesland, the man who reaps the last corn “cuts the
hare’s tail off.”(1336) In mowing down the last corner of a field French
reapers sometimes call out, “We have the cat by the tail.”(1337) In Bresse
(Bourgogne) the last sheaf represented the fox. Beside it a score of ears
were left standing to form the tail, and each reaper, going back some
paces, threw his sickle at it. He who succeeded in severing it “cut off
the fox’s tail,” and a cry of “_You cou cou!_” was raised in his
honour.(1338) These examples leave no room to doubt the meaning of the
Devonshire and Cornish expression “the neck,” as applied to the last
sheaf. The corn-spirit is conceived in human or animal form, and the last
standing corn is part of its body—its neck, its head, or its tail.
Sometimes, as we have seen, it is regarded as the navel-string.(1339)
Lastly, the Devonshire custom of drenching with water the person who
brings in “the neck” is a rain-charm, such as we have had many examples
of. Its parallel in the mysteries of Osiris was the custom of pouring
water on the image of Osiris or on the person who represented him.

In Germany cries of _Waul!_ or _Wol!_ or _Wôld!_ are sometimes raised by
the reapers at cutting the last corn. Thus in some places the last patch
of standing corn was called the _Waul_-rye; a stick decked with flowers
was inserted in it, and the ears were fastened to the stick. Then all the
reapers took off their hats and cried thrice, _Waul! Waul! Waul!_
Sometimes they accompany the cry by clashing with their whetstones on
their scythes.(1340)






FOOTNOTES


    1 For the sake of brevity I have sometimes, in the notes, referred to
      Mannhardt’s works respectively as _Roggenwolf_ (the references are
      to the pages of the first edition), _Korndämonen_, _B. K._, _A. W.
      F._, and _M. F._

    2 The site was excavated in 1885 by Sir John Savile Lumley, English
      ambassador at Rome. For a general description of the site and
      excavations, see the _Athenaeum_, 10th October 1885. For details of
      the finds see _Bulletino dell’ Instituto di Corrispondenza
      Archeologica_, 1885, pp. 149 _sqq._, 225 _sqq._

    3 Ovid, _Fasti_, vi. 756; Cato quoted by Priscian, see Peter’s
      _Historic. Roman. Fragmenta_, p. 52 (lat. ed.); Statius, _Sylv._
      iii. 1, 56.

    4 ξιφήρης οὖν ἐστιν ἀεί, περισκοπῶν τὰς ἐπιθέσεις, ἕτοιμος ἀμύνεσθαι,
      is Strabo’s description (v. 3, 12), who may have seen him “pacing
      there alone.”

    5 Virgil, _Aen._ vi. 136 _sqq._; Servius, _ad l._; Strabo, v. 3, 12;
      Pausanias, ii. 27; Solinus, ii. 11; Suetonius, _Caligula_, 35. For
      the title “King of the Wood,” see Suetonius, _l.c._; and compare
      Statius, _Sylv._ iii. 1, 55 _sq._—

      “_Jamque dies aderat, profugis cum regibus aptum_
      _ Fumat Aricinum Triviae nemus;_”

      Ovid, _Fasti_, iii. 271, “_Regna tenent fortesque manu, pedibusque
      fugaces_;” _id. Ars am._ i. 259 _sq._—

      “_Ecce suburbanae templum nemorale Dianae,_
      _ Partaque per gladios regna nocente manu._”

_    6 Bulletino dell’ Instituto_, 1885, p. 153 _sq._; _Athenaeum_, 10th
      October 1885; Preller, _Römische Mythologie_,3 i. 317. Of these
      votive offerings some represent women with children in their arms;
      one represents a delivery, etc.

    7 Statius, _Sylv._ iii. 1, 52 _sqq._ From Martial, xii. 67, it has
      been inferred that the Arician festival fell on the 13th of August.
      The inference, however, does not seem conclusive. Statius’s
      expression is:—

      “_Tempus erat, caeli cum ardentissimus axis_
      _ Incumbit terris, ictusque Hyperione multo_
      _ Acer anhelantes incendit Sirius agros._”

    8 Ovid, _Fasti_, iii. 269; Propertius, iii. 24 (30), 9 _sq._ ed.
      Paley.

_    9 Inscript. Lat._ ed. Orelli, No. 1455.

   10 Statius, _l.c._; Gratius Faliscus, v. 483 sqq.

_   11 Athenaeum_, 10th October 1885. The water was diverted a few years
      ago to supply Albano. For Egeria, compare Strabo, v. 3, 12; Ovid,
      _Fasti_, iii. 273 _sqq._; _id. Met._ xv. 487 _sqq._

   12 Festus, p. 145, ed. Müller; Schol. on Persius, vi. 56 _ap._ Jahn on
      Macrobius, i. 7, 35.

   13 Virgil, _Aen._ vii. 761 _sqq._; Servius, _ad l._; Ovid, _Fasti_,
      iii. 265 _sq._; _id. Met._ xv. 497 _sqq._; Pausanias, ii. 27.

   14 Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ vii. 776.

_   15 Inscript. Lat._ ed. Orelli, Nos. 2212, 4022. The inscription No.
      1457 (Orelli) is said to be spurious.

   16 See above, p. 4, note 1.

   17 Marquardt, _Römische Staatsverwaltung_, iii.2 321 _sqq._

   18 G. Gilbert, _Handbuch der griechischen Staatsalterthümer_, i. 241
      _sq._

   19 Gilbert, _op. cit._ ii. 323 _sq._

   20 Livy, ii. 2, 1; Dionysius Halic. iv. 74, 4.

   21 Demosthenes, _contra Neacr._ § 74, p. 1370. Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._
      63.

   22 Xenophon, _Repub. Lac._ c. 15, cp. _id._ 13; Aristotle, _Pol._ iii.
      14, 3.

   23 Strabo, xii. 3, 37. 5, 3; cp. xi. 4, 7. xii. 2, 3. 2, 6. 3, 31 _sq._
      3, 34. 8, 9. 8, 14. But see _Encyc. Brit._, art. “Priest,” xix. 729.

   24 Grimm, _Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer_, p. 243.

   25 See the _Lî-Kî_ (Legge’s translation), _passim_.

   26 A. Leared, _Morocco and the Moors_, p. 272.

   27 J. W. Thomas, “De jacht op het eiland Nias,” in _Tijdschrift voor
      Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xxvi. 277.

   28 E. Aymonier, “Notes sur les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses
      des Cambodgiens,” in _Cochinchine Française, Excursions et
      Reconnaissances_, No. 16, p. 157.

   29 Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 218, No.
      36.

   30 Van Hasselt, _Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra_, p. 323.

   31 J. C. E. Tromp, “De Rambai en Sebroeang Dajaks,” _Tijdschrift voor
      Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xxv. 118.

   32 E. Aymonier, _Notes sur le Laos_, p. 25 _sq._

   33 J. Campbell, _Travels in South Africa_ (second journey), ii. 206;
      Barnabas Shaw, _Memorials of South Africa_, p. 66.

   34 Casalis, _The Basutos_, p. 271 _sq._

   35 Casalis, _The Basutos_, p. 272.

   36 W. Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p. 342, _note_.

   37 C. F. H. Campen “De Godsdienstbegrippen der Halmaherasche Alfoeren,”
      in _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xxvii.
      447.

   38 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 114.

   39 R. Parkinson, _Im Bismarck Archipel_, p. 143.

   40 J. Owen Dorsey, “Omaha Sociology,” in _Third Annual Report of the
      Bureau of Ethnology_ (Washington), p. 347. Cp. Charlevoix, _Voyage
      dans l’Amérique septentrionale_, ii. 187.

_   41 Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xvi. 35. Cp. Dawson,
      _Australian Aborigines_, p. 98.

   42 Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie occidentale_, ii. 180.

   43 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 145.

_   44 Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xiv. 362.

_   45 Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ _l.c._ Cp. Curr, _The Australian Race_, ii.
      377.

   46 Rhys, _Celtic Heathendom_, p. 184; Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_4 i.
      494. Cp. San-Marte, _Die Arthur Sage_, pp. 105 sq., 153 sqq.

_   47 The American Antiquarian_, viii. 339.

   48 Rhys, _Celtic Heathendom_, p. 185 sq.

_   49 Ib._ p. 187. So at the fountain of Sainte Anne, near Gevezé, in
      Brittany. Sébillot, _Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute
      Bretagne_, i. 72.

   50 Lamberti, “Relation de la Colchide ou Mingrélie,” _Voyages au Nord_,
      vii. 174 (Amsterdam, 1725).

   51 Le Brun, _Histoire critique des pratiques superstitieuses_
      (Amsterdam, 1733), i. 245 sq.

   52 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 345 _sq._

   53 Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 329 _sqq._; Grimm, D. M.4 i. 493 _sq._;
      W. Schmidt, _Das Jahr und seine Tage in Meinung und Brauch der
      Romänen Siebenbürgens_, p. 17; E. Gerard, _The Land beyond the
      Forest_, ii. 13.

   54 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 331.

   55 J. G. F. Riedel, “De Minahasa in 1825,” _Tijdschrift v. Indische
      Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xviii. 524.

   56 J. Reinegg, _Beschreibung des Kaukasus_, ii. 114.

   57 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 553; Gerard, _The Land beyond the Forest_, ii.
      40.

_   58 Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. Nos. 173, 513.

   59 Acosta, _History of the Indies_, bk. v. ch. 28.

   60 A. L. van Hasselt, _Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra_, p. 320
      _sq._

_   61 South African Folk-lore Journal_, i. 34.

   62 J. S. G. Gramberg, “Eene maand in de binnenlanden van Timor,” in
      _Verhandelingen van het Bataviansch Genootschap van Kunsten en
      Wetenschappen_, xxxvi. 209.

   63 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 88.

   64 Huc, _L’empire chinois_, i. 241.

   65 Bérenger-Féraud, _Les peuplades de la Sénégambie_, p. 291.

_   66 Colombia, being a geographical etc. account of that country_, i.
      642 _sq._; A. Bastian, _Die Culturlander des alten Amerika_, ii.
      216.

   67 A. Kuhn, _Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen_, ii. p. 80;
      Gerard, _The Land beyond the Forest_, ii. 13.

   68 Bancroft, _Native Races of the Pacific States_, i. 520.

   69 Brien, “Aperçu sur la province de Battambang,” in _Cochinchine
      française, Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 25, p. 6 _sq._

   70 Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 95.

   71 Gervasius von Tilburg, ed. Liebrecht, p. 41 _sq._

   72 Giraldus Cambrensis, _Topography of Ireland_, ch. 7. Cp. Mannhardt,
      _A. W. F._ p. 341 _note_.

   73 Callaway, _Religious System of the Amazulu_, p. 407 _sq._

   74 Reclus, _Nouvelle Géographie Universelle_, xii. 100.

   75 Rasmussen, _Additamenta ad historiam Arabum ante Islamismum_, p. 67
      _sq._

_   76 Reste arabischen Heidentumes_, p. 157.

   77 Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie occidentale_, ii. 180.

   78 S. Gason, “The Dieyerie tribe,” in _Native Tribes of S. Australia_,
      p. 276 _sqq._

   79 W. Stanbridge, “On the Aborigines of Victoria,” in _Trans. Ethnol.
      Soc. of London_, i. 300.

   80 Marcus Antoninus, v. 7; Petronius, 44; Tertullian, _Apolog._ 40; cp.
      _id._ 22 and 23.

   81 Pausanias, viii. 38, 4.

   82 Antigonus, _Histor. Mirab._ 15 (_Script. mirab. Graeci_, ed.
      Westermann, p. 65).

   83 Apollodorus, _Bibl._ i. 9, 7; Virgil, _Aen._ vi. 585 _sqq._; Servius
      on Virgil, _l.c._

   84 Festus, _svv._ _aquaelicium and manalem lapidem_, pp. 2, 128, ed.
      Müller; Nonius Marcellus, _sv._ _trullum_, p. 637, ed. Quicherat;
      Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ iii. 175; Fulgentius, _Expos. serm.
      antiq._, _sv._ _manales lapides, Mythogr. Lat._ ed. Staveren, p. 769
      _sq._

   85 Nonius Marcellus, _sv._ _aquilex_, p. 69, ed. Quicherat. In favour
      of taking _aquilex_ as rain-maker is the use of _aquaelicium_ in the
      sense of rain-making. Cp. K. O. Müller, _Die Etrusker_, ed. W.
      Deecke, ii. 318 _sq._

   86 Diodorus, v. 55.

   87 Peter Jones, _History of the Ojebway Indians_, p. 84.

   88 Gumilla, _Histoire de l’Orénoque_, iii. 243 _sq._

   89 Glaumont, “Usages, mœurs et coutumes des Néo-Calédoniens,” in _Revue
      d’ Ethnographie_, vi. 116.

   90 Arbousset et Daumas, _Voyage d’exploration au Nord-est de la Colonie
      du Cap de Bonne-Espérance_, p. 350 _sq._ For the kinship with the
      sacred object (tchem) from which the clan takes its name, see _ib._
      pp. 350, 422, 424. Other people have claimed kindred with the sun,
      as the Natchez of North America (_Voyages au Nord_, v. 24) and the
      Incas of Peru.

   91 Codrington, in _Journ. Anthrop. Instit._ x. 278.

   92 Above, p. 18.

   93 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 346. See above, p. 16.

   94 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iv. 174. The name of the
      place is Andahuayllas.

   95 Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 250.

   96 Schoolcraft, _The American Indians_, p. 97 _sqq._; Gill, _Myths and
      Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 61 _sq._; Turner, _Samoa_, p. 200
      _sq._

   97 Aeneas Sylvius, _Opera_ (Bâle, 1571), p. 418.

   98 Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, ii. 334; Curr, _The
      Australian Race_, i. 50.

   99 Fancourt, _History of Yucatan_, p. 118.

_  100 South African Folk-lore Journal_, i. 34.

  101 E. J. Eyre, _Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central
      Australia_, ii. 365.

  102 Curr, _The Australian Race_, iii. 145.

  103 Gmelin, _Reise durch Sibirien_, ii. 510.

_  104 Third Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_ (Washington), p.
      241.

  105 G. M. Dawson, “On the Haida Indians of the Queen Charlotte Islands,”
      _Geological Survey of Canada, Report of progress for 1878-1879_, p.
      124 B.

  106 W. Powell, _Wanderings in a Wild Country_, p. 169.

  107 Miss C. F. Gordon Cumming, _In the Hebrides_, p. 166 _sq._; Martin,
      “Description of the Western Islands of Scotland,” in Pinkerton’s
      _Voyages and Travels_, iii. 627.

  108 Olaus Magnus, _Gentium Septentr. Hist._ iii. 15.

  109 Scheffer, _Lapponia_, p. 144; Gordon Cumming, _In the Hebrides_, p.
      254 _sq._; Train, _Account of the Isle of Man_, ii. 166.

  110 C. Leemius, _De Lapponibus Finmarchiae etc. commentatio_, p. 454.

_  111 Odyssey_, x. 19 _sqq._

  112 E. Veckenstedt, _Die Mythen, Sagen, und Legenden der Zamaiten
      (Litauer)_, i. 153.

  113 J. Chalmers, _Pioneering in New Guinea_, p. 177.

  114 Rogers, _Social Life in Scotland_, iii. 220; Sir W. Scott, _Pirate_,
      note to ch. vii.; Shaks. _Macbeth_, Act i. Sc. 3, l. 11.

  115 Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_ (Amsterdam, 1686), p. 389.

  116 A. Peter, _Volksthümliches aus Oesterreichisch Schlesien_, ii. 259.

_  117 Arctic Papers for the Expedition of 1875_ (R. Geogr. Soc.), p. 274.

  118 Azara, _Voyages dans l’Amérique Méridionale_, ii. 137.

  119 Charlevoix, _Histoire du Paraguay_, i. 74.

  120 W. A. Henry, “Bijdrage tot de Kennis der Bataklanden,” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xvii. 23 sq.

  121 Herodotus, iv. 173; Aulus Gellius, xvi. 11.

  122 Harris, _Highlands of Ethiopia_, i. 352.

  123 Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 457 _sq._; cp. _id._ ii.
      270; _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xiii. p. 194 _note_.

  124 Denzil C. J. Ibbetson, _Settlement Report of the Panipat Tahsil and
      Karnal Parganah of the Karnal District_, p. 154.

  125 Stephen Powers, _Tribes of California_, p. 328.

  126 Sébillot, _Coutumes populaires de la Haute-Bretagne_, p. 302 sq.

  127 Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ p. 85.

  128 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 35.

  129 See for examples E. B. Tylor, _Primitive Culture_,2 ii. 131 _sqq._

  130 Pausanias, ii. 24, 1. κάτοχος ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ γίνεται is the expression.

  131 Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxviii. 147. Pausanias (vii. 25, 13) mentions
      the draught of bull’s blood as an ordeal to test the chastity of the
      priestess. Doubtless it was thought to serve both purposes.

  132 Caldwell, “On demonolatry in Southern India,” _Journal of the
      Anthropological Society of Bombay_, i. 101 _sq._

  133 J. G. F. Riedel, “De Minahasa in 1825,” _Tijdschrift v. Indische
      Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xviii. 517 _sq._ Cp. N. Graafland, _De
      Minahassa_, i. 122; Dumont D’Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à
      la recherche de La Perouse_, v. 443.

  134 F. J. Mone, _Geschichte des Heidenthums im nördlichen Europa_, i.
      188.

  135 Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 96. For other instances
      of priests or representatives of the deity drinking the warm blood
      of the victim, cp. _Tijdschrift v. Nederlandsch Indië_, 1849, p.
      395; Oldfield, _Sketches from Nipal_, ii. 296 _sq._; _Asiatic
      Researches_, iv. 40, 41, 50, 52 (8vo. ed.); Paul Soleillet,
      _L’Afrique Occidentale_, p. 123 _sq._ To snuff up the savour of the
      sacrifice was similarly supposed to produce inspiration. Tertullian,
      _Apologet._ 23.

  136 Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 97.

  137 Lucian, _Bis accus._, I; Tzetzes, _Schol. ad Lycophr._, 6.

  138 Vambery, _Das Türkenvolk_, p. 158.

  139 Plutarch, _De defect. oracul._ 46, 49.

  140 D. Chwolsohn, _Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus_, ii. 37; _Lettres
      édifiantes et curieuses_, xvi. 230 _sq._; _Panjab Notes and
      Queries_, iii. No. 721; _Journal of the Anthropological Society of
      Bombay_, i. 103; S. Mateer, _The Land of Charity_, 216; _id._,
      _Native Life in Travancore_, p. 94; A. C. Lyall, _Asiatic Studies_,
      p. 14; Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 131; Pallas,
      _Reisen in verschiedenen Provinzen des russischen Reiches_, i. 91;
      Vambery, _Das Türkenvolk_, p. 485; Erman, _Archiv für
      wissenschaftliche Kunde von Russland_, i. 377. When the Rao of Kachh
      sacrifices a buffalo, water is sprinkled between its horns; if it
      shakes its head, it is unsuitable; if it nods its head, it is
      sacrificed. _Panjab Notes and Queries_, i. No. 911. This is probably
      a modern misinterpretation of the old custom.

  141 Moura, _Le Royaume du Cambodge_, i. 177 _sq._

  142 Pausanias, x. 32, 6.

  143 Vincendon-Dumoulin et Desgraz, _Iles Marquises_, pp. 226, 240 _sq._

  144 Moerenhout, _Voyages aux Iles du Grand Océan_, i. 479; Ellis,
      _Polynesian Researches_, iii. 94.

  145 Tyerman and Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels in the South Sea
      Islands, China, India, etc._, i. 524; cp. p. 529 _sq._

  146 Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 529 _sq._

  147 Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iii. 108.

  148 Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 37, 48, 57, 58, 59, 73.

  149 Hazlewood in Erskine’s _Cruise among the Islands of the Western
      Pacific_, p. 246 _sq._ Cp. Wilkes’s _Narrative of the U. S.
      Exploring Expedition_, iii. 87.

  150 Kubary, “Die Religion der Pelauer,” in Bastian’s _Allerlei aus
      Volks- und Menschenkunde_, i. 30 _sqq._

  151 F. Valentyn, _Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën_, iii. 7 _sq._

  152 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iv. 383.

  153 Monier Williams, _Religious Life and Thought in India_, p. 259.

_  154 The Laws of Manu_, vii. 8, trans. by G. Bühler.

  155 Monier Williams, _op. cit._ p. 259 _sq._

  156 Marshall, _Travels among the Todas_, pp. 136, 137; cp. pp. 141, 142;
      Metz, _Tribes of the Neilgherry Hills_, p. 19 _sqq._

  157 Allen and Thomson, _Narrative of the Expedition to the River Niger
      in 1841_, i. 288.

  158 G. Massaja, _I miei trentacinque anni di missione nell’ alta
      Etiopia_ (Rome and Milan, 1888), v. 53 _sq._

  159 E. Aymonier, _Notes sur le Laos_, p. 141 _sq._

  160 Robinson, _Descriptive Account of Assam_, p. 342 _sq._; _Asiatic
      Researches_, xv. 146.

  161 Huc, _Souvenirs d’un Voyage dans la Tartarie et le Thibet_, i. 279
      _sqq._ ed. 12mo.

  162 Huc, _op. cit._ ii. 279, 347 _sq._; Meiners, _Geschichte der
      Religionen_, i. 335 _sq._; Georgi, _Beschreibung aller Nationen des
      Russischen Reichs_, p. 415; A. Erman, _Travels in Siberia_, ii. 303
      _sqq._; _Journal of the Roy. Geogr. Soc._, xxxviii. (1868), 168,
      169; _Proceedings of the Roy. Geogr. Soc._ N.S. vii. (1885) 67. In
      the _Journal Roy. Geogr. Soc._, _l.c._, the Lama in question is
      called the Lama Gûrû; but the context shows that he is the great
      Lama of Lhasa.

