44379	----	generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 44379-h.htm or 44379-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44379/44379-h/44379-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44379/44379-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/historyofmournin00daveuoft Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). [Illustration: MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, _As Widow of Francis II. of France, a facsimile of the original drawing by Clouet, preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris._--Reproduced expressly for this Publication.] A HISTORY OF MOURNING. by RICHARD DAVEY. Jay's, Regent Street, W. _Wreath composed of the flowers mentioned in Shakespeare's dirges._ Entered at Stationers' Hall.] [Copyright. Published at Jay's, Regent Street, W. London McCorquodale & Co., Limited Cardington Street, N.W. [Illustration: A HISTORY OF MOURNING. BY RICHARD DAVEY.] ALTHOUGH tradition has not informed us whether our first parents made any marked change in their scanty garments on the death of their near relatives, it is certain that the fashion of wearing mourning and the institution of funereal ceremonies and rites are of the most remote antiquity. Herodotus tells us that the Egyptians over 3,000 years ago selected yellow as the colour which denoted that a kinsman was lately deceased. They, moreover, shaved their eyebrows when a relative died; but the death of a dog or a cat, regarded as divinities by this curious people, was a matter of much greater importance to them, for then they not only shaved their eyebrows, but every hair on their bodies was plucked out; and doubtless this explains the reason why so many elaborate wigs are to be seen in the various museums devoted to Egyptian antiquities. It would require a volume to give an idea of the singular funereal ceremonials of this people, with whom death was regarded, so to speak, as a "speciality;" for their religion was mainly devoted to the _cultus_ of the departed, and consequently innumerable monumental tombs still exist all over Egypt, the majority of which are full of mummies, whose painted cases are most artistic. [Illustration: FIG. 1.--_An Egyptian Lady preparing to go into Mourning for the death of her pet Cat._--From a picture by J. R. WEGUELIN.] The cat was worshipped as a divinity by the Egyptians. Magnificent tombs were erected in its honour, sacrifices and devotions were offered to it; and, as has already been said, it was customary for the people of the house to shave their heads and eyebrows whenever Pussy departed the family circle. Possibly it was their exalted position in Egypt which eventually led to cats being considered the "familiars" of witches in the Middle Ages, and even in our own time, for belief in witchcraft is not extinct. The kindly Egyptians made mummies of their cats and dogs, and it is presumable that, since Egypt is a corn growing, and hence a rat and mouse producing country, both dogs and cats, as killers of these vermin, were regarded with extreme veneration on account of their exterminating qualities. Their mummies are often both curious and comical, for the poor beast's quaint figure and face are frequently preserved with an indescribably grim realism, after the lapse of many ages. [Illustration: FIG. 2.--_Egyptian Maiden presenting Incense to the new-made Mummy of a Cat._] The funeral processions of the Egyptians were magnificent; for with the principal members of the family of the deceased, if he chanced to be of royal or patrician rank, walked in stately file numerous priests, priestesses, and officials wearing mourning robes, and, together with professional mourners, filling the air with horrible howls and cries. Their descendants still produce these strident and dismal lamentations on similar occasions. THE Egyptian Pyramids, which were included among the seven wonders of the world, are seventy in number, and are masses of stone or brick, with square bases and triangular sides. Although various opinions have prevailed as to their use, as that they were erected for astronomical purposes, for resisting the encroachment of the sand of the desert, for granaries, reservoirs, or sepulchres, the last-mentioned hypothesis has been proved to be correct, in recent times, by the excavations of Vyse, who expended nearly £10,000 in investigating their object. They were the tombs of monarchs of Egypt who flourished from the Fourth to the Twelfth Dynasty, none having been constructed later than that time; the subsequent kings being buried at Abydos, Thebes, and other places, in tombs of a very different character. [Illustration: FIG. 3.--_The Pyramids and Great Sphinx._--From a pen-and-ink sketch by HORACE VERNET.] The first, or Great Pyramid, was the sepulchre of the Cheops of Herodotus, the Chembes, or Chemmis, of Diodorus, and the Suphis of Manetho and Eratosthenes. Its height was 480 feet 9 inches, and its base 764 feet square. In other words, it was higher than St. Paul's Cathedral, and built on an area the size of Lincoln's Inn Fields. It has been, however, much spoiled, and stripped of its exterior blocks for the building of Cairo. The original sepulchral chamber, called the Subterranean Apartment, 46 feet by 27 feet, and 11 feet 6 inches high, has been hewn in the solid rock, and was reached by the original passage of 320 feet long, which descended to it by an entrance at the foot of the pyramid. A second chamber, with a triangular roof, 17 feet by 18 feet 9 inches, and 20 feet 3 inches high, was entered by a passage rising to an inclination of 26° 18', terminating in a horizontal passage. It is called the Queen's Chamber, and occupies a position nearly in the centre of the pyramid. The monument--probably owing to the long life attained by the monarch--still progressing, a third chamber, called the King's, was finally constructed, by prolonging the ascending passage of the Queen's Chamber for 150 feet farther into the very centre of the pyramid, and, after a short horizontal passage, making a room 17 feet 1 inch by 34 feet 3 inches, and 19 feet 1 inch high. The changes which took place in this pyramid gave rise to various traditions, even in the days of Herodotus, Cheops being reported to lie buried in a chamber surrounded by the waters of the Nile. It took a long time for its construction--100,000 men being employed on it probably for above half a century, the duration of the reign of Cheops. The operations in this pyramid by General Vyse gave rise to the discovery of marks scrawled in red ochre in a kind of cursive hieroglyph, on the blocks brought from the quarries of Tourah. These contained the name and titles of Khufu (the hieroglyphic form of Cheops); numerals and directions for the position of materials, etc. [Illustration: FIG. 4.--_Mummies of Cats and Dogs._--British Museum and Museum of the Louvre.] The second Pyramid was built by Suphis II., or Kephren, who reigned 66 years, according to Manethro, and who appears to have attained a great age. It has two sepulchral chambers, and must have been broken into by the Calif Alaziz Othman Ben-Yousouf, A.D. 1196. Subsequently it was opened by Belzoni. The masonry is inferior to that of the first Pyramid, but it was anciently cased below with red granite. The third Pyramid, built by Menkara, who reigned 63 years, is much smaller than the other two, and has also two sepulchral chambers, both in the solid rock. The lower chamber, which held a sarcophagus of rectangular shape of whinstone, had a pointed roof, cut like an arch inside; but the cedar coffin, in shape of a mummy, had been removed to the upper or large apartment, and its contents there rifled. Amongst the debris of the coffin and in the chambers were found the legs and part of the trunk of a body with linen wrapper, supposed by some to belong to the monarch, but by others to an Arab, on account of the anchylosed right knee. This body and fragments of the coffin were brought to the British Museum; but the stone sarcophagus was unfortunately lost off Carthagena, by the sinking of the vessel in which it was being transported to England. There are six other Pyramids of inferior size and interest at Gizeh; one at Abou Rouash, which is ruined, but of large dimensions; another at Zowyet El Arrian, still more ruined; another at Reegah, a spot in the vicinity of Abooseer, also much dilapidated, and built for the monarch User-en-Ra, by some supposed to be Busiris. There are five of these monuments at Abooseer, one with a name supposed to be that of a monarch of the Third Dynasty; and another with that of the king Sahura. A group of eleven Pyramids remains at Sakkara, and five other Pyramids are at Dashour, the northernmost of which, built of brick, is supposed to be that of the king Asychis of Herodotus, and has a name of a king apparently about the Twelfth Dynasty. Others are at Meydoon and Illahoon, Biahmo and Medinat El Fyoum, apparently the sepulchres of the last kings of the Twelfth Dynasty. In Nubia, the ancient Æthiopia, are several Pyramids, the tombs of the monarchs of Meroë and of some of the Ethiopian conquerors of Egypt. They are taller in proportion to their base than the Egyptian Pyramids, and generally have a sepulchral hall, or propylon, with sculptures, which faces the east. The principal groups of these Pyramids are at Bege Rauie, or Begromi, 17° N. lat., in one of which, gold rings and other objects of late art, resembling that of the Ptolemaic period, were found. The numerous Pyramids of Mexico are of vast size and importance, but their purpose is not yet fully ascertained. Completely covered as they are with dense vegetation, filled with venomous reptiles, they are difficult to investigate, but they were evidently much the same in shape and structure as the Egyptian, and their entrances were richly sculptured. The art of preserving the body after death by embalming was invented by the Egyptians, whose prepared bodies are known by the name of mummies. This art seems to have derived its origin from the idea that the preservation of the body was necessary for the return of the soul to the human form after it had completed its cycle of existence of three or ten thousand years. Physical and sanitary reasons may also have induced the ancient Egyptians; and the legend of Osiris, whose body, destroyed by Typhon, was found by Isis, and embalmed by his son Anubis, gave a religious sanction to the rite, all deceased persons being supposed to be embalmed after the model of Osiris in the _abuton_ of Philæ. One of the earliest embalmments on record is that of the patriarch Jacob; and the body of Joseph was thus prepared, and transported out of Egypt. The following seems to have been the usual rule observed after death. The relations of the deceased went through the city chanting a wail for the dead. The corpse of a male was at once committed into the charge of undertakers; if a female, it was detained at home until decomposition had begun. The _paraschistes_, or flank-inciser of the district, a person of low class, conveyed the corpse home. A scribe marked with a reed-pen a line on the left side beneath the ribs, down which line the paraschistes made a deep incision with a rude knife of stone, or probably flint. He was then pelted by those around with stones, and pursued with curses. Then the _taricheutes_, or preparer, proceeded to arrange the corpse for the reception of the salts and spices necessary for its preservation, and the future operations depended on the sum to be expended upon the task. When Herodotus visited Egypt, three methods prevailed: the first, accessible only to the wealthy, consisted in passing peculiar drugs through the nostrils, into the cavities of the skull, rinsing the body in palm wine, and filling it with resins, cassia, and other substances, and stitching up the incision in the left flank. The mummy was then steeped in natron for 70 days, and wrapped up in linen cemented by gums, and set upright in a wooden coffin against the walls of the house or tomb. This process cost what would now amount in our money to about £725. The second process consisted in injecting into the body cedar oil, soaking it in a solution of natron for 70 days, which eventually destroyed everything but the skin and bones. The expense was a _mina_, relatively, about £243. In the third process, used for the poorer classes, the corpse was simply washed in myrrh, and salted for 70 days. When thus prepared the bodies were ready for sepulture, but they were often kept some time before burial--often at home--and were even produced at festive entertainments, to recall to the guests the transient lot of humanity. All classes were embalmed, even malefactors; and those who were drowned in the Nile or killed by crocodiles received an embalmment from the city nearest to which the accident occurred. The Ethiopians used similar means of embalming to preserve the dead, and other less successful means were used by nations of antiquity. The Persians employed wax, the Assyrians, honey; the Jews embalmed their monarchs with spices, with which the body of Our Lord was also anointed; Alexander the Great was preserved in wax and honey, and some Roman bodies have been found thus embalmed. The Guanches, or ancient inhabitants of the Canary Isles, used an elaborate process like the Egyptian; and dessicated bodies, preserved by atmospheric or other circumstances for centuries, have been found in France, Sicily, England, and America, especially in Central America, and Peru. The art of embalming was probably never lost in Europe, and De Bils, Ruysch, Swammerdam, and Clauderus boast of great success in it. During the present century it has been almost entirely discarded, except under very exceptional circumstances. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 5.--_Tomb of Runjeet Singh at Lahore._] LEAVING the Oriental and remotely ancient nations aside, we will now consider the history of mourning as it was used by those peoples from whom we immediately derive our funereal customs. In ancient times, even amongst the Greeks and Romans, it was the custom to immolate victims--either slaves or captives--on the tomb of the departed, in order to appease the spirit, or that the soul might be accompanied by spirits of inferior persons to the realms of eternal bliss; and in India we have some difficulty even now in preventing the burning of a widow on the funeral pyre of her husband, instances of this barbarous custom occurring almost every year, notwithstanding the vigilance of our Government. It would be extremely interesting to trace to their sources all the various rites and ceremonies connected with our principal subject, of every nation, savage or civilised, ancient or modern; but the task would be quite beyond my limits. A thorough investigation of the matter, assisted very materially by a systematic investigation of that mine of curious information, Picard's famous "_Cérémonies et coutumes religieuses de tous les peuples_", which contains so many original letters from missionaries of the 16th and 17th Centuries, obliges me to come to the conclusion that there is, after all, not so much variety in the funereal ceremonies of the world as we imagine. Those of the Chinese and Japanese resemble in many ways, very strikingly too, the ceremonies which the Roman Catholics employ to this day: there are the same long processions of priests and officials; and Picard shows us a sketch of a very grand burial at Pekin, in 1675, in which we behold the body of the Emperor of the Celestials stretched upon a bier covered with deep violet satin, and surrounded by many lighted candles; prayers were said for the repose of the soul; and, as all the world knows, the costumes of the priests of Buddha are supposed to have undergone, together with their creed and ritual, a great change in the early part of the 17th Century, owing to the extraordinary influence of the Jesuit missionaries who followed St. Francis Xavier into India and Japan. The Japanese cremated their dead and preserved the ashes; the Chinese buried theirs; but the Cingalese, after burning the body, scattered the ashes to the winds; whilst a sect of Persians exposed their dead upon the top of high towers, and permitted the birds of prey to perform the duty which we assign to the gravedigger. Cemeteries existed in the East at a remote epoch, and were rendered so beautiful with handsome mausoleums, groves of stately cypresses and avenues of lovely rose bushes, that they are now used as public promenades. On certain days of the year multitudes resort to them for purposes of prayer, and the Armenian Christians illuminate theirs with lamps and tapers on the annual feast of the commemoration of the departed. Perhaps India possesses the most elegant tombs in the world, mainly built by the sovereigns of the Mongol dynasty. None among them is so sumptuous as the mausoleum of Taj Mahal, situated about a mile outside the port of Agra. It was built by Shah Jehan for himself and his wife Arjimand Banoo, surnamed Mumtaz Mahal; 20,000 men were employed for 20 years erecting it. It is constructed of the purest white marble, relieved with precious stones. In the interior is the sepulchral apartment, which is chiefly decorated with lapis lazuli. The tombs of the Emperor and Empress, which stand under the dome, are covered with costly Indian shawls of green cashmere, heavily embroidered with gold. Another most beautiful specimen of Mahometan sepulchral architecture is the tomb of Runjeet Singh, near Lahore, which, though less known, is externally as magnificent as the mausoleum above described. [Decoration] MOSES prohibited the immolation of human victims on the tombs of the dead, and decreed that relatives should signify their sorrow by the manner in which they tore their garments. They rent them according to the degrees of affinity and parentage. Sometimes the tears were horizontal, and this indicated that a father, mother, wife, brother, or sister had died; but if the tear was longitudinal, it signified that some person had departed who was not a blood relation. An idea can be formed of the appalling destruction of clothing which must have occurred on certain occasions amongst the ancient Jews, when we remember that on the death of a king everybody was expected to tear their garments longitudinally, and to go about with them in tatters for nine days. This curious custom possibly explains Solomon's proverb, "There is a time to rend and a time to mend." The High Priest among the Jews was exempted from wearing mourning. The French, when they embraced Christianity, added many Jewish customs to their own: up to the time of the Revolution of 1789, their Grand Chancellor, or Chief Magistrate, was not bound to wear mourning even for his own father. The Greeks, doubtless, derived their funereal ceremonies from the Egyptians, and it is from this ancient people that we obtain the custom of wearing black as mourning. When a person in Greece was dangerously ill and not expected to recover, branches of _laurestinus_ and _achanthus_ were hung up over the door, and the relatives hurried round the bed and prayed to Mercury, as the conductor of souls, to have mercy upon the invalid, and either to cure him completely or else help his soul to cross the river Styx. If the death really occurred, then the house was filled with cries and lamentations. The body was washed and perfumed, and covered with rich robes; a garland of flowers was placed on its head, and in its hand a cake made of wheat and honey, to appease Cerberus, the porter of Hell; and in the mouth a purse of money, in order to defray the expenses of Charon, the ferryman of Styx. In this state the deceased was exposed for two days in the vestibule of the house. At the door was a vase full of water, destined to purify the hands of those who touched the corpse. Visitors to Paris will remember how often they have seen a coffin exhibited in the doorway of a house, elaborately covered with flowers, having at its head a crucifix, and many lights surrounding it, everybody as they passed saluting it--the men by taking off their hats, and the women by making the sign of the cross, often using for this purpose holy water offered to them on a brush by an acolyte. Now, the Greeks used blessed water when they exposed their dead in front of their dwellings; possibly the French custom is derived from the Grecian. The funeral in Greece took place three days after the exhibition of the remains, and usually occurred before sunrise, so as to avoid ostentation. Many women surrounded the bier, weeping and howling, and not a few, being professionals, were paid for their trouble. The corpse was placed on a chariot, in a coffin made of cypress wood. The male relatives walked behind, those who were of close kinship having their heads shaved. They usually cast down their eyes, and were invariably dressed in black. A choir of musicians came next, singing doleful tunes. The procession, as a rule, had not far to go, for the body of a wealthy person was usually buried in his garden--if his city house did not possess one, in that of his villa residence. [Illustration: FIG. 6.--_A Greek Tomb: the Monument of Themistocles, Athens._] The Greeks, it will thus be seen, buried their dead, and did not cremate them as did the Romans; but in the latter years of the Republic both forms of disposing of the body were common. After the burial, libations of wine were poured over the grave, and all objects of clothing which had belonged to the deceased were solemnly burnt. The ninth and fourteenth days after the funeral, the parents, dressed in white, visited the grave, and a ceremony was gone through for the repose of the soul. The anniversary of the death was also observed, and the Greeks, moreover, had a general commemoration of the dead in the month of March. And here let us make a digression to see how very closely the Greeks must have influenced the early Christians, and consequently their more immediate descendants, the Roman Catholics, in the matter of religious ceremonies; for it is usual among Catholics to hear a Mass for the Dead a week after the death, and also another on the anniversary. The universal feast of the dead is observed by them, however, not in the month of March, but in that of November. People who have lived in Paris will know how very largely these funereal ceremonies enter into the manners and customs of that gay city, so that it is not unfrequent for foreign residents to observe that their time is passed in perpetually going to funerals; for, if you have a large acquaintance, you are sure to receive at least twenty or thirty invitations to funerals and funereal commemorations in the course of the year. Of course, everybody will remember how on the Continent the first day of November is devoted to visiting the cemeteries and decorating the tombs of relatives and friends. [Illustration: FIG. 7.