  163 Alex. von. Humboldt, _Researches concerning the Institutions and
      Monuments of the Ancient Inhabitants of America_, ii. 106 _sqq._;
      Waitz, _Anthropologie der Naturvölker_, iv. 352 _sqq._; J. G.
      Müller, _Geschichte der Amerikanischen Urreligionen_, p. 430 _sq._;
      Martius, _Zur Ethnographie Amerikas_, p. 455; Bastian, _Die
      Culturländer des alten Amerika_, ii. 204 _sq._

  164 R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the Waganda Tribe of Central Africa,” in
      _Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh_, xiii. 762; C. T.
      Wilson and R. W. Felkin, _Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan_, i. 206.

  165 “The Strange Adventures of Andrew Battel,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages
      and Travels_, xvi. 330; Proyart, “History of Loango, Kakongo, and
      other Kingdoms in Africa,” in Pinkerton, xvi. 577; Dapper,
      _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 335.

  166 Ogilby, _Africa_, p. 615; Dapper, _op. cit._ p. 400.

  167 Dos Santos, “History of Eastern Ethiopia,” in Pinkerton, _Voyages
      and Travels_, xvi. 682, 687 _sq._

  168 F. S. Arnot, _Garenganze; or, Seven Years’ Pioneer Mission Work in
      Central Africa_, London, N.D. (preface dated March 1889), p. 78.

  169 MS. notes by E. Beardmore.

  170 Waitz, _Anthropologie der Naturvölker_, ii. 439.

  171 Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie Occidentale_, ii. 172-176.

  172 Schol. on Apollonius Rhod. ii. 1248. καὶ Ἡρόδωρος ξένως περὶ τῶν
      δεσμῶν τοῦ Προμηθέως ταῦτα. Εἴναι γὰρ αὐτὸν Σκυθῶν βασιλέα φησί; καὶ
      μὴ δυνάμενον παρέχειν τοῖς ὑπηκόοις τὰ ἐπιτήδεια, διὰ τὸν καλούμενον
      Ἀετὸν ποταμὸν ἐπικλύζειν τὰ πεδία, δεθῆναι ὑπὸ τῶν Σκυθῶν.

  173 H. Hecquard, _Reise an der Küste und in das Innere von West Afrika_,
      p. 78.

  174 Bastian, _Die Deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 354, ii.
      230.

  175 J. Leighton Wilson, _West Afrika_, p. 93 (German translation).

  176 Ammianus Marcellinus, xxviii. 5, 14.

  177 Snorro Starleson, _Chronicle of the Kings of Norway_ (trans, by S.
      Laing), saga i. chs. 18, 47. Cp. Liebrecht, _Zur Volkskunde_, p. 7;
      Scheffer, _Upsalia_, p. 137.

  178 C. Russwurm, “Aberglaube in Russland,” in _Zeitschrift für Deutsche
      Mythologie und Sittenkunde_, iv. 162; Liebrecht, _op. cit._, p. 15.

  179 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 304 _sq._

  180 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 73.

  181 Garcilasso de la Vega, _First Part of the Royal Commentaries of the
      Yncas_, bk. ii. chs. 8 and 15 (vol. i. pp. 131, 155, Markham’s
      Trans.)

  182 Bancroft, _Native Races of the Pacific States_, ii. 146.

  183 Dennys, _Folk-lore of China_, p. 125.

  184 Ammianus Marcellinus, xxiii. 6, § 5 and 6.

  185 C. P. Tiele, _History of the Egyptian Religion_, p. 103 _sq._ On the
      worship of the kings see also E. Meyer, _Geschichte des Altertums_,
      i. § 52; A. Erman, _Aegypten und aegyptisches Leben im Altertum_, p.
      91 _sqq._; V. von Strauss und Carnen, _Die altägyptischen Götter und
      Göttersagen_, p. 467 _sqq._

  186 Ammianus Marcellinus, xxviii. 5, 14; Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 73.

  187 V. von Strauss und Carnen, _op. cit._ p. 470.

  188 Tiele, _History of the Egyptian Religion_, p. 105. The Babylonian
      and Assyrian kings seem also to have been regarded as gods; at least
      the oldest names of the kings on the monuments are preceded by a
      star, the mark for “god.” But there is no trace in Babylon and
      Assyria of temples and priests for the worship of the kings. See
      Tiele, _Babylonisch-Assyrische Geschichte_, p. 492 _sq._

  189 Bastian, _Die Deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, ii. 230.

  190 “Excursion de M. Brun-Rollet dans la région supérieure du Nil,”
      _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_, Paris, 1852, pt. ii. p. 421
      _sqq._

  191 W. Munzinger, _Ostafrikanische Studien_, p. 474 (Schaffhausen,
      1864).

  192 J. Moura, _Le Royaume du Cambodge_, i. 432-436; Aymonier, “Notes sur
      les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses des Cambodgìens,” in
      _Cochinchine Française, Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 16, p.
      172 _sq._; _id._, _Notes sur le Laos_, p. 60.

  193 Caesar, _Bell. Gall._ vi. 25.

  194 Elton, _Origins of English History_, pp. 3, 106 _sq._, 224.

  195 W. Helbig, _Die Italiker in der Poebene_, p. 25 _sq._

  196 H. Nissen, _Italische Landeskunde_, p. 431 _sqq._

  197 Neumann und Partsch, _Physikalische Geographie von Griechenland_, p.
      357 _sqq._

  198 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 i. 53 _sqq._

  199 The _locus classicus_ is Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xvi. § 249 _sqq._

  200 Grimm, _D. M._ i. 56 _sqq._

  201 Adam of Bremen, _Descriptio Insul. Aquil._ p. 27.

  202 “Prisca antiquorum Prutenorum religio,” in _Respublica sive Status
      Regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae, Livoniae_, etc. (Elzevir,
      1627), p. 321 _sq._; Dusburg, _Chronicon Prussiae_, ed. Hartknoch,
      p. 79; Hartknoch, _Alt- und Neues Preussen_, p. 116 _sqq._

  203 Mathias Michov, “De Sarmatia Asiana atque Europea,” in _Novus Orbis
      regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum_ (Paris, 1532), pp. 455
      _sq._ 456 [wrongly numbered 445, 446]; Martin Cromer, _De origine et
      rebus gestis Polonorum_ (Basel, 1568), p. 241.

  204 See Bötticher, _Der Baumkultus der Hellenen_.

  205 Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xv. § 77; Tacitus, _Ann._ xiii. 58.

  206 Plutarch, _Romulus_, 20.

  207 J. L. Krapf, _Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours during an
      Eighteen Years’ Residence in Eastern Africa_, p. 198.

  208 Loubere, _Historical Relation of the Kingdom of Siam_, p. 126.

  209 Hupe “Over de godsdienst, zeden, enz. der Dajakker’s” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Neêrland’s Indië_, 1846, dl. iii. 158.

  210 Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      xvi. 236.

  211 Monier Williams, _Religious Life and Thought in India_, p. 334 _sq._

  212 Sir Henry M. Elliot and J. Beames, _Memoirs on the History etc. of
      the Races of the North Western Provinces of India_, i. 233.

_  213 Die gestriegelte Rockenphilosophie_ (Chemnitz, 1759), p. 239 _sq._;
      U. Jahn, _Die deutsche Opfergebräuche bei Ackerbau und Viehzucht_,
      p. 214 _sqq._

  214 Van Schmid, “Aanteekeningen, nopens de zeden, gewoonten en
      gebruiken, etc., der bevolking van de eilanden Saparoea, etc.” in
      _Tijdschrift v. Neêrland’s Indië_, 1843, dl. ii. 605; Bastian,
      _Indonesien_, i. 156.

  215 Van Hoëvell, _Ambon en meer bepaaldelijk de Oeliasers_, p. 62.

_  216 The Indian Antiquary_, i. 170.

  217 J. Aubrey, _Remaines of Gentilisme_, p. 247.

  218 Peter Jones’s _History of the Ojebway Indians_, p. 104.

  219 A. Peter, _Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien_, ii. 30.

  220 Bastian, _Indonesien_, i. 154; cp. _id._, _Die Völker des estlichen
      Asien_, ii. 457 _sq._, iii. 251 _sq._, iv. 42 _sq._

  221 Loubere, _Siam_, p. 126.

  222 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 63.

  223 Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 35 _sq._

_  224 Native Tribes of South Australia_, p. 280.

  225 Blumentritt, “Der Ahnencultus und die religiösen Anschauungen der
      Malaien des Philippinen-Archipels,” in _Mittheilungen der Wiener
      Geogr. Gesellschaft_, 1882, p. 165 _sq._

  226 Landes, “Contes et légendes annamites,” No. 9, in _Cochinchine
      Française, Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 20, p. 310.

  227 Kubary in Bastian’s _Allerlei aus Mensch-und Volkenkunde_, i. 52.

  228 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 25; Bastian, _Volkerstämme am
      Brahmaputra_, p. 37.

_  229 Journal R. Asiatic Society_, vii. (1843) 29.

  230 Bastian, _Indonesien_, i. 17.

  231 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, pp. 186, 188; cp. Bastian,
      _Volkerstämme am Brahmaputra_, p. 9.

  232 Dalton, _op. cit._ p. 33; Bastian, _op. cit._ p. 16. Cp. W.
      Robertson Smith, _The Religion of the Semites_, i. 125.

  233 Van Hasselt, _Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra_, p. 156.

_  234 Handbook of Folk-lore_, p. 19 (proof).

  235 Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 83.

  236 Erasmus Stella, “De Borussiae antiquitatibus,” in _Novus Orbis
      regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum_, p. 510; Lasiczki
      (Lasicius), “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” in
      _Respublica sive Status Regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae,
      Livoniae_, etc. (Elzevir, 1627), p. 299 _sq._ There is a good and
      cheap reprint of Lasiczki’s work by W. Mannhardt in _Magazin
      herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft_, xiv. 82
      _sqq._ (Mitau, 1868).

  237 Simon Grünau, _Preussische Chronik_, ed. Perlbach (Leipzig 1876), p.
      89; “Prisca antiquorum Prutenorum religio,” in _Respublica sive
      Status Regni Poloniae_ etc., p. 321.

  238 B. Hagen, “Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Battareligion,” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xxviii. 530
      _note_.

  239 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, i. 134.

  240 Matthias Michov, in _Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus
      incognitarum_, p. 457.

  241 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4, i. 497; cp. ii. 540, 541.

  242 Max Buch, _Die Wotjaken_, p. 124.

  243 Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 116.

  244 Cato, _De agri cultura_, 139.

  245 Henzen, _Acta fratrum arvalium_ (Berlin, 1874), p. 138.

  246 On the representations of Silvanus, the Roman wood-god, see Jordan
      in Preller’s _Römische Mythologie_,3 i. 393 _note_; Baumeister,
      _Denkmäler des classischen Altertums_, iii. 1665 _sq._ A good
      representation of Silvanus bearing a pine branch is given in the
      Sale Catalogue of H. Hoffmann, Paris, 1888, pt. ii.

  247 Aeneas Sylvius, _Opera_ (Bâle, 1571), p. 418 [wrongly numbered 420];
      cp. Erasmus Stella, “De Borussiae antiquitatibus,” in _Novus Orbis
      regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum_, p. 510.

  248 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 186.

  249 Aymonier in _Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 16, p. 175 _sq._

  250 See above, pp. 13, 21.

  251 Above, p. 16.

  252 Mannhardt, _B. K._ pp. 158, 159, 170, 197, 214, 351, 514.

  253 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 188.

  254 Labat, _Voyage du Chevalier des Marchais en Guinée, Isles voisines,
      et à Cayenne_ (Paris, 1730), i. 338.

  255 L. Lloyd, _Peasant Life in Sweden_, p. 266.

  256 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 190 _sqq._

  257 Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ p. 212 _sqq._

  258 H. Low, _Sarawak_, p. 274.

  259 T. H. Lewin, _Wild Races of South-eastern India_, p. 270.

  260 J. Mackenzie, _Ten years north of the Orange River_, p. 385.

  261 Rev. J. Macdonald, MS. notes.

  262 Biddulph, _Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh_, p. 103 _sq._

  263 Biddulph, _op. cit._ p. 106 _sq._

  264 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 161; E. Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und
      Gebräuche aus Schwaben_, p. 397.; A. Peter, _Volksthümliches aus
      Österreichisch-Schlesien_, ii. 286; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld,
      _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 210.

  265 Quoted by Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, i. 227, Bohn’s ed.

  266 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 174.

  267 Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” _Verhandlungen der Estnischen Gesell. zu
      Dorpat_, vii. 10 _sq._; Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 407 _sq._

  268 Potocki, _Voyage dans les steps d’Astrakhan et du Caucase_ (Paris,
      1829), i. 309.

  269 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 163 _sqq._ To his authorities add, for
      Sardinia, R. Tennant, _Sardinia and its Resources_ (Rome and London,
      1885), p. 185 _sq._

  270 Radloff, _Proben der Volkslitteratur der nördlichen Türkischen
      Stämme_, v. 2.

  271 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 51 _sq._

  272 Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      xvi. 236 _sq._

  273 Bötticher, _Der Baumkultus der Hellenen_, p. 30 _sq._

  274 Quoted by Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, i. 246 (ed. Bohn).

  275 Dyer, _British Popular Customs_, p. 254.

  276 Borlase, cited by Brand, _op. cit._ i. 222.

  277 Brand, _op. cit._ i. 212 _sq._

  278 Dyer, _Popular British Customs_, p. 233.

  279 Chambers, _Book of Days_, i. 578; Dyer, _op. cit._ p. 237 _sq._

  280 Dyer, _op. cit._ p. 243.

  281 E. Cortet, _Fêtes religieuses_, p. 167 _sqq._

_  282 Revue des Traditions populaires_, ii. 200.

  283 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 234 _sq._

  284 A. Kuhn, _Märkische Sagen und Märchen_, p. 315.

  285 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 162.

  286 L. Lloyd, _Peasant Life in Sweden_, p. 235.

  287 L. Lloyd, _op. cit._ p. 257 _sqq._

  288 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 308 _sq._

  289 Hone, _Every-day Book_, i. 547 _sqq._; Chambers, _Book of Days_, i.
      571.

  290 Quoted by Brand, _op. cit._ i. 237.

_  291 Id._, _op. cit._ i. 235.

  292 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 169 _sq._ _note_.

  293 Hone, _Every-day Book_, ii. 597 _sq._

  294 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 217;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 566.

  295 Birlinger, _Volksthümliches aus Schwaben_, ii. 74 _sq._; Mannhardt,
      _B. K._ p. 566.

  296 Aristophanes, _Plutus_, 1054; Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ p. 222 _sq._

  297 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 86 _sqq._;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 156.

  298 Chambers, _Book of Days_, i. 573.

  299 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 312.

  300 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 313.

_  301 Ib._ p. 314.

_  302 Bavaria, Landes-und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern_, iii. 357;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 312 _sq._

  303 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 313 _sq._

  304 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 261.

  305 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 315 _sq._

  306 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 234.

  307 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 318.

  308 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 318; Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 657.

  309 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 320; Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche
      aus Thüringen_, p. 211.

  310 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 322; Hone, _Every-day Book_, i. 583 _sqq._;
      Dyer, _British Popular Customs_, p. 230 _sq._

  311 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 323.

_  312 Ib._

  313 Birlinger, _Volksthümliches aus Schwaben_, ii. 114 _sq._; Mannhardt,
      _B. K._ p. 325.

  314 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 341 _sq._

  315 Kuhn und Schwartz, _Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche_, p.
      380.

  316 Kuhn und Schwartz, _op. cit._ p. 384; Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 342.

  317 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 260 _sq._;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 342 _sq._

  318 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 347 _sq._; Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und
      Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 203.

  319 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 253 _sqq._

  320 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 262;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 353 _sq._

_  321 B. K._ p. 355.

  322 Above, p. 18.

  323 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 93; Mannhardt,
      _B. K._ p. 344.

  324 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 343 _sq._

  325 Dyer, _British Popular Customs_, p. 270 _sq._

  326 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 344 _sq._; Cortet, _Fêtes religieuses_, p. 160
      _sqq._; Monnier, _Traditions populaires comparées_, p. 282 _sqq._;
      Bérenger-Féraud, _Réminiscences populaires de la Provence_, p. 1
      _sqq._

  327 Above, p. 60.

  328 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen_, p. 265 _sq._;
      Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 422.

  329 Monnier, _Traditions populaires comparées_, p. 304; Mannhardt, _B.
      K._ p. 423.

  330 Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, i. 233 _sq._ Bohn’s ed.; Mannhardt,
      _B. K._ p. 424.

  331 E. Sommer, _Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen_,
      p. 151 _sq._; Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 431 _sq._

  332 This custom was told to Mannhardt by a French prisoner in the war of
      1870-71, _B. K._ p. 434.

  333 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 434 _sq._

_  334 Ib._ p. 435.

  335 Martin, “Description of the Western Islands of Scotland,” in
      Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_, iii. 613; Mannhardt, _B. K._ p.
      436.

_  336 Scotland and Scotsmen in the Eighteenth Century_, from the MSS. of
      John Ramsay of Ochtertyre. Edited by Alex. Allardyce (Edinburgh,
      1888), ii. 447.

  337 Kuhn, _Märkische Sagen und Märchen_, p. 318 _sqq._; Mannhardt, _B.
      K._ p. 437.

  338 Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 438.

  339 Monnier, _Traditions populaires comparées_, p. 283 _sq._; Cortet,
      _Fêtes religieuses_, p. 162 _sq._; Mannhardt, _B. K._ p. 439 _sq._

  340 Above, pp. 69 _sqq._, 85.

  341 See especially his _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_.

  342 Pausanias, ix. 3; Plutarch, _ap._ Eusebius, _Praepar. Evang._ iii. 1
      _sq._

  343 Above, p. 76 _sq._

  344 Above, p. 79.

_  345 B. K._ p. 177.

_  346 B. K._ p. 177 _sq._

  347 Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, i. 318, Bohn’s ed.; _B. K._ p. 178.

  348 Hone, _Every-day Book_, ii. 595 _sq._; _B. K._ p. 178.

  349 Pausanias, viii. 42.

  350 Once upon a time the Wotjaks of Russia, being distressed by a series
      of bad harvests, ascribed the calamity to the wrath of one of their
      gods, _Keremet_, at being unmarried. So they went in procession to
      the sacred grove, riding on gaily-decked waggons, as they do when
      they are fetching home a bride. At the sacred grove they feasted all
      night, and next morning they cut in the grove a square piece of turf
      which they took home with them. “What they meant by this marriage
      ceremony,” says the writer who reports it, “it is not easy to
      imagine. Perhaps, as Bechterew thinks, they meant to marry _Keremet_
      to the kindly and fruitful _mukyl’c in_, the earth-wife, in order
      that she might influence him for good.”—Max Buch, _Die Wotjäken,
      eine ethnologische Studie_ (Stuttgart, 1882), p. 137.

  351 At Cnossus in Crete, Diodorus, v. 72; at Samos, Lactantius,
      _Instit._ i. 17; at Athens, Photius, _sv._ ἱερὸν γάμον; _Etymolog.
      Magn._ _sv._ ἱερομνήμονες, p. 468. 52.

_  352 Iliad_, xiv. 347 _sqq._

  353 Demosthenes, _Neaer._ § 73 _sqq._ p. 1369 _sq._; Hesychius, _svv._
      Διονύσου γάμος and γεραραί; _Etymol. Magn._ _sv._ γεραῖραι; Pollux,
      viii. 108; Aug. Mommsen, _Heortologie_, p. 357 _sqq._; Hermann,
      _Gottesdienstliche Alterthümer_,2 § 32. 15, § 58. 11 _sqq._

  354 Above, p. 7.

  355 Above, p. 94.

  356 Above, p. 95 _sq._

  357 Preller, _Griech. Mythol._3 i. 559.

  358 Hyginus, _Astronomica_, i. 5.

  359 Servius on Virgil, _Georg._ iii. 332, _nam, ut diximus, et omnis
      quercus Jovi est consecrata, et omnis lucus Dianae_.

  360 Roscher’s _Lexikon d. Griech. u. Röm. Mythologie_, c. 1005.

  361 See above, p. 4. For Diana in this character, see Roscher, _op.
      cit._ c. 1007.

  362 Roscher, c. 1006 _sq._

  363 Castren, _Finnische Mythologie_, p. 97.

  364 Mathias Michov, “De Sarmatia Asiana atque Europea,” in _Novus Orbis
      regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum_, p. 457.

  365 Livy, i. 45; Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 4.

  366 Virgil, _Aen._ viii. 600 _sq._, with Servius’s note.

  367 Castren, _op. cit._ p. 97 _sq._

  368 Above, p. 4 _sq._

  369 Above, p. 66 _sq._

  370 Above, p. 6.

  371 Above, p. 71.

  372 Castren, _Finnische Mythologie_, pp. 92, 95.

_  373 Historic. Roman. Fragm._ ed. Peter, p. 52 (first ed.)

_  374 Manners and Customs of the Japanese in the Nineteenth Century. From
      recent Dutch Visitors to Japan, and the German of Dr. Ph. Fr. von
      Siebold_ (London, 1841), p. 141 _sqq._

  375 Kaempfer, “History of Japan,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      vii. 716 _sq._

  376 Caron, “Account of Japan,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      vii. 613. Compare Varenius, _Descriptio regni Japoniae_, p. 11,
      _Nunquam attingebant (quemadmodum et hodie id observat) pedes ipsius
      terram: radiis Solis caput nunquam illustrabatur: in apertum aërem
      non procedebat_, etc.

  377 A. Bastian, _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 287
      _sq._; cp. _id._, p. 353 _sq._

  378 Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie Occidentale_, i. 254
      _sqq._

  379 Above, pp. 44, 49.

  380 Brasseur de Bourbourg, _Hist. des nations civilisées du Mexique et
      de l’Amérique-centrale_, iii. 29 _sq._; Bancroft, _Native Races of
      the Pacific States_, ii. 142 _sq._

  381 Bastian, _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 355.

  382 Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 336.

  383 P. 49 _sq._

_  384 Bibl. Hist._ i. 70.

  385 P. 6.

  386 Aulus Gellius, x. 15; Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 109-112; Pliny, _Nat.
      Hist._ xxviii. 146; Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ i. _vv._ 179, 448, iv.
      518; Macrobius, _Saturn._ i. 16, 8 _sq._; Festus, p. 161 A, ed.
      Müller. For more details see Marquardt, _Römische Staatsverwaltung_,
      iii.2 326 _sqq._

  387 P. 54.

  388 P. 48.

  389 Bastian, _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 354
      _sq._; ii. 9, 11.

_  390 Manners and Customs of the Japanese_, pp. 199 _sqq._ 355 _sqq._

  391 Richard, “History of Tonquin,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      ix. 744 _sqq._

  392 Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iii. 99 _sqq._ ed. 1836.

  393 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 293 _sqq._

  394 Pp. 44, 113.

_  395 Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, vii. 282.

_  396 Relations des Jesuites_, 1634, p. 17; _id._, 1636, p. 104; _id._,
      1639, p. 43 (Canadian reprint).

  397 H. Rink, _Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo_, p. 36.

  398 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 171.

  399 H. Sundermann, “Die Insel Nias und die Mission daselbst,” in
      _Allgemeine Missions-Zeitschrift_, bd. xi. October 1884, p. 453.

  400 B. F. Matthes, _Over de Bissoes of heidensche priesters en
      priesteressen der Boeginezen_, p. 24.

  401 G. M. Dawson, “On the Haida Indians of the Queen Charlotte Islands,”
      in _Geological Survey of Canada, Report of Progress for 1878-1879_,
      pp. 123 B, 139 B.

  402 Waitz, _Anthropologie der Naturvölker_, vi. 397 _sq._

_  403 Panjab Notes and Queries_, ii. No. 665.

  404 D’Orbigny, _L’Homme Américain_, ii. 241; _Transact. Ethnol. Soc. of
      London_, iii. 322 _sq._; Bastian, _Culturländer des alten Amerika_,
      i. 476.

  405 B. F. Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_, p.
      54.

  406 Zimmermann, _Die Inseln des Indischen und Stillen Meeres_, ii. 386
      _sq._

  407 Cp. the Greek ποτάομαι, ἀναπτερόω, etc.

  408 G. A. Wilken, “Het animisme bij de volken van den Indischen
      Archipel,” in _De Indische Gids_, June 1884, p. 944.

  409 Wilken, _l.c._

  410 B. F. Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_, p.
      33; _id._, _Over de Bissoes of heidensche priesters en priesteressen
      der Boeginezen_, p. 9 _sq._; _id._, _Makassaarsch-Hollandsch
      Woordenboek_, _svv._ _Koêrróe_ and _soemāñgá_, pp. 41, 569. Of these
      two words, the former means the sound made in calling fowls, and the
      latter means the soul. The expression for the ceremonies described
      in the text is _ápakoêrróe soemāñgá_.

  411 Shway Yoe, _The Burman, his Life and Notions_, ii. 100.

  412 J. L. Wilson, _West Afrika_, p. 162 _sq._ (German translation).

  413 J. G. F. Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en
      Papua_, p. 267. For detention of sleeper’s soul by spirits and
      consequent illness, see also Mason, quoted in Bastian’s _Die Völker
      des östlichen Asien_, ii. 387 _note_.

_  414 Indian Antiquary_, 1878, vii. 273; Bastian, _Völkerstämme am
      Brahmaputra_, p. 127. Similar story (lizard form of soul not
      mentioned) told by Hindus, _Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. No. 679.

  415 E. Gerard, _The Land beyond the Forest_, ii. 27 _sq._ A similar
      story is told in Holland, J. W. Wolf, _Nederlandsche Sagen_, No.
      251, p. 344 _sq._ The stories of Hermotimus and King Gunthram belong
      to the same class. In the latter the king’s soul comes out of his
      mouth as a small reptile. The soul of Aristeas issued from his mouth
      in the form of a raven. Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ vii. § 174; Lucian,
      _Muse. Encom._ 7; Paulus, _Hist. Langobardorum_, iii. 34. In an East
      Indian story of the same type the sleeper’s soul issues from his
      nose in the form of a cricket. Wilken in _De Indische Gids_, June
      1884, p. 940. In a Swabian story a girl’s soul creeps out of her
      mouth in the form of a white mouse. Birlinger, _Volksthümliches aus
      Schwaben_, i. 303.

  416 Shway Yoe, _The Burman_, ii. 103; Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen
      Asien_, ii. 389; Blumentritt, “Der Ahnencultus und die religiösen
      Anschauungen der Malaien des Philippinen-Archipels,” in
      _Mittheilungen d. Wiener Geogr. Gesellschaft_, 1882, p. 209; Riedel,
      _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_, p. 440;
      id., “Die Landschaft Dawan oder West-Timor,” in _Deutsche
      Geographische Blätter_, x. 280.

_  417 Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. No. 530.

  418 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 117 _sq._

  419 Bastian, _Die Seele und ihre Erscheinungwesen in der Ethnographie_,
      p. 36.

_  420 Pantschatantra_, Benfey, p. 124 _sqq._

_  421 Katha Sarit Ságara_, trans. Tawney, i. 21 _sq._

  422 E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the American Oriental
      Society_, iv. 311.

  423 A. R. M’Mahon, _The Karens of the Golden Chersonese_, p. 318.

  424 F. Mason, “Physical Character of the Karens,” in _Journal of the
      Asiatic Society of Bengal_, 1866, pt. ii. p. 28 _sq._

  425 C. J. S. F. Forbes, _British Burma_, p. 99 _sq._; Shway Yoe, _The
      Burman_, ii. 102; Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, ii.
      389.

  426 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 414.

  427 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 221 _sq._

  428 N. Ph. Wilken en J. A. Schwarz, “Het heidendom en de Islam in
      Bolaang Mongondou,” in _Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche
      Zendelinggenootschap_, 1867, xi. 263 _sq._

  429 James Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 57 _sq._

  430 W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 171 _sq._

  431 G. A. Wilken, “Het animisme,” in _De Indische Gids_, June 1884, p.
      937.

  432 Landes, “Contes et légendes annamites,” No. 76 in _Cochinchine
      Française, Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 23, p. 80.

  433 Perelaer, _Ethnographische Beschrijving der Dajaks_, p. 26 _sq._

  434 Fr. Valentyn, _Oud en nieuw Oost-Indien_, iii. 13 _sq._

  435 Van Schmidt, “Aanteekeningen, nopens de zeden, gewoonten en
      gebruiken, benevens de vooroordeelen en bijgelovigheden der
      bevolking van de eilanden Saparoea, Haroekoe, Noessa Laut, en van
      een gedeelte van de zuidkust van Ceram,” in _Tijdschrift voor
      Neêrland’s Indie_, 1843, dl. ii. 511 _sqq._

  436 Bastian, _Die Seele_, p. 36 _sq._; J. G. Gmelin, _Reise durch
      Sibirien_, ii. 359 _sq._

  437 P. N. Wilken, “Bijdragen tot de kennis van de zeden en gewoonten der
      Alfoeren in de Minahassa,” in _Mededeelingen van wege het
      Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap_, 1863, vii. 146 _sq._ Why the
      priest, after restoring the soul, tells it to go away again, is not
      clear.

  438 Riedel, “De Minahassa in 1825,” in _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-
      Land- en Volkenkunde_, xviii. 523.

  439 N. Graafland, _De Minahassa_, i. 327 _sq._

  440 G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 142 _sq._

  441 J. B. Neumann, “Het Pane en Bila-stroomgebied op het eiland
      Sumatra,” in _Tijdschrift van het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig
      Genootschap_, ii. de Serie, dl. iii., Afdeeling: meer uitgebreide
      artikelen, No. 2 (1886), p. 302.

  442 Codrington, “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” in
      _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, x. 281.

  443 Horatio Hale, _U.S. Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and
      Philology_, p. 208 _sq._ Cp. Wilkes, _Narrative of the U.S.
      Exploring Expedition_ (London, 1845), iv. 448 _sq._

  444 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 77 _sq._

_  445 Ib._ p. 356 _sq._

  446 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 376.

  447 Spenser St. John, _Life in the Forests of the Far East_, i. 189.
      Sometimes the souls resemble cotton seeds (_ib._) Cp. _id._ i. 183.

  448 Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, “Verslag omtrent het Eiland Nias,” in
      _Verhandel. van het Batav. Genootsch. van Kunsten en Wetenschappen_,
      xxx. 116; Rosenberg, _Der Malayische Archipel_, p. 174.

  449 Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 250.

  450 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 171; _id._, _Life
      in the Southern Isles_, p. 181 _sqq._

  451 L. J. B. Bérenger-Féraud, _Les Peuplades de la Sénégambie_ (Paris,
      1879), p. 277.

  452 W. H. Bentley, _Life on the Congo_ (London, 1887), p. 71.

  453 Bastian, _Allerlei aus Volks-und Menschenkunde_ (Berlin, 1888), i.
      119.

_  454 Relations des Jésuites_, 1637, p. 50.

  455 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 78 _sq._

  456 E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the American Oriental
      Society_, iv. 307.

  457 J. B. McCullagh in _The Church Missionary Gleaner_, xiv. No. 164
      (August 1887), p. 91. The same account is copied from the “North
      Star” (Sitka, Alaska, December 1888), in _Journal of American
      Folk-lore_, ii. 74 _sq._ Mr. McCullagh’s account (which is closely
      followed in the text) of the latter part of the custom is not quite
      clear. It would seem that failing to find the soul in the
      head-doctor’s box it occurs to them that he may have swallowed it,
      as the other doctors were at first supposed to have done. With a
      view of testing this hypothesis they hold him up by the heels to
      empty out the soul; and as the water with which his head is washed
      may possibly contain the missing soul, it is poured on the patient’s
      head to restore the soul to him. We have already seen that the
      recovered soul is often conveyed into the sick person’s head.

  458 Riedel, _De Topantunuasu of oorspronkelijke volksstammen van Central
      Selebes_ (overgedrukt uit de _Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en
      Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië_, 5e volgr. i.), p. 17; Neumann,
      “Het Pane en Bila-stroomgebied,” in _Tijdschrift van het
      Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap_, ii. de Serie, dl. iii.,
      Afdeeling: meer uitgebreide artikelen, No. 2 (1886), p. 300 _sq._;
      Priklonski, “Die Jakuten,” in Bastian’s _Allerlei aus Volks-und
      Menschenkunde_, ii. 218 _sq._; Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen
      Asien_, ii. 388, iii. 236; _id._, _Völkerstämme am Brahmaputra_, p.
      23; _id._, “Hügelstämme Assam’s,” in _Verhandlungen d. Berlin.
      Gesell. f. Anthropol. Ethnol. und Urgeschichte_, 1881, p. 156; Shway
      Yoe, _The Burman_, i. 283 _sq._, ii. 101 _sq._; Sproat, _Scenes and
      Studies of Savage Life_, p. 214; Doolittle, _Social Life of the
      Chinese_, p. 110 _sq._ (ed. Paxton Hood); T. Williams, _Fiji and the
      Fijians_, i. 242; E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the
      American Oriental Society_, iv. 309 _sq._; A. W. Howitt, “On some
      Australian Beliefs,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Instit._ xiii. 187 _sq._;
      _id._, “On Australian Medicine Men,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xvi.
      41; E. P. Houghton, “On the Land Dayaks of Upper Sarawak,” in
      _Memoirs of the Anthropological Society of London_, iii. 196 _sq._;
      L. Dahle, “Sikidy and Vintana,” in _Antananarivo Annual and
      Madagascar Annual_, xi. (1887) p. 320 _sq._; C. Leemius, _De
      Lapponibus Finmarchiae eorumque lingua, vita et religione pristina
      commentatio_ (Copenhagen, 1767), p. 416 _sq._ Some time ago my
      friend Professor W. Robertson Smith suggested to me that the
      practice of hunting souls, which is denounced in Ezekiel xiii. 17
      _sqq._ must have been akin to those described in the text.

  459 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 440.

  460 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, v. 455.

  461 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 340.

  462 Codrington, “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Instit._ x. 281.

  463 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 61.

  464 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 284 _sqq._

  465 Bernard Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, pp. 94 _sqq._,
      119 _sq._; Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 972; Rochholz,
      _Deutscher Glaube und Brauch_, i. 62 _sqq._; E. Gerard, _The Land
      beyond the Forest_, i. 331.

  466 Schol. on Aristophanes, _Ran._ 293.

  467 [Aristotle] _Mirab. Auscult._ 145 (157); _Geoponica_, xv. 1. In the
      latter passage, for κατάγει ἑαυτήν we must read κ. αὐτόν, an
      emendation necessitated by the context, and confirmed by the passage
      of Damīrī quoted and translated by Bochart, _Hierozoicon_, i. c.
      833, “_cum ad lunam calcat umbram canis, qui supra tectura est,
      canis ad eam [scil. hyaenam] decidit, et ea illum devorat_.” Cp. W.
      Robertson Smith, _The Religion of the Semites_, i. 122.

  468 Pausanias, viii. 38, 6; Polybius, xvi. 12, 7; Plutarch, _Quaest.
      Graec._ 39.

  469 B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 196 _sq._

  470 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 127.

  471 W. Schmidt, _Das Jahr und seine Tage in Meinung und Brauch der
      Romänen Siebenbürgens_, p. 27; E. Gerard, _The Land beyond the
      Forest_, ii. 17 _sq._

  472 E. H. Mann, _Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands_, p. 94.

  473 Williams, _Fiji_, i. 241.

  474 James Chalmers, _Pioneering in New Guinea_ (London, 1887), p. 170.

  475 Sahagun, _Histoire générale des choses de la Nouvelle-Espagne_
      (Paris, 1880), p. 314. The Chinese hang brass mirrors over the idols
      in their houses, because it is thought that evil spirits entering
      the house and seeing themselves in the mirrors will be scared away
      (_China Review_, ii. 164).

  476 Callaway, _Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus_,
      p. 342.

  477 Arbousset et Daumas, _Voyage d’exploration au Nord-est de la Colonie
      du Cap de Bonne-Espérance_, p. 12.

  478 Codrington, “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Instit._ x. 313.

_  479 Fragmenta Philosoph. Graec._ ed. Mullach, i. 510; Artemidorus,
      _Onirocr._ ii. 7; _Laws of Manu_, iv. 38.

  480 See above, p. 125 _sq._

  481 Wattke, _Der deutsche Volksaberglaube_,2 § 726.

_  482 Ib._

_  483 Folk-lore Journal_, iii. 281; Dyer, _English Folk-lore_, p. 109; J.
      Napier, _Folk-lore, or Superstitious Beliefs in the West of
      Scotland_, p. 60; Ellis, _History of Madagascar_, i. 238; _Revue
      d’Ethnographie_, v. 215.

_  484 Punjab Notes and Queries_, ii. 906.

_  485 Folk-lore Journal_, vi. 145 _sq._; _Panjab Notes and Queries_, ii.,
      No. 378.

_  486 Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xv. 82 _sqq._

  487 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 117. The objection,
      however, may be merely Puritanical. Professor W. Robertson Smith
      informs me that the peculiarities of the Raskolniks are largely due
      to exaggerated Puritanism.

  488 A. Simson, “Notes on the Jivaros and Canelos Indians,” in _Journ.
      Anthrop. Inst._ ix. 392.

  489 J. Thomson, _Through Masai Land_, p. 86.

  490 Maximilian Prinz zu Wied, _Reise in das Innere Nord-Amerika_, i.
      417.

_  491 Ib._ ii. 166.

  492 “A far-off Greek Island,” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, February 1886, p.
      235.

  493 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 117.

  494 James Napier, _Folk-lore: or, Superstitious Beliefs in the West of
      Scotland_, p. 142. For more examples of the same sort, see R.
      Andree, _Ethnographische Parallelen und Vergleiche_, Neue Folge
      (Leipzig, 1889), p. 18 _sqq._

  495 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 291 _sq._

  496 Charles New, _Life, Wanderings, and Labours in Eastern Africa_, p.
      432. Cp. _ib._ pp. 400, 402. For the demons on Mt. Kilimanjaro, see
      also Krapf, _Travels, Researches etc. in Eastern Africa_, p. 192.

  497 Pierre Bouche, _La Côte des Esclaves et le Dahomey_, p. 133.

  498 C. A. L. M. Schwaner, _Borneo_, ii. 77.

_  499 Ib._ ii. 167.

  500 E. Aymonier, _Notes sur le Laos_, p. 196.

  501 Rosenberg, _Der Malayische Archipel_, p. 198.

  502 Capt. John Moresby, _Discoveries and Surveys in New Guinea_, p. 102
      _sq._

  503 R. I. Dodge, _Our Wild Indians_ (Hartford, Conn.; 1886), p. 119.

  504 J. Crevaux, _Voyages dans l’Amérique du Sud_, p. 300.

  505 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 78.

  506 Perelaer, _Ethnographische Beschrijving der Dajaks_, pp. 44, 54,
      252; Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_, p. 49.

  507 H. Grützner, “Ueber die Gebräuche der Basutho,” in _Verhandl. d.
      Berlin. Gesell. f. Anthropologie_, etc. 1877, p. 84 _sq._

  508 Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, “Verslag omtrent het eiland Nias,” in
      _Verhandel. v. h. Batav. Genootsch. v. Kunsten en Wetenschappen_,
      xxx. 26.

_  509 Journal of the Anthropological Society of Bombay_, i. 35.

  510 E. O’Donovan, _The Merv Oasis_ (London, 1882), ii. 58.

_  511 Emin Pasha in Central Africa, being a Collection of his Letters and
      Journals_ (London, 1888), p. 107.

_  512 Narrative of the Second Arctic Expedition made by Charles F. Hall._
      Edited by Prof. J. G. Nourse, U.S.N. (Washington, 1879), p. 269
      _note_.

  513 J. A. Grant, _A Walk across Africa_, p. 104 _sq._

  514 E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_,
      p. 103.

  515 N. von Miklucho-Maclay, “Ethnologische Bemerkungen über die Papuas
      der Maclay-Küste in Neu-Guinea,” in _Natuurkundig Tijdschrift voor
      Nederlandsch Indie_, xxxvi. 317 _sq._

  516 Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 134.

  517 Scholiast on Euripides, _Phoeniss._ 1377. These men were sacred to
      the war-god (Ares), and were always spared in battle.

  518 John Campbell, _Travels in South Africa, being a Narrative of a
      Second Journey in the Interior of that Country_, ii. 205.

  519 Ladislaus Magyar, _Reisen in Süd-Afrika_, p. 203.

_  520 Asiatick Researches_, vi. 535 _sq._ ed. 4to (p. 537 _sq._ ed. 8vo).

  521 C. J. Andersson, _Lake Ngami_, p. 223.

  522 François Valentyn, _Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën_, iii. 16.

  523 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 305 _sq._

  524 De Plano Carpini, _Historia Mongolorum quos nos Tartaros
      appellamus_, ed. D’Avezac (Paris, 1838), cap. iii. § iii. p. 627,
      cap. ult. § i. x. p. 744, and Appendix, p. 775; “Travels of William
      de Rubriquis into Tartary and China,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and
      Travels_, vii. 82 _sq._

  525 Paul Pogge, “Bericht über die Station Mukenge,” in _Mittheilungen
      der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in Deutschland_, iv. (1883-1885) 182
      _sq._

  526 J. L. Krapf, _Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours during an
      Eighteen Years’ Residence in Eastern Africa_, p. 252 _sq._

  527 Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 391.

  528 Proyart, “History of Loango, Kakongo,” etc., in Pinkerton’s _Voyages
      and Travels_, xvi. 583; Dapper, _op. cit._ p. 340; J. Ogilby,
      _Africa_ (London, 1670), p. 521. Cp. Bastian, _Die deutsche
      Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 288.

  529 Bastian, _op. cit._ i. 268 _sq._

  530 J. B. Neumann, “Het Pane-en Bila-Stroomgebied op het eiland
      Sumatra,” in _Tijdschrift van het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig
      Genootschap_, ii. de Serie, dl. iii., Afdeeling: meer uitgebreide
      artikelen, No. 2, p. 300.

  531 Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 249.

  532 J. Richardson, “Tanala Customs, Superstitions and Beliefs,” in _The
      Antananarivo Annual and Madagascar Magazine_, No. ii. p. 219.

  533 Lieut. Cameron, _Across Africa_, ii. 71 (ed. 1877); _id._, in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ vi. 173.

  534 “Adventures of Andrew Battel,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      xvi. 330; Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 330; Bastian, _Die
      deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 262 _sq._; R. F.
      Burton, _Abeokuta and the Cameroons Mountains_, i. 147.

  535 Proyart’s “History of Loango, Kakongo,” etc., in Pinkerton’s
      _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. 584.

  536 J. L. Wilson, _West Afrika_, p. 148 (German trans.); John Duncan,
      _Travels in Western Africa_, i. 222. Cp. W. W. Reade, _Savage
      Africa_, p. 543.