--_Gallo-Roman bas-relief--found in Paris about fifty years ago--representing a family surrounding the body of a woman who has recently died._--Museum of the Louvre.] To return to the Greeks, it should be observed that their respect for the dead was remarkable, even amongst the ancients. If a man accidentally found a body on the high-road, he was obliged to turn aside and bury it. When the people saw a funeral procession pass, they uncovered their heads and murmured a prayer. The laws against the violation of the sepulchres of the dead were most severe, and any one who was caught damaging a tomb was usually flogged for his trouble, but if he overthrew it and disturbed the body, he was burnt alive. If a person died at sea, all the people on board the ship assembled at sunset, and cried out three times the name of the departed, who was usually thrown overboard. In the morning they repeated these calls, and so forth until the ship entered port. This was done in order to recall the names of the deceased, or at any rate to keep them propitious. When an illustrious person died in Greece, the ceremonies were on a most elaborate scale, and even accompanied by games, which lasted for many days. Readers of Homer's "Iliad" will remember his magnificent description of the death and funeral of Patroclus. Among the Romans the men were not obliged to wear mourning, but it was the fashion for women to do so. Very wisely, children under three years of age were not forced to put on black, even for their parents, and after that age, only for as many months as they had lived years. The Roman ladies only wore mourning for their parents for one year. Men were expected to wear it for the same period in the case of the death of a father, mother, wife, sister, or brother. Numa fixed the period of wearing deep mourning for the nearest of kin as ten months. People, however, were not obliged to wear mourning for any of their relatives who had been in prison, were bankrupt, or in any way outlawed. Numa published a minute series of laws regulating the mourning of his people. A very odd item in these included an order that women should not scratch their faces, or make an exceptional fuss at a public funeral. This was possibly decreed to put some stop to abuses which the hired mourners had occasioned: scratching their faces, for instance, so as to injure themselves, and making an over-dismal wail which was offensive to the genuine mourners. For freedmen and slaves among the Romans, the greatest mark of respect was the erection of a monument or inscription in the tomb reserved for the family they had served. Thousands of these inscriptions to slaves and faithful servants still exist, and lead us to hope that the hardships of slavery in ancient Rome were often softened by mutual kindness and respect. One of the most touching of these is in a tomb on the Appian Road, which is supposed to have belonged to the attendants of Livia, the illustrious consort of Augustus. It runs:-- "To my beloved Julia, my slave-woman, whose last illness I have watched and attended as if it had been that of my own mother." Tombs of slaves who were martyrs to the Christian religion are very frequent, and their inscriptions are usually of a most pathetic description. The ashes of the dead, after the solemn burning of the body, were carefully gathered together and placed in an often very beautifully painted urn, and taken to the family tomb on the Appian Way, where an appropriate inscription was affixed to the wall under the niche containing the vase or urn. Little glass bottles, said to be filled with the tears of the nearest relations, were likewise enclosed in the urn, or else hung up beside it. Thousands of these, brilliant, after ages, with iridescent colours, are still found in the Roman tombs. It was not imperative for a man in old Rome to wear mourning at all; but it was considered very bad taste for a male not to show some external sign of respect for his dead. With women, on the other hand, it was obligatory. On great occasions, such as the death of an Emperor or a defeat of the army in foreign parts, the Senate, the Knights, and the whole Roman people assumed mourning; and the same ceremony was observed when any general of the Roman army was slain in battle. When Manlius was precipitated from the Tarpeian rock, half the people put on mourning. The defeat at Cannæ, the conspiracy of Catilina, and the death of Julius Cæsar were also events celebrated in Rome with public mourning; but during the whole period of the Republic it was not compulsory for people to notice death, either publicly or privately. The first public mourning recorded as being observed throughout the entire Roman Empire was that for Augustus. It lasted for fifty days for the men, and the whole year for women. The next public event which called forth a decree commanding that the entire people of Rome and the Empire should wear mourning, was the death of Livia, mother of Tiberius. The same thing occurred at the death of Drusus; and Caligula followed the example, and ordered general mourning on the death of Drusilla. Private mourning, which was among the Romans, as we have already intimated, not at all compulsory, could be broken by events such as the birth of a son or daughter, the marriage of a child, and the return of a prisoner of war. Men wore lighter mourning than women, but were expected to absent themselves from places of public amusement. The usual colour adopted by women for mourning, under the Roman Empire, was a peculiar blue-black serge, and an absolutely black veil. As with us, occasionally, the wearing of mourning brought forth some sharp remarks from the satirical poets. Thus, Macrobius tells us, in his Saturnalia, that Croesus on one occasion went to the Senate wearing the deepest mourning for the largest lamprey in his tank, which had died. Women were not allowed to remarry within the year of their husband's death. Imperial permission, however, might smooth this difficulty. AMONG the early Christians the sincerest respect for the memory of their dead was paid; for most of them, in the first centuries of the Church, were either martyrs or near connections of such as had suffered for the faith. The Catacombs are covered with inscriptions recording the deaths of martyrs; and many of these memorials are exceedingly pathetic, testifying to the fortitude with which the first Christians endured any manner of torture rather than deny the new faith which had been imparted to them by Divine revelation. The remains of the martyrs, however mangled they might be, were gathered together with the greatest reverence, and their blood placed in little phials of glass, which were considered relics of a most precious nature. The Catacombs, which served the first Christians as churches as well as places of burial, are called after the most distinguished martyrs who were buried therein. In that of St. Calixtus, for instance--where that early and martyred Pope was interred--about two centuries ago was found the body of Saint Cecilia, "the sweet patroness of music." With such precaution had her remains been transported to their place of interment, that Bernini, the most eminent sculptor of the 17th Century, was able to take a cast of them, which he subsequently worked into a lovely statue, representing the saint in the graceful and modest attitude in which it is said her body was found after the lapse of a thousand years. This exquisite work of art is to be seen in the church which bears Saint Cecilia's name, in the Trastevere; and a fine replica of it is in the chapel of St. Cecilia, in the Oratory, Brompton. [Illustration: FIG. 8.--_Divine Service in the Catacombs of St. Calixtus_, A.D. 50.] The Catacombs are subterraneous chambers and passages usually formed in the rock, which is soft and easily excavated, and are to be found in almost every country in which such rocks exist. In most cases, probably, they originated in mere quarries, which afterwards came to be used either as places of sepulchre for the dead, or as hiding-places for the persecuted living. The most celebrated Catacombs in existence are those on the Via Appia, at a short distance from Rome. To these dreary crypts the early Christians were in the habit of retiring, in order to celebrate Divine worship in times of persecution, and in them were buried many of the saints, the early Popes, and martyrs. They consist of long narrow galleries, usually about eight feet high and five wide, which twist and turn in all directions. The graves were constructed by hollowing out a portion of the rock, at the side of the gallery, large enough to contain the body. The entrance was then built up with stones, on which usually the letters D. M. (Deo Maximo), or [CHR], the first two letters of the Greek name of Christ, were inscribed. Though latterly devoted to purposes of Christian interment exclusively, it is believed that the Catacombs were at one time used as burying-places for Pagans also, and there are one or two which were evidently entirely devoted to the Jews. At irregular intervals, these galleries expand into wide and lofty vaulted chambers, in which the service of the Church was no doubt celebrated, and which still have the appearance of chapels. The original extent of the Catacombs is uncertain, the guides maintaining that they have a length of twenty miles, whereas about six only can now be ascertained to exist, and of these, many portions have either fallen in or become dangerous. When Rome was besieged by the Lombards in the 8th Century, several of the Catacombs were destroyed, and the Popes afterwards caused the remains of many of the saints and martyrs to be removed and buried in the churches. The Catacombs at Naples, cut into the Capo di Monte, resemble those at Rome, and evidently were used for the same purposes, being partially covered with remarkable Christian symbols. At Palermo and Syracuse, there are similar Catacombs, and they are also to be found in Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Persia, and Egypt. At Milo, one of the Cyclades, there is a hill which is honeycombed with a labyrinth of tombs running in every direction. In these, bassorilievi and figures in terra-cotta have been found, which prove them to be long anterior to the Christian era. In Peru and other parts of South America, ancient Catacombs still exist. The Catacombs of Paris are a species of charnel-house, into which the contents of such burying-places as were found to be pestilential, and the bodies of some of the victims of the Revolution, were cast by a decree of the Government. The skulls are arranged in curious forms, and a visit to these weird galleries is one of the sights of Paris, which few strangers, however, are privileged to study. The Capuchin monks have frequently attached to their monasteries, a cloister filled with earth brought from the Holy Land. In this the monks are buried for a time, until their bones are quite fleshless, when they are arranged in surprising groups in the long corridors of a series of galleries, and produce sometimes the reverse of a solemn effect. [Illustration: FIG. 9.--_Crypt of a Chapel in the Catacomb of St. Agnes, without the walls of Rome (restored), showing the manner in which the bodies of the early Christians were arranged one above the other. The front of each tomb was of course walled up._--From the work on the Catacombs of Rome, by M. PERRET.] [Illustration: FIG. 10.--_An Anglo-Saxon Widow Lady. The upper garment is of black cloth, edged with fur, and a veil of black gauze hangs from the head._--9th Century MS., National Library, Paris.] AS the Church emerged from the Catacombs, and was enabled to take her position in the world, her funereal ceremonies became more elaborate and costly. Masses for the dead were offered up in the churches, to the accompaniment of music and singing; and the funereal ceremonies which attended the burial of the Empress Theodolinda, A.D. 595, the friend and correspondent of Pope St. Gregory the Great, lasted for over a week. The Cathedral of Monza, where she was buried, was hung with costly black stuff, and the body of the Empress was exhibited under a magnificent catafalque, surrounded with lights, and was visited by pilgrims from all parts of Lombardy. Many hundreds of masses were said for her in all the churches, and all day the great bells of the cathedral and of the various monastic establishments tolled dolefully. At the end of the week the body of the illustrious Empress was placed in the vault under the high altar, where it remains to this day; and above it was a shrine filled with extraordinary relics, many of which still subsist, as, for instance, her celebrated "Hen and Chickens"--a plateau or tray of silver gilt with some gold chickens with ruby eyes upon it--and the famous iron crown, which is, indeed, of gold, having one of the nails said to have been used at the Crucifixion beaten in a single band round the inside. Napoleon I. crowned himself, at Milan, King of Italy, with this singular relic. [Illustration: FIG. 11.--_An Anglo-Saxon Priest wearing a black Dalmatic, edged with fur, ready to say a Requiem Mass._--From an early MS., 10th Century.] Our Catholic ancestors spent large sums of money upon their funerals. The pious practice of praying for the dead, which they doubtless derived from the Hebrews, induced them to secure the future exertions of their friends, by building chanteries and special chapels in the churches, with a view of reminding the survivors of their demise. Guilds, which by the way, still exist, were created for the purpose of binding people together in a holy league of prayer for the souls of the faithful departed. We find in the laws established for the Guild of Abbotsbury, the following regulations:--"If any one belonging to the association chance to die, each member shall pay a penny for the good of the soul, before the body be laid in the grave. If he die in the neighbourhood, the steward (secretary) shall enquire when he is to be interred, and shall summon as many members as he can, to assemble and carry the corpse in as honourable a manner as possible to the grave or minster, and there pray devoutly for his soul's rest." With the same view, our ancestors were ever anxious to obtain a place of sepulchre in the most frequented churches. The monuments raised over their remains, whilst keeping them safe from profanation, recalled them to memory, and solicited on their behalf the charity of the faithful. The usual inscription on the earlier Christian tombs in this country was the pathetic "Of your charity, pray for me." In the Guild of All Souls, in London, when any member died, it was the custom of the survivors to give the poor a loaf for the good of the soul; and the writer can perfectly remember, that some thirty years since, in remote parts of Norfolk, when anybody died, it was the fashion to distribute loaves of bread in the church porch as a dole. The funeral of an Anglo-Saxon was thus conducted:--The body of the deceased was placed on a bier or in a hearse. On it lay the book of the gospels, the code of his or her belief, and the cross, the signal of hope. A pall of silk or linen was thrown over it till it reached the place of interment. The friends were summoned, and strangers deemed it a duty to join the funeral procession. The clergy walked before or on each side, bearing lighted tapers in their hands, and chanting a portion of the psalter. If it were in the evening, the night was passed in exercises of devotion. In the morning, mass was sung and the body deposited with solemnity in the grave, the sawlshot paid, and a liberal donation distributed to the poor. Before the Reformation, it was the excellent custom for all persons who met a funeral to uncover and stand reverentially still until it had passed. The pious turned back, and accompanied the mourners a part of the way to the grave. It is pleasant to notice that this essentially humane habit of taking off the hat and behaving gravely as a funeral goes by, which is universal upon the Continent, is at last becoming more and more general here. The homage of the living to the mortal remains of even the humblest is excellent, and one which should be earnestly encouraged, being far more beneficial in its results than the heaping of costly flowers upon a hearse, which no one notices as it passes, laden with its ephemeral offerings, to the cemetery. [Illustration: FIG. 12.--_Funeral of St. Edward the Confessor, January 5th, 1066. The body, covered with a silken pall adorned with crosses, is carried by eight men, and followed by many priests, to Westminster Abbey, which he had founded. Under the bier are seen two small figures ringing bells._--From the Bayeux Tapestry, worked by Matilda of Flanders, Queen of William the Conqueror, and preserved in the Cathedral at Bayeux--11th Century.] The funeral of Edward the Confessor was exceedingly magnificent, and the shrine built over his relics, behind the high altar of the glorious abbey which he founded, is still an object of reverence with our Roman Catholic fellow-citizens, who, on St. Edward's Day, are permitted by a tolerant age to offer their devotions before the resting-place of the last of our Saxon Kings. But our first Norman King was buried with scant ceremony. He died 1087, at Hermentrude, a village near Rouen, having been taken suddenly ill on his way to England. No sooner was the illustrious king deceased, than his servants plundered the house and even the corpse, flinging it naked upon the floor. Herleadin, a peasant, undertook at last to convey the body to Caen, where it was to be buried in the Abbey of St. Stephen, Prince Henry and the monks being present. Scarcely, however, was the mass of requiem begun, when the church took fire, and everybody fled, leaving William the Conqueror's hearse neglected in the centre of the transept. At last the flames were extinguished, the interrupted service finished, and the funeral sermon preached. Just, however, as the coffin was about to be lowered into the vault, Anselm Fitz-Arthur, a Norman gentleman, stood forth and forbade the interment. "This spot," cried he, "is the site of my father's house, which this dead man burnt to ashes. On the ground it occupied I built this church, and William's body shall not desecrate it." After much ado, however, Fitz-Arthur was prevailed upon by Prince Henry to allow the body to be buried, on the payment of sixty shillings as the price of the grave. In the 17th Century the Calvinists ravaged the tomb and broke the monument. It was restored in 1642, but finally swept away, together with that of Queen Matilda, in the Revolution of 1793. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 13.--_The Shrine of the Confessor, in Westminster Abbey._] [Illustration: FIG. 14.--_Funeral of an Abbess--10th Century._--From a MS.] PERHAPS the most curious funeral on record occurred just at the dawn of the Renaissance--that of the ill-fated Inez de Castro--"the Queen crowned after death"--who was murdered in the 14th Century by three assassins in her own apartment at Coimbra. "Being conveyed," says the Chronicle of Fray Jao das Reglas, "to the chapel of the neighbouring convent, her body was arrayed in spotless white and decked with roses. The nuns surrounded the bier, and the Queen-mother of Portugal, Brittes, sat in state--her crown upon her head and her royal robes flowing around her--as chief mourner, having given an order that the body should not be buried until after the return of her son Don Pedro. When he did come back, he was transported with grief and anger at the foul murder of his consort; and, throwing himself upon the corpse, clasped it to his heart, covered its pale lips, its hands, its feet with kisses, and, refusing all consolation, remained for thirty hours with the body clasped in his embrace! At last, being overcome with fatigue, the unhappy Prince was carried away senseless from the piteous remains of his most dear Inez, and they were consigned to the grave. It was his father who had instigated the murderers to commit their foul deed, and this determined Pedro to take up arms against him; and Portugal was desolated by civil war. Eventually the reasoning of the Queen (Brittes) prevailed, and peace was restored. Pedro, however, never spoke to his father again until the hour of his death, when he forgave the great wrong he had done him. He now ascended the throne, and his first act was to hunt down the three murderers, two of whom were put to death, with tortures too awful to describe, and the other escaped into France, where he died a beggar. After this retributive act, Don Pedro assembled the Cortes at Cantandes, and, in the presence of the Pope's Nuncio, solemnly swore that he had secretly married Inez de Castro at Braganza, in the presence of the bishop and of other witnesses." "Then occurred an event unique in history," continues this naive contemporary chronicle. "The body of Inez was lifted from the grave, placed on a magnificent throne, and crowned Queen of Portugal. The clergy, the nobility, and the people did homage to her corpse, and kissed the bones of her hands. There sat the dead Queen, with her yellow hair hanging like a veil round her ghastly form. One fleshless hand held the sceptre, and the other the orb of royalty. At night, after the coronation ceremony, a procession was formed of all the clergy and nobility, the religious orders and confraternities--which extended over many miles--each person holding a flaring torch in his hand, and thus walked from Coimbra to Alcobaça, escorting the crowned corpse to that royal abbey for interment. The dead Queen lay in her rich robes upon a chariot drawn by black mules and lighted up by hundreds of lights." [Illustration: FIG. 15.--_Bird's-eye view of the Monument (restored) of the Queen Inez of Castro, Abbey of Alcobaça, Portugal._] The scene must indeed have been a weird one. The sable costumes of the bishops and priests, the incense issuing from innumerable censers, the friars in their quaint garments, and the fantastically-attired members of the various hermandades, or brotherhoods--some of whom were dressed from head to foot entirely in scarlet, or blue, or black, or in white--with their countenances masked and their eyes glittering through small openings in their cowls; but above all, the spectre-like corpse of the Queen, on its car, and the grief-stricken King, who led the train--when seen by the flickering light of countless torches, with its solemn dirge music, passing through many a mile of open country in the midnight hours--was a vision so unreal that the chronicler describes it as "rather a phantasmagoria than a reality." In the magnificent abbey of Alcobaça the _requiem_ mass was sung, and the corpse finally laid to rest. The monument still exists, with the statue, with its royal diadem and mantle, lying thereon. The tomb of Don Pedro is placed foot to foot with that of Inez, so--the legend runs--that at the Judgment Day they may rise together and stand face to face. In 1810 the bodies of Don Pedro I. and Dona Inez de Castro were disturbed by the French, at the sack of Alcobaça. The skeleton of Inez was discovered to be in a singular state of preservation--the hair exceedingly long and glossy, and the head bound with a golden crown set with jewels of price. Singularly enough, this crown, although very valuable, was kicked about by the men as a toy and thrown behind the high altar, whence, as soon as the troops evacuated the monastery, it was carefully taken and laid aside by the Abbot. Shortly afterwards it again encircled the unhappy Queen's head, when, by order of the Duke of Wellington, the remains were once more replaced in the tomb, with military honours. [Illustration: FIG. 16.--_Funeral Service, in which are shown the Candelabra and Incense Vessels which were deposited in the coffin._--Drawing of the 14th Century--Collection of the Rev. Father COCHET.] [Illustration: FIG. 17.--_Angels praying over a Skull._--Bas-relief of 16th Century.] [Illustration: FIGS. 18 & 19.--_Death Criers_--_French costumes of 17th Century. The English dress was almost identical._--From a rare print in the collection of Mr. RICHARD DAVEY. Engraved expressly for this publication.] FUNERAL services of great magnificence entered largely into the customs of this pageantic epoch; and to this day, in Catholic countries, no religious ceremonies are conducted with more pomp than those intended to commemorate the departed. Besides the religious orders, there were numerous confraternities, guilds, and brotherhoods devoted to the burying and praying for the deceased. As no newspapers existed in those days, when a person of distinction died, the "Death Crier,"--in some parts of England called the "Death Watch,"--dressed in black, with a death's-head and cross-bones painted on the back and front of his gown, and armed with a bell, went the round of the town or village, as the case might be, shouting "Of your charity, good people, pray for the soul of our dear brother, [or sister] who departed this life at such and such an hour." Upon this the windows and doors of the houses were opened, and the "good people" said an ave or a pater for the "rest" of the dead, and at the same time the passing bell was tolled. In London, when the King or Queen died, the crier, or "Death Watch," who paraded our principal thoroughfares was, of course, a very important personage. Attended by the whole brotherhood, or guild, of the Holy Souls, with cross-bearer, each carrying a lighted candle, he proceeded processionally through the streets, notably up and down Cheapside and the Strand, solemnly ringing his bell, and crying out in a lugubrious voice his sad news. These criers, both in England and France, were paid, as officials, by the civic corporation so much per day, and were obliged, in addition to their usual mournful occupation, to inspect and report on the condition of low taverns and places of ill-fame. In the course of time they added to their "cry" news of a more miscellaneous character, and after the Reformation, became, we may well imagine, those rather musty folks the "Watch," who only disappeared from our midst as late as the early half of this century. [Illustration: FIG. 20.--_Pall from the Church of Folleville, France, now in the Museum at Amiens. It is of black velvet, with stripes of white silk let in, embroidered with black and gold thread. It was placed over the coffin. Similar palls existed in England, and one or two are still preserved in our national collections._] [Illustration: FIG. 21.--_Scene from Richard III._--_The body of Henry VI. being by chance met by Richard on its way to Chertsey, he orders the bearers to set it down, and then pleads his cause to the Lady Anne._] Shakespeare, whose knowledge of Catholicism of course came to him from immediate tradition, possibly remembered a very ancient custom when, in _Richard III._, he makes the Duke of Glo'ster command the attendants who follow the body of Henry VI. to set it down,--an order which they obey reluctantly enough,--thereby giving him an opportunity to make love to Lady Anne in the presence of her murdered father-in-law's remains. In Catholic times the streets were adorned not only by many fine crosses, such as those at Charing and Cheapside, but also by numerous chapels and wayside shrines. Funerals, when they passed these, were in the habit of stopping, and the assistants, kneeling, prayed for the dead person whom they were carrying to the grave. They likewise stopped, also, and very frequently too, at certain well-known public-houses or taverns, the members of the family of the deceased being obliged by custom to "wet the lips" of the "thirsty souls" who carried the corpse. Sometimes very disorderly scenes ensued. The hired mourners and more unruly members of the guilds got drunk; and it is on record that on more than one occasion the body was pulled out of its coffin by these rascals and outraged, to the horror and indignation of honest people. It has frequently occurred to the writer, that if the attendants in the curious scene in the tragedy just mentioned, were to convey the body of the dead King to the side or back of the stage, in front of some shrine or cross, and occupy themselves with prayer, they would render the astonishing dialogue between Glo'ster and Lady Anne much more intelligible than when we hear it spoken, as is usually the case, before a number of persons for whose ears it was certainly never intended. [Illustration: FIG. 22.--_Funeral of King Richard II., showing his waxen effigy._--From an early MS. of FROISSART.] IMPORTANT personages in olden times in this country were usually embalmed. The poor, on the contrary, were rarely furnished even with a decent coffin, but were carried to the grave in a hired one, which, in villages, often did duty for many successive years. Once the brief service was said, the pauper's body, in its winding-sheet, was placed reverently enough in the earth, and covered up--a fact which doubtless accounts for the numerous village legends of ghosts wandering about in winding-sheets. Charitable people paid for masses to be said by the friars for their poorer brethren, and the guilds paid all expenses of the funeral, which were naturally not very considerable. On the other hand, the funeral of great personages, from king to squire, was a function which sometimes lasted a week. The bell tolled--as it still does--the moment the death became known to the bell-ringer. Then the body was washed, embalmed with spices and sweet herbs, wrapped in a winding-sheet of fine linen,--which, by the way, was often included among the wedding presents--and taken down into the hall of the palace or manor, which was hung with black, and lighted by many tapers, and even by waxen torches--sometimes as many as 300 and 400 of them--an immense expense, considering the cost of wax in those days. After three days' exposition--if the body remained incorrupt so long--the corpse was sealed up in a leaden coffin, and taken to the church, where solemn masses were sung. The clothes--we may presume the old and well-worn ones only--were then formally distributed to the poor of the parish. Finally came the funeral banquet of "baked meats," to which all those, including the clergy, who had taken part in the funeral service and procession were invited. When the Sovereign or any person of royal rank deceased, a waxen presentment was immediately made of him as he was seen in life under the influence of sleep. This figure, dressed in the regal robes, was exposed upon the catafalque in the church, instead of the real body--a custom doubtless inspired originally by hygienic motives, for frequently the funeral rites of a king or prince of the blood were prolonged for many days. In Westminster Abbey there are still several of these grim ancient waxen effigies to be seen, by special permission of the Dean, very faded and ghastly, but interesting as likenesses, and for the fragments which time has spared of their once gorgeous attire. This custom lasted with us until the time of William and Mary. In France it disappeared in the middle of the 17th Century, the last mention of it being on the occasion of the death of Anne of Austria; for we read in a curious letter from Guy Patin to his friend Falconet, "The Queen-Mother died to-day [Jan. 21, 1666]. She was immediately embalmed, and by noon her waxen effigy was on view at the Louvre. Thousands are pressing in to see it." [Illustration: FIG. 23.--_Funeral Procession of King Henry V._, A.D. 1422.] In France, so long as the wax effigy was exposed in the church or palace, sometimes for three weeks, the service of the royal person's table took place as usual. His or her chair of state was drawn up to the table, the napkin, knife and fork, spoon and glass, were in their usual places, and at the appointed time the dinner was served to the household, and "the meats, drinks, and all other goodly things" were offered before the dead prince's chair, as if he were still seated therein. When, however, the coffin took the place in the church of the wax figure, and the body was put into the grave, then the banqueting-hall was hung with black, and for eight days no meals were served in it of any kind. [Illustration: FIG. 24.--_Queen Katherine de Valois in her Widow's Dress, A.D. 1422. The costume is of black brocade elaborately trimmed with black glass beads, and trimmed with white fur._--MS. of the period.] We still possess some curious details concerning the funeral of Henry V., who died at Vincennes in 1422. Juvenal des Usines tells us that the body was boiled, so as to be converted into a perfect skeleton, for better transportation into England. The bones were first taken to Notre Dame, where a superb funeral service was said over them. Just above the body they placed a figure made of boiled leather, representing the king's person "as well as might be desired," clad in purple, with the imperial diadem on its brow and the sceptre in its hand. Thus adorned, the coffin and the effigy were placed on a gorgeous chariot, covered with a "coverture" of red velvet beaten with gold. In this manner, followed by the King of Scots, as chief mourner, and by all the princes, lords, and knights of his house, was the body of the illustrious hero of Agincourt conveyed from town to town, until it reached Calais and was embarked for England, where it was finally laid at rest in Westminster Abbey, under a new monument erected by Queen Katherine de Valois, who eventually caused a silver-plated effigy of her husband, with a solid silver gilt head, to be placed on the tomb, which was unfortunately destroyed at the time of the Reformation. The funeral of Eleanor of Castile, the adored consort of Edward I., was exceptionally sumptuous. This amiable Queen died at Hardbey, near Grantham, of "autumnal" fever, on November 29, 1290. The pressing affairs of Scotland were obliterated for the time from the mind of the great Edward, and he refused to attend to any state duty until his "loved ladye" was laid at rest at Westminster. The procession, followed by the King in the bitterest woe, took thirteen days to reach London from Grantham. At the end of every stage the royal bier surrounded by its attendants, rested in some central place of a great town, till the neighbouring ecclesiastics came to meet it in solemn procession, and to place it upon the high altar of the principal church. A cross was erected in memory of King Edward's _chère reine_ at every one of these resting-places. Thirteen of these monuments once existed; now only two of the originals remain, the crosses of Northampton and Waltham. The fac-simile at Charing Cross, opposite the Railway Station, though excellent, is of course modern, and does not occupy the right spot, which was, it is said on good authority, exactly where now stands the statue of Charles II. The Chronicler of Dunstable thus describes the ceremony of marking the sites for these crosses: "Her body passed through Dunstable and rested one night, and two precious cloths were given us, and eighty pounds of wax. And when the body of Queen Eleanor was departing from Dunstable, her bier rested in the centre of the market-place till the King's Chancellor and the great men there present had marked a fitting place where they might afterwards erect, at the royal expense, a cross of wonderful size,--our prior being present, who sprinkled the spot with holy water." Perhaps the most magnificent funeral which took place before the Reformation was that of Elizabeth of York, consort of Henry VII. It was one of the last great Roman Catholic state funerals in England, for the obsequies of Henry VII. himself were conducted on a much diminished scale; and those of the wives of Henry VIII., and of that monster himself, were not accompanied by so much pomp, owing to the religious troubles of the time. Queen Elizabeth of York was the last English Queen who died at the Tower. Her obsequies took place in the chapel of St. Mary, which was, until quite lately, the Rolls Office, and which was magnificently hung on this occasion with black brocade. The windows were veiled with crape. The Queen's body rested on a bed of state, in a _chapelle ardente_, surrounded by over 5,000 wax candles. High Mass was said during the earlier hours of the morning, and in the afternoon solemn Vespers were sung. When the Queen's body was nailed up in its coffin, the usual waxen effigy took its place. The procession left St. Mary's, in the Tower, at noon, for Westminster Abbey, and was of exceeding length. At every hundred yards it was met by the religious corporations, fraternities, and guilds, and by the children attached to sundry monastic and charitable foundations, some of them dressed as angels, with golden wings, and all of them singing psalms. There were over 8,000 wax tapers burning between Mark Lane and the Temple; and the fronts of all the churches were hung with black, and brilliantly illuminated. The people in the streets held candles, and repeated prayers. At Temple Bar the body was received by the municipal officers of the City of Westminster, who accompanied it to the Abbey, where the Queen's effigy was exhibited with great state for two days, and on the morning of the third she was buried in what is since known as "Henry VII.'s Chapel." [Illustration: FIG. 25.--_Gentleman in Mourning, time of Henry VII. The costume is entirely black, edged with black fur._--From a contemporary MS.] The funeral of the unfortunate Katherine of Arragon took place, as all the world knows, in Peterborough Cathedral. [Illustration: FIG. 26.--_Richard I. and his Queen attending the Requiem Mass for the fallen Crusaders, in the Cathedral of Rhodes._] In a recently discovered contemporary Spanish chronicle, translated by Mr. Martin Sharpe Hume, it seems that the servants of the "Blessed lady" (Queen Katherine) were all dressed in mourning, and the funeral was a fairly handsome one. More than three hundred masses were said during the day at Peterborough, for all the clergy for fifteen miles round came to the various services. Chapuy, the Spanish Ambassador to the Court of King Henry, in a letter to his master Charles V., however, informs him that the funeral of Queen Katherine was mean and shabby in the extreme, quite unworthy even of an ordinary baroness. Jane Seymour fared better after death than any other of the wives of Henry VIII., and was buried with considerable solemnity at Windsor. The first royal Protestant state funeral mentioned as taking place in this country was that of Queen Catherine Parr, at Sudeley Castle. The ceremony was of the simplest description: psalms were sung over the remains, and a brief discourse pronounced. The Lady Jane Grey was chief mourner. [Illustration: FIG. 27.--_Lying in State of Queen Elizabeth of York, Consort of Henry VII._] The author of the Spanish chronicle just mentioned, who evidently witnessed the interment of Henry VIII., assures us that the waxen effigy of the King was carried in a chair to Windsor, and was an astonishing likeness. It was followed by 1,000 gentlemen on horseback, the horses all being draped with black velvet. Many masses were said in St. George's Chapel for the rest of the King's soul, but the obsequies do not appear to have been exceptionally splendid. [Illustration: FIG. 28.--_Tomb of Henry V._] The funeral of Anne of Cleves, who had become a Catholic, took place at Westminster, under the special supervision of Queen Mary. It was a plain but handsome function, conducted with good taste, but without ostentation. The unpopular Mary Tudor's funeral was the last Catholic state ceremony of the kind which ever took place in Westminster Abbey. Queen Elizabeth attended her sister's funeral, which was a simple one, and listened attentively to the funeral oration preached by Dr. White Bailey, of Winchester, who, when he spoke of poor Mary's sufferings, wept bitterly, and exclaimed, looking significantly at her successor, _Melior est canis vivis leone mortuo_. Elizabeth understood her Latin too well not to be fired with indignation at this elegant simile, which declared a "living dog better than a dead lion," and ordered the bishop to be arrested as he descended from the pulpit, and a violent scene occurred between him and the Queen, which, Her Majesty prudently permitted him to have the best of, by withdrawing with her train from the Abbey. [Illustration: FIG. 29.--_Departure of the body of Queen Elizabeth from Greenwich Palace, for Interment at Westminster._] QUEEN ELIZABETH died in the seventieth year of her age and the forty-fourth of her reign, March 24, on the eve of the festival of the Annunciation, called Lady Day. Among the complimentary epitaphs which were composed for her, and hung up in many churches, was one ending with the following couplet:-- "She is, she was--what can there be more said? On earth the first, in heaven the second maid." It is stated by Lady Southwell that directions were left by Elizabeth that she should not be embalmed; but Cecil gave orders to her surgeon to open her. "Now, the Queen's body being cered up," continues Lady Southwell, "was brought by water to Whitehall, where, being watched every night by six several ladies, myself that night watching as one of them, and being all in our places about the corpse, which was fast nailed up in a board coffin, with leaves of lead covered with velvet, her body burst with such a crack that it splitted the wood, lead, and cere-cloth; whereupon, the next day she was fain to be new trimmed up." Elizabeth was most royally interred in Westminster Abbey on the 28th of April, 1603. We subjoin a rare contemporary engraving of the funeral procession, by which it will be seen with what pomp and ceremony the remains of the great Queen were escorted to their last resting-place. "The city of Westminster," says Stow, "was surcharged with multitudes of all sorts of people, in the streets, houses, windows, leads, and gutters, who came to see the obsequy. And when they beheld her statue, or effigy, lying on the coffin, set forth in royal robes, having a crown upon the head thereof, and a ball and a sceptre in either hand, there was such a general sighing, groaning, and weeping as the like hath not been seen or known in the memory of man; neither doth any history mention any people, time, or state to make such lamentation for the death of a sovereign." The funereal effigy which, by its close resemblance to their deceased sovereign, moved the sensibility of the loyal and excitable portion of the spectators at her obsequies in this powerful manner, was no other than the faded waxwork effigy of Queen Elizabeth preserved in Westminster Abbey. [Illustration: FIG. 30.--_A memento mori, or death's-head timepiece, in solid silver, lately exhibited at the Stuart Exhibition, 1888-9. On the forehead is a figure of Death standing between a palace and a cottage: around is this legend from Horace,_ "Pallida mors equo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regum que turres." _On the hind part of the skull is a figure of Time, with another legend from Ovid:_ "Tempus Edax Rerum tuque Mirdiosa Vetustas." _The upper part of the skull bears representations of Adam and Eve and the Crucifixion; between these scenes is open work to let out the sound when the watch strikes the hour upon a silver bell which fills the hollow of the skull and receives the works within it when the watch is shut. On the edge is inscribed:_ "Sicut meis sic et omnibus idem." _It bears the maker's name, Moysart à Blois. Belonged formerly to Mary Queen of Scots, and by her was given to the Seton family, and inherited thence by its actual owner, Sir T. W. Dick Lauder._] Elizabeth was interred in the same grave with her sister and predecessor in regal office, Mary Tudor. Her successor, James I., has left a lasting evidence of his good feeling and good taste in the noble monument he erected to her memory in the Abbey, and she was the last sovereign of this country to whom a monument has been given. [Illustration: FIG. 31.