  537 Paul Pogge, _Im Reiche des Muato Jamwo_ (Berlin, 1880), p. 231.

  538 Capt. James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 374 (ed. 1809).

  539 Heraclides Cumanus in Athenaeus, iv. 145 B-D.

  540 Mohammed Ibn-Omar el Tounsy, _Voyage au Darfour_ (Paris, 1845), p.
      203; _Travels of an Arab Merchant_ [Mohammed Ibn-Omar el Tounsy] _in
      Soudan_, abridged from the French (of Perron) by Bayle St. John, p.
      91 _sq._

  541 Mohammed Ibn-Omar el Tounsy, _Voyage au Ouadây_ (Paris, 1851), p.
      375.

  542 H. Duveyrier, _Exploration du Sahara_. _Les Touareg du Nord_, p. 391
      _sq._; Reclus, _Nouvelle Géographie Universelle_, xi. 838 _sq._;
      James Richardson, _Travels in the Great Desert of Sahara_, ii. 208.
      Amongst the Arabs men sometimes veiled their faces. Wellhausen,
      _Reste Arabischen Heidentumes_, p. 146.

  543 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 67 _sq._

  544 Riedel, “Die Landschaft Dawan oder West-Timor,” in _Deutsche
      Geographische Blatter_, x. 230.

  545 A. W. Howitt, “On some Australian Ceremonies of Initiation,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xiii. 456.

  546 Compare μόνον οὐκ ἐπὶ τοῖς χείλεσι τὰς ψυχὰς ἔχοντας Dio
      Chrysostomus, _Orat._ xxxii. i. 417, ed. Dindorf; _mihi anima in
      naso esse, stabam tanquam mortuus_, Petronius, _Sat._ 62; _in primis
      labris animam habere_, Seneca, _Natur Quaest_. iii. praef. 16.

  547 See above, p. 112.

  548 Bastian, _Die Loango-Küste_, i. 263. However, a case is recorded in
      which he marched out to war (_ib._ i. 268 _sq._)

  549 S. Crowther and J. C. Taylor, _The Gospel on the Banks of the
      Niger_, p. 433. On p. 379 mention is made of the king’s “annual
      appearance to the public,” but this may have taken place within “the
      precincts of his premises.”

  550 Strabo, xvii. 2, 2, σέβονται δ᾽ ὠς θεούς τοὺς βασιλέας,
      κατακλείστους ὄντας καὶ οἰκουροὺς τὸ πλέον.

  551 Strabo, xvi. 4, 19; Diodorus Siculus, iii. 47.

  552 Heraclides Cumanus in Athenaeus, 517 B.C.

  553 Ch. Dallet, _Histoire de l’Église de Corée_ (Paris, 1874), i.
      xxiv-xxvi. The king sometimes, though rarely, leaves his palace.
      When he does so, notice is given beforehand to the people. All doors
      must be shut and each householder must kneel before his threshold
      with a broom and a dust-pan in his hand. All windows, especially the
      upper ones, must be sealed with slips of paper, lest some one should
      look down upon the king. W. E. Griffis, _Corea, the Hermit Nation_,
      p. 222.

  554 Richard, “History of Tonquin,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      ix. 746.

  555 Shway Yoe, _The Burman_, i. 308 _sq._

_  556 Native Tribes of South Australia_, p. 63; Taplin, “Notes on the
      mixed races of Australia,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ iv. 53.

  557 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 320 _sq._

  558 Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 330.

  559 Bosman’s “Guinea,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. 487.

  560 P. N. Wilken, “Bijdragen tot de kennis van de zeden en gewoonten der
      Alfoeren in de Minahassa,” in _Mededeelingen van wege het
      Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap_, xi. (1863) 126.

  561 Kaempfer’s “History of Japan,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_,
      vii. 717.

_  562 Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori (London, 1884), p. 96 _sq._

  563 W. Brown, _New Zealand and its Aborigines_ (London, 1845), p. 76.
      For more examples of the same kind see _ib._ p. 77 _sq._

  564 E. Tregear, “The Maoris of New Zealand,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._
      xix. 100.

_  565 R. Taylor, Te Ika a Maui: or, New Zealand and its Inhabitants_,2 p.
      164.

  566 A. S. Thomson, _The Story of New Zealand_, i. 101 _sqq._; _Old New
      Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 94, 104 _sqq._

_  567 Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ ix. 458.

  568 W. Ridley, “Report on Australian Languages and Traditions,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ ii. 268.

  569 Alexander Mackenzie, _Voyages from Montreal through the Continent of
      North America_, cxxiii.

_  570 Report of the International Polar Expedition to Point Barrow,
      Alaska_ (Washington, 1885), p. 46.

  571 “Customs of the New Caledonian Women,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._
      vii. 206.

  572 S. Hearne, _A Journey from Prince of Wales’s Fort in Hudson’s Bay to
      the Northern Ocean_, p. 204 _sqq._

  573 L. Alberti, _De Kaffers_ (Amsterdam, 1810), p. 76 _sq._; H.
      Lichtenstein, _Reisen im südlichen Afrika_, i. 427.

_  574 Narrative of the Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner_ (London,
      1830), p. 122.

  575 On the nature of taboo, see especially W. Robertson Smith, _Religion
      of the Semites_, i. 142 _sqq._ 427 _sqq._

  576 Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iii. 102.

  577 J. Moura, _Le Royaume du Cambodge_, i. 226.

  578 Ch. Dallet, _Histoire de l’Église de Corée_, i. xxiv. _sq._;
      Griffis, _Corea, the Hermit Nation_, p. 219.

  579 Macrobius, _Sat._ v. 19, 13; Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ i. 448;
      Joannes Lydus, _De mens._ i. 31.

_  580 Acta Fratrum Arvalium_, ed. Henzen, pp. 128-135; Marquardt,
      _Römische Staatsverwaltung_, iii.2 (_Das Sacralwesen_), p. 459 _sq._

  581 Callimachus, referred to by the Old Scholiast on Ovid, _Ibis._ See
      Callimachus, ed. Blomfield, p. 216; Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p. 686.

  582 Plutarch, _Aristides_, 21. This passage I owe to Mr. W. Wyse.

  583 Theophilus Hahn, _Tsuni-Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi_,
      p. 22.

  584 J. G. Bourke, _The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona_, p. 178
      _sq._

  585 C. F. Gordon Cumming, _In the Hebrides_ (ed. 1883), p. 195.

  586 James Logan, _The Scottish Gael_ (ed. Alex. Stewart), ii. 68 _sq._

  587 C. F. Gordon Cumming, _In the Hebrides_, p. 226; E. J. Guthrie, _Old
      Scottish Customs_, p. 223.

  588 1 Kings vi. 7; Exodus xx. 25.

  589 Dionysius Halicarn. _Antiquit. Roman_, iii. 45, v. 24; Plutarch,
      _Numa_, 9; Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxxvi. § 100.

_  590 Acta Fratrum Arvalium_, ed. Henzen, p. 132; _Corpus Inscriptionum
      Latinarum_, i. No. 603.

  591 Pliny, _l.c._

_  592 Indian Antiquary_, x. (1881) 364.

  593 Frank Hatton, _North Borneo_ (1886), p. 233.

  594 Alexand. Guagninus, “De ducatu Samogitiae,” in _Respublica sive
      Status Regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae, Livoniae_ etc. (Elzevir,
      1627), p. 276; Johan. Lasicius, “De diis Samogitarum caeterorumque
      Sarmatum,” in _Respublica_, etc. (_ut supra_), p. 294 (p. 84 ed.
      Mannhardt, in _Magazin herausgeg. von der Lettisch-Literär.
      Gesellsch._ bd. xiv.)

  595 E. J. Guthrie, _Old Scottish Customs_, p. 149; Ch. Rogers, _Social
      Life in Scotland_ (London, 1886), iii. 218.

  596 A. Leared, _Morocco and the Moors_, p. 273.

  597 The reader may observe how closely the taboos laid upon mourners
      resemble those laid upon kings. From what has gone before the reason
      of the resemblance is obvious.

_  598 Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. No. 282.

  599 Walter Gregor, _The Folk-lore of the North-East of Scotland_, p.
      206.

  600 This is expressly said in _Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. No. 846.
      On iron as a protective charm see also Liebrecht, _Gervasius von
      Tilbury_, p. 99 _sqq._; _id._, _Zur Volkskunde_, p. 311; L.
      Strackerjan, _Aberglaube und Sagen aus dem Herzogthum Oldenburg_, §
      233; Wattke, _Der deutsche Volksaberglaube_2, § 414 _sq._; Tylor,
      _Primitive Culture_, i. 140; Mannhardt, _Der Baumkultus_, 132
      _note_.

  601 Bastian, _Die Völker des ostlichen Asien_, i. 136.

  602 E. Gerard, _The Land beyond the Forest_, i. 312; W. Schmidt, _Das
      Jahr und seine Tage in Meinung und Brauch der Romänen
      Siebenbürgens_, p. 40.

  603 J. H. Gray, _China_, i. 288.

  604 W. H. Dall, _Alaska and its Resources_, p. 146; _id._ in _American
      Naturalist_, xii. 7.

  605 Jo. Meletius, “De religione et sacrificiis veterum Borussorum,” in
      _De Russorum Muscovitarum et Tartarorum religione, sacrificiis,
      nuptiarum, funerum ritu_ (Spires, 1582), p. 263; Hartknoch, _Alt und
      neues Preussen_ (Frankfort and Leipzig, 1684), p. 187 _sq._

  606 B. F. Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_, p.
      136.

  607 Tettau und Temme, _Die Volkssagen Ostpreussens, Litthauens und
      Westpreussens_, p. 285; Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 iii. 454; cp.
      _id._ pp. 441, 469; Grohmann, _Aberglauben und Gebräuche aus Böhmen
      und Mähren_, p. 198.

  608 Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 110; Aulus Gellius, x. 15, 12.

  609 J. Kubary, _Die socialen Einrichtungen der Pelauer_ (Berlin, 1885),
      p. 126 _sq._

  610 F. J. Wiedemann, _Aus dem inneren und äussern Leben der Ehsten_ (St.
      Petersburg, 1876), pp. 448, 478.

  611 James Adair, _History of the American Indians_, pp. 134, 117.

  612 E. Petitot, _Monographie des Dènè-Dindjié_, p. 76.

  613 Leviticus xvii. 10-14. The Hebrew word translated “life” in the
      English version of verse 11 means also “soul” (marginal note in the
      Revised Version). Cp. Deuteronomy xii. 23-25.

  614 Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ v. 79; cp. _id._ on _Aen._ iii. 67.

  615 J. Wellhausen, _Reste Arabischen Heidentumes_, p. 217.

  616 A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa’s van de Geelvinksbaai_ (Schiedam, 1863),
      p. 77.

  617 Hamilton’s “Account of the East Indies,” in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and
      Travels_, viii. 469. Cp. W. Robertson Smith, _Religion of the
      Semites_, i. 349, _note_ 2.

  618 De la Loubere, _A New Historical Account of the Kingdom of Siam_
      (London, 1693), p. 104 _sq._

  619 Pallegoix, _Description du Royaume Thai ou Siam_, i. 271, 365 _sq._

  620 Marco Polo, trans. by Col. H. Yule (2d ed. 1875), i. 335.

  621 Col. H. Yule on Marco Polo, _l.c._

  622 Baron’s “Description of the Kingdom of Tonqueen,” in Pinkerton’s
      _Voyages and Travels_, ix. 691.

  623 T. E. Bowdich, _Mission from Cape Coast Castle to Ashantee_ (London,
      1873), p. 207.

  624 Sibree, _Madagascar and its People_, p. 430.

  625 C. T. Wilson and R. W. Felkin, _Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan_, i.
      200.

  626 Marco Polo, i. 399, Yule’s translation, 2d ed.

  627 Sir Walter Scott, note 2 to _Peveril of the Peak_, ch. v.

_  628 Native Tribes of South Australia_, p. 230; E. J. Eyre, _Journals of
      Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia_, ii. 335; Brough
      Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 75 _note_.

  629 Collins, _Account of the English Colony of New South Wales_ (London,
      1798), p. 580.

_  630 Native Tribes of South Australia_, p. 224 _sq._; Angas, _Savage
      Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, i. 110 _sq._

  631 Above, p. 20.

  632 B. F. Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_, p.
      53.

  633 Lieut. Emery, in _Journal of the R. Geogr. Soc._ iii. 282.

  634 Ch. Andersson, _Lake Ngami_, p. 224.

  635 Ch. New, _Life, Wanderings, and Labours in Eastern Africa_, p. 124;
      Francis Galton, “Domestication of Animals,” in _Transactions of the
      Ethnolog. Soc. of London_, iii. 135. On the original sanctity of
      domestic animals, see above all W. Robertson Smith, _The Religion of
      the Semites_, i. 263 _sqq._, 277 _sqq._

  636 L. Linton Palmer, “A Visit to Easter Island,” in _Journ. R. Geogr.
      Soc._ xl. (1870) 171.

  637 R. Taylor, _Te Ika a Maui; or, New Zealand and its Inhabitants_,2 p.
      164 _sq._

  638 Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 112; Aulus Gellius, x. 15, 13.

  639 Above, p. 61 _sq._

  640 Cp. W. Robertson Smith, _op. cit._ p. 213 _sq._

_  641 Dialis cotidie feriatus est_, Aulus Gellius, x. 15, 16.

  642 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, c. 6. A myth apparently akin to this has
      been preserved in some native Egyptian writings. See Ad. Erman,
      _Aegypten und aegyptisches Leben im Altertum_, p. 364.

  643 Bernardino de Sahagun, _Histoire générale des choses de la
      Nouvelle-Espagne_, traduite par Jourdanet et Siméon (Paris, 1880),
      p. 46 _sq._

  644 See above, p. 34 _sq._

  645 P. 35.

  646 E. M. Curr, _The Australian Race_ (Melbourne and London, 1887), iii.
      179.

  647 H. B. Guppy, _The Solomon Islands and their Natives_ (London, 1887),
      p. 41.

  648 E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the American Oriental
      Society_, iv. (1854) 312.

  649 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iii. 230.

  650 For the reason see Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the
      New Zealanders_, pp. 112 _sq._, 292.

_  651 Native Tribes of South Australia_, p. 186.

  652 Mrs. James Smith, _The Booandik Tribe_, p. 5.

  653 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 450.

  654 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 139; cp. _id._ p. 209.

  655 E. Dannert, “Customs of the Ovaherero at the Birth of a Child.” in
      (South African) _Folk-lore Journal_, ii. 63.

  656 F. J. Wiedemann, _Aus dem innern und äussern Leben der Ehsten_, p.
      475.

  657 E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the American Oriental
      Society_, iv. 311 _sq._

  658 Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, ii. 256, iii. 71, 230,
      235 _sq._

  659 Bastian, _op. cit._ ii. 150; Sangermano, _Description of the Burmese
      Empire_ (Rangoon, 1885), p. 131; C. F. S. Forbes, _British Burma_,
      p. 334; Shway Yoe, _The Burman_, i. 91.

  660 J. Moura, _Le Royaume du Cambodge_, i. 178, 388.

  661 Duarte Barbosa, _Description of the Coasts of East Africa and
      Malabar in the beginning of the Sixteenth Century_ (Hakluyt Society,
      1866), p. 197.

  662 David Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean in the
      U.S. Frigate Essex_ (New York, 1822), ii. 65.

  663 Vincendon-Dumoulin et Desgraz, _Iles Marquises_, p. 262.

  664 Langsdorff, _Reise um die Welt_, i. 115 _sq._

  665 Capt. James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 427 (ed. 1809).

  666 Jules Remy, _Ka Mooolelo Hawaii, Histoire de L’Archipel Havaiien_
      (Paris and Leipzig, 1862), p. 159.

  667 Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iii. 102.

  668 James Wilson, _A Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_
      (London, 1799). p. 354 _sq._

  669 R. Taylor, _Te Ika a Maui: or, New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, p.
      165.

  670 “Customs of the New Caledonian Women,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._
      vii. 206; B. Hawkins, “Sketch of the Creek Country,” in _Collections
      of the Georgia Historical Society_, iii. pt. i. (Savannah, 1848), p.
      78; A. S. Gatschet, _Migration Legend of the Creek Indians_, i. 185;
      _Narrative of the Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner_ (London,
      1830), p. 122; Kohl, _Kitschi-Gami_, ii. 168.

  671 R. Taylor, _l.c._

  672 E. Shortland, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_, p. 293;
      _id._, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 107,
      _sq._

  673 J. Dumont D’Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de La
      Pérouse, exécuté sous son commandement sur la corvette Astrolabe.
      Histoire du Voyage_, ii. 534.

  674 R. A. Cruise, _Journal of a Ten Months’ Residence in New Zealand_
      (London, 1823), p. 187; Dumont D’Urville, _op. cit._ ii. 533; E.
      Shortland, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_ (London, 1851),
      p. 30.

  675 Agathias i. 3; Grimm, _Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer_, p. 239 _sqq._

  676 G. M. Dawson, “On the Haida Indians of the Queen Charlotte Islands,”
      in _Geological Survey of Canada, Report of Progress for 1878-79_, p.
      123 B.

  677 P. N. Wilken, “Bijdragen tot de kennis van de zeden en gewoonten der
      Alfoeren in de Minahassa,” in _Mededeelingen van wege het
      Nederlandsche Zendelingvenootschap_, vii. (1863) p. 126.

  678 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 137.

  679 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 292 _sq._

  680 Diodorus Siculus, i. 18.

  681 W. Robertson Smith, _Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia_, p. 152
      _sq._

  682 Valerius Flaccus, _Argonaut_, i. 378 _sq._:—

      “_Tectus et Eurytion servato colla capillo,_
      _ Quem pater Aonias reducem tondebit ad aras._”

  683 Homer, _Iliad_, xxiii. 141 _sqq._

  684 D. Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean_, ii. 120.

  685 Paulus Diaconus, _Hist. Langobard._ iii. 7.

  686 Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 387.

  687 Numbers vi. 5.

  688 J. A. E. Köhler, _Volksbrauch_, etc. _im Voigtlande_, p. 424; W.
      Henderson, _Folk-lore of the Northern Counties_, p. 16 _sq._; F.
      Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 258; Zingerle,
      _Sitten, Bräuche und Meinungen des Tiroler Volkes_,2 Nos. 46, 72; J.
      W. Wolf, _Beitrage zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 208 (No. 45), 209
      (No. 53); Knoop, _Volkssagen, Erzählungen_, etc. _aus dem östlichen
      Hinterpommern_, p. 157 (No. 23); E. Veckenstedt, _Wendische Sagen,
      Märchen und abergläubische Gebräuche_, p. 445; J. Haltrieh, _Zur
      Volkskunde der Siebenbürger Sachsen_, p. 313; E. Krause,
      “Abergläubische Kuren u. sonstiger Aberglaube in Berlin,”
      _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xv. 84.

_  689 Panjab Notes and Queries_, ii. No. 1092.

  690 G. Gibbs, “Notes on the Tinneh or Chepewyan Indians of British and
      Russian America,” in _Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution_,
      1866, p. 305; W. Dall, _Alaska and its Resources_, p. 202. The
      reason alleged by the Indians (that if the girls’ nails were cut
      sooner the girls would be lazy and unable to embroider in porcupine
      quill-work) is probably a late invention, like the reasons assigned
      in Europe for the similar custom (the commonest being that the child
      would become a thief).

  691 Knoop, _l.c._

  692 Wolf, _Beiträge zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 209 (No. 57).

  693 R. Taylor, _New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, p. 206 _sqq._

  694 Richard A. Cruise, _Journal of a Ten Months’ Residence in New
      Zealand_, p. 283 _sq._ Cp. Dumont D’Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde
      et à la recherche de La Pérouse. Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832),
      ii. 533.

  695 E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_,
      p. 108 _sqq._; Taylor, _l.c._

  696 J. Moura, _Le Royaume du Cambodge_, i. 226 _sq._

  697 See above, p. 111.

  698 Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 468 _sq._

  699 D. Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean_, ii. 188.

  700 J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 36.

  701 A. W. Howitt, “On Australian Medicine-men,” in _Journ. Anthrop.
      Inst._ xvi. 27. Cp. E. Palmer, “Notes on some Australian Tribes,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xiii. 293; James Bonwick, _Daily Life of the
      Tasmanians_, p. 178; James Chalmers, _Pioneering in New Guinea_, p.
      187; J. S. Polack, _Manners and Customs of the New Zealanders_, i.
      282; Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iii. 270;
      Langsdorff, _Reise um die Welt_, i. 134 _sq._ A. S. Thomson, _The
      Story of New Zealand_, i. 79, 116 _sq._; Ellis, _Polynesian
      Researches_, i. 364; Zingerle, _Sitten, Bräuche und Meinungen des
      Tiroler Volkes_,2 No. 178.

  702 Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben_, p. 509;
      Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 258; J. A. E. Köhler,
      _Volksbrauch_ etc. _im Voigtlande_, p. 425; A. Witzschel, _Sagen,
      Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 282; Zingerle, _op. cit._
      No. 180; Wolf, _Beiträge zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 224 (No.
      273).

  703 Zingerle, _op. cit._ No. 181.

  704 Zingerle, _op. cit._ Nos. 176, 179.

  705 A. Krause, _Die Tlinkit-Indianer_. (Jena, 1885), p. 300.

  706 Petronius, _Sat._ 104.

  707 Bastian, _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 231
      _sq._; _id._, _Ein Besuch in San Salvador_, p. 117.

  708 W. Stanbridge, “On the Aborigines of Victoria,” in _Transact.
      Ethnolog. Soc. of London_, i. 300.

  709 François Pyrard, _Voyages to the East Indies, the Maldives, the
      Moluccas, and Brazil_. Translated by Albert Gray (Hakluyt Society,
      1887), i. 110 _sq._

  710 Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p.
      110.

  711 Polack, _Manners and Customs of the New Zealanders_, i. 38 _sq._

  712 James Wilson, _A Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_,
      p. 355.

  713 Aulus Gellius, x. 15, 15.

  714 Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xvi. 235; Festus, _s.v._ _capillatam vel
      capillarem arborem_.

  715 Wuttke, _Der deutsche Volksaberglaube_,2 § 464.

  716 W. Mannhardt, _Germanische Mythen_, p. 630.

  717 W. Henderson, _Folk-lore of the Northern Counties_, p. 17.

  718 Riedel, _De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua_,
      p. 74.

  719 Riedel, _op. cit._ p. 265.

  720 G. Heijmering “Zeden en gewoonten op het eiland Rottie,” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Neêrland’s Indie_ (1843), _dl._ ii. 634-637.

  721 W. Dall, _Alaska and its Resources_, p. 54; F. Whymper, “The Natives
      of the Youkon River,” in _Transact. Ethnolog. Soc. of London_, vii.
      174.

  722 E. Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben_, p.
      509.

  723 W. Mannhardt, _Germanische Mythen_, p. 630.

  724 H. B. Guppy, _The Solomon Islands and their Natives_, p. 54.

  725 Fargaard, xvii.

_  726 Grihya-Sûtras_, translated by H. Oldenberg (Oxford, 1886), vol. i.
      p. 57.

  727 R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the Madi or Moru tribe of Central Africa,”
      in _Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh_, xii. (1882-84)
      p. 332.

  728 A. Steedman, _Wanderings and Adventures in the Interior of Southern
      Africa_ (London, 1835), i. 266.

_  729 Emin Pasha in Central Africa, being a Collection of his Letters and
      Journals_ (London, 1888), p. 74.

  730 J. L. Wilson, _West Afrika_, p. 159 (German trans.)

  731 N. P. Wilken en J. A. Schwarz, “Allerlei over het land en volk van
      Bolaang Mongondou,” in _Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche
      Zendelinggenootschap_, xi. (1867) p. 322.

  732 Garcilasso de la Vega, _First part of the Royal Commentaries of the
      Yncas_, bk. ii. ch. 7 (vol. i. p. 127, Markham’s translation).

_  733 Mélusine_, 1878, c. 583 _sq._

_  734 The People of Turkey_, by a Consul’s daughter and wife, ii. 250.

  735 Boecler-Kreutzwald, _Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und
      Gewohnheiten_, p. 139; F. J. Wiedemann, _Aus dem innern und äussern
      Leben der Ehsten_, p. 491.

  736 R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the For tribe of Central Africa,” in
      _Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh_, xiii. (1884-86) p.
      230.

  737 Zingerle, _Sitten, Bräuche und Meinungen des Tiroler Volkes_,2 Nos.
      176, 580; _Mélusine_, 1878, c. 79.

  738 Musters, “On the Races of Patagonia,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ i.
      197; J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 36.

  739 David Livingstone, _Narrative of Expedition to the Zambesi_, p. 46
      _sq._

  740 Zingerle, _op. cit._ Nos. 177, 179, 180.

  741 M. Jahn, _Hexenwesen und Zauberei in Pommern_, p. 15; _Mélusine_,
      1878, c. 79.

  742 E. H. Meyer, _Indogermanische Mythen_, ii. _Achilleis_ (Berlin,
      1887), p. 523.

  743 Above, p. 201.

  744 Above, pp. 167, 169 _sqq._

  745 W. Ridley, “Report on Australian Languages and Traditions,” in
      _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ ii. 268.

  746 See G. A. Wilken, _Ueber das Haaropfer und einige andere
      Trauergebräuche bei den Völkern Indonesiens_, p. 94 _sqq._; H.
      Ploss, Das Kind in Branch und Sitte der Völker2 i. 289 _sqq._

  747 Above, p. 194.

  748 Above, p. 157 _sq._

  749 Monier Williams, _Religious Thought and Life in India_, p. 375.

  750 Above, p. 117.

  751 Bastian, _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, ii. 170. The
      blood may be drunk by them as a medium of inspiration. See above, p.
      34 _sq._

  752 Dapper, _Description de l’Afrique_, p. 336.

  753 T. J. Hutchinson, _Impressions of Western Africa_ (London, 1858), p.
      198.

  754 G. Watt (quoting Col. W. J. M’Culloch), “The Aboriginal Tribes of
      Manipur,” in _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ xvi. 360.

  755 Meiners, _Geschichte der Religionen_, i. 48.

  756 R. I. Dodge, _Our Wild Indians_, p. 112.

  757 Blumentritt, “Der Ahnencultus und die relig. Anschauungen der
      Malaien des Philippinen-Archipels,” in _Mittheilungen d. Wiener
      Geogr. Gesellschaft_, 1882, p. 198.

  758 Theophilus Hahn, _Tsuni-Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi_,
      pp. 56, 69.

  759 Diodorus, iii. 61; Pomponius Mela, ii. 7, 112; Minucius Felix,
      _Octavius_, 21.

  760 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35; Philochorus, _Fragm._ 22, in
      Müller’s _Fragm. Hist. Graec._ i. p. 387.

  761 Porphyry, _Vit. Pythag._ 16.

  762 Philochorus, _Fr._ 184, in _Fragm. Hist. Graec._ ii. p. 414.

  763 Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p. 574 _sq._

  764 See above, p. 121 _sqq._

  765 Gill, _Myths and Songs of the South Pacific_, p. 163.

  766 Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the U. S. Exploring Expedition_ (London,
      1845), iii. 96.

_  767 U. S. Exploring Expedition, Ethnology and Philology_, by H. Hale
      (Philadelphia, 1846), p. 65. Cp. Th. Williams, _Fiji and the
      Fijians_, i. 183; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the
      Islands of the Western Pacific_, p. 248.

  768 Turner, _Samoa_, p. 335.

  769 Martin Flad, _A Short Description of the Falasha and Kamants in
      Abyssinia_, p. 19.

  770 J. B. Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie Occidentale_, i. 260
      _sq._; W. Winwood Reade, _Savage Africa_, p. 362.

  771 Diodorus Siculus, iii. 6; Strabo, xvii. 2, 3.

_  772 Emin Pasha in Central Africa, being a Collection of his Letters and
      Journals_ (London, 1888), p. 91.

  773 P. Guillemé, “Credenze religiose dei Negri di Kibanga nell’ Alto
      Congo,” in _Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari_, vii.
      (1888) p. 231.

  774 Nathaniel Isaacs, _Travels and Adventures in Eastern Africa_, i. p.
      295 _sq._, cp. pp. 232, 290 _sq._

  775 Above, p. 45 _sq._

  776 Dos Santos, “History of Eastern Ethiopia” (published at Paris in
      1684), in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. 684.

  777 Plutarch, _Agesilaus_, 3.

  778 Herodotus, iii. 20; Aristotle, _Politics_, iv. 4, 4; Athenaeus,
      xiii. p. 566. According to Nicolaus Damascenus (_Fr._ 142, in
      _Fragm. Historic. Graecor._ ed. C. Müller, iii. p. 463), the
      handsomest and bravest man was only raised to the throne when the
      king had no heirs, the heirs being the sons of his sisters. But this
      limitation is not mentioned by the other authorities. Among the
      Gordioi the fattest man was chosen king; among the Syrakoi, the
      tallest, or the man with the longest head. Zenobius, v. 25.

  779 G. Nachtigal, _Saharâ und Sûdân_ (Leipzig, 1889), iii. 225; Bastian,
      _Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste_, i. 220.

  780 Strabo, xvii. 2, 3; Diodorus, iii. 7.

  781 Mohammed Ebn-Omar El-Tounsy, _Voyage au Darfour_ (Paris, 1845), p.
      162 _sq._; _Travels of an Arab Merchant in Soudan_, abridged from
      the French by Bayle St. John (London, 1854), p. 78; _Bulletin de la
      Société de Géographie_ (Paris) IVme Série, iv. (1852) p. 539 _sq._

  782 R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the Waganda Tribe of Central Africa,” in
      _Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh_, xiii. (1884-1886)
      p. 711.

_  783 Narrative of events in Borneo and Celebes, from the Journals of
      James Brooke, Esq., Rajah of Sarawak._ By Captain R. Mundy, i. 134.

  784 Simon Grunau, _Preussische Chronik_, herausgegeben von Dr. M.
      Perlbach (Leipzig, 1876), i. p. 97.

  785 Barbosa, _A Description of the Coasts of East Africa and Malabar in
      the beginning of the Sixteenth Century_ (Hakluyt Society, 1866), p.
      172 _sq._

  786 Alex. Hamilton, “A new Account of the East Indies,” in Pinkerton’s
      _Voyages and Travels_, viii. 374.

  787 Athenaeus, xiv. p. 639 c; Dio Chrysostom, _Orat._ iv. p. 69 _sq._
      (vol. i. p. 76, ed. Dindorf). Dio Chrysostom does not mention his
      authority, but it was probably either Berosus or Ctesias. Though the
      execution of the mock king is not mentioned in the passage of
      Berosus cited by Athenaeus, the omission is probably due to the fact
      that the mention of it was not germane to Athenaeus’s purpose, which
      was simply to give a list of festivals at which masters waited on
      their servants. That the ζωγάνης was put to death is further shown
      by Macrobius, _Sat._ iii. 7, 6, “_Animas vero sacratorum hominum
      quos † zanas Graeci vocant, dis debitas aestimabant_,” where for
      _zanas_ we should probably read ζωγάνας with Liebrecht, in
      _Philologus_, xxii. 710, and Bachofen, _Die Sage von Tanaquil_, p.
      52, _note_ 16. The custom, so far as appears from our authorities,
      does not date from before the Persian domination in Babylon; but
      probably it was much older. In the passage of Dio Chrysostom
      ἐκρέμασαν should be translated “crucified” (or “impaled”), not
      “hung.” It is strange that this, the regular, sense of κρεμάννυμι,
      as applied to executions, should not be noticed even in the latest
      edition of Liddell and Scott’s _Greek Lexicon_. Hanging, though a
      mode of suicide, was not a mode of execution in antiquity either in
      the east or west. In one of the passages cited by L. and S. for the
      sense “to hang” (Plutarch, _Caes._ 2), the context proves that the
      meaning is “to crucify.”

  788 E. Aymonier, _Notice sur le Cambodge_, p. 61; J. Moura, _Le Royaume
      du Cambodge_, i. 327 _sq._ For the connection of the temporary
      king’s family with the royal house, see Aymonier, _op. cit._ p. 36
      _sq._

  789 Pallegoix, _Description du Royaume Thai ou Siam_, i. 250; Bastian,
      _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iii. 305-309, 526-528; Turpin,
      _History of Siam_, in Pinkerton’s _Voyages and Travels_, ix. 581
      _sq._ Bowring (_Siam_, i. 158 _sq._) copies, as usual, from
      Pallegoix.

  790 Lieut. Col. James Low, “On the Laws of Muung Thai or Siam,” in
      _Journal of the Indian Archipelago_, i. (Singapore, 1847) p. 339;
      Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, iii. 98, 314, 526 _sq._

  791 C. B. Klunzinger, _Bilder aus Ober-ägypten, der Wüste und dem Rothen
      Meere_, p. 180 _sq._

  792 J. W. Boers, “Oud volksgebruik in het Rijk van Jambi,” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Neêrland’s Indië_, iii. (1840), dl. i. 372 _sqq._

_  793 Panjab Notes and Queries_, i. 674.

  794 Aeneas Sylvius, _Opera_ (Bâle, 1571), p. 409 _sq._; Grimm, _Deutsche
      Rechtsalterthümer_, p. 253. According to Grimm (who does not refer
      to Aeneas Sylvius) the cow and mare stood beside the prince, not the
      peasant.

  795 Lasicius, “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” in
      _Respublica sive Status Regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae,
      Livoniae_, etc. (Elzevir, 1627), p. 306 _sq._; _id._ edited by W.
      Mannhardt in _Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literärischen
      Gesellschaft_, xiv. 91 _sq._

  796 Macrobius, _Saturn._ v. 19, 13.

  797 See above, p. 172 _sqq._

  798 Philo of Byblus, quoted by Eusebius, _Praepar. Evang._ i. 10, 29
      _sq._

  799 2 Kings iii. 27.

  800 Porphyry, _De abstin._ ii. 56.

  801 Diodorus, xx. 14.

  802 Porphyry, _De abstin._ ii. 54.

  803 Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, ii. 311.

  804 Strachey, _Historie of travaille into Virginia Britannia_ (Hakluyt
      Society), p. 84.

  805 J. L. Krapf, _Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours during an
      Eighteen Years’ Residence in Eastern Africa_, p. 69 _sq._ Dr. Krapf,
      who reports the custom at second hand, thinks that the existence of
      the pillar may be doubted, but that the rest of the story harmonises
      well enough with African superstition.

  806 F. J. Mone, _Geschichte des Heidenthums im nördlichen Europa_, i.
      119.

  807 Above, p. 42 _sqq._

  808 Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, “Verslag omtrent het eiland Nias,” in
      _Verhandelingen van het Batav. Genootschap van Kunsten en
      Wetenschappen_, xxx. 85; Rosenberg, _Der Malayische Archipel_, p.
      160; Chatelin, “Godsdienst en bijgeloof der Niassers,” in
      _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde_, xxvi. 142
      _sq._; Sundermann, “Die Insel Nias und die Mission daselbst,” in
      _Allgemeine Missions-Zeitschrift_, xi. 445.

  809 Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the U. S. Exploring Expedition_ (London,
      1845), iv. 453; _U. S. Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and
      Philology_, by H. Hale, p. 203.

  810 D. G. Brinton, _Myths of the New World_, p. 270 _sq._

  811 Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ iv. 685; Cicero, _In Verr._ ii. 5, 45; K.
      F. Hermann, _Griech. Privatalterthümer_, ed. Blumner, p. 362 _note_
      1.

  812 Harland and Wilkinson, _Lancashire Folk-lore_, p. 7 _sq._

  813 Fr. Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie_, i. 235 _sq._; W.
      Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 320 _sq._

  814 E. Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben_, pp.
      409-419; W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 349 _sq._

  815 E. Sommer, _Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen_,
      p. 154 _sq._; W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 335 _sq._

  816 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 336.

  817 Reinsberg—Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 61; W.
      Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 336 _sq._

  818 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 263; W.
      Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 343.

  819 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 269 _sq._

  820 See above, p. 92 _sq._

  821 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 264 _sq._; W.
      Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 353 _sq._

  822 See pp. 243, 246.

  823 See p. 15 _sqq._

  824 See p. 243.

  825 Above, p. 4.

  826 Marquardt, _Römische Staatsverwaltung_, iii.2 323 _sq._

  827 See above, p. 6.

  828 Caesar, _Bell. Gall._ vi. 16; Adam of Bremen, _Descript. Insul.
      Aquil._ c. 27; Olaus Magnus, iii. 6; Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4
      i. 35 _sqq._; Mone, _Geschichte des nordischen Heidenthums_, i. 69,
      119, 120, 149, 187 _sq._

  829 J. G. Bourke, _Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona_, p. 196 _sq._

  830 Euripides, _Iphig. in Taur._ 1458 _sqq._

  831 Nieuwenhuisen en Rosenberg, “Verslag omtrent het eiland Nias,” in
      _Verhandelingen van het Batav. Genootsch. van Kunsten en
      Wetenschappen_, xxx. 43.

  832 J. A. Dubois, Moeurs, _Institutions et Cérémonies des Peuples de
      l’Inde_, i. 151 _sq._

  833 “The Rudhirádhyáyă, or sanguinary chapter,” translated from the
      _Calica Puran_ by W. C. Blaquiere, in _Asiatick Researches_, v. 376
      (8vo. ed. London, 1807).

  834 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 281.

  835 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 258 _sq._

  836 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 645; K. Haupt, _Sagenbuch der
      Lausitz_, ii. 58; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_,
      p. 86 _sq._; _id._, _Das festliche Jahr_, p. 77 _sq._ The Fourth
      Sunday in Lent is also known as Mid-Lent, because it falls in the
      middle of Lent, or as _Laetare_ from the first word of the liturgy
      for the day. In the Roman Calendar it is the Sunday of the Rose,
      _Domenica rosae_.

  837 See p. 244.

  838 E. Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebraüche aus Schwaben_, p.
      371.

  839 J. Haltrich, _Zur Volkskunde der Siebenbürger Sachsen_ (Wien, 1885),
      p. 284 _sq._

  840 Leoprechting, _Aus dem Lechrain_, p. 162 _sqq._; Mannhardt,
      _Baumkultus_, p. 411.

  841 E. Meier, _Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben_ p.
      374; cp. Birlinger, _Volksthümlichesaus Schwaben_, ii. 55.

  842 E. Meier, _op. cit._ p. 372.

  843 E. Meier, _op. cit._ p. 373.

  844 E. Meier, _op. cit._ pp. 373, 374.

  845 A. Kuhn, _Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen_, ii. 130.

  846 F. J. Wiedemann, _Aus dem inneren und äusseren Leben der Ehsten_, p.
      353.

  847 E. Meier, _op. cit._ p. 374.

  848 H. Pröhle, _Harzbilder_, p. 54.

  849 Aug. Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 193.

  850 Witzschel, _op. cit._ p. 199.

  851 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 642.

  852 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 90 _sq._

  853 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _op. cit._ p. 91.

  854 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 639 _sq._; Mannhardt,
      _Baumkultus_, p. 412.

  855 Grimm, _op. cit._ ii. 644; K. Haupt, _Sagenbuch der Lausitz_, ii.
      55.

  856 Grimm, _op. cit._ ii. 640, 643.

  857 Vernalecken, _Mythen und Bräuche des Volkes in Oesterreich_, p. 294
      _sq._; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 90.

  858 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 640.

  859 J. A. E. Köhler, _Volksbrauch, Aberglauben, Sagen und andre alte
      Ueberlieferungen im Voigtlande_, p. 171.

  860 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Das festliche Jahr_, p. 80.

  861 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 211.

_  862 Ib._ p. 210.

  863 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 652; H. Usener, “Italische
      Mythen,” in _Rheinisches Museum_, N. F. xxx. (1875) p. 191 _sq._

  864 G. Pitrè, _Spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane_ (Palermo, 1881),
      p. 207 _sq._

_  865 Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari_, iv. (1885) p.
      294 _sq._

  866 H. Usener, _op. cit._ p. 193.

  867 Vincenzo Dorsa, _La tradizione greco-latina negli usi e nelle
      credenze popolari della Calabria citeriore_ (Cosenza, 1884), p. 43
      _sq._

  868 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 652; H. Usener, “Italische
      Mythen,” in _Rheinisches Museum_, N. F. xxx. 1875, p. 191 _sq._

  869 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 89 _sq._; W.
      Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 156. This custom has been already
      referred to. See p. 82.

  870 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Das festliche Jahr_, p. 82; Philo vom Walde,
      _Schlesien in Sage und Brauch_ (N.D. preface dated 1883), p. 122.

  871 Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 192 _sq._

  872 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 643 _sq._; K. Haupt, _Sagenbuch
      der Lausitz_, ii. 54 _sq._; Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 412 _sq._;
      Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 211.

  873 Grimm, _op. cit._ ii. 644; K. Haupt, _op. cit._ ii. 55.

  874 E. Gerard, _The Land beyond the Forest_, ii. 47-49.

  875 This is also the view taken of the custom by Mannhardt,
      _Baumkultus_, p. 419.

  876 Vernalecken, _Mythen und Bräuche des Volkes in Oesterreich_, p. 293
      _sq._

  877 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Das festliche Jahr_, p. 82.

  878 Philo vom Walde, _Schlesien in Sage und Brauch_, p. 122.

  879 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 640 _sq._

  880 See above, p. 260.

  881 K. Schwenk, _Die Mythologie der Slawen_, p. 217 _sq._

  882 Above, p. 263.

  883 See above, pp. 83, 263.

  884 Above, p. 263, and Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 644;
      Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 87 _sq._

  885 Above, p. 263.

  886 See above, p. 266 _sqq._

  887 Above, pp. 257, 259, 265; and Grimm, _D. M._4 ii. 643.

  888 Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, _Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen_, p. 88. Sometimes
      the effigy of Death (without a tree) is carried round by boys who
      collect gratuities. Grimm, _D. M._4 ii. 644.

  889 Above, p. 243.

  890 Wiedemann, _Aus dem inneren und äusseren Leben der Ehsten_, p. 353;
      Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” in _Verhandlungen der gelehrten Estnischen
      Gesellschaft zu Dorpat_, vii. Heft 2, p. 10 _sq._; W. Mannhardt,
      _Baumkultus_, p. 407 _sq._

  891 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, pp. 417-421.

  892 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 221.

  893 Ralston, _op. cit._ p. 241.

  894 Ralston, _op. cit._ p. 243 _sq._; W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p.
      414.

  895 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 414 _sq._; Ralston, _op. cit._ p.
      244.

  896 Ralston, _op. cit._ p. 245; W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 416.

  897 W. Mannhardt, _l.c._; Ralston, _l.c._

  898 Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_,4 ii. 644.

  899 J. G. von Hahn, _Albanesische Studien_, i. 160.

  900 Captain R. C. Temple, in _Indian Antiquary_, xi. (1882) p. 297 _sq._

  901 See above, p. 94 _sqq._

  902 Above, p. 70 _sqq._

  903 Baudissin, _Studien zur semitischen Religionsgeschichte_, i. 299; W.
      Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p. 274.