--_Funeral of Queen Elizabeth, 18th of April, 1603._--From a very rare contemporary engraving, reproduced expressly, and for the first time, for this work, by M. Badoureau, of Paris. No. 1 represents the wax effigy of the Queen lying on her coffin; gentlemen pensioners carrying the banners. The chariot is drawn by four horses. 2. Kings at Arms. 3. Noblemen. 4. The Archbishop of Canterbury. 5. The French Ambassador and his train-bearer. 6. The great Standard of England, carried by the Earl of Pembroke. 7. The Master of the Horse. 8. The Lady Marchioness of Northampton, grand mourner, and the ladies in attendance on the Queen. 9. Captain of the Guard. 10. Lord Clanricarde carrying the Standard of Ireland. 11. Standard of Wales, borne by Viscount Bindon, followed by the Lord Mayor. 12. Gentlemen of the Chapels Royal; children of the Chapels. 13. Trumpeters. 14. Standard of the Lion. 15. Standard of the Greyhound. 16. The Queens Horse. 17. Poor Women to the number of 266. 18. The Banner of Cornwall. The Aldermen, Recorders, Town Clerks, etc.] We have very minute details of how royal personages were buried in France, in a curious book published in the 17th Century, from a MS. of the time of Louis XI. In it we learn that King Louis XI. wore scarlet for mourning on the death of his father, Charles VII. Up to the time of Louis XIV. the Queens of France, if they became widowed, wore white; and this is the reason that Mary Tudor was called "_La Reine Blanche_," when she clandestinely married the Duke of Suffolk in the chapel of that most interesting place, the Maison Cluny, now a museum, which still retains its name of _La Reine Blanche_. The Queen had been but a very short time the widow of Charles VIII., and still wore her weeds when she gave her hand to the lusty English duke. Mary Stuart wore white for her husband, Francis II. of France; and when she arrived in Scotland she still retained, for some months, her white robes, and was called the "White Queen" in consequence. But this illustrious and ill-fated princess throughout the greater part of her life wore black, and we have many minute details of her dresses, especially of the stately one she wore on the day of her execution, which was of brocaded satin, having a train of great length; a ruffle of white lawn, edged with lace; and a veil (which still exists) made of drawn threads, in a check-board pattern, and edged with Flemish lace. From her girdle was suspended a rosary, and in her hand she carried a crucifix. Her under garments, we know, were scarlet; for, when she removed her dress upon the scaffold, the bodice at least, all contemporaries agree, was flame-coloured. Queen Elizabeth ordered her Court to go into mourning for the Queen of Scots, whose sad and "accidental" death she hypocritically decreed should be regarded as a very great misfortune. [Illustration: FIG. 32.--_French Lady of the 16th Century in Widow's Weeds. This costume is identical with that worn by Mary Stuart as widow of the Dauphin, only her dress was perfectly white._--From PIETRO VERCELLIO'S famous work on Costume, engraved expressly for this publication.] King James ordered the deepest mourning to be worn for his royal mother--a requisition with which all his nobles complied, except the Earl of Sinclair, who appeared before him clad in steel. The King frowned, and inquired if he had not seen the order for a general mourning. "Yes," was the noble's reply; "this is the proper mourning for the Queen of Scotland." James, however, whatever his inclinations might have been, was unprovided with the means of levying war against England, and his Ministers were entirely under the control of the English faction, and, after maintaining a resentful attitude for a time, he was at length obliged to accept Elizabeth's "explanation" of the murder of his mother. Early in March, 1587, the obsequies of Mary Stuart were solemnised by the King, nobles, and people of France, with great pomp, in the Cathedral of Notre Dame at Paris, and a passionately eloquent funeral oration was pronounced by Renauld de Beaulue, Archbishop of Bourges and Patriarch of Acquitaine, which brought tears to the eyes of every person in the congregation. After Mary's body had remained for nearly six months apparently forgotten by her murderers, Elizabeth considered it necessary, in consequence of the urgent and pathetic memorials of the afflicted servants of the unfortunate princess and the remonstrances of her royal son, to accord it not only Christian burial, but a pompous state funeral. This she appointed to take place in Peterborough Cathedral, and, three or four days before, sent some officials to make the necessary arrangements for the solemnity. The place selected for the interment was at the entrance of the choir from the south aisle. The grave was dug by the centogenarian sexton, Scarlett. Heralds and officers of the wardrobe were also sent to Fotheringay Castle to make arrangements for the removal of the royal body, and to prepare mourning for all the servants of the murdered Queen. Moreover, as their head-dresses were not of the approved fashion for mourning in England, Elizabeth sent a milliner on purpose to make others, in the orthodox mode, proper to be worn at the funeral, and to be theirs afterwards. However, these true mourners coldly, but firmly declined availing themselves of these gifts and attentions, declaring "that they would wear their own dresses, such as they had got made for mourning immediately after the loss of their beloved Queen and mistress." On the evening of Sunday, July 30, Garter King of Arms arrived at Fotheringay Castle, with five other heralds and forty horsemen, to receive and escort the remains of Mary Stuart to Peterborough Cathedral, having brought with them a royal funereal car for that purpose, covered with black velvet, elaborately set forth with escutcheons of the arms of Scotland, and little pennons round about it, drawn by four richly-caparisoned horses. The body, being enclosed in lead within an outer coffin, was reverently put into the car, and the heralds, having assumed their coats and tabards, brought the same forth from the castle, bare-headed, by torchlight, about ten o'clock at night, followed by all her sorrowful servants. The procession arrived at Peterborough between one and two o'clock on the morning of July 30, and was received ceremoniously at the minster door by the bishop and clergy, where, in the presence of her faithful Scotch attendants, she was laid in the vault prepared for her, without singing or saying--the grand ceremonial being appointed for August 1. The reason for depositing the royal body previously in the vault was, because it was too heavy to be carried in the procession, weighing, with the lead and outer coffin, nearly nine hundredweight. On Monday, the 31st, arrived the ceremonial mourners from London, escorting the Countess of Bedford, who was to represent Elizabeth in the mockery of acting as chief mourner to the poor victim. At eight in the morning of Tuesday the solemnities commenced. First, the Countess of Bedford was escorted in state to the great hall of the bishop's palace, where a representation of Mary's corpse lay on a royal bier. Thence she was followed into the church by a great number of English peers, peeresses, knights, ladies, and gentlemen, in mourning. All Mary's servants, both male and female, walked in the procession, according to their degree--among them her almoner, De Préau, bearing a large silver cross. The representation of the corpse being received without the Cathedral gate by the bishops and clergy, it was borne in solemn procession and set down within the royal hearse, which had been prepared for it, over the grave where the remains of the Queen had been silently deposited by torchlight on the Monday morning. The hearse was 20 feet square, and 27 feet high. On the coffin--which was covered with a pall of black velvet--lay a crown of gold, set with stones, resting on a purple velvet cushion, fringed and tasselled with gold. All the Scotch Queen's train--both men and women, with the exception of Sir Andrew Melville and the two Mowbrays, who were members of the Reformed Church--departed, and would not tarry for sermon or prayers. This greatly offended the English portion of the congregation, who called after them and wanted to force them to remain. After the prayer and a funeral service, every officer broke his staff over his head and threw the pieces into the vault upon the coffin. The procession returned in the same order to the bishop's palace, where Mary's servants were invited to partake of the banquet which was provided for all the mourners; but they declined doing so, saying that "their hearts were too sad to feast." [Illustration: FIG. 33.--_Shakespeare's Tomb before the present restoration._] But let us turn aside from the pageants of kings and queens, and direct our attention for a few moments towards Stratford-upon-Avon, where, on April 23, 1616, the greatest of all Englishmen breathed his last. A vague tradition tells us that, being in the company of Drayton and Ben Johnson, Shakespeare partook too freely of the cup, and expired soon after. This may be a calumny; and, if it were not, it would not diminish our gratitude and reverence for the highest intellect our race has produced. It, however, leads us to think and hope, that at the modest funeral of the "great Bard of Avon" the illustrious Ben Johnson as well as Drayton were present with his sorrowing relatives and fellow-citizens. His remains rest under the famous slab which bears the inscription due, it is said, to his own immortal pen: "Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare To digg T--E dust encloased here: Blessed be T--E Man T/y spares T--ES Stones, And curst be He T/y moves my bones." If his contemporaries have forgotten to give us details of that memorable funeral, and if for nearly two centuries his modest grave was almost neglected, ample reparation has been made to his memory in this enlightened age, and Shakespeare's tomb has become a shrine visited by countless pilgrims from all parts of the earth; and a glorious monument, more beautiful than has been generally admitted, stands not far from the church, erected to Shakespeare only last year by a nobleman, Lord Ronald Gower, whose taste and culture would have done honour to the epoch which produced not Shakespeare alone, but Sydney and Raleigh. [Illustration: FIG. 34.--_Stratford-on-Avon Church._] If we could discover all the particulars respecting Shakespeare's burial, we should possibly find that, being a "gentleman," he was wrapped in his coffin in "wool," for which privilege his survivors paid a tax of 10s. This curious habit, which we derived from our Norman ancestors, endured until the first few years of this century. By "wool" we should read flannel. Almost all the old parish registers in the country make a point of informing us that "the body" was buried in wool, and the "usual tax paid." The Normans, and their descendants in Normandy to this day, had some curious superstitions connected with "flannel," which even the industrious bibliophile Jacob has failed to discover. This custom they introduced into England, and it lasted for hundreds of years. I believe the coffin was also frequently filled up with fine sheep's wool. Another curious custom, which is now obsolete, was to put cloves, spikenard, fine herbs, and twigs of various aromatic shrubs into the coffin, in memory of the embalming of our Lord. Young girls and unmarried women were buried in white, and had their coffins covered with white flowers. All the people who accompanied the funeral wore white scarves, and before the Reformation, white dresses, and the way was strewn with box leaves, grass, and flowers. The porch of the deceased's house was decked with flowers and garlands, and especially with dog-roses and daisies. [Illustration: FIG. 35.--_Seal of an imaginary Bull of Pope Lucifer._--From the _Roi Modus_, a MS. of the 15th Century, Royal Library, Brussels. The inscription is evidently cabalistic and unintelligible.] [Illustration: FIG. 36.--_The Funeral of Juliet_ ("Romeo and Juliet").--This charming engraving from KNIGHT'S splendid edition of Shakespeare gives a very fair idea of a grand funeral procession in the 16th Century.] THE funeral ceremonies of the French kings and princes of the blood during the Middle Ages and the period of the Renaissance, were, as may well be imagined, exceedingly magnificent. As already related, the death criers announced the decease of the sovereign in the usual manner, shouting out, "_Oyez! bonnes gens de Paris_--listen, good people of Paris: the most high and mighty, excellent and powerful King, our sovereign Master, by the grace of God King of France, the most Christian of Princes, most clement and pious, died last night. Pray for the repose of his soul." The first part of the ceremony took place at Notre Dame, where what is known as the lying-in-state was conducted with appropriate splendour. The procession, after a solemn mass, formed on the _Pavis_, or square, round the Cathedral, and began to move slowly over the bridge and through the Marais to St. Denis, some miles distant from Paris. There was a halt, however, at the convent of St. Lazaire (now covered by the railway station), and the gentlemen in attendance mounted their horses. Before the Revolution of '93, fifteen beautiful wayside crosses, or _montjoies_, as they were called, stood on the roadside between the Porte St. Denis and the Abbey. At each of these prayers were said and the coffin rested. Sometimes, as in the case of Charles VIII., the coffin and its waxen effigy were carried on the shoulders of a number of noblemen; but usually, since their feet were hidden by heavy black velvet draperies, very common men were charged with the "honourable burden." After the first half of the 16th Century, the royal body was conducted to the grave in a chariot drawn sometimes by as many as four-and-twenty black horses. If I err not, the last King of France whose coffin was carried by men was Francis I., whose gentlemen of the bedchamber performed this office, having each a halter round his neck, and a cord or rope. At St. Denis the ceremonies were very imposing. High Mass of Requiem being over, the body was removed from the catafalque and lowered into the vaults under the altar. The Grand Almoner of France recited the _De profundis_, all kneeling. Suddenly a voice, that of the Herald-at-Arms, was heard, crying out from the vault below, "Kings-at-Arms, come do your duty." The grand officers were now summoned by name, thus: "Monsieur le duc de Bourbon, bring your staff of command over the hundred Archers of the Guard, and break it and throw it into the grave." "Monsieur le comte de Lorges, bring your staff of office as commander of the Scotch Guard, and break it and throw it into the grave," and so forth, until some fifty of the grand dignitaries of the Court had in turn performed this lengthy ceremony. The last time it occurred was in 1824, on the occasion of the funeral of Louis XVIII., when each detail of the ancient ceremonial was punctually followed. Every staff of office was broken and thrown into the King's grave, except the banner of France, which was merely inclined three times to the very edge of the crypt. At the conclusion of this rather tedious ceremony, everybody knelt down, and the herald shouted, "The King is dead; pray for his soul." A moment of silence ensued, which was eventually broken by a blast of trumpets. Then the organ played a lively strain, and the Herald proclaimed, "_Le roi est mort, vive le roi_--long live the King!" The banners waved, the cannon boomed, the bells pealed forth joyously, and the procession reformed, whilst the officiating clergy sang the _Te Deum_. As almost all the Kings and Queens of France, with not more than half a dozen exceptions, from the time of Clovis to that of Louis XVIII., were buried at St. Denis, the funeral rites were rarely if ever altered. But with us, although so many of our most illustrious princes are interred at Westminster, still not a few were buried at St. Paul's; many at Blackfriars and at Greyfriars, two glorious churches destroyed in the 17th Century, at Windsor, and in various Cathedrals; so that our royal funereal ceremonies were not always conducted with such punctual etiquette as were those of our neighbours. [Decoration] THE minute details of the funeral of Mary Stuart, at Westminster Abbey, prove that it was conducted on the same scale and with the same ceremonies as the one which preceded it by many years at Peterborough. King James, her son, was present, and shortly afterwards the sumptuous monument which we still admire marked the place where her mutilated remains, translated from Peterborough, found a permanent place of rest. The great changes in religion which occurred at the time of the Reformation, although they took much longer to permeate the habits and customs of the people than is usually imagined, nevertheless were so radical, that of the ancient ritual little soon remained, and the beautiful funeral service of the Church of England, which is so full of faith and hope, and mainly selected from passages of Holy Scripture adapted to the requirements of a religion which abolished belief in an intermediary state, and therefore in the necessity of prayers for the dead, was introduced, and little by little the pompous ceremonies of the Roman Church were forgotten. The lying-in-state of the corpse, for instance, which up to the close of the reign of Mary was general, even with poor people, was now only in use among those of the very highest rank. The increase in the use of carriages, too, and of course the abolition of the monastic orders and brotherhoods, diminished the splendour of the street processions which used to follow the bier. Still, much that was quaint remained in fashion, and it is only, as already said, a few years since that ladies ceased wearing a scarf and hood of black silk, and gentlemen "weepers" on their hats and arms, which were black or white according to the sex of the deceased. In Norfolk, until the end of the first quarter of the present century, it was the custom to give the mourners at a funeral black gloves, scarves, and bunches of herbs. Indeed, it is but a short time since a very old lady told me that so rich, broad, and beautiful was the silk of the scarves presented to each lady at a funeral, when she was a girl, that ladies were wont to keep the pieces by them until they were sufficient in number to form a dress. A bill of the funeral expenses of a very rich gentleman who died at Brandon Hall, in Norfolk, early in this century,--Mr. Denn, of Norwich,--and who left over half a million of money, enables us to form some idea of the expense to which our grandfathers of the upper class were put in order to be buried with what they considered proper respect. It would seem that in those days the hearse and funeral carriages had to be hired from London, and they took three days to perform the journey from the metropolis--a distance of about three hours by rail. No fewer than 40 persons figure as accompanying these vehicles, and as they had to be put up at inns along the road, going both to and from London to Brandon Hall, their expenses were £180. The hire of horses and carriages was £106, and what with the distribution of loaves to the poor at the grave, and the expense of bringing relatives from far parts of the country, and of providing them with silk scarves, gloves, etc., and the housing and entertaining of them all, the worthy Mr. Denn's funeral cost his survivors not less than £775. [Illustration: FIG. 37.--_Interment in a Church in the first quarter of the 18th Century._--From PICARD'S great work on the Religions of all Nations.] In Picard, there is a very beautiful engraving by Schley, representing a funeral procession in 1735, entering the church of St. Paul's, Covent Garden. It occurs by night, and a number of pages in black velvet walk in it, carrying lighted three-branched silver candlesticks. It seems that until 1775 women in England only attended the funerals of their own sex, and that men in the same manner only followed men to the grave. Possibly as a disinfectant against the plague, at all English funerals a branch of rosemary was handed to all who attended, which they threw into the open grave. This fashion endured, to the writer's knowledge, in Norfolk up to 1856. The French Revolution cannot be described as an unmitigated blessing--far from it; but it certainly did away with many superstitious practices, and shed a flood of light upon civilisation. Before that event it was the universal custom throughout Europe to bury in churches, a practice which was most detrimental to health. By one of the earliest decrees passed by the Convention of Paris, 1794, intramural interments were abolished, although, to be sure, cemeteries already existed of considerable extent, possibly suggested by those which for ages the Mahometans have used in all the principal cities of Asia and Asiatic Europe. That of Père la Chaise, so called after the confessor of Madame de Maintenon, who founded it, is one of the earliest. With the counter-Reformation, as the movement is called in history, the ceremonial of the Roman Church became, on the Continent, even more elaborate than heretofore, and nothing can be imagined more theatrically splendid than the church decorations on occasions of funerals of eminent personages. [Illustration: FIG. 38.--_The Cemetery of Père la Chaise, Paris._] [Illustration: FIG. 39.