  904 Plutarch, _Alcibiades_, 18; Zenobius, _Centur._ i. 49; Theocritus,
      xv. 132 _sq._; Eustathius on Homer, _Od._ xi. 590.

  905 Besides Lucian (cited below) see Jerome, _Comment. in Ezechiel._
      viii. 14, _in qua (solemnitate) plangitur quasi mortuus, et postea
      reviviscens, canitur atque laudatur ... interfectionem et
      resurrectionem Adonidis planctu et gaudio prosequens_.

  906 Theocritus, xv.

  907 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 277.

  908 Lucian, _De dea Syria_, 6. The words ἐς τὸν ἠέρα πέμπουσι imply that
      the ascension was supposed to take place in the presence, if not
      before the eyes, of the worshipping crowds.

  909 Lucian, _op. cit._ 8. The discoloration of the river and the sea was
      observed by Maundrell on 17/27th March 1696/1697. See his “Journey
      from Aleppo to Jerusalem,” in Bohn’s _Early Travels in Palestine_,
      edited by Thomas Wright, p. 411. Renan observed the discoloration at
      the beginning of February; Baudissin, _Studien_, i. 298 (referring
      to Renan, _Mission de Phénicie_, p. 283). Milton’s lines will occur
      to most readers.

  910 Ovid, _Metam._ x. 735, compared with Bion i. 66. The latter,
      however, makes the anemone spring from the tears, as the rose from
      the blood of Adonis.

  911 W. Robertson Smith, “Ctesias and the Semíramis legend,” in _English
      Historical Review_, April 1887, following Lagarde.

  912 In the Alexandrian ceremony, however, it appears to have been the
      image of Adonis only which was thrown into the sea.

  913 Apollodorus, _Biblioth._ iii. 14, 4; Schol. on Theocritus, i. 109;
      Antoninus Liberalis, 34; Tzetzes on Lycophron, 829; Ovid, _Metam._
      x. 489 _sqq._; Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ v. 72, and on _Bucol._ x.
      18; Hyginus, _Fab._ 58, 164; Fulgentius, iii. 8. The word Myrrha or
      Smyrna is borrowed from the Phoenician (Liddell and Scott, _Greek
      Lexicon_, _s.v._ σμύρνα). Hence the mother’s name, as well as the
      son’s, was taken directly from the Semites.

  914 Schol. on Theocritus, iii. 48; Hyginus, _Astronom._ ii. 7; Lucian,
      _Dialog. deor._ xi. 1; Cornutus, _De natura deorum_, 28, p. 163
      _sq._ ed. Osannus; Apollodorus, iii. 14, 4.

  915 Thus, after the autumnal equinox the Egyptians celebrated the
      “nativity of the sun’s walking-sticks,” because, as the sun declined
      daily in the sky, and his heat and light diminished, he was supposed
      to need a staff with which to support his steps. Plutarch, _Isis et
      Osiris_, 52.

  916 Schol. on Theocritus, iii. 48, ὁ Ἄδωνις, ἤγουν ὁ σῖτος ὁ
      σπειρόμενος, ἒξ μῆνας ἐν τῇ γῇ ποιεῖ ἀπὸ τῆς σπορᾶς, καὶ ἒξ μῆνας
      ἔχει αὐτὸν ἡ Ἀφροδίτη, τουτέστιν ἡ εὐκρασία τοῦ ἀέρος. καὶ ἐκτότε
      λαμβάνουσιν αὐτὸν οἱ ἄνθρωποι. Jerome on Ezech. c. viii. 14. _Eadem
      gentilitas hujuscemodi fabulas poetarum, quae habent turpitudinem,
      interpretatur subtiliter interfectionem et resurrectionem Adonidis
      planctu et gaudio prosequens: quorum alterum in seminibus, quae
      moriuntur in terra, alterum in segetibus, quibus mortua semina
      renascuntur, ostendi putat._ Ammianus Marcellinus, xix. 1, 11, _in
      sollemnibus Adonidis sacris, quod simulacrum aliquod esse frugum
      adultarum religiones mysticae docent_. Id. xxii. 9, 15, _amato
      Veneris, ut fabulae fingunt, apri dente ferali deleto, quod in
      adulto flore sectarum est indicium frugum_. Clemens Alexandr. _Hom._
      6, 11 (quoted by W. Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p.
      281), λάμβανουσι δὲ καὶ Ἄδωνιν εἰς ὡραίους καρπούς. Etymolog. Magn.
      Ἄδωνις κύριον; δύναται καὶ ὁ καρπὸς εἶναι ἄδωνις; οἷον ἀδώνειος
      καρπός, ἀρέσκων. Eusebius, _Praepar. Evang._ iii. 11, 9, Ἄδωνις τῆς
      τῶν τελείων καρπῶν ἐκτομῆς σύμβολον.

  917 D. Chwolsohn, _Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus_, ii. 27; _id._, _Ueber
      Tammûz und die Menschenverehrung bei den alten Babyloniern_, p. 38.

  918 The comparison is due to Felix Liebrecht (_Zur Volkskunde_, p. 259).

  919 For the authorities see W. Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_,
      p. 279, _note_ 2, and p. 280, _note_ 2; to which add Diogenianus, i.
      14; Plutarch, _De sera num. vind._ 17. Women only are mentioned as
      planting the gardens of Adonis by Plutarch, _l.c._; Julian,
      _Convivium_, p. 329 ed. Spanheim (p. 423 ed. Hertlein); Eustathius
      on Homer, _Od._ xi. 590. On the other hand Diogenianus, _l.c._ says
      φυτεύοντες ἢ φυτεύουσαι.

  920 Plutarch, _Alcibiades_, 18; _id._, _Nicias_, 13. The date of the
      sailing of the fleet is given by Thucydides, vi. 30, θέρους
      μεσοῦντος ἤδη.

  921 In hot southern countries like Egypt and the Semitic regions of
      Western Asia, where vegetation depends chiefly or entirely upon
      irrigation, the purpose of the charm is doubtless to secure a
      plentiful flow of water in the streams. But as the ultimate object
      and the charms for securing it are the same in both cases, it has
      not been thought necessary always to point out the distinction.

  922 See above, p. 16.

  923 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 214; W. Schmidt, _Das Jahr und seine
      Tage in Meinung und Brauch der Romänen Siebenbürgens_, p. 18 _sq._

  924 G. A. Heinrich, _Agrarische Sitten und Gebräuche unter den Sachsen
      Siebenbürgens_ (Hermanstadt, 1880), p. 24; Wsissocki, _Sitten und
      Brauch der Siebenbürger Sachsen_ (Hamburg, 1888), p. 32.

  925 Matthäus Praetorius, _Deliciae Prussicae_, 55; W. Mannhardt,
      _Baumkultus_, p. 214 _sq._ _note_.

  926 Praetorius, _op. cit._, 60; W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 215,
      _note_.

  927 A. H. Sayce, _Religion of the ancient Babylonians_ (Hibbert
      Lectures, 1887), p. 221 _sqq._; W. Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und
      Feldkulte_, p. 275.

  928 According to Jerome (on Ezechiel, viii. 14), Thammuz was June; but
      according to modern scholars the month corresponded rather to July,
      or to part of June and part of July. Movers, _Die Phoenizier_, i.
      210; Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ p. 275. My friend, Prof. W. Robertson
      Smith, informs me that owing to the variations of the local Syrian
      calendars the month Thammuz fell in different places at different
      times, from midsummer to autumn, or from June to September.

  929 A. H. Sayce, _op. cit._ p. 238.

  930 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 259.

  931 Above, p. 67.

  932 Antonio Bresciani, _Dei costumi dell’ isola di Sardegna comparati
      cogli antichissimi popoli orientali_ (Rome and Turin, 1866), p. 427
      _sq._; R. Tennant, _Sardinia and its Resources_ (Rome and London,
      1885), p. 187; S. Gabriele, “Usi dei contadini della Sardegna,”
      _Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari_, vii. (1888) p.
      469 _sq._ Tennant says that the pots are kept in a dark warm place,
      and that the children leap across the fire.

  933 See ch. i. p. 78 _sq._

  934 P. 272.

  935 L. Lloyd, _Peasant Life in Sweden_, p. 257.

  936 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, p. 464; Leoprechting, _Aus dem
      Lechrain_, p. 183.

  937 G. Pitrè, _Spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane_, p. 296 _sq._

  938 G. Pitrè, _op. cit._ p. 302 sq.; Antonio de Nino, _Usi Abruzzesi_,
      i. 55 _sq._; Gubernatis, _Usi Nuziali_, p. 39 _sq._ Cp. _Archivio
      per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari_, i. 135. At Smyrna a
      blossom of the _agnus castus_ is used on St. John’s Day for a
      similar purpose, but the mode in which the omens are drawn is
      somewhat different, _Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni
      popolari_, vii. (1888) p. 128 _sq._

  939 Matthäus Praetorius, _Deliciae Prussicae_, herausgegeben von Dr. W.
      Pierson (Berlin, 1871), p. 56.

  940 See p. 274 _sq._

  941 G. Pitrè, _Spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane_, p. 211. A similar
      custom is observed at Cosenza in Calabria. Vincenzo Dorsa, _La
      tradizione greco-latina_, etc., p. 50. For the Easter ceremonies in
      the Greek Church, see R. A. Arnold, _From the Levant_ (London,
      1868), i. 251 _sqq._

  942 κήπους ὡσίουν ἐπιταφίους Ἀδώνιδι, Eustathius on Homer, _Od._ xi.
      590.

  943 Hippolytus, _Refut. omn. haeres._ v. 9, p. 168, ed. Duncker and
      Schneidewin; Socrates, _Hist. Eccles._ iii. 23, §§ 51 _sqq._ p. 204.

  944 That Attis was killed by a boar was stated by Hermesianax, an
      elegiac poet of the fourth century B.C. (Pausanias, vii. 17); cp.
      Schol. on Nicander, _Alex._ 8. The other story is told by Arnobius
      (_Adversus nationes_, v. 5 _sqq._) on the authority of Timotheus, an
      otherwise unknown writer, who professed to derive it _ex reconditis
      antiquitatum libris et ex intimis mysteriis_. It is obviously
      identical with the account which Pausanias mentions (_l.c._) as the
      story current in Pessinus.

  945 Pausanias, vii. 17; Julian, _Orat._ v. 177 B.

  946 Ovid, _Metam._ x. 103 _sqq._

  947 On the festival see especially Marquardt, _Römische
      Staatsverwaltung_, iii.2 370 _sqq._; Daremberg et Saglio,
      _Dictionnaire des Antiquités grecques et romaines_, i. p. 1685 _sq._
      (article “Cybèle”); W. Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p.
      291 _sqq._; _id._, _Baumkultus_, p. 572 _sqq._

  948 Julian, _Orat._ v. 168 c; Joannes Lydus, _De mensibus_, iv. 41;
      Arnobius, _Advers. nationes_, v. cc. 7, 16 _sq._; Firmicus Maternus,
      _De errore profan. relig._ 27.

  949 Julian, _l.c._ and 169 C.

  950 Trebellius Pollio, _Claudius_, 4; Tertullian, _Apologet_. 25. For
      other references, see Marquardt, _l.c._

  951 Diodorus, iii. 59; Firmicus Maternus, _De err. profan. relig._ 3;
      Arnobius, _Advers. nat._ v. 16; Schol. on Nicander, _Alex._ 8;
      Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ ix. 116; Arrian, _Tactica_, 33. The
      ceremony described in Firmicus Maternus, c. 22 (_nocte quadam
      simulacrum in lectica supinum ponitur et per numeros digestis
      fletibus plangitur.... Idolum sepelis. Idolum plangis_, etc.), may
      very well be the mourning and funeral rites of Attis, to which he
      had more briefly referred in c. 3.

  952 On the _Hilaria_ see Macrobius, _Saturn._ i. 21, 10; Julian, _Orat._
      v. 168 D, 169 D; Damascius, _Vita Isidori_, in Photius, p. 345 A 5
      _sqq._ ed. Bekker. On the resurrection, see Firmicus Maternus, 3,
      _reginae suae amorem [Phryges] cum luctibus annuis consecrarunt, et
      ut satis iratae mulieri facerent aut ut paenitenti solacium
      quaererent, quem paulo ante sepelierant revixisse jactarunt....
      Mortem ipsius_ [_i.e._ of Attis] _dicunt, quod semina collecta
      conduntur, vitam rursus quod jacta semina annuis vicibus †
      reconduntur_ [_renascuntur_, C. Halm]. Again cp. id. 22, _Idolum
      sepelis_. _Idolum plangis, idolum de sepultura proferis, et miser
      cum haec feceris gaudes_; and Damascius, _l.c._ τὴν τῶν ἱλαρίων
      καλουμένην ἐορτήν; ὅπερ ἑδήλου τὴν ἑξ ἄδου γεγονυῖαν ἡμῶν σωτερίαν.
      This last passage, compared with the formula in Firmicus Maternus,
      c. 22

      θαρρεῖτε μύσται τοῦ θεοῦ σεσωμένου;
      ἔσται γὰρ ἠμῖν ἐκ πόνων σωτηρία,

      makes it probable that the ceremony described by Firmicus, c. 22, is
      the resurrection of Attis.

  953 Ovid, _Fast._ iv. 337 _sqq._; Ammianus Marcellinus, xxiii. 3. For
      other references see Marquardt and Mannhardt, _ll. cc._

  954 Pausanias, vii. 17; Arnobius, _Adv. nationes_, v. 6.; cp.
      Hippolytus, _Refut. omn. haeres._ v. 9, pp. 166, 168.

  955 See above, p. 264 _sq._

  956 Firmicus Maternus, 27.

  957 Above, p. 81.

  958 Hippolytus, _Ref. omn. haeres._ v. cc. 8, 9, pp. 162, 168; Firmicus
      Maternus, _De errore prof. relig._ 3.

  959 Julian, _Orat._ v. 174 A B.

  960 Duncker, _Geschichte des Alterthums_,5 i. 456, _note_ 4; Roscher,
      _Ausführliches Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie_, i. c. 724.
      Cp. Polybius, xxii. 20 (18).

  961 The conjecture is that of Henzen in _Annal. d. Inst._ 1856, p. 110,
      referred to in Roscher, _l.c._

  962 See pp. 84, 231.

  963 Article “Phrygia,” in _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, ninth ed. xviii.
      853.

  964 xii. 5, 3.

  965 The myth, in a connected form, is only known from Plutarch, _Isis et
      Osiris_, cc. 13-19. Some additional details, recovered from Egyptian
      sources, will be found in the work of Adolf Erman, _Aegypten und
      aegyptisches Leben im Altertum_, p. 365 _sqq._

  966 Le Page Renouf, _Hibbert Lectures_, 1879, p. 110; Brugsch, _Religion
      und Mythologie der alten Aegypter_, p. 614; Ad. Erman, _l.c._; Ed.
      Meyer, _Geschichte des Altertums_, i. § 56 _sq._

  967 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 13; Diodorus, i. 14; Tibullus, i. 7, 29
      _sqq._

  968 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 8.

  969 So Brugsch, _op. cit._ p. 617. Plutarch, _op. cit._ 39, says four
      days, beginning with the 17th of the month Athyr.

  970 In the Alexandrian year the month Athyr corresponded to November.
      But as the old Egyptian year was vague, that is, made no use of
      intercalation, the astronomical date of each festival varied from
      year to year, till it had passed through the whole cycle of the
      astronomical year. From the fact, therefore, that, when the calendar
      became fixed, Athyr fell in November, no inference can be drawn as
      to the date at which the death of Osiris was originally celebrated.
      It is thus perfectly possible that it may have been originally a
      harvest festival, though the Egyptian harvest falls, not in
      November, but in April; cp. Selden, _De diis Syris_, p. 335 _sq._;
      Parthey on Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, c. 39.

  971 Brugsch, _l.c._ For a specimen of these lamentations see Brugsch,
      _op. cit._ p. 631 _sq._; _Records of the Past_, ii. 119 _sqq._ For
      the annual ceremonies of finding and burying Osiris, see also
      Firmicus Maternus, _De errore profanarum religionum_, 2 § 3; Servius
      on Virgil, _Aen._ iv. 609.

  972 Brugsch, _op. cit._ p. 617 _sq._; Erman, _Aegypten und aegyptisches
      Leben im Altertum_, p. 377 _sq._

  973 Erman, _l.c._; Wilkinson, _Manners and Customs of the Ancient
      Egyptians_ (London, 1878), iii. 68, 82; Tiele, _History of the
      Egyptian Religion_, p. 46.

  974 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35. ὁμολογεῖ δὲ καὶ τὰ τιτανικὰ καὶ νὺξ
      τελεία τοῖς λεγομένοις Ὀσίριδος διασπασμοῖς καὶ ταῖς ἀναβιώσεσι καὶ
      παλιγγενεσίαις, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τὰ περὶ τὰς ταφάς.

  975 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 39.

  976 Tibullus, i. 7, 33 _sqq._

  977 Brugsch, _op. cit._ p. 621.

  978 Servius on Virgil, _Georg._ i. 166.

  979 Above, p. 267.

  980 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 73, cp. 33; Diodorus, i. 88.

  981 Plutarch, _op. cit._ 31; Herodotus, ii. 38.

  982 Herrera, quoted by Bastian, _Culturländer des alten Amerika_, ii.
      639.

  983 Lefébure, _Le mythe Osirien_ (Paris, 1874-75), p. 188.

  984 Firmicus Maternus, _De errore profanarum religionum_, 2, § 6,
      _defensores eorum volunt addere physicam rationem, frugum semina
      Osirim dicentes esse; Isim terram, Tyfonem calorem: et quia
      maturatae fruges calore ad vitam hominum colliguntur et divisae a
      terrae consortia separantur et rursus adpropinquante hieme
      seminantur, hanc volunt esse mortem Osiridis, cum fruges recondunt,
      inventionem vero, cum fruges genitali terrae fomento conceptae annua
      rursus coeperint procreatione generari_; Eusebius, _Praepar. Evang._
      iii. 11, 31, ὁ δὲ Ὄσιρις παρ᾽ Αἰγυπτίος τὴν κάρπιμον παρίστησι
      δύναμιν, ἤν θρήνοις ἀπομειλίσσονται εἰς γῆν ἀφανιζομένην ἐν τῷ
      σπόρῳ. καὶ ὑφ᾽ ἡμῶν καταναλισκομένην εὶς τὰς τροφάς.

_  985 Op. cit._ 27, § 1.

_  986 Isis et Osiris_, 21, αινῶ δὲ τομὴν ξύλου καὶ σχίσιν λίνου καὶ χοὰς
      χεομένας. διὰ τὸ πολλὰ τῶν μυστικῶν ἀναμεμῖχθαι τούτοις. Again, c.
      42, τὸ δὲ ξύλον ἐν ταῖς λεγομέναις; Ὀσίριδος ταφαῖς τέμνοντες
      κατασκευάζουσι λάρνακα μηνοειδὴ.

  987 See above, p. 304.

  988 Lefébure, _Le mythe Osirien_, pp. 194, 198, referring to Mariette,
      _Denderah_, iv. 66 and 72.

  989 Lefébure, _op. cit._ pp. 195, 197.

  990 Birch, in Wilkinson’s _Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians_
      (London, 1878), iii. 84.

  991 Wilkinson, _op. cit._ iii. 63 _sq._; Ed. Meyer, _Geschichte des
      Alterthums_, i. §§ 56, 60.

  992 Wilkinson, _op. cit._ iii. 349 _sq._; Brugsch, _Religion und
      Mythologie der alten Aegypter_, p. 621; Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_,
      20. In Plutarch _l.c._ Parthey proposes to read μυρίκης for μηθίδης,
      and this conjecture appears to be accepted by Wilkinson, _l.c._

  993 Lefébure, _Le mythe Osirien_, p. 191.

  994 Lefébure, _op. cit._ p. 188.

  995 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35. One of the points in which the myths
      of Isis and Demeter agree, is that both goddesses in their search
      for the loved and lost one are said to have sat down, sad at heart
      and weary, on the edge of a well. Hence those who had been initiated
      at Eleusis were forbidden to sit on a well. Plutarch, _Isis et
      Osiris_, 15; Homer, _Hymn to Demeter_, 98 _sq._; Pausanias, i. 39,
      1; Apollodorus, i. 5, 1; Nicander, _Theriaca_, 486; Clemens Alex.,
      _Protrept._ ii. 20.

  996 Brugsch, _Religion und Mythologie der alten Aegypter_, p. 645.

  997 C. P. Tiele, _History of Egyptian Religion_, p. 57.

_  998 Hibbert Lectures_, 1879, p. 111.

  999 Diodorus, i. 14. Eusebius (_Praeparat. Evang._ iii. 3) quotes from
      Diodorus (i. 11-13) a long passage on the early religion of Egypt,
      prefacing the quotation (c. 2) with the remark γράφει δὲ καὶ τὰ περὶ
      τούτων πλατύτερον μὲν ὁ Μανέθως, ἐπετετμημένως δὲ ὁ Διόδωρος, which
      seems to imply that Diodorus epitomised Manetho.

 1000 Brugsch, _op. cit._ p. 647.

 1001 Brugsch, _op. cit._ p. 649.

 1002 Brugsch,_l.c._

 1003 Herodotus, ii. 59, 156; Diodorus, i. 13, 25, 96; Apollodorus, ii. 1,
      3; Tzetzes, _Schol. in Lycophron._ 212.

_ 1004 Antholog. Planud._ 264, 1.

_ 1005 Orphica_, ed. Abel, p. 295 _sqq._

 1006 Jablonski, _Pantheon Aegyptiorum_ (Frankfurt, 1750), i. 125 _sq._

 1007 i. 11.