--_Funeral of the Grand Duke Albert VII., surnamed "the Pious," Archduke of Austria, at Brussels, 11th March, 1622. The coffin, covered with a pall of cloth of gold, is carried under a canopy by the Ambassador of his Catholic Majesty, by the Duke d'Aumale, the Marquis of Baden, and other great nobles, followed by the Archbishop of Patras and two Cardinals. The horse of the deceased is seen led immediately behind, by grooms and officers of the household._--From the exceedingly rare work by FRANCQUART, printed at Antwerp in 1623. (From the collection of Mr. RICHARD DAVEY, and engraved expressly for this publication.)] From the last half of the 16th Century down to the Revolution of 1789, possibly the most extraordinary funeral recorded in history was that of the Emperor Charles V. It was celebrated with almost identical pomp simultaneously, at Madrid and at Brussels. The procession at Brussels took six hours to pass any one point, and it is estimated that 80,000 persons walked in it, the participants being supplied from every city of Belgium and Holland. In this extraordinary function figured cars on floats, representing certain striking events in the life of the Emperor, and one of these we reproduce, since it will best afford an idea of the supreme magnificence of the spectacle. It represents a ship, and is intended to illustrate the maritime progress made in the reign of this enterprising monarch. The float on which this clever model of a vessel of the period was arranged was dragged through the streets by 24 black horses, covered with black velvet, and followed by representatives of the navies both of Belgium and Spain, and by some 300 lads dressed as sailors of all nations. [Illustration: FIG. 40.--_Float carried in the Funeral Procession of Charles V. at Brussels, December 29, 1558, and intended to illustrate his maritime greatness. The vessel was the size of a real ship, and the persons who appear upon its deck were living._--From the "Magnificent and Sumptuous Funeral of the Very Great Emperor Charles V." (Antwerp, published by Plantin, 1559.) Collection of M. RUGGIERI, Paris.] We also reproduce a little sketch from the funeral procession of Philip II., son of Charles V., which gives us an excellent idea of the costumes worn on such an important occasion. The large full-page engraving represents a portion of the funeral procession which took place at Brussels, of the Archduke Albert VII. of Austria, surnamed "the Pious." It was almost as sumptuous as that of Charles V., and, fortunately a complete record of it has been preserved by Francovoart, who published a book in the following year, containing no less than 49 plates illustrating this pageantic procession, which was of enormous length, and must have cost a great sum of money. The great engraver Cochin has left us one of his most beautiful plates, representing the interior of the Church of Notre Dame as arranged for the funeral of the Infanta Theresa of Spain, Dauphiness of France, in 1746. It gives us rather the idea of a scene in a court ball-room than of a grave ceremony. Literally, thousands of lights blazed in all directions, and there was nothing of a sombre character present, excepting the catafalque, which was of black velvet, and in a certain sense produced an admirable effect by showing off to still greater advantage the illuminations. The funeral of Louis XIV., was fabulously gorgeous, and so complete an apotheosis of that vain monarch, it brought about a sort of reaction, and made most persons observe that it was of little use praying for the soul of one who evidently must already be in glory. In order to put some bounds to these extravagant services, many people of a devout character have in all ages prayed in their wills that they should be carried to the grave in the simplest manner, sometimes in the habit of a Franciscan, or mendicant friar, and that only a few pounds should be expended upon their burial. [Illustration: FIG. 41.--_Costumes worn by King Philip II. of Spain and his attendants in the funeral procession of his father, Charles V. The group consists of the King; the Herald of Spain, of the Order of the Golden Fleece, who walks in front; of the Duke of Brunswick, the Duke of Arcos, Don Ruy Gomez, Count of Milito, and finally the Duke Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy. Mark that the hood was only worn by the heirs of the deceased._--From the "Sumptuous Funeral of Charles V. at Brussels." (Antwerp, 1559.) Collection of M. RUGGIERI, Paris.] The Italians, and especially the Venetians, spent enormous sums upon their funeral services, which were exceedingly picturesque; but as the members of the brotherhoods who walked in the procession wore pointed hoods and masks, so that, by the glare of the torches, only their eyes could be seen glittering, and as it was the custom, also, for the funeral to take place at night, the body being exposed upon an open bier, in full dress, the scene was sufficiently weird to attract the attention of travellers, perhaps more so than anything else which they saw in the land _par excellence_ of pageant. Horace Mann, in one of his letters, thus amusingly describes the funeral of the daughter of Cosmo III., Grand Duke of Tuscany:-- [Illustration: FIG. 42.--_Funeral of the Infanta Theresa of Spain, Dauphiness of France, at Notre Dame, 1746._--From the original engraving of COCHIN.] "There was nothing extraordinary in the funeral last night. All the magnificence consisted in a prodigious number of torches carried by the different orders of priests, the expense of which in lights, they say, amounted to 12,000 crowns. The body was in a sort of a coach quite open, with a canopy over her head; two other coaches followed with her ladies. As soon as the procession was passed by Madame Suares's, I went a back way to St. Laurence, where I had been invited by the master of the ceremonies; here was nothing very particular but my being placed next to Lady Walpole, who is so angry with me that she would not even give me the opportunity of making her a bow, which for the future, since I see it will be disagreeable to her, I will never offer to do again." [Decoration] NOTHING could be imagined more picturesque than a Venetian funeral in bygone days. The state gondola of the family, containing the body, and also the attendant priests and friars, was covered with black velvet, and blazed with candelabra full of lighted candles; and from the stern of the boat hung an immense train of black velvet, which was permitted to touch the water, but prevented from sinking underneath it by golden tassels, which were held by members of the family in the gondolas which followed close behind. All those persons who took part in the funeral of course carried lights in their hands. If the individual happened to belong to one of the numerous confraternities, or _scuole_, which existed in Venice up to the end of the last century, a grand musical mass was celebrated in the chapel belonging to the order; and on these occasions some of the finest music ever composed was heard for the first time, such, for instance, as Paesiello's Requiem, an infinitely beautiful one by Marcello, and the majestic mass for four voices, by Lotti. [Illustration: FIG. 43.--_Tomb of Hamlet._] [Illustration: FIG. 44.--_Death devouring Man and Beast. A singular, illuminated document on parchment, of the 12th Century, measuring over fifty feet by one yard wide. The figure above is intended to represent the letter T._--From the Mortuary Roll of the Abbey of Savingy, Avranches, France. The original is preserved among the French National Archives.] THE funeral of a Pope is attended by many curious ceremonies, not the least remarkable of which is, that so soon as His Holiness' death is thoroughly assured, the eldest Cardinal goes up to the body, and strikes it three times gently on the breast, saying in Latin, as he does so, "The Holy Father has passed away." The body is then lowered into the Church of St. Peter's, where it is exhibited--as was the case when Pope Pius IX. died in '78--for three days to the veneration of the faithful, after which it is conveyed in great state to the church which the Pope has selected for his burial-place. As it passed along the streets of Rome in the good old times, the members of the nobility assembled at the entrance of their houses, each carrying a lighted taper in his hand, and answering back the prayers of the friars and clergy in the procession. It will be remembered that it was this sort of spontaneous illumination which so offended a rabble of freethinkers, on the occasion of the funeral of the late Pope, that they stoned the coffin, and created a riot of a most disgraceful character. After the Pope is buried, it is usual for his successor or his family to build a stately monument over his remains, and this custom accounts for the amazing number of fine Papal monuments in the Roman basilicas and churches. [Illustration: FIG. 45.--_Lying-in-State of Pope Pius IX._] At a time when everybody is talking about the Stuart dynasty, owing to the great success of the recent exhibition of their relics (1888-9), the following curious account of the interment of the Old Pretender will prove of interest:-- "On the 6th of January, 1756, the body of his 'Britannic Majesty' was conveyed in great state to the said Church of the Twelve Apostles," says a correspondent from Rome of that date, "preceded by four servants carrying torches, two detachments of soldiers; and by the side of the bier walked twenty-four grooms of the stable with wax candles; the body of the deceased was dressed royally, and borne by nobles of his household, with an ivory sceptre at its side, and the Orders of SS. George and Andrew on the breast. "On the 7th, the first funeral service took place, in the Church of the Twelve Apostles. The _façade_ of the church was hung with black cloth, lace, and golden fringe, in the centre of which was a medallion, supported by skeletons with cypress branches in their hands, and bearing the following inscription: 'Clemens XIII. Pont. Max. Jacobo III. M. Britanniæ, Franciæ, et Hiberniæ Regi. Catholicæ fidei Defensori, Omnium urbis ordinum Frequentia funere honestato. Suprema pietatis officia Solemni ritu Persolvit.' "On entering the church, another great inscription to the same purport was to be seen; the building inside was draped in the deepest black, and on the bier, covered with cloth of gold, lay the corpse, before which was written in large letters: 'Jacobus III. Magnæ Britanniæ Rex. Anno MDCCLXVI.' "On either side stood four silver skeletons on pedestals, draped in black cloth, and holding large branch candlesticks, each with three lights. At either corner stood a golden perfume box, decorated with death's-heads, leaves and festoons of cypress. The steps to the bier were painted in imitation marble, and had pictures upon them representing the virtues of the deceased. Over the whole was a canopy ornamented with crowns, banners, death's-heads, gilded lilies, etc.; and behind, a great cloth of peacock colour with golden embroidery, and ermine upon it, hung down to the ground. Over each of the heavily draped arches down the nave of the church were medallions with death's-head supporters, and crowns above them, representing the various British orders and the three kingdoms of England, Ireland, and Scotland; and on the pilasters were other medallions, supported by cherubs, expressing virtues attributed to the deceased, each with an inscription, of which the following is an instance: 'Rex Jacobus III. vere dignus imperio, quia natus ad imperandum: dignus quia ipso regnante virtutes imperassent: dignissimus quia sibi imperavit.' "On the top of the bier, in the nave, lay the body, dressed in royal garb of gold brocade, with a mantle of crimson velvet, lined and edged with ermine, a crown on his head, a sceptre in his right hand, an orb in his left. The two Orders of SS. George and Andrew were fastened to his breast. [Illustration: FIG. 46.--_Funeral of his late Holiness Pope Pius IX., Feb._ 13, 1878. _The lowering of the body into St. Peter's._] "Pope Clement regretted his inability to attend the funeral, owing to the coldness of the morning, but he sent twenty-two cardinals to sing mass, besides numerous church dignitaries. "After the celebration of the mass, Monsignor Orazio Matteo recited a funeral oration of great length, recapitulating the virtues of the deceased, and the incidents of the life of exile and privation that he had led. After which, the customary _requiem_ for the soul of the departed was sung, and they then proceeded to convey his deceased Majesty's body to the Basilica of St. Peter. "The procession which accompanied it was one of those gorgeous spectacles in which the popes and their cardinals loved to indulge. Every citizen came to see it, and crowds poured in to the Eternal City from the neighbouring towns and villages, as they were wont to do for the festivals at Easter, of Corpus Domini. "All the orders and confraternities to be found in Rome went in front, carrying amongst them 500 torches. They marched in rows, four deep; and after them came the pupils of the English, Scotch, and Irish College in Rome, in their surplices, and with more torches. "Then followed the bier, around which were the gaudy Swiss Papal Guards. The four corners of the pall were held up by four of the most distinguished members of the Stuart household. "Then came singers, porters carrying two large umbrellas, such as the Pope would have at his coronation, and all the servants of the royal household, in deep mourning, and on foot. After them followed the papal household; and twelve mourning coaches closed the procession. "The body was placed in the chapel of the choir of St. Peter's, and after the absolution, which Monsignor Lascaris pronounced, it was put into a cypress-wood case, in presence of the major-domo of the Vatican, who made a formal consignment of it to the Chapter of St. Peter's, in the presence of the notary of the 'Sacred Apostolic Palace,' who witnessed the consignment, whilst the notary of the Chapter of St. Peter's gave him a formal receipt. "The second funeral was fixed for the following day, when everything was done to make the choir of St. Peter's look gorgeous. A large catafalque was raised in the midst, on the top of which, on a cushion of black velvet embroidered with gold, lay the royal crown and sceptre, under a canopy adorned with ermine; 250 candles burnt around, and the inscription over the catafalque ran as follows: 'Memoriæ æternæ Jacobi III., Magnæ Britanniæ Franciæ et Hyber, regis Parentis optimii Henricus Card. Dux Eboracensis moerens justa persolvit.' "Then the cardinals held service, thirteen of whom were then assembled; after which, the Chapter of St. Peter's and the Vatican clergy, with all the Court of the defunct king who had assisted at the mass, accompanied the body to the subterranean vaults beneath St. Peter's, where the bier was laid aside until such times and seasons as a fitting memorial could be placed over it." AMONG the Jews, according to Buxtorf (who published, in the 17th Century, perhaps the most valuable work upon the Jewish ceremonies which still existed in various parts of Europe in his time, many of which have been modified or have entirely disappeared since), it was the fashion when a person died, after having closed the eyes and mouth, to twist the thumb of the right hand inward, and to tie it with a string of the _taled_, or veil, which covered the face, and was invariably buried with the corpse. The reason for this doubling of the thumb was that, when it was thus turned inward, it represented the figure Schaddai, which is one of the names of God. Otherwise, the fingers were stretched out so as to show that the deceased had given up all the goods of this world. The body was most carefully washed, to indicate that the dead was purified by repentance. Buxtorf tells us that in Holland, with the old-fashioned Jews, it was the custom to break an egg into a glass of wine, and to wash the face therewith. The more devout persons were dressed in the same garments that they wore on the last feast of the Passover. When the body is placed in the coffin, it is the habit even now, among the Polish and Oriental Jews, for ten members of the family, or very old friends, to walk processionally round it, saying prayers for the repose of the soul. In olden times, for three days after the death, the family sat at home in a darkened room and received their friends, who were indeed Job's comforters; for they sought to afflict them in every way by recalling the virtues of the dead person, and exaggerating the misery into which they were thrown by his or her departure. Seven days afterwards, they were employed in a less rigorous form of mourning, at the end of which the family again went to the synagogue and offered up prayers, after which they followed the customs of the country in which they lived, retaining their mourning only so long as accorded with the prevailing fashion of the day. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 47.--_The Knight of Death on a White Horse_--After ALBERT DURER. From a fac-simile of the original engraving, dated 1513, by one of the Wiericx (1564). This famous engraving, which so perfectly characterises the weird genius of the Middle Ages, passing into the Renaissance, represents a knight armed, going to the wars, accompanied by terrible thoughts of Death and Sin, whose incarnations follow him on his dismal journey.] ONE of the saddest, and certainly the simplest of royal funerals, was that of King Charles I. After his lamentable execution, his body lay at Whitehall from January 28, 1649, to the following February 7, when it was conveyed to Windsor, placed in the vault of St. George's Chapel, near the coffins of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour. The day had been very snowy, and the snow rested thick on the coffin and on the cloaks and hats of the mourners. The remains were deposited without any service whatever, and left inscriptionless, save for the words "Charles Rex, 1649," the letters of which were cut out of a band of lead by the gentlemen present, with their penknives, and the lead fastened round the coffin. In this state it remained until the year 1813, when George IV. caused it to be more fittingly interred. In striking contrast were the obsequies of the unfortunate King's great rival and enemy, Cromwell, "who lay in glorious state" at Somerset House, all the ceremonial being copied from that of the interment of Philip II. of Spain. The rooms were hung with black cloth, and in the principal saloon was an effigy of the Protector, with a royal crown upon his head and a sceptre in his hand, stretched upon a bed of state erected over his coffin. Crowds of people of all ranks went daily during eight weeks to see it, the place being illuminated by hundreds of candles. The wax cast of the face of Cromwell after death is still preserved in the British Museum. His body, however, was carried away secretly, and at night, and buried privately at Westminster, for fear of trouble. Later, in 1660, the remains of the great Protector, and those of his friends Ireton and Bradshaw, were sacrilegiously taken from their graves, dragged with ignominy through the streets, and hanged at Tyburn, to the apparent satisfaction of Mrs. Pepys and her friend Lady Batten, and all and sundry in London, as is recorded in the "immortal diary." By the way, Mr. Pepys himself, who died in 1703, was buried with much state and circumstance in Crutched Friars Church, but at night, the service being said by Dr. Hickes, the author of the _Thesaurus_. [Decoration] PERHAPS the strangest funeral recorded in modern history was that of the translation of the remains of Voltaire, popularly known as his "apotheosis." The National Assembly in May, 1791, decreed that the bones of the poet should be brought from the Abbey of Scellières, and carried in state to the Pantheon. In Voltaire's lifetime it was boasted that he had buried the priests and the Christian religion, but now the priests were going to bury him, having very little of Christian religion left amongst them. The day of the procession was fixed for July 10; but the 10th was a deluging, rainy day, and the ceremony was postponed to the next day, or till the weather should be fine. The next day was as wet, and the Assembly was about to renew the postponement, when about two o'clock it cleared up. The coffin was placed on a car of the classic form, and was borne first to the spot on which the Bastille had stood, where it was placed on a platform, being covered with myrtles, roses, and wild flowers, and bearing the following inscriptions:--"If a man is born free, he ought to govern himself." "If a man has tyrants placed over him, he ought to dethrone them." Besides these, there were numerous other inscriptions in different parts of the area, including one on a huge block of stone: "Receive, O Voltaire! on this spot, where despotism once held thee in chains, the honours thy country renders thee!" From the Bastille to the Pantheon all Paris seemed to be following the procession, which consisted of soldiers, lawyers, doctors, municipal bodies, a crowd of poets, literary men, and artists carrying a gilded chest containing the seventy volumes of Voltaire's works; men who had taken part in the demolition of the Bastille, bearing chains, fetters, and cuirasses found in the prison; a bust of Voltaire, surrounded by those of Rousseau, Mirabeau, and Montaigne, borne by the actors from the different theatres, in ancient costume; and lastly came the funeral car, now surmounted by a statue of the philosopher, which France was crowning with a wreath of immortelles. The immense procession halted at various places for the effigy to receive particular honours. At the opera houses the actors and actresses were waiting to present a laurel crown and to sing to Voltaire's glory; at the house of M. Villette--where was yet deposited the heart of the great man, previous to being sent to Fernay--four tall poplars were planted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of flowers, and on the front of the house was written in large letters: "His genius is everywhere, and his heart is here." Near this was raised a sort of amphitheatre, on which were seated a crowd of young girls in white dresses with blue sashes, crowned with roses, and holding wreaths in honour of the poet in their hands. The names of all Voltaire's works were written on the front of the Theatre Français. The next halt was made on the site of the Comédie Française, and a statue of the poet was there crowned by actors costumed as Tragedy and Comedy. Thence the procession wended its way to the Pantheon, where the mouldering remains of Voltaire were placed beside those of Descartes and Mirabeau. All Paris that evening was one festal scene; illuminations blazing on the busts and figures of the patriot of equality. [Illustration: FIG. 48.--_Funeral Car of Nelson._--From a contemporary engraving, reproduced expressly for this publication.] The obsequies in England of Lord Nelson, which took place on January 9, 1806, were extremely imposing. I transcribe from a contemporary and inedited private letter the following account of it:--"I have just returned from such a sight as will never be seen in London again. I managed at an inconveniently early hour to get me down into the Strand, and so down Norfolk Street to a house overlooking the river. Every post of vantage wherever the procession could be seen was swarming with living beings, all wearing mourning, the very beggars having a bit of crape on their arms. The third barge, which contained the body, was covered with black velvet and adorned with black feathers. In the centre was a viscount's coronet, and three bannerols were affixed to the outside of the barge. In the steerage were six lieutenants of the navy and six trumpets. Clarencieux, King-at-Arms, sat at the head of the coffin, bearing a viscount's coronet on a black velvet cushion. The Royal Standard was at the head of the barge, which was rowed by forty-six seamen from the 'Victory.' The other barges in the cortege were rowed by Greenwich pensioners. The fourth barge contained Admiral Sir Peter Parker, the chief mourner, and other admirals, vice-admirals, and rear-admirals; whilst the Lords of the Admiralty, the Lord Mayor of London, members of the various worshipful Companies, and other distinguished mourners occupied the remaining barges, which were seventeen in number, and were flanked by row-boats, with river fencibles, harbour marines, etc., etc. All, of course, had their colours half-mast high. On the following morning, the 9th, the land procession, which I also contrived to see, started from the Admiralty to pass through the streets of London to St. Paul's, between dense crowds all along the route. This procession was of great length, and included Greenwich pensioners, sailors of the 'Victory,' watermen, judges and other dignitaries of the law, many members of the nobility, public officers, and officers of the army and navy; whilst in it were carried conspicuously the great banner, gauntlets, helmet, sword, etc., of the deceased. The pall was supported by four admirals. Nearly 10,000 military were assembled on this occasion, and these consisted chiefly of the regiments that had fought in Egypt, and participated with the deceased in delivering that country from the power of France. The car in which the body was conveyed was peculiarly magnificent. It was decorated with a carved resemblance of the head and stern of the 'Victory,' surrounded with escutcheons of the arms of the deceased, and adorned with appropriate mottoes and emblematical devices, under an elevated canopy, in the form of the upper part of a sarcophagus, with six sable plumes, and a viscount's coronet in the centre, supported by four columns, representing palm trees, entwined with wreaths of natural laurel and cypress. As it passed, all uncovered, and many wept. I heard a great deal said among the people about 'poor Emma' (Emma, Lady Hamilton), and some wonder whether she will get a pension or not. On the whole, the processions were most imposing, and I am very glad I saw it all, although I am much fatigued at it, from standing about so much and pushing in the crowd, and faint from the difficulty of getting food, every eating-place being so full of people; and surely, though a nation must mourn, equally certain is it that it must also eat." [Illustration: FIG. 49.--_Funeral Car of Lord Nelson._--From a contemporary engraving, reproduced expressly for this publication.] [Illustration: FIG. 50.--_An Old Market Cross, Rouen._] [Illustration: FIG. 51.--_Funeral Procession of the Emperor Napoleon I., December_ 15, 1840. _The Cortége descending the Champs Élysées._--From a contemporary engraving.] LOUIS PHILLIPPE, who, by the way, had neglected no opportunity to render justice to the genius of Napoleon, obtained, in 1840, the permission of the British Government to remove his body from St. Helena; and on December 15 it was solemnly interred in the gorgeous chapel designed by Visconti, at the Invalides. The Prince de Joinville had the honour of escorting the remains of the Emperor from the lonely island in the Indian Ocean to Paris. Words cannot paint the emotion of the inhabitants of the French capital, as the superb procession descended the long avenue of the Champs Élysées, or that of the privileged company which witnessed the striking scene in the chapel itself, as the Prince de Joinville formally consigned the body to the King, his father, saying, as he did so, "Sire, I deliver over into your charge the corpse of Napoleon." To which the King replied, "I receive it in the name of France," and then taking the sword of the victor of Austerlitz, he handed it to General Bertrand, who, in his turn, laid it on the coffin. Many years later, when another Napoleon reigned in France, a Lady who had not yet reached the _mezzo camin di nostra vita_, stood silently, with bowed head, before the grave of the mighty enemy of the glorious empire over which she rules, and it was observed that there were tears in the eyes of Queen Victoria when she quietly left the chapel. [Illustration: FIG. 52.--_The Tomb of Napoleon I. at the Invalides, Paris._] The earliest year of the last half of this century witnessed another funeral of much magnificence, that of the great Duke of Wellington. It was determined that a public funeral should mark the sense of the people's reverence for the memory of the illustrious deceased, and of their grief for his loss. The body was enclosed in a shell, and remained for a time at Walmer Castle, where the Iron Duke died. A guard of honour, composed of men of his own rifle regiment, did duty over it, and the castle flag was hoisted daily half-mast high. On the evening of the 10th of November, 1852, the body was placed upon a hearse and conveyed, by torchlight, to the railway station, the batteries at Walmer and Deal Castles firing minute-guns, whilst Sandown Castle took up the melancholy salute as the train with its burden swept by. Arrived at London, the procession re-formed, and by torchlight marched through the silent streets, reaching Chelsea about three o'clock in the morning, when the coffin containing the body was carried into the hall of the Royal Military Hospital. Life Guardsmen, with arms reversed, lined the apartment, which was hung with black and lighted by waxen tapers. The coffin rested upon an elevated platform at the end of the hall, over which was suspended a cloud-like canopy or veil. The coffin itself was covered with red velvet; and at the foot stood a table on which all the decorations of the deceased were laid out. Thither, day by day, in a constant stream, crowds of men, women, and children repaired, all dressed in deep mourning. The first of these visitors was the Queen, accompanied by her children; but so deeply was she affected that she never got beyond the centre of the hall, where her feelings quite overcame her, and she was led, weeping bitterly, back to her carriage. The public funeral took place on the 18th of November, and was attended by the Prince Consort and all the chief officers of State. The body was removed by torchlight, on the evening previous, to the Horse Guards, under an escort of cavalry. At dawn on the 18th the solemn ceremony began. From St. Paul's Cathedral, down Fleet Street, along the Strand, by Charing Cross and Pall Mall, to St. James's Park, troops lined both sides of the streets; while in the park itself, columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery were formed ready to fall into their proper places in the procession, of which we publish two interesting engravings. How it was conducted--with what respectful interest watched by high and low--how solemn the notes of the bands, as one after another they took up and entoned the "Dead March in Saul"--how grand, yet how touching the scene in the interior of St. Paul's--none but those who can remember it can realise. [Illustration: FIG. 53.--_Funeral of the Duke of Wellington, November_ 18, 1852. _The Procession passing Apsley House._--From an original sketch, reproduced expressly for this publication.] [Illustration: FIG. 54.--_Funeral of the Duke of Wellington, November_ 18, 1852. _Scene inside St. Paul's._--Reproduced from an original sketch, expressly for this publication.] A man of genius in France is rightly placed on a kind of throne, and considered a "king of thought;" so the obsequies of so truly illustrious a poet as Victor Hugo, which took place in Paris, June 1, 1885, assumed proportions rarely accorded even to the mightiest sovereigns. Unfortunately, it was marred by the desecration of a noted church, the Pantheon; for it pleased a political party in power to make out that Hugo had denied even the existence of God, and this notwithstanding the fact that every page of his works is a testimony to his ardent creed in the Almighty and his hope in the life to come. The lying-in-state took place under the Arch of Triumph, which was decorated with much taste by a huge black veil draped across it. Flaring torches lighted up the architectural features of the monument, and also the tremendous throng of spectators. The arch looked solemn enough, but the behaviour of the people who surrounded it was the reverse, especially at night. On Thursday, June 1, early in the day, which was intensely hot, the procession began to move from the Arc de Triomphe to the Pantheon, and presented a scene never to be forgotten. The coffin was a very simple one, in accordance with the poet's wishes to be buried like a pauper; but what proved the chief charm of this really poetical spectacle was the amazing number of huge wreaths carried by the countless deputations from all parts of France, and sent from every city of Europe and America. There were some 15,000 wreaths of foliage and flowers carried in this strange procession, many of which were of colossal dimensions, so that when one beheld the cortége from the bottom of the Champs Élysées, for instance, it looked like a huge floral snake meandering along. The bearers of the wreaths were hidden beneath them, and these exquisite trophies of early summer flowers, combined with the glittering helmets of the Guards, the bright costumes of the students, and, above all, with the veritable walls of human beings towering up on all sides, filling balconies and windows, covering roofs and every spot wherever even a glimpse of the pageant could be obtained, created a spectacle as unique as it was picturesque. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 55.--_Funeral of Victor Hugo, Paris, June_ 1, 1885.] [Illustration: FIG. 56.--_Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Frederick of Germany, Princess Royal of Great Britain._] THE solemn but exceedingly simple obsequies of that much regretted and most able man His Royal Highness the Prince Consort, took place at Windsor on the 23rd December, 1861. At his frequently expressed desire it was of a private character; but all the chief men of the state attended the obsequies in the Royal Chapel. The weather was cold and damp, the sky dull and heavy. There was a procession of state carriages to St. George's Chapel, at the door of which the Prince of Wales and the other royal mourners were assembled to receive the corpse. The grief of the poor children was very affecting, little Prince Arthur especially, sobbing as if his heart were breaking. When all was over, and the last of the long, lingering train of mourners had departed, the attendants descended into the vault with lights, and moved the bier and coffin along the narrow passage to the royal vault. The day was observed throughout the realm as one of mourning. The bells of all the churches were tolled, and in many of them special services were held. In the towns the shops were closed, and the window blinds of private residences were drawn down. No respectable people appeared abroad except in mourning, and in seaport towns the flags were hoisted half-mast high. The words of the Poet Laureate were scarcely too strong: "The shadow of his loss moved like eclipse, Darkening the world. We have lost him; he is gone; We know him now; all narrow jealousies Are silent; and we see him as he moved, How modest, kindly, all-accomplished, wise; With what sublime repression of himself, And in what limits, and how tenderly; Not swaying to this faction or to that; Not making his high place the lawless perch Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage ground For pleasure; but thro' all this tract of years Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot; for where is he Who dares foreshadow for an only son A lovelier life, a more unstained than his?" [Illustration: FIG. 57.--_Funeral of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort, at Windsor, December_ 23, 1861.] When Her Majesty became a widow, she slightly modified the conventional English widow's cap, by indenting it over the forehead _à la_ Marie Stuart, thereby imparting to it a certain picturesqueness which was quite lacking in the former head-dress. This coiffure has been not only adopted by her subjects, but also by royal widows abroad. The etiquette of the Imperial House of Germany obliges the Empress Frederick to introduce into her costume two special features during the earlier twelve months of her widowhood. The first concerns the cap, which is black, having a Marie Stuart point over the centre of the forehead, and a long veil of black crape falling like a mantle behind to the ground. The second peculiarity of this stately costume is that the orthodox white batiste collar has two narrow white bands falling straight from head to foot. This costume has been very slightly modified from what it was three centuries ago, when a Princess of the House of Hohenzollern lost her husband. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 58.--HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY THE QUEEN. _From a Photograph by Messrs. W. & D. Downey._] THE first general mourning ever proclaimed in America was on the occasion of the death of Benjamin Franklin, in 1791, and the next on that of Washington, in 1799. The deep and wide-spread grief occasioned by the melancholy death of the first President, assembled a great concourse of people for the purpose of paying him the last tribute of respect, and on Wednesday, December 18, 1799, attended by military honours and the simplest but grandest ceremonies of religion, his body was deposited in the family vault at Mount Vernon. Never in the history of America did a blow fall with more terrible earnestness than the news of the assassination of President Lincoln on April 14, 1865. All party feeling was forgotten, and sorrow was universal. The obsequies were on an exceedingly elaborate scale, and a generous people paid a grateful and sincere tribute to a humane and patriotic chieftain. After an impressive service, the embalmed body was laid in state in the Capitol at Washington, guarded by officers with drawn swords, and afterwards the coffin was closed for removal to Springfield, the home of the late President, a distance of about 1,700 miles. It took twelve days to accomplish the journey. The car which conveyed the remains was completely draped in black, the mourning outside being festooned in two rows above and below the windows, while each window had a strip of mourning connecting the upper with the lower row. Six other cars, all draped in black, were attached to the train, and contained the escort, whilst the engine was covered with crape and its flags draped. At several cities _en route_ a halt was made, in order to permit people to pay tributes of respect to the deceased, and several times the body was removed from the train, so that funeral services might be held. At last, on the 3rd of May, the train reached Springfield, and after a brief delay the procession moved with befitting ceremony to Oak Ridge Cemetery, President Lincoln's final resting-place. During the period intervening between President Lincoln's death and his interment, every city and town in the United States testified the greatest grief, and public expressions of mourning were universal. To take New York, as an instance, that city presented a singularly striking appearance. Scarce a house in it but was not draped in the deepest mourning, long festoons of black and white muslin drooped sadly everywhere, and even the gay show-cases outside the shop doors were dressed with funereal rosettes. The gloom which prevailed was intense. In many places, however, the decorations, though sombre, were exceedingly picturesque, the dark tones being relieved by the bright red and blue of the national colours, entwined with crape. Scarcely less magnificent were the obsequies accorded by the people of America to General Grant. Funeral services were observed in towns and cities of every state and territory of the Union, amidst a display of mourning emblems unparallelled. In New York, for two weeks previous to the funeral ceremony, preparations of the most elaborate description were going on, and the best part of the city was densely draped. The route of the procession to the tomb was 9 miles long, and it is estimated that three million persons saw the cortege, in which over 50,000 people joined, including 30,000 soldiers. Some further idea of the magnitude of this solemn procession can be formed when it is stated that its head reached the grave three hours and a half before the funeral car arrived. This car was exceptionally imposing, inasmuch as it was drawn by 24 black horses, each one led by a coloured servant, and each covered with sable trappings which swept the street. Another imposing funeral, which many who are still young can remember, was that of his Majesty Victor Emmanuel, the first King of United Italy, who died in Rome early in 1878. His obsequies were conducted with all the pomp of the Roman Catholic religion, and the catafalque, erected in the centre of the Pantheon, was supremely imposing. We give an engraving of it, which will afford an excellent idea of its great magnificence. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 59.--_The Catafalque erected for the Funeral Service of His Majesty King Victor Emmanuel, in the Pantheon, Rome._] THE ingenious idea of the _Magasin de Deuil_, or establishment exclusively devoted to the sale of mourning costumes and of the paraphernalia necessary for a funeral, has long been held to be exclusively French; but our quick-witted neighbours have, to speak the truth, originated very few things; for was not the father of French cookery a German physician in attendance on Francis I., assisted by an Italian cardinal, Campeggio, who, by the way, came to England on the occasion of the negotiations in connection with the divorce of Queen Catherine of Arragon. The _Magasin de Deuil_ is but a brilliant and elaborate adaptation of the old _Mercerie de lutto_ which has existed for centuries, and still exists, in every Italian city, where people in the haste of grief can obtain in a few hours all that the etiquette of civilisation requires for mourning in a country whose climate renders speedy interment absolutely necessary. Continental ideas are slow to reach this country, but when they do find acceptance with us, they rarely fail to attain that vast extension so characteristic of English commerce. Such development could scarcely be exhibited in a more marked manner than in Jay's London General Mourning Warehouse, Regent Street, an establishment which dates from the year 1841, and which during that period has never ceased to increase its resources and to complete its organisation, until it has become, of its kind, a mart unique both for the quality and the nature of its attributes. Of late years the business and enterprise of this firm has enormously increased, and it includes not only all that is necessary for mourning, but also departments devoted to dresses of a more general description, although the colours are confined to such as could be worn for either full or half mourning. Black silks, however, are pre-eminently a speciality of this house, and the Continental journals frequently announce that "_la maison Jay de Londres a fait de forts achats_." Their system is one from which they never swerve. It is to buy the commodity direct from the manufacturers, and to supply it to their patrons at the very smallest modicum of profit compatible with the legitimate course of trade. The materials for mourning costumes must always virtually, remain unchangeable, and few additions can be made to the list of silks, crapes, paramattas, cashmeres, _grenadines_, and _tulles_ as fabrics. They and their modifications must be ever in fashion so long as it continues fashionable to wear mourning at all; but fashion in design, construction, and embellishment may be said to change, not only every month, but well-nigh every week. The fame of a great house of business like this rests more upon its integrity and the expedition with which commands are executed than anything else. To secure the very best goods, and to have them made up in the best taste and in the latest fashion, is one of the principal aims of the firm, which is not unmindful of legitimate economy. For this purpose, every season competent buyers visit the principal silk marts of Europe, such as Lyons, Genoa, and Milan, for the purpose of purchasing all that is best in quality and pattern. Immediate communication with the leading designers of fashions in Paris has not been neglected; and it may be safely said of this great house of business, that if it is modelled on a mediæval Italian principle, it has missed no opportunity to assimilate to itself every modern improvement. [Illustration: FIG. 60.--_Funeral of Earl Palmerston, in Westminster Abbey, Oct._ 27, 1865.] Private mourning in modern times, like everything else, has been greatly altered and modified, to suit an age of rapid transit and travel. Men no longer make a point of wearing full black for a fixed number of months after the decease of a near relation, and even content themselves with a black hat-band and dark-coloured garments. Funeral ceremonies, too, are less elaborate, although during the past few years a growing tendency to send flowers to the grave has increased in every class of the community. The ceremonial which attends our State funerals is so well known that it were needless to describe them. We, however, give, as "records," illustrations of the funerals of Lord Palmerston, Lord Beaconsfield, Mr. Darwin, and of the much-regretted Emperor Frederick of Germany, a function which was extremely imposing, as the etiquette of the German Court still retains many curious relics of bygone times. [Illustration: FIG. 61.