 1008 See p. 310, _note_.

 1009 See the _Saturnalia_, bk. i.

_ 1010 Saturn._ i. 21, 11.

 1011 Maspero, _Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient_4 (Paris, 1886),
      p. 35.

 1012 Wilkinson, _Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians_ (London,
      1878), iii. 353.

_ 1013 Isis et Osiris_, 52.

_ 1014 De errore profan. religionum_, 8.

 1015 Lepsius, “Ueber den ersten aegyptischen Götterkreis und seine
      geschichtlich-mythologische Entstehung,” in _Abhandlungen der
      königlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin_, 1851, p. 194
      _sq._

 1016 The view here taken of the history of Egyptian religion is based on
      the sketch in Erman’s _Aegypten und aegyptisches Leben im Altertum_,
      p. 351 _sqq._

 1017 On this attempted revolution in religion see Lepsius in _Verhandl.
      d. königl. Akad. d. Wissensch. zu Berlin_, 1851, pp. 196-201; Erman,
      _op. cit._ p. 355 _sqq._

 1018 Tiele, _History of the Egyptian Religion_, p. 44.

 1019 Tiele, _op. cit._ p. 46.

_ 1020 Ib._ p. 45.

 1021 Le Page Renouf, _Hibbert Lectures_, 1879, p. 111 _sqq._

_ 1022 Hibbert Lectures_, 1879, p. 113. Cp. Maspero, _Histoire ancienne_,4
      p. 35; Ed. Meyer, _Geschichte des Alterthums_, i. §§ 55, 57.

 1023 There are far more plausible grounds for identifying Osiris with the
      moon than with the sun—1. He was said to have lived or reigned
      twenty-eight years; Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, cc. 13, 42. This
      might be taken as a mythical expression for a lunar month. 2. His
      body was rent into fourteen pieces (_ib._ cc. 18, 42). This might be
      interpreted of the moon on the wane, losing a piece of itself on
      each of the fourteen days which make up the second half of a
      lunation. It is expressly mentioned that Typhon found the body of
      Osiris at the full moon (_ib._ 8); thus the dismemberment of the god
      would begin with the waning of the moon. 3. In a hymn supposed to be
      addressed by Isis to Osiris, it is said that Thoth

      “Placeth thy soul in the bark Ma-at,
      In that name which is thine, of GOD MOON.”

      And again,

      “Thou _who comest to us as a child each month_,
      We do not cease to contemplate thee,
      Thine emanation heightens the brilliancy
      Of the stars of Orion in the firmament,” etc.

      _Records of the Past_, i. 121 _sq._; Brugsch, _Religion und
      Mythologie der alten Aegypter_, p. 629 _sq._ Here then Osiris is
      identified with the moon in set terms. If in the same hymn he is
      said to “illuminate us like Ra” (the sun), this, as we have already
      seen, is no reason for identifying him with the sun, but quite the
      contrary. 4. At the new moon of the month Phanemoth, being the
      beginning of spring, the Egyptians celebrated what they called “the
      entry of Osiris into the moon.” Plutarch, _Is. et Os._ 43. 5. The
      bull Apis, which was regarded as an image of the soul of Osiris
      (_Is. et Os._ cc. 20, 29), was born of a cow which was believed to
      have been impregnated by the moon (_ib._ 43). 6. Once a year, at the
      full moon, pigs were sacrificed simultaneously to the moon and
      Osiris. Herodotus, ii. 47; Plutarch, _Is. et Os._ 8. The relation of
      the pig to Osiris will be examined later on.

      Without attempting to explain in detail why a god of vegetation, as
      I take Osiris to have been, should have been brought into such close
      connection with the moon, I may refer to the intimate relation which
      is vulgarly believed to subsist between the growth of vegetation and
      the phases of the moon. See _e.g._ Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ ii. 221, xvi.
      190, xvii. 108, 215, xviii. 200, 228, 308, 314; Plutarch, _Quaest.
      Conviv._ iii. 10, 3; Aulus Gellius, xx. 8, 7; Macrobius, _Saturn._
      vii. 16, 29 _sq._ Many examples are furnished by the ancient writers
      on agriculture, _e.g._ Cato, 37, 4; Varro, i. 37; _Geoponica_, i. 6.

 1024 Herodotus, ii. 42, 49, 59, 144, 156; Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 13,
      35; _id._, _Quaest. Conviv._ iv. 5, 3; Diodorus, i. 13, 25, 96, iv.
      1; _Orphica_, Hymn 42; Eusebius, _Praepar. Evang._ iii. 11, 31;
      Servius on Virgil, _Aen._ xi. 287; _id._, on _Georg._ i. 166;
      Hippolytus, _Refut. omn. haeres._ v. 9, p. 168; Socrates, _Eccles.
      Hist._ iii. 23, p. 204; Tzetzes, _Schol. in Lycophron_, 212;
      Διηγήματα, xxii. 2, in _Mythographi Graeci_, ed. Westermann, p. 368;
      Nonnus, _Dionys._ iv. 269 sq.; Cornutus, _De natura deorum_, c. 28;
      Clemens Alexandr. _Protrept._ ii. 19; Firmicus Maternus, _De errore
      profan. relig._ 7.

 1025 Lucian, _De dea Syria_, 7.

 1026 Herodotus, ii. 49.

 1027 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35.

 1028 Osiris, Attis, Adonis, and Dionysus were all explained by him as the
      sun; but he stopped short at Demeter (Ceres), whom, however, he
      interpreted as the moon. See the _Saturnalia_, bk. i.

 1029 On Dionysus in general see Preller, _Griechische Mythologie_,3 i.
      544 _sqq._; Fr. Lenormant, article “Bacchus” in Daremberg et Saglio,
      _Dictionnaire des Antiquités grecques et romaines_, i. 591 _sqq._;
      Voigt and Thraemer’s article “Dionysus,” in Roscher’s _Ausführliches
      Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie_, i. c. 1029 _sqq._

 1030 Plutarch, _Quaest. Conviv._ v. 3, Διονύσῳ δὲ δενδρίτῃ πάντες, ὡς
      ἔθος εἰπεῖν, Ἕλληνες θύουσιν.

 1031 Hesychius, _s.v._ Ἔνδενδρος.

 1032 See the pictures of his images, taken from ancient vases, in
      Bötticher, _Baumkultus der Hellenen_, plates 42, 43, 43A, 43B, 44;
      Daremberg et Saglio, _op. cit._ i. 361, 626.

 1033 Daremberg et Saglio, _op. cit._ i. 626.

 1034 Cornutus, _De natura deorum_, 30.

 1035 Pindar, quoted by Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35.

 1036 Maximus Tyrius, _Dissertat._ viii. 1.

 1037 Athenaeus, iii. pp. 78 C, 82 D.

 1038 Himerius, _Orat._ i. 10, Διόνυσος γεωργεῖ.

_ 1039 Orphica_, Hymn l. 4, liii. 8.

 1040 Aelian, _Var. Hist._ iii. 41; Hesychius, _s.v._ Φλέω[ς]. Cp.
      Plutarch, _Quaest. Conviv._ v. 8, 3.

 1041 Pausanias, i. 31, 4; _id._ vii. 21, 6 (2).

 1042 Plutarch, _Quaest. Conviv._ v. 3.

 1043 Pausanias, ii. 2, 6 (5) _sq._ Pausanias does not mention the kind of
      tree; but from Euripides, _Bacchae_, 1064 _sqq._, and Philostratus,
      _Imag._ i. 17 (18), we may infer that it was a pine; though
      Theocritus (xxvi. 11) speaks of it as a mastich-tree.

 1044 Müller-Wieseler, _Denkmäler der alten Kunst_, ii. pl. xxxii. _sqq._;
      Baumeister, _Denkmäler des klassischen Altertums_, i. figures 489,
      491, 492, 495. Cp. Lenormant in Daremberg et Saglio, i. 623; Lobeck,
      _Aglaophamus_, p. 700.

 1045 Pausanias, i. 31, 6 (3).

 1046 Athenaeus, iii. p. 78 C.

 1047 Firmicus Maternus, _De errore profanarum religionum_, 6.

 1048 Clemens Alexandr., _Protrept._ ii. 17. Cp. Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p.
      1111 _sqq._

 1049 Clemens Alexandr., _Protrept._ ii. 19.

 1050 Clemens Alexandr., _Protrept._ ii. 18; Proclus on Plato’s Timaeus,
      iii. 200 D, quoted by Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p. 562, and by Abel,
      _Orphica_, p. 234. Others said that the mangled body was pieced
      together, not by Apollo but by Rhea. Cornutus, _De natura deorum_,
      30.

 1051 Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p. 572 _sqq._ For a conjectural restoration
      of the temple, based on ancient authorities and an examination of
      the scanty remains, see an article by Professor J. H. Middleton, in
      _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, vol. ix. p. 282 _sqq._

 1052 Diodorus, iii. 62.

 1053 Macrobius, _Comment. in Somn. Scip._ i. 12, 12; _Scriptores rerum
      mythicarum Latini tres Romae nuper reperti_ (commonly referred to as
      _Mythographi Vaticani_), ed. G. H. Bode (Cellis, 1834), iii. 12, 5,
      p. 246; Origen, _c. Cels._ iv. 171, quoted by Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_,
      p. 713.

 1054 Himerius, _Orat._ ix. 4.

 1055 Proclus, _Hymn to Minerva_, in Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, p. 561;
      _Orphica_, ed. Abel, p. 235.

 1056 Hyginus, _Fab._ 167.

 1057 The festivals of Dionysus were biennial in many places. See
      Schömann, _Griechische Alterthümer_,3 ii. 500 _sqq._ (The terms for
      the festival were τριετηρίς, τριετηρικός both terms of the series
      being included in the numeration, in accordance with the ancient
      mode of reckoning.) Probably the festivals were formerly annual and
      the period was afterwards lengthened, as has happened with other
      festivals. See W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, pp. 172, 175; 491, 533
      _sq._, 598. Some of the festivals of Dionysus, however, were annual.

 1058 Firmicus Maternus, _De err. prof. relig._ 6.

_ 1059 Mythogr. Vatic._ ed. Bode, _l.c._

 1060 Plutarch, _Consol. ad uxor._ 10. Cp. _id._, _Isis et Osiris_, 35;
      _id._, _De ei Delphico_, 9; _id._, _De esu carnium_, i. 7.

 1061 Pausanias, ii. 31, 2, and 37, 5; Apollodorus, iii. 5, 3.

 1062 Pausanias, ii. 37, 5 _sq._; Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35; _id._,
      _Quaest. Conviv._ iv. 6, 2.

 1063 Himerius, _Orat._ iii. 6, xiv. 7.

 1064 For Dionysus, see Lenormant in Daremberg et Saglio, i. 632. For
      Osiris, see Wilkinson, _Manners and Customs of the Ancient
      Egyptians_ (London, 1878), iii. 65.

 1065 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35; _id._, _Quaest. Graec._ 36;
      Athenaeus, xi. 476 A; Clemens Alexandr., _Protrept._ ii. 16;
      _Orphica_, Hymn xxx. _vv._ 3, 4, xlv. 1, lii. 2, liii. 8; Euripides,
      _Bacchae_, 99; Schol. on Aristophanes, _Frogs_, 357; Nicander,
      _Alexipharmaca_, 31; Lucian, _Bacchus_, 2.

 1066 Euripides, _Bacchae_, 920 _sqq._, 1017.

 1067 Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 35; Athenaeus, _l.c._

 1068 Diodorus, iii. 64, 2, iv. 4, 2; Cornutus, _De natura deorum_, 30.

 1069 Diodorus, _l.c._; Tzetzes, _Schol. in Lycophr._ 209; Philostratus,
      _Imagines_, i. 14 (15).

 1070 Müller-Wieseler, _Denkmäler der alten Kunst_, ii. pl. xxxiii.;
      Daremberg et Saglio, i. 619 _sq._, 631; Roscher, _Ausführl.
      Lexikon_, i. c. 1149 _sqq._

 1071 Welcker, _Alte Denkmäler_, v. taf. 2.

 1072 Plutarch, _Quaest. Graec._ 36; _id._, _Isis et Osiris_, 35.

 1073 Nonnus, _Dionys._ vi. 205.

 1074 Firmicus Maternus, _De errore profan. religionum_, 6.

 1075 Euripides, _Bacchae_, 735 _sqq._; Schol. on Aristophanes, _Frogs_,
      357.

 1076 Hesychius, _s.v._ Ἔριφος ὁ Διόνυσος, on which there is a marginal
      gloss ὁ μικρὸς αἴξ, ὁ ἐν τῷ ἔαρι φαινόμενος, ἤγουν ὁ πρώϊμος;
      Stephanus Byzant. _s.v._ Ἀκρώρεια. The title Εἰραφιώτης is probably
      to be explained in the same way. [Homer], _Hymn_ xxxiv. 2; Porphyry,
      _De abstin._ iii. 17; Dionysius, _Perieg._ 576; _Etymolog. Magnum_,
      p. 371, 57.

 1077 Apollodorus, iii. 4, 3.

 1078 Ovid, _Metam._ v. 329; Antoninus Liberalis, 28; _Mythogr. Vatic._
      ed. Bode, i. 86, p. 29.

 1079 Arnobius, _Adv. nationes_, v. 19. Cp. Suidas, _s.v._ αἰγίζειν. As
      fawns appear to have been also torn in pieces at the rites of
      Dionysus (Photius, _s.v._ νεβρίζειν; Harpocration, _s.v._ νεβρίζων),
      it is probable that the fawn was another of the god’s embodiments.
      But of this there seems no direct evidence. Fawn-skins were worn
      both by the god and his worshippers (Cornutus, _De natura deorum_,
      c. 30). Similarly the female Bacchanals wore goat-skins (Hesychius,
      _s.v._ τραγηφόροι).

 1080 Varro, _De re rustica_ i. 2, 19; Virgil, _Georg._ ii. 380, and
      Servius, _ad I._, and on _Aen._ iii. 118; Ovid, _Fasti_, i. 353
      _sqq._; _id._, Metam. xv. 114 _sq._; Cornutus, _De natura deorum_,
      30.

 1081 Euripides, _Bacchae_, 138 _sq._ ἀγρεύων αἷμα τραγοκτόνον, ὡμοφάγον
      χάριν.

 1082 Schol. on Aristophanes, _Frogs_, 357.

 1083 Hera αἱγοφάγος at Sparta, Pausanias, iii. 15, 9 (cp. the
      representation of Hera clad in a goat’s skin, with the animal’s head
      and horns over her head, Müller-Wieseler, _Denkmäler der alten
      Kunst_, i. No. 299 B); Apollo ὁψοφάγος at Elis, Athenaeus, 346 B;
      Artemis καπροφάγος in Samos, Hesychius, _s.v._ καπροφάγος; cp.
      _id._, _s.v._ κριοφάγος. Divine titles derived from _killing_
      animals are probably to be similarly explained, as Dionysus
      αἱγόβολος, Pausanias ix. 8, 2; Rhea or Hecate κυνοσφαγής, Tzetzes,
      _Schol. in Lycophr._ 77; Apollo λυκοκτόνος, Sophocles, _Electra_, 6;
      Apollo σαυροκτόνος, Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxxiv. 70.

 1084 Porphyry, _De abstin._ ii. 55.

 1085 Pausanias, ix. 8, 2.

 1086 Plutarch, _Quaest. Graec._ 38.

 1087 Aelian, _Nat. An._ xii. 34. Cp. W. Robertson Smith, _Religion of the
      Semites_, i. 286 _sqq._

 1088 It is to be remembered that on the Mediterranean coasts the harvest
      never falls so late as autumn.

 1089 On Demeter as a corn-goddess see Mannhardt, _Mythologische
      Forschungen_, p. 224 _sqq._; on Proserpine in the same character see
      Cornutus, _De nat. deor._ c. 28; Varro in Augustine, _Civ. Dei_,
      vii. 20; Hesychius, _s.v._ Φερσεφόνεια; Firmicus Maternus, _De
      errore prof. relig._ 17. In his careful account of Demeter as a
      corn-goddess Mannhardt appears to have overlooked the very important
      statement of Hippolytus (_Refut. omn. haeres._ v. 8, p. 162, ed.
      Duncker and Schneidewin) that at the initiation into the Eleusinian
      mysteries (the most famous of all the rites of Demeter) the central
      mystery revealed to the initiated was a reaped ear of corn.

 1090 Welcker, _Griechische Götterlehre_, ii. 532; Preller, in Pauly’s
      _Real-Encyclopädie für class. Alterthumswiss_. vi. 107; Lenormant,
      in Daremberg et Saglio, _Dictionnaire des Antiquités grecques et
      romaines_, i. pt. ii. 1047 _sqq._

 1091 Homer, _Hymn to Demeter_; Apollodorus, i. 5; Ovid, _Fasti_, iv. 425
      _sqq._; _id._, _Metam._ v. 385 _sqq._

 1092 A third, according to Homer, _H. to Demeter_, 399, and Apollodorus,
      i. 5, 3; a half, according to Ovid, _Fasti_, iv. 614; _id._,
      _Metam._ v. 567; Hyginus, _Fab._ 146.

 1093 Schömann, _Griech. Alterthümer_,3 ii. 393; Preller, _Griech.
      Mythologie_,3 i. 628 _sq._, 644 _sq._, 650 _sq._ The evidence of the
      ancients on this head, though not full and definite, seems
      sufficient. See Diodorus, v. 4; Firmicus Maternus, cc. 7, 27;
      Plutarch, _Isis et Osiris_, 69; Apuleius, _Met._ vi. 2; Clemens
      Alex., _Protrept._ ii. §§ 12, 17.

_ 1094 Mythol. Forschungen_, p. 292 _sqq._

_ 1095 Etymol. Magnum_, p. 264, 12 _sq._

 1096 O. Schrader, _Sprachvergleichung und Urgeschichte_2 (Jena, 1890),
      pp. 409, 422; V. Hehn, _Kulturpflanzen und Hausthiere in ihrem
      Uebergang aus Asien_,4 p. 54. Δηαί is doubtless equivalent
      etymologically to ζειαί, which is often taken to be spelt, but this
      seems uncertain.

 1097 Hesiod, _Theog._ 971; Lenormant, in Daremberg et Saglio, i. pt. ii.
      p. 1029.

 1098 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 296.

_ 1099 Ib._ p. 297.

_ 1100 Ib._ p. 297 _sq._

_ 1101 Ib._ p. 299.

_ 1102 Ib._ p. 300.

_ 1103 Ib._ p. 310.

 1104 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 310 _sq._

_ 1105 Ib._ p. 316.

_ 1106 Ib._ p. 316.

_ 1107 Ib._ p. 316 _sq._

 1108 See above, pp. 16 _sq._, 286 _sq._

 1109 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 317.

_ 1110 Ib._ p. 317 _sq._

_ 1111 Ib._ p. 318.

 1112 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 318.

_ 1113 Ib._ p. 318 _sq._

 1114 Sébillot, _Coutumes populaires de la Haute-Bretagne_, p. 306.

 1115 W. Mannhardt, _M. F._ p. 319.

_ 1116 Ib._ p. 320.

 1117 Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 321.

_ 1118 Ib._ pp. 321, 323, 325 _sq._

_ 1119 Ib._ p. 323; Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie_, ii. p.
      219, No. 403.

 1120 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 325.

_ 1121 Ib._ p. 323.

_ 1122 Ib._

_ 1123 Ib._ p. 323 _sq._

 1124 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 324.

_ 1125 Ib._ p. 320.

_ 1126 Ib._ p. 325.

 1127 See abbove, p. 83 _sqq._

 1128 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 324.

_ 1129 Ib._ p. 324 _sq._

_ 1130 Ib._ p. 325.

 1131 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 327.

_ 1132 Ib._ p. 328.

 1133 Jamieson, _Dictionary of the Scottish Language_, _s.v._ “Maiden”; W.
      Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forschungen_, p. 326.

 1134 Communicated by my friend Prof. W. Ridgeway, of Queen’s College,
      Cork.

 1135 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 328.

_ 1136 Ib._

_ 1137 Ib._ p. 328 _sq._

_ 1138 Ib._ p. 329.

_ 1139 Ib._ p. 330.

 1140 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 330.

_ 1141 Ib._ p. 331.

_ 1142 Ib._ p. 331.

_ 1143 Ib._ p. 332.

 1144 Hutchinson, _History of Northumberland_, ii. _ad finem_, 17, quoted
      by Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, ii. 20, Bohn’s ed.

 1145 Quoted by Brand, _op. cit._ ii. 22.

 1146 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 333 _sq._

_ 1147 Ib._ p. 334.

_ 1148 Ib._ p. 334.

 1149 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 336.

_ 1150 Ib._ p. 336.

_ 1151 Ib._ p. 336; _Baumkultus_, p. 612.

 1152 W. Mannhardt, _Die Korndämonen_, p. 28.

 1153 W. Mannhardt, _l.c._

_ 1154 Ib._; Henderson, _Folk-lore of the Northern Counties_, p. 87;
      Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, ii. 20, Bohn’s ed.; Chambers’s _Book
      of Days_, ii. 377 _sq._ Cp. _Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 50.

 1155 Brand, _op. cit._ ii. 21 _sq._

_ 1156 Folk-lore Journal_, vi. 268 _sq._

 1157 From information supplied by Archie Leitch, gardener, Rowmore,
      Garelochhead.

 1158 Communicated by Mr. Macfarlane of Faslane, Gareloch.

 1159 Jamieson, _Dictionary of the Scottish Language_, _s.v._ “Maiden.”

 1160 W. Gregor, in _Revue des Traditions populaires_, iii. 533 (485 B);
      _id._, _Folk-lore of the North-East of Scotland_, p. 182. An old
      Scottish name for the Maiden (_autumnalis nymphula_) was
      _Rapegyrne_. See Fordun, _Scotichron._ ii. 418, quoted in Jamieson’s
      _Dict. of the Scottish Language_, _s.v._ “Rapegyrne.”