--_Funeral of the Right Honourable the Earl of Beaconsfield, in Hughenden Church, April_ 26, 1881.] GENERAL Court mourning in this country is regulated by the Duke of Norfolk, as Earl Marshal, but exclusively Court mourning for the Royal Family by the Lord Chamberlain. The order for Court mourning to be observed for the death of a foreign sovereign is issued by the Foreign Office, and transmitted thence to the Lord Chamberlain. Here is the form of the order for general mourning to be worn on the occasion of the death of the Prince Consort: COLLEGE OF ARMS, Dec. 16, 1866. _Deputy Earl Marshal's Order for a General Mourning for His late Royal Highness the Prince Consort._ In pursuance of Her Majesty's commands, this is to give public notice that, upon the melancholy occasion of the death of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort, it is expected that all persons do forthwith put themselves into decent mourning. EDWARD C. F. HOWARD, D.E.M. The order to the army is published from the War Office: HORSE GUARDS, Dec. 18, 1861. _Orders for the Mourning of the Army for His late Royal Highness the Prince Consort._ The General commanding-in-chief has received Her Majesty's commands to direct, on the present melancholy occasion of the death of H.R.H. the Prince Consort, that the officers of the army be required to wear, when in uniform, black crape over the ornamental part of the cap or hat, over the sword-knot, and on the left arm;--with black gloves, and a black crape scarf over the sash. The drums are to be covered with black, and black crape is to hang from the head of the colour-staff of the infantry, and from the standard-staff of cavalry. When officers appear at Court in uniform, they are to wear black crape over the ornamental part of the cap or hat, over the sword-knot, and on the left arm;--with black gloves and a black crape scarf. A like order was issued by the Admiralty, addressed to the officers and men of the Royal Navy. FIRST NOTICE. LORD CHAMBERLAIN'S OFFICE, December 16, 1861. _Orders for the Court to go into Mourning for His late Royal Highness the Prince Consort._ The LADIES attending Court to wear black woollen Stuffs, trimmed with Crape, plain Linen, black Shoes and Gloves, and Crape Fans. The GENTLEMEN attending Court to wear black Cloth, plain Linen, Crape Hatbands, and black Swords and Buckles. The Mourning to commence from the date of this Order. SECOND NOTICE. LORD CHAMBERLAIN'S OFFICE, December 31, 1861. _Orders for the Court's change of Mourning, on Monday, the 27th January next, for His late Royal Highness the Prince Consort, viz._: The LADIES to wear black Silk Dresses, trimmed with Crape, and black Shoes and Gloves, black Fans, Feathers, and Ornaments. The GENTLEMEN to wear black Court Dress, with black Swords and Buckles, and plain Linen. _The Court further to change the Mourning on Monday the 17th of February next, viz._: The LADIES to wear black Dresses, with white Gloves, black or white Shoes, Fans, and Feathers, and Pearls, Diamonds, or plain Gold or Silver Ornaments. The GENTLEMEN to wear black Court Dress, with black Swords and Buckles. _And on Monday the 10th of March next, the Court to go out of Mourning._ * * * * * FIRST NOTICE. LORD CHAMBERLAIN'S OFFICE, November 7, 1817. _Orders for the Court's going into Mourning on Sunday next, the 9th instant, for Her late Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte Augusta, Daughter of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and Consort of His Serene Highness the Prince Leopold Saxe-Cobourg, viz._: The LADIES to wear black Bombazines, plain Muslin, or long Lawn Crape Hoods, Shamoy Shoes and Gloves, and Crape Fans. Undress:--Dark Norwich Crape. The GENTLEMEN to wear black cloth without buttons on the Sleeves or Pockets, plain Muslin, or long Lawn Cravats and Weepers, Shamoy Shoes and Gloves, Crape Hatbands and black Swords and Buckles. Undress:--Dark Grey Frocks. For LADIES, black Silk, fringed or plain Linen, white Gloves, black Shoes, Fans, and Tippets, white Necklaces and Earrings. Undress:--White or grey Lustrings, Tabbies, or Damasks. For GENTLEMEN, to continue in black, full trimmed, fringed or plain Linen, black Swords and Buckles. Undress:--Grey Coats. For LADIES, black silk or velvet coloured Ribbons, Fans, and Tippets, or plain white, or white and gold, or white and silver Stuffs, with black Ribbons. For GENTLEMEN, black Coats and black or plain white, or white and gold, or white and silver stuffed Waistcoats, coloured Waistcoats and Buckles. [Illustration: FIG. 62.--_Funeral of Charles Darwin, Esq., in Westminster Abbey._] THE Register of "Notices" preserved at the Lord Chamberlain's Offices date back from 1773 to 1840. They are written in chronological order from the first folio (9th March, 1773) to folio 16 (28th Nov., 1785). After this date a number of papers are missing, and, curious to relate, the next entry is Oct. 24, 1793, and orders the Court to go into mourning for ten days for Her late Majesty Marie Antoinette, Queen of France. On the margin of the one for mourning for Louis XVIII., is written a note to the effect that the "King this day, Sep. 18, 1824, orders three weeks' mourning for the late King of France." At about this time, too, the word "the ladies to wear bombazine gowns" disappears, and is replaced by "woolen stuffs." Our military etiquette connected with mourning was really modelled on that in use in the army of Louis XIV., as is proved by a rather singular fact. In 1737 George II. died, and an order was issued commanding the officers and troopers in the British army to wear black crape bands and black buttons and epaulettes. Very shortly afterwards the French Government issued a decree to the effect that, as the English army had "slavishly imitated the French in the matter of wearing mourning, henceforth the officers of the French army should make no change in their uniform, and only wear a black band round the arm." Oddly enough, at the present moment both the French and the English armies wear precisely the same "badge of grief," a black band of crape on the left arm above the elbow. The Sovereign can prolong, out of marked respect for the person to be mourned, the duration of the period for general and Court mourning. The following are regulations for Court mourning, according to the register at the Lord Chamberlain's office:-- For the King or Queen--full mourning, eight weeks; mourning, two weeks; and half-mourning, two weeks: in all, three full months. For the son or daughter of the Sovereign--Full mourning, four weeks; mourning, one week; and half-mourning, one week: total, six weeks. For the brother or sister of the Sovereign--full mourning, two weeks; mourning, four days; and half-mourning, two days: total, three weeks. Nephew or niece--full mourning, one week; half-mourning, one week: total, two weeks. Uncle or aunt--same as above. Cousin, ten days; second cousin, seven days. THE following are the accepted reasons for the selection of various colours for mourning in different parts of the world:-- _Black_ expresses the privation of light and joy, the midnight gloom of sorrow for the loss sustained. It is the prevailing colour of mourning in Europe, and it was also the colour selected in ancient Greece and in the Roman Empire. _Black and white striped_ expresses sorrow and hope, and is the mourning of the South Sea Islanders. _Greyish brown_--the colour of the earth, to which the dead return. It is the colour of mourning in Ethiopia and Abyssinia. _Pale brown_--the colour of withered leaves--is the mourning of Persia. _Sky-blue_ expresses the assured hope that the deceased is gone to heaven, and is the colour of mourning in Syria, Cappadocia, and Armenia. _Deep-blue_ in Bokhara is the colour of mourning; whilst the Romans in the days of the Republic also wore very dark blue for mourning. _Purple and violet_--to express royalty, "Kings and priests of God." It is the colour of mourning of Cardinals and of the Kings of France. The colour of mourning in Turkey is violet. _White_--emblem of "white-handed hope." The colour of mourning in China. The ladies of ancient Rome and Sparta sometimes wore white mourning, which was also the colour for mourning in Spain until 1498. In England it is still customary, in several of the provinces, to wear white silk hat-bands for the unmarried. _Yellow_--the sear and yellow leaf. The colour of mourning in Egypt and Burmah. In Brittany widows' caps among the peasants are yellow. Anne Boleyn wore yellow mourning for Catherine of Arragon, but as a sign of joy. _Scarlet_ is also a mourning colour, and was occasionally worn by the French Kings, notably so by Louis XI. [Decoration] [Illustration: FIG. 63.--_Funeral of His Imperial Majesty Frederick the Noble, Emperor of Germany. The Funeral Service in the Imperial Chapel._] [Illustration: FIG. 64.--_Funeral of His Majesty the Emperor of Germany. The Procession leaving the Palace._] NOTES. (_a_) In the 18th Century, the undertaker issued his handbills--gruesome things, with grinning skulls and shroud-clad corpses, thigh bones, mattocks and pickaxes, hearses, etc.: "These are to notice that Mr. John Elphick, Woollen Draper, over against St Michael's Church, in Lewes, hath a good Hearse, a Velvet Pall, Mourning Cloaks, and Black Hangings for Rooms, to be lett at Reasonable Rates. "He also sells all sorts of Mourning and Half Mourning, all sorts of Black Cyprus for Scarfs and Hatbands, and White Silks for Scarfs and Hoods at Funerals; Gloves of all sorts, and Burying Cloaths for the Dead." Again:-- "Eleazar Malory, Joiner at the Coffin in White Chapel, near Red Lion Street end, maketh Coffins, Shrouds, letteth Palls, Cloaks, and Furnisheth with all the other things necessary for Funerals at Reasonable Rates." (_b_) The dead were formerly buried in woollen, which was rendered compulsory by the Acts 30 Car. ii. c. 3 and 36 Ejusdem c. i., the first of which was for "lessening the importation of Linen from beyond the seas, and the encouragement of the Woollen and Paper Manufactures of the Kingdome." It prescribed that the curate of every parish shall keep a register, to be provided at the charge of the parish, wherein to enter all burials and affidavits of persons being buried in woollen. No affidavit was necessary for a person dying of the plague, but for every infringement a fine of £5 was imposed, one half to go to the informer, and the other half to the poor of the parish. This Act was only repealed in 1815. The material used was flannel, and such interments are frequently mentioned in the literature of the time. (_c_) Misson throws some light on the custom of using flannel for enveloping the dead, but I fancy that it is of much greater antiquity than he imagined. However, he asserts:-- "There is an Act of Parliament which ordains, That the Dead shall be bury'd in a Woollen Stuff, which is a kind of a thin Bays, which they call Flannel; nor is it lawful to use the least Needleful of Thread or Silk. This Shift is always White; but there are different Sorts of it as to Fineness, and consequently of different Prices. To make these dresses is a particular Trade, and there are many that sell nothing else; so that these Habits for the Dead are always to be had ready made, of what Size or Price you please, for People of Every Age and Sex. After they had washed the Body thoroughly clean, and shav'd it, if it be a Man, and his Beard be grown during his Sickness, they put it on a Flannel Shirt, which has commonly a sleeve purfled about the Wrists, and the Slit of the Shirt down the Breast done in the same Manner. When these Ornaments are not of Woollen Lace, they are at least edg'd, and sometimes embroider'd with black Thread. The Shirt shou'd be at least half a Foot longer than the Body, that the feet of the Deceas'd may be wrapped in it as in a Bag. When they have thus folded the end of the Shirt close to the Feet, they tye the Part that is folded down with a piece of Woollen Thread, as we do our stockings; so that the end of the Shirt is done into a kind of Tuft. Upon the Head they put a Cap, which they fasten with a very broad Chin Cloth, with Gloves on the Hands, and a Cravat round the Neck, all of Woollen. That the Body may ly the softer, some put a Lay of Bran, about four inches thick, at the Bottom of the Coffin. Instead of a Cap, the Women have a kind of Head Dress, with a Forehead Cloth." Funeral invitations of a ghastly kind were sent out, and Elegies, laudatory of the deceased, were sometimes printed and sent to friends. These were got up in the same charnel-house style, and embellished with skulls, human bones, and skeletons. Hat-bands were costly items. "For the encouragement of our English silk, called a la modes, His Royal Highness the Prince of Denmark, the Nobility, and other persons of quality, appear in Mourning Hatbands made of that silk, to bring the same in fashion, in the place of Crapes, which are made in the Pope's Country where we send our money for them." (_d_) The poor in Anne's time had already started Burial Clubs and Societies, and very cheap they seem to have been. "This is to give notice that the office of Society for Burials, by mutual contribution of a Halfpenny or Farthing towards a Burial, erected upon Wapping Wall, is now removed into Katherine Wheel Alley, in White Chappel, near Justice Smiths, where subscriptions are taken to compleat the number, as also at the Ram in Crucifix Lane in Barnaby Street, Southwark, to which places notice is to be given of the death of any Member, and where any person may have the printed Articles after Monday next. And this Thursday evening about 7 o'clock will be Buried by the Undertakers, the Corpse of J. S., a Glover, over against the Sun Brewhouse, in Golden Lane; as also a child from the corner of Acorn Alley, in Bishopsgate Street, and another child from the Great Maze Pond, Southwark." (_e_) Undertakers liked to arrange for a Funeral to take place on an evening in winter, as the costs were thereby increased, for then the Mourners were furnished with wax candles. These were heavy, and sometimes were made of four tapers twisted at the stem and then branching out. That these wax candles were expensive enough to excite the thievish cupidity of a band of roughs, the following advertisement will show:-- "Riots and Robberies--Committed in and about Stepney Church Yard, at a Funeral Solemnity, on Wednesday, the 23rd day of September; and whereas many persons, who being appointed to attend the same Funeral with white wax lights of a considerable value, were assaulted in a most violent manner, and the said white wax lights taken from them. Whoever shall discover any of the Persons, guilty of the said crimes, so as they may be convicted of the same, shall receive of Mr. William Prince, Wax Chandler in the Poultry, London, Ten Shillings for each Person so discovered." (_f_) We get a curious glimpse of the paraphernalia of a funeral in the Life of a notorious cheat, "The German Princess," who lived, and was hanged, in the latter part of the 17th Century, and the same funeral customs therein described obtained in Queen Anne's time. She took a lodging at a house, in a good position, and told the landlady that a friend of hers, a stranger to London, had just died, and was lying at "a pitiful Alehouse," and might she, for convenience sake, bring his corpse there, ready for burial on the morrow. "The landlady consented, and that evening the Corps in a very handsome Coffin was brought in a Coach, and placed in the Chamber, which was the Room one pair of Stairs next the Street, and had a Balcony. The Coffin being covered only with an ordinary black Cloth, our Counterfeit seems much to dislike it; the Landlady tells her that for 20s. she might have the use of a Velvet Pall, with which being well pleas'd, she desir'd the Landlady to send for the Pall, and withal accommodate the Room with her best Furniture, for the next day but one he should be bury'd; thus the Landlady performed, setting the Velvet Pall, and placing on a Side Board Table 2 Silver Candlesticks, a Silver Flaggon, 2 Standing Gilt Bowls, and several other pieces of Plate; but the Night before the intended Burial, our Counterfeit Lady and her Maid within the House, handed to their comrades without, all the Plate, Velvet Pall, and other Furniture of the Chamber that was Portable and of Value, leaving the Coffin and the supposed Corps, she and her Woman descended from the Balcony by help of a Ladder, which her comrades had brought her." It is needless to say that the coffin contained only brickbats and hay, and a sad sequel to this story is that the undertaker sued the landlady for the loss of his pall, which had lately cost him £40. According to a request in the will of one Mr. Benjamin Dodd, a Roman Catholic, "Citizen and Linnen Draper, who fell from his horse and died soon after," four and twenty persons were at his burial, to each of whom he gave a pair of white gloves, a ring of 10s. value, a bottle of wine, and half-a-crown to be spent on their return that night, "to drink his Soul's Health, then on her Journey for Purification in order to Eternal Rest." He also appointed his "Corps" to be carried in a hearse drawn by six white horses, with white feathers, and followed by six coaches, with six horses to each coach, and commanded that "no Presbyterian, Moderate Low Churchmen, or Occasional Conformists, be at or have anything to do with his Funeral." (_g_) Parisian funerals at the present day present many features common to those celebrated in England in the last century. The church, for instance, is elaborately decorated in black for a married man or woman, but in white for a spinster, youth, or child. The costumes of the hired attendants, and these are numerous--I counted one day, quite recently, no less than twenty-four, two to each coach, all handsomely dressed in black velvet--are of the time of Louis XV. I am assured that the expenses of a first-class funeral in Paris, in this year of Grace 1889, sometimes exceeds several hundred pounds. The _lettre de faire part_, as it is called, is also a curious feature in the funeral rites of our neighbours. It is an elaborate document in the form of a printed letter, deeply edged with black, and informs that all the members, near and distant, of the deceased's family--they are each mentioned by name and title--request you, not only to attend the funeral, but to pray for his or her soul. The fashion of sending costly wreaths to cover the coffin is recent, and was quite as unknown in Paris twenty years ago as it was in this country until about the same period. Wreaths of _immortelles_, sometimes dyed black, were, however, sent to funerals in France in the Middle Ages. In Brittany, the "wake" is almost as common as it is in Ireland, and quite as frequently degenerates into an unedifying spectacle. Like the Irish custom, it originated in the early Christian practice of keeping a light burning by the corpse, and in praying for the repose of the soul, _coram_ the corpse prior to its final removal to the church and grave, certain pagan customs, the distribution of wine and bread, having been introduced, at first possibly from a sense of hospitality, and finally as means of carousal. RICHARD DAVEY. [Decoration] * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently corrected. Some illustrations have been moved from their original position so as not to interrupt the text. Corrections. The first line indicates the original, the second the correction. p. 20: In these, bassirilievi and figures in terra-cotta have been found, In these, bassorilievi and figures in terra-cotta have been found, p. 27: at the dawn of the Rennaissance at the dawn of the Renaissance p. 88: This coifure has This coiffure has p. 91: of this solemn procession can be ormed of this solemn procession can be formed p. 111: but in white for a spinister but in white for a spinster Errata. The first line indicates the original, the second how it should read. p. 66: "On the 6th of January, 1756, the body of his 'Britannic Majesty' was conveyed in great state to the said Church of the Twelve Apostles," "On the 6th of January, 1766, the body of his 'Britannic Majesty' was conveyed in great state to the said Church of the Twelve Apostles," 