 1161 W. Mannhardt, _Die Korndämonen_, p. 30; _Folk-lore Journal_, vii.
      50.

 1162 W. Mannhardt, _l.c._; Sommer, _Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus
      Sachsen und Thüringen_, p. 160 _sq._

 1163 See above, p. 83 _sqq._

 1164 Above, pp. 333, 344.

 1165 Above, p. 307.

 1166 Above, p. 67 _sqq._

 1167 Above, pp. 334, 335.

 1168 Above, pp. 334, 345.

 1169 See above, p. 335 _sq._

 1170 Above, p. 340; cp. Kuhn, _Westfälische Sagen, Gebräuche und
      Märchen_, ii. No. 516.

 1171 Above, pp. 336, 337, 345.

 1172 See above, p. 9 _sqq._

 1173 Above, p. 341.

 1174 Above, p. 338.

 1175 Above, p. 334, cp. 335.

 1176 Above, pp. 334, 345.

 1177 Above, p. 344 _sq._; W. Mannhardt, _Korndämonen_, pp. 7, 26. Amongst
      the Wends the last sheaf, made into a puppet and called the Old Man,
      is hung in the hall till next year’s Old Man is brought in.
      Schulenburg, _Wendisches Volksthum_, p. 147. In Inverness and
      Sutherland the Maiden is kept till the next harvest. _Folk-lore
      Journal_, vii. 50, 53 _sq._ Cp. Kuhn, _Westfälische Sagen, Gebräuche
      und Märchen_, ii. Nos. 501, 517.

 1178 Acosta, _Hist. of the Indies_, v. c. 28, vol. ii. p. 374 (Hakluyt
      Society, 1880).

 1179 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 342 _sq._ Mannhardt’s authority
      is a Spanish tract (_Carta pastoral de exortacion e instruccion
      contra las idolatrias de los Indios del arçobispado de Lima_) by
      Pedro de Villagomez, Archbishop of Lima, published at Lima in 1649,
      and communicated to Mannhardt by J. J. v. Tschudi.

 1180 Brasseur de Bourbourg, _Histoire des Nations civilisées du Mexique_,
      iii. 40 _sqq._

 1181 H. M. Elliot, _Supplemental Glossary of Terms used in the North
      Western Provinces_, edited by J. Beames, i. 254.

 1182 Spenser St. John, _Life in the Forests of the Far East_,2 i. 187,
      192 _sqq._

 1183 E. B. Cross, “On the Karens,” in _Journal of the American Oriental
      Society_, iv. 309.

 1184 See above, p. 346.

 1185 Veth, _Java_, i. 524-526.

 1186 Homer, _Od._ v. 125 _sqq._; Hesiod, _Theog._ 969 _sqq._

 1187 See above, p. 343 _sq._

 1188 It is possible that a ceremony performed in a Cyprian worship of
      Ariadne may have been of this nature. Plutarch, _Theseus_, 20, ἐν δὴ
      τῇ θυσίᾳ τοῦ Γορπιαίου μηνὸς ἱσταμένου δευτέρα κατακλινόμενον τινα
      τῶν νεανίσκων φθέγγεσθαι καὶ ποιεῖν ἄπερ ὠδινοῦσαι γυναῖκες. We have
      already seen grounds for regarding Ariadne as a goddess or spirit of
      vegetation (above, p. 104). If, however, the reference is to the
      Syro-Macedonian calendar, in which Gorpiaeus corresponds to
      September (Daremberg et Saglio, i. 831), the ceremony could not have
      been a harvest celebration, but may have been a vintage one. Amongst
      the Minnitarees in North America, the Prince of Neuwied saw a tall
      strong woman pretend to bring up a stalk of maize out of her
      stomach; the object of the ceremony was to secure a good crop of
      maize in the following year. Maximilian, Prinz zu Wied, _Reise in
      das innere Nord-Amerika_, ii. 269.

 1189 W. Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, pp. 468 _sq._, 480 _sqq._; _id._,
      _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p. 288 _sq._; _id._, _Mythologische
      Forschungen_, pp. 146 _sqq._, 340 _sqq._; Van Hoëvell, _Ambon en de
      Oeliasers_, p. 62 _sq._; Wilken, in _Indische Gids_, June 1884, pp.
      958, 963 _sq._ Cp. Marco Polo, trans. Yule,2 i. 212 _sq._

 1190 See above, p. 335 _sq._

 1191 Cp. Preller, _Griech. Mythol._3 i. 628, _note 3_. In Greece the
      annual descent of Proserpine appears to have taken place at the
      Great Eleusinian Mysteries and at the Thesmophoria, that is, about
      the time of the autumn sowing. But in Sicily her descent seems to
      have been celebrated when the corn was fully ripe (Diodorus, v. 4),
      that is, in summer.

 1192 Homer, _Hymn to Demeter_, 401 _sqq._; Preller, _l.c._

 1193 In some places it was customary to kneel down before the last sheaf,
      in others to kiss it. W. Mannhardt, _Korndämonen_, 26; _id._,
      _Mytholog. Forschungen_, p. 339; _Folk-lore Journal_, vi. 270.

 1194 Above, p. 332 _sq._

 1195 In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, she is represented as controlling
      the growth of the corn. See above, p. 331.

 1196 See above, pp. 305 _sqq._, 309 _sqq._

 1197 Pauly, _Real-Encyclopadie der class_. _Alterthumswiss._ v. 1011.

 1198 Above, p. 105 _sq._

 1199 Diodorus, i. 14, ἔτι γὰρ καὶ νῦν κατὰ τὸν θερισμόν τούς πρώτους
      ἀμηθέντας στάχυς θέντας τοὺς ἀνθρώπους κόπτεσθαι πλησίον τοῦ
      δράγματοσ κ.τ.λ. For θέντας we should perhaps read σύνθεντας, which
      is supported by the following δράγματος.

 1200 Herodotus, ii. 79; Pollux, iv. 54; Pausanias, ix. 29; Athenaeus, 620
      A.

 1201 Brugsch, _Adonisklage und Linoslied_, p. 24.

 1202 Above, p. 355.

 1203 Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p. 249 _sq._

 1204 Homer, _Il._ xviii. 570; Herodotus, ii. 79; Pausanias, ix. 29;
      Conon, _Narrat._ 19. For the form Ailinus see Suidas, _s.v._;
      Euripides, _Orestes_, 1395; Sophocles, _Ajax_, 627. Cp. Moschus,
      _Idyl._ iii. 1; Callimachus, _Hymn to Apollo_, 20.

 1205 Conon, _l.c._

 1206 W. Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ p. 281.

 1207 Pausanias, _l.c._

 1208 Pollux, iv. 54; Athenaeus, 619 F, 620 A; Hesychius, _svv._ Βῶρμον
      and Μαριανδυνὸς θρῆνος.

 1209 The story was told by Sositheus in his play of _Daphnis_. His verses
      have been preserved in the tract of an anonymous writer. See
      _Scriptores rerum mirabilium_, ed. Westermann, p. 220; also
      Athenaeus, 415 B; Schol. on Theocritus, x. 41; Photius, Suidas, and
      Hesychius, _s.v._ _Lityerses_; Apostolius, x. 74. Photius mentions
      the sickle. Lityerses is the subject of a special study by Mannhardt
      (_Mythologische Forschungen_, p. 1 _sqq._), whom I follow.

 1210 Pollux, iv. 54.

 1211 In this comparison I closely follow Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 18
      _sqq._

 1212 Cp. above, p. 340. On the other hand, the last sheaf is sometimes an
      object of desire and emulation. See p. 336. It is so at Balquhidder
      also, _Folk-lore Journal_, vi. 269; and it was formerly so on the
      Gareloch, Dumbartonshire, where there was a competition for the
      honour of cutting it, several handfuls of standing corn being
      concealed under sheaves.—(From the information of Archie Leitch. See
      note on p. 345).

 1213 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 19 _sq._

 1214 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 20; Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen
      Mythologie_, ii. 217.

 1215 Above, p. 346 _sq._

 1216 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 22.

 1217 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 22.

_ 1218 Ib._ p. 22 _sq._

_ 1219 Ib._ p. 23.

_ 1220 Ib._ p. 23 _sq._

_ 1221 Ib._ p. 24.

 1222 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 24.

_ 1223 Ib._ p. 24.

_ 1224 Ib._ p. 24 _sq._

_ 1225 Ib._ p. 25.

 1226 Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 223.

 1227 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 25 _sq._

 1228 C. A. Elliot, _Hoshangábád Settlement Report_, p. 178, quoted in
      _Panjab Notes and Queries_, iii. Nos. 8, 168.

 1229 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 31.

_ 1230 Ib._ p. 334.

 1231 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 330.

_ 1232 Ib._

_ 1233 Ib._ p. 331.

_ 1234 Ib._ p. 335.

_ 1235 Ib._ p. 335.

 1236 Above, pp. 335, 341, 350.

 1237 W. Mannhardt, _Korndäm._, p. 26.

 1238 Above, p. 343.

 1239 W. Mannhardt, _M. F._ p. 50.

_ 1240 Ib._ p. 50 _sq._

 1241 See above, pp. 286 _sq._, 333, 337, 340, 341.

 1242 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 32 _sqq._ Cp. _Revue des Traditions
      populaires_, iii. 598.

 1243 W. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ p. 35 _sq._

_ 1244 Ib._ p. 36.

 1245 For the evidence, see _ib._ p. 36, _note_ 2. The idea which lies at
      the bottom of the phrase seems to be explained by the following
      Cingalese custom. “There is a curious custom of the threshing-floor
      called ‘Goigote’—the tying of the cultivator’s knot. When a sheaf of
      corn has been threshed out, before it is removed the grain is heaped
      up and the threshers, generally six in number, sit round it, and
      taking a few stalks, with the ears of corn attached, jointly tie a
      knot and bury it in the heap. It is left there until all the sheaves
      have been threshed and the corn winnowed and measured. The object of
      this ceremony is to prevent the devils from diminishing the quantity
      of corn in the heap.” C. J. R. Le Mesurier, “Customs and
      Superstitions connected with the Cultivation of Rice in the Southern
      Province of Ceylon,” in _Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society_,
      N.S., xvii. (1885) 371. The “key” in the European custom is probably
      intended to serve the same purpose as the “knot” in the Cingalese
      custom.

 1246 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 39.

 1247 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 39 _sq._

_ 1248 Ib._ p. 40. For the speeches made by the woman who binds the
      stranger or the master, see _ib._ p. 41; Lemke, _Volksthümliches in
      Ostpreussen_, i. 23 _sq._

 1249 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 41 _sq._

 1250 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 42.

_ 1251 Ib._ p. 42. See above, p. 343. In Thüringen a being called the
      Rush-cutter used to be much dreaded. On the morning of St. John’s
      Day he was wont to walk through the fields with sickles tied to his
      ankles cutting avenues in the corn as he walked. To detect him,
      seven bundles of brushwood were silently threshed with the flail on
      the threshing-floor, and the stranger who appeared at the door of
      the barn during the threshing was the Rush-cutter. Witzschel,
      _Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 221. With the
      _Binsenschneider_ compare the _Bilschneider_. Panzer, _Beitrag zur
      deutschen Mythologie_, ii. 210 _sq._

 1252 W. Mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. 47 _sq._

_ 1253 Ib._ p. 48. To prevent a rationalistic explanation of this custom,
      which, like most rationalistic explanations of folk-custom, would be
      wrong, it may be pointed out that a little of the crop is sometimes
      left on the field for the spirit under other names than “the Poor
      Old Woman.” Thus in a village of the Tilsit district, the last sheaf
      was left standing on the field “for the Old Rye-woman.” _M. F._ p.
      337. In Neftenbach (Canton of Zürich) the first three ears of corn
      reaped are thrown away on the field “to satisfy the Corn-mother and
      to make the next year’s crop abundant.” _Ib._ In Thüringen when the
      after-grass (_Grummet_) is being got in, a little heap is left lying
      on the field; it belongs to “the Little Wood-woman” in return for
      the blessing she has bestowed. Witzschel, _Sagen, Sitten und
      Gebräuche aus Thüringen_, p. 224. At Kupferberg, Bavaria, some corn
      is left standing on the field when the rest has been cut. Of this
      corn left standing, they say that “it belongs to the Old Woman,” to
      whom it is dedicated in the following words—

      “We give it to the Old Woman;
      She shall keep it.
      Next year may she be to us
      As kind as this time she has been.”

      _M. F._ p. 337 _sq._ These last expressions are quite conclusive.
      See also Mannhardt, _Korndämonen_, p. 7 _sq._ In Russia a patch of
      unreaped corn is left in the field and the ears are knotted
      together; this is called “the plaiting of the beard of Volos.” “The
      unreaped patch is looked upon as tabooed; and it is believed that if
      any one meddles with it he will shrivel up, and become twisted like
      the interwoven ears.” Ralston, _Songs of the Russian People_, p.
      251. In the North-east of Scotland a few stalks were sometimes left
      unreaped for the benefit of “the aul’ man.” W. Gregor, _Folk-lore of
      the North-East of Scotland_, p. 182. Here “the aul’ man” is probably
      the equivalent of the Old Man (_der Alte_) of Germany.

_ 1254 M. F._ p. 48.

_ 1255 Ib._ p. 48 _sq._

_ 1256 Ib._ p. 49.

_ 1257 Ib._ p. 49 _sq._; Wuttke, _Der deutsche Volksaberglaube_,2 § 400;
      Töppen, _Aberglaube aus Masuren_,2 p. 57.

 1258 The explanation of the custom is Mannhardt’s. _M. F._ p. 49.

_ 1259 Odyssey_, xvii. 485 _sqq._ Cp. Plato, _Sophist_, 216 A.

 1260 For throwing him into the water, see p. 374.

 1261 Cieza de Leon, _Travels_, translated by Markham, p. 203 (Hakluyt
      Society, 1864).

 1262 Brasseur de Bourbourg, _Histoire des Nations civilisées du Mexique_,
      i. 274; Bancroft, _Native Races of the Pacific States_, ii. 340.

 1263 Bastian, _Die Culturländer des alten Amerika_, ii. 639 (quoting
      Herrara). See above, p. 307.

 1264 E. James, _Account of an Expedition from Pittsburgh to the Rocky
      Mountains_, ii. 80 _sq._; Schoolcraft, _Indian Tribes_, v. 77
      _sqq._; De Smet, _Voyages aux Montagnes Rocheuses_, nouvelle ed.
      1873, p. 121 _sqq._ The accounts by Schoolcraft and De Smet of the
      sacrifice of the Sioux girl are independent and supplement each
      other.

 1265 Labat, _Relation historique de l’Ethiopie occidentale_, i. 380.

 1266 John Adams, _Sketches taken during Ten Voyages in Africa between the
      years 1786 and 1800_, p. 25.

 1267 P. Bouche, _La Côte des Esclaves_, p. 132.

 1268 Arbousset et Daumas, _Voyage d’exploration au Nord-est de la Colonie
      du Cap de Bonne-Esperance_, p. 117 _sq._

_ 1269 Panjab Notes and Queries_, ii. No. 721.

 1270 Major S. C. Macpherson, _Memorials of Service in India_, p. 113
      _sq._; Major-General John Campbell, _Wild Tribes of Khondistan_, pp.
      52-58, etc.

 1271 J. Campbell, _op. cit._ p. 56.

 1272 S. C. Macpherson, _op. cit._ p. 115 _sq._

_ 1273 Ib._ p. 113.

 1274 S. C. Macpherson, _op. cit._ p. 117 _sq._; J. Campbell, p. 112.

 1275 S. C. Macpherson, p. 118.

 1276 J. Campbell, p. 54.

_ 1277 Ib._ pp. 55, 112.

 1278 S. C. Macpherson, p. 119; J. Campbell, p. 113.

 1279 S. C. Macpherson, p. 127. Instead of the branch of a green tree,
      Campbell mentions two strong planks or bamboos (p. 57) or a slit
      bamboo (p. 182).

 1280 J. Campbell, pp. 56, 58, 120.

 1281 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 288, quoting Colonel Campbell’s
      Report.

 1282 J. Campbell, p. 126. The elephant represented the Earth Goddess
      herself, who was here conceived in elephant-form; Campbell, pp. 51,
      126. In the hill tracts of Goomsur she was represented in
      peacock-form, and the post to which the victim was bound bore the
      effigy of a peacock, Campbell, p. 54.

 1283 S. C. Macpherson, p. 130.

 1284 Dalton, _Ethnology of Bengal_, p. 288, referring to Colonel
      Campbell’s Report.

 1285 S. C. Macpherson, p. 129. Cp. J. Campbell, pp. 55, 58, 113, 121,
      187.

 1286 J. Campbell, p. 182.

 1287 S. C. Macpherson, p. 128; Dalton, _l.c._

 1288 J. Campbell, pp. 55, 182.

 1289 J. Campbell, p. 187.

 1290 J. Campbell, p. 112.

 1291 S. C. Macpherson, p. 118.

 1292 Above, pp. 383, 384.

 1293 Above, pp. 334, 335.

 1294 Above, pp. 333, 344, 345.

 1295 Above, p. 372.

 1296 Above, p. 374.

 1297 Above, pp. 286 _sq._, 337, 340, 374.

 1298 Above, p. 374.

 1299 W. Mannhardt, _Korndämonen_, p. 5.

 1300 Pfannenschmid, _Germanische Erntefeste_, p. 98.

 1301 Above, p. 376 _sq._

 1302 Above, p. 235.

 1303 Above, p. 299.

 1304 Above, p. 68.

 1305 I do not know when the corn is reaped in Phrygia; but considering
      the high upland character of the country, harvest is probably later
      there than on the coasts of the Mediterranean.

 1306 Above, p. 364 _sq._

 1307 Above, p. 365.

 1308 Hesychius, _s.v._ Βῶρμον.

 1309 Apollodorus, ii. 6, 3.

 1310 The scurrilities exchanged in both ancient and modern times between
      vine-dressers, vintagers, and passers-by seem to belong to a
      different category. See W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 53 _sq._

 1311 Above, p. 282 _sqq._

 1312 Above, p. 283 _sq._

 1313 Above, pp. 381, 384, 389.

 1314 For this fact of the probable correspondence of the months, which
      supplies so welcome a confirmation of the conjecture in the text, I
      am indebted to my friend Professor W. Robertson Smith, who furnishes
      me with the following note: “In the Syro-Macedonian calendar Lous
      represents Ab, not Tammuz. Was it different in Babylon? I think it
      was, and one month different, at least in the early times of the
      Greek monarchy in Asia. For we know from a Babylonian observation in
      the Almagest (_Ideler_, I. 396) that in 229 B.C. Xanthicus began on
      February 26. It was therefore the month before the equinoctial moon,
      not Nisan but Adar, and consequently Lous answered to the lunar
      month Tammuz.”

 1315 Above, p. 364.

 1316 Apollodorus, ii. 5, 11; Schol. on Apollonius Rhodius, iv. 1396;
      Plutarch, _Parall._ 38. Herodotus (ii. 45) discredits the idea that
      the Egyptians ever offered human sacrifices. But his authority is
      not to be weighed against that of Manetho (Plutarch, _Is. et Os._
      73), who affirms that they did.

 1317 E. Meyer, _Geschichte des Alterthums_, i. § 57.

 1318 Diodorus, i. 88; Plutarch, _Is. et Os._ 73; cp. _id._, 30, 33.

 1319 Above, pp. 307, 383, 391.

 1320 Festus, _s.v._ _Catularia_. Cp. _id._, _s.v._ _rutilae canes_;
      Columella, x. 343; Ovid, _Fasti_, iv. 905 _sqq._; Pliny, _N. H._
      xviii. § 14.

 1321 Panzer, _Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie_, ii. 207, No. 362;
      _Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern_, iii. 343.

 1322 Above, pp. 384, 389.

 1323 Above, pp. 381, 383.

 1324 Plutarch, _Is. et Os._ 18.

 1325 Plutarch, _Is. et Os_. 22, 30, 31, 33, 73.

 1326 Wilkinson, _Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians_ (ed.
      1878), iii. 81.

 1327 Pausanias, i. 22, 3, viii. 5, 8, viii. 42, 1

 1328 Cornutus, _De nat. deor._ c. 28.

 1329 Hone, _Every-day Book_, ii. c. 1170 _sq._

 1330 Miss C. S. Burne and Miss G. F. Jackson, _Shropshire Folk-lore_, p.
      372 _sq._, referring to Mrs. Bray’s _Traditions of Devon_, i. 330.

 1331 Hone, _op. cit._ ii. 1172.

 1332 Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, ii. 20 (Bohn’s ed.); Burne and
      Jackson, _op. cit._ p. 371.

 1333 Burne and Jackson, _l.c._

 1334 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 185.

 1335 See above, p. 345.

 1336 W. Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ p. 185.

_ 1337 Ib._

_ 1338 Revue des Traditions populaires_, ii. 500.

 1339 Above, p. 343.

 1340 U. Jahn, _Die deutschen Opfergebräuche bei Ackerbau und Viehzucht_,
      pp. 166-169; Pfannenschmid, _Germanische Erntefeste_, p. 104 _sq._;
      Kuhn, _Westfälische Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen_, ii. Nos. 491,
      492; Kuhn und Schwartz, _Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche_,
      p. 395, No. 97; Lynker, _Deutsche Sagen und Sitten in hessischen
      Gauen_, p. 256, No. 340.