39675	----	file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) Dealings with the Dead. DEALINGS WITH THE DEAD. BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL. VOLUME II. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY DUTTON AND WENTWORTH, 33 AND 35 CONGRESS STREET: AND TICKNOR AND FIELDS, CORNER OF WASHINGTON AND SCHOOL STREETS. MDCCCLVI. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by DUTTON AND WENTWORTH, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. Dealings with the Dead. BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL. No. XC. My earliest recollections of some, among the dead and buried aristocracy of Boston, find a ready embodiment, in cocked hats of enormous proportions, queues reaching to their middles, cloaks of scarlet broadcloth, lined with silk, and faced with velvet, and just so short, as to exhibit the swell of the leg, silk stockings, and breeches, highly polished shoes, and large, square, silver buckles, embroidered vests, with deep lappet pockets, similar to those, which were worn, in the age of _Louis Quatorze_, shirts ruffled, at the bosoms and sleeves, doeskin or beaver gloves, and glossy, black, Surinam walking canes, six feet in length, and commonly carried by the middle. Of the last of the Capulets we know nearly all, that it is desirable to know. Of the last of the cocked hats we are not so clearly certified. The dimensions of the military cocked hat were terrible; and, like those enormous, bear skin caps, which are in use, at present, eminently calculated to put the enemy to flight. I have seen one of those enormous cocked hats, which had long been preserved, as a memorial of the wearer's gallantry. In one corner, and near the extremity, was a round hole, said to have been made by a musket ball, at the battle of White Plains, Nov. 30, 1776. As I contemplated this relic, it was impossible to avoid the comforting reflection, that the head of the gallant proprietor was at a very safe distance from the bullet. After the assassination of Henry IV., and greatly to the amusement of the gay and giddy courtiers of his successor, Louis XIII.--old Sully obstinately adhered to the costume of the former reign. Colonel Barnabas Clarke was very much of Sully's way of thinking. "And who," asks the reader, "was Colonel Barnabas Clarke?" He was a pensioner of the United States, and died a poor, though highly respected old man, in the town of Randolph, and Commonwealth of Massachusetts. For several years, he commanded the third Regiment of the first Brigade, and first Division of infantry; and he wore the largest cocked hat and the longest queue in the known world. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-hearted Revolutioner. Let me take the reader aside, for a brief space; and recite to him a pleasant anecdote of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke, which occurred, under my own observation, when John Brooks--whose patent of military nobilty bears date at Saratoga, but who was one of nature's noblemen from his cradle--was governor of Massachusetts. There was a militia muster of the Norfolk troops, and they were reviewed by Governor Brooks. They were drawn up in line. The Governor, bare headed, with his suite, had moved slowly down, in front of the array, each regiment, as he passed, paying the customary salute. The petty _chapeau militaire_ had then become almost universal, and, with, or without, its feather and gold edgings, was all over the field. Splendid epaulettes and eaglets glittered, on the shoulders of such, as were entitled to wear them. Prancing horses were caracoling and curvetting, in gaudy trappings. In the midst of this showy array, in front of his regiment, bolt upright, upon the back of his tall, chestnut horse, that, upon the strength of an extra allowance of oats, pawed the ground, and seemed to forget, that he was in the plough, the day before, sat an old man, of rugged features, and large proportions. Upon his head was that enormous cocked hat, of other days--upon his shoulders, scarcely distinguishable, was a small pair of tarnished epaulettes--the gray hairs at the extremity of his prodigious queue lay upon the crupper of his saddle--his ancient boots shaped to the leg, his long shanked spurs, his straight silver-hilted sword, and lion-headed pistols were of 1776. Such was the outer man of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke. As the Governor advanced, upon the line of the third Regiment of the first Brigade, the fifes of that regiment commenced their shrill whistle, and the drums began to roll; and, at the appropriate moment, the veteran saluted his excellency, in that rather angular style, which was common, in the days of our military fathers. At that moment, Governor Brooks checked his horse, and, replacing his hat upon his head, dismounted, and walked towards the Colonel, who, comprehending the intention, returned his sword to its scabbard, and came to the ground, with the alertness of a much younger man. They met midway, between the line and the reviewing cortege--in an instant, each grasped the other's hand, with the ardor of men, who are mutually endeared, by the recollection of partnership, in days of danger and daring--they had been fellow lodgers, within the intrenchments of Burgoyne, on the memorable night of October 7, 1777. After a few words of mutual respect and affection, they parted--the review went forward--the fifers and drummers outdid themselves--the beholders sent forth an irrepressible shout--and when old Colonel Barnabas got up once again, upon his chestnut horse, I thought he looked considerably more like old Frederick, hat, queue, and all, than he did, before he got down. He looked as proud as Tamerlane, after he had caged the Sultan, Bajazet--yet I saw him dash a tear from his eye, with the sleeve of his coat--I found one in my own. How frail we are!--there is one there now! While contemplating the remarkable resurrection that has occurred, within a few years, of old chairs and tables, porcelain and candlesticks, I confidently look forward to the resurrection of cocked hats. They were really very becoming. I speak not of those vasty beavers, manufactured, of yore, by that most accomplished, gentlemanly, and facetious of all hatters, Mr. Nathaniel Balch, No. 72 old Cornhill; but such as he made, for his excellent friend, and boon companion, Jeremiah Allen, Esquire, high Sheriff of Suffolk. When trimmed with gold lace, and adorned with the official cockade, it was a very becoming affair. No man carried the fashion, as I have described it, in the commencement of this article, to a greater extent, than Mr. Thomas Marshall, more commonly known as _Tommy Marshall_. He was a tailor, and his shop and house were in State Street, near the present site of the Boston Bank. In London, his leisurely gait, finished toilette, admirable personal equipments, and exceedingly composed and courtly carriage and deportment would have passed him off, for a gentleman, living at his ease, or for one of the nobility. Mr. Marshall was remarkable, for the exquisite polish, and classical cut of his cocked hat. He was much on 'change, in those primitive days, and highly respected, for his true sense of honor. Though the most accomplished tailor of his day, no one ever suspected him of cabbage. When I began the present article, it was my design to have written upon a very different subject--but since all my cogitations have been "_knocked into a cocked hat_," I may as well close this article, with a short anecdote of Tommy Marshall. There was a period--there often is, in similar cases--during which it was doubtful, if the celebrated James Otis was a sane or an insane man. During that period, he was engaged for the plaintiff, in a cause, in which Mr. Marshall was a witness, for the defendant. After a tedious cross examination, Mr. Otis perceived the impossibility of perplexing the witness, or driving him into any discrepancy; and, in a moment of despair, his mind, probably, not being perfectly balanced, he lifted his finger, and shaking it, knowingly, at the witness, exclaimed--"_Ah, Tommy Marshall, Tommy Marshall, I know you!_" "_And what do you know of me, sir?_" cried the witness, doubling his fist in the very face of Mr. Otis, and stamping on the floor--"_I know you're a tailor, Tommy!_" No. XCI. Wake--Vigil--Wæcan--import one and the same thing. So we are informed, by that learned antiquary, John Whitaker, in his History of Manchester, published in 1771. Originally, this was a festival, kept by watching, through the night, preceding the day, on which a church was dedicated. We are told, by Shakspeare-- He that outlives this day, and sees old age, Will yearly, on the _vigil_, feast his neighbors, And say _tomorrow_ is Saint Crispian. These vigils, like the _agapæ_, or love-feasts, fell, erelong, into disrepute, and furnished occasion, for disgraceful revelry and riot. The Irish _Wake_, as it is popularly called, however it may have sprung from the same original stock, is, at present, a very different affair. Howling, at a wake, is akin to the ululation of the mourning women of Greece, Rome, and Judea, to which I have alluded, in a former number. The object of the Irish _Wake_ is to rouse the spirit, which, otherwise, it is apprehended, might remain inactive, unwilling, or unable, to quit its mortal frame--to _wake_ the soul, not precisely, "by tender strokes of art," but by long-continued, nocturnal wailings and howlings. In practice, it has ever been accounted extremely difficult, to get the Irish soul fairly off, either upward or downward, without an abundance of intoxicating liquor. The philosophy of this is too high for me--I cannot attain unto it. I know not, whether the soul goes off, in a fit of disgust, at the senseless and insufferable uproar, or is fairly frightened out of its tabernacle. This I know, that boon companions, and plenty of liquor are the very last means I should think of employing, to induce a true-born Irishman, to give up the ghost. I have read with pleasure, in the Pilot, a Roman Catholic paper of this city, an editorial discommendation of this preposterous custom. However these barbarous proceedings may serve to outrage the dignity, and even the decency, of death, they have not always been absolutely useless. If the ravings, and rantings, the drunkenness, and the bloody brawls, that have sometimes occurred, during the celebration of an _Irish wake_, have proved unavailing, in raising the dead, or in exciting the lethargic soul--they have, certainly, sometimes sufficed, to restore consciousness to the cataleptic, who were supposed to be dead, and about to be committed to the grave. In April, 1804, Barney O'Brien, to all appearance, died suddenly, in the town of Ballyshannon. He had been a terrible bruiser, and so much of a profligate, that it was thought all the priests, in the county of Donegal, would have as much as they could do, of a long summer's day, to confess him. It was concluded, on all hands, that more than ordinary efforts would be required, for the _waking_ of Barney O'Brien's soul. A great crowd was accordingly gathered to the shanty of death. The mountain dew was supplied, without stint. The howling was terrific. Confusion began. The altercation of tongues was speedily followed, by the collision of fists, and the cracking of shelalahs. The yet uncovered coffin was overturned. The shock, in an instant, terminated the trance. Barney O'Brien stood erect, before the terrified and flying group, six feet and four inches in his winding sheet, screaming, at the very top of his lungs, as he rose--"_For the love o' the blissed Jasus, jist a dhrap o' the crathur, and a shelalah!_" In a former number, I have alluded to the subject of premature interment. A writer, in the London Quarterly, vol. lxiii. p. 458, observes, that "there exists, among the poor of the metropolitan districts, an inordinate dread of premature burial." After referring to a contrivance, in the receiving houses of Frankfort and Munich,--a ring, attached to the finger of the corpse, and connected with a lightly hung bell, in the watcher's room--he significantly asks--"_Has the corpse bell at Frankfort and Munich ever yet been rung?_"--For my own part, I have no correspondence with the sextons there, and cannot tell. It may possibly have been rung, while the watcher slept! After admitting the possibility of premature burial, this writer says, he should be content with Shakspeare's test--"_This feather stirs; she lives_," This may be a very good affirmative test. But, as a negative test, it would be good for little--_this feather stirs not; she is dead_. In cases of catalepsy, it often happens, that a feather will not stir; and even the more trustworthy test--the mirror--will furnish no evidence of life. To doubt the fact of premature interment is quite as absurd, as to credit all the tales, in this connection, fabricated by French and German wonder-mongers. During the existence of that terrible epidemic, which has so recently passed away, the necessity, real or imagined, of removing the corpses, as speedily as possible, has, very probably, occasioned some instances of premature interment. On the 28th of June, 1849, a Mr. Schridieder was supposed to be dead of cholera, at St. Louis, and was carried to the grave; where a noise in the coffin was heard, and, upon opening it, he was found to be alive. In the month of July, 1849, a Chicago paper contained the following statement:-- "We know a gentleman now residing in this city, who was attacked by the cholera, in 1832, and after a short time, was supposed to have died. He was in the collapsed state, gave not the least sign of life, and when a glass was held over his mouth, there was no evidence that he still breathed. But, after his coffin was obtained, he revived, and is now living in Chicago, one of our most estimable citizens." "Another case, of a like character, occurred near this city, yesterday. A man who was in the collapsed state, and to all appearances dead, became reanimated after his coffin was procured. He revived slightly--again apparently died--again revived slightly--and finally died and was buried." I find the following, in the Boston Atlas of August 23, 1849:-- "A painful occurrence has come to light in Baltimore, which creates intense excitement. The remains of the venerable D. Evans Reese, who died suddenly on Friday evening, were conveyed to the Light Street burying-ground, and while they were placed in the vault, the hand of a human being was discovered protruding from one of the coffins deposited there. On a closer examination, those present were startled to find the hand was firmly clenched, the coffin burst open, and the body turned entirely over, leaving not a doubt that the unfortunate being had been buried alive. The corpse was that of a very respectable man, who died, apparently, very suddenly, and whose body was placed in the vault on Friday last." The _Recherches Medico-legales sur l'incertitude des risques de la mort, les dangers dés inhumations précipiteés, les moyens de constater les décès et de rappeler á la vie ceux qui sont en etat de mort apparente_, by I. de Fontenelle, is a very curious production. In a review of this work, and of the _Recherches Physiologiques, sur la vie et la mort_, by Bichat, in the London Quarterly, vol. lxxxv. page 369, the writer remarks--"_A gas is developed in the decaying body, which mimics, by its mechanical force, many of the movements of life. So powerful is this gas, in corpses, which have laid long in the water, that M. Devergie, the physician at the Morgue, at Paris, says that, unless secured to the table, they are often heaved up and thrown to the ground._" Upon this theory, the writer proposes, to account for those posthumous changes of position, which are known, sometimes to have taken place. It may serve to explain some of these occurrences. But the formation of this gas, in a greater or less degree, must be universal, while a change in the position is comparatively rare. The curiosity of friends often leads to an inspection of the dead, in every stage of decomposition. However valuable the theory, in the writer's estimation, the generation of the most powerful gas would scarcely be able to throw the body entirely out of the coffin, with its arms outstretched towards the portal of the tomb; of which, and of similar changes, there exist well authenticated records. It is quite probable, that the _Irish wake_ may have originated, in this very dread of premature interment, strangely blended with certain spiritual fancies, respecting the soul's reluctance to quit its tenement of clay. After relating the remarkable story of Asclepiades of Prusa in Bithynia, who restored to life an individual, then on his way to the funeral pile--Bayle, vol. ii. p. 379, Lond. 1735, relates the following interesting tale. A peasant of Poictou was married to a woman, who, after a long fit of sickness, fell into a profound lethargy, which so closely resembled death, that the poor people gathered round, and laid out the peasant's helpmate, for burial. The peasant assumed a becoming expression of sorrow, which utterly belied that exceeding great joy, that is natural to every man, when he becomes perfectly assured, that the tongue of a scolding wife is hushed forever. The people of that neighborhood were very poor; and, either from economy or taste, coffins were not used among them. The corpses were borne to the grave, simply enveloped in their shrouds, as we are told, by Castellan, is the custom, among the Turks. Those who bore the body, moved, inadvertently, rather too near a hedge, at the roadside, and, a sharp thorn pricking the leg of the corpse, the trance was broken--the supposed defunct sprang up on end--and began to scold, as vigorously as ever. The disappointed peasant had fourteen years more of it. At the expiration of that term, the good woman pined away, and appeared to die, once more. She was again borne toward the grave. When the bearers drew near to the spot, where the remarkable revival had occurred, upon a former occasion, the widower became very much excited; and, at length, unable to restrain his emotions, audibly exclaimed--"_don't go too near that hedge!_" In a number of the London Times, for 1821, there is an account of the directions, given by an old Irish expert in such matters, who was about to die, respecting his own _wake_--"Recollect to put three candles at the head of the bed, after ye lay me out, two at the foot, and one at each side. Mind now and put a plate with the salt on it, just atop of my breast. And d'ye hear--have plinty o' tobacky and pipes enough; and remimber to have the punch strong. And--blundenoons, what the devil's the use o' pratin t'ye--sure it's mysilf knows ye'll be after botching it, as I'll not be there mysel." No. XCII. That man must be an incorrigible _fool_, who does not, occasionally, like the Vicar of Wakefield, find himself growing weary of being always _wise_. In this sense, there are few men of sixty winters, who have not been guilty of being over-wise--of assuming, at some period of their lives, the port and majesty of the bird of Minerva--of exercising that talent, for silence and solemnity, ascribed by the French nobleman, as More relates, in his travels, to the English nation. A man, thus protected--dipped, as it were, in the waters of Lethe, _usque ad calcem_--is truly a pleasant fellow. There is no such thing as getting hold of him--there he is, conservative as a tortoise, _unguibus retractis_. He seems to think the exchange of intellectual commodities, entirely out of the question; he will have none of your folly, and he holds up his own superlative wisdom, as a cow, of consummate resolution, holds up her milk. If society were thus composed, what a concert of voices there would be, in unison with Job's--_we would not live alway_. Life would be no other, than a long funeral procession--the dead burying the dead. I am decidedly in favor of a cheerful philosophy. Jeremy Taylor says, that, "_the slightest going off from a man's natural temper is a species of drunkenness_." There are some men, certainly, who seem to think, that total abstinence, from every species of merriment, is a wholesome preparative, for a residence in Paradise. The Preacher saith of laughter, _it is mad, and of mirth, what doeth it?_ But in the very next chapter, he declares, _there is a time to dance and a time to sing_. We are told in the book of Proverbs, that _a merry heart doeth good, like a medicine_. There has probably seldom been a wiser man than Democritus of Abdera, who was called the laughing philosopher; and of whom Seneca says, in his work De Ira, ii. c. 10, _Democritum aiunt nunquam sine risu in publico fuisse; adeo nihil illi videbatur serium eorum, quæ serio gerebantur_: Democritus never appeared in public, without laughter in his countenance; so that nothing seemed to affect him seriously, however much so it might affect the rest of mankind.--The Abderites, with some exceptions, thought him mad; or, in Beattie's words, when describing his minstrel boy-- "Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believ'd him mad." These Abderites, who were, notoriously, the most stupid of the Thracians, looked upon Democritus precisely as the miserable monks, about Oxford, looked upon Roger Bacon, in the thirteenth century--they believed him a magician, or a madman. To laugh and grow fat is a proverb. Whether Democritus grew fat or not, I am unable to say; but he died at a great age, having passed one hundred years; and he died cheerfully, as he had lived temperately. Lucretius says of him, lib. iii. v. 1052-- "_Sponte sua letho caput obvius obtulit ipse_." The tendency of his philosophy was to ensure longevity. The grand aim and end of it all were comprehended, in one word, [Greek: euphymia], or the enjoyment of a tranquil state of mind. There is much good-natured wisdom, in the command, and in the axiom of Horace-- "_Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem Dulce est desipere in loco_"-- which means, if an off-hand version will suffice-- Mix with your cares a little folly, 'Tis pleasant sometimes to be jolly. One of the most acceptable images, presented by Sir Walter Scott, is that of Counsellor Pleydell, perched upon the table, playing at high jinks, who compliments Colonel Mannering, by continuing the frolic, and telling him, that, if a fool had entered, instead of a man of sense, he should have come down immediately. My New England readers would be very much surprised, if they had any personal knowledge of the late excellent and venerable Bishop Griswold, to be told, that, among his works, there was an edition of Mother Goose's Melodies, with _prolegomina, notæ, et variæ lectiones_; well--there is no such thing there. But every one knows, that the comic romance of Bluebeard, as it is performed on the stage, was written by Bishop Heber, and is published in his works. Every one knows that Hannah More wrote tolerable plays, and was prevented, by nothing but her sex, from being a bishop. Every one knows that bishops and archbishops have done very funny things--_in loco_. And every one knows, that all this is quite as respectable, as being very reverently dull, and wearing the phylactery for life--_stand off, for I am stupider than thou_. I have now before me a small octavo volume--a very _bijou_ of a book, with the following title--_Arundines Cami, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Lusus Canori_, and bearing, for its motto--_Equitare in arundine longa_. This book is printed at Cambridge, England; and I have never seen a more beautiful specimen of typography. The work is edited by Henry Drury, Vicar of Wilton: and it contains a collection of Greek and Latin versions; by Mr. Drury himself, and by several good, holy, and learned men--Butler, late Bishop of Litchfield--Richard Porson--Hodgson, S. J. B. of Eton College--Vaughan, Principal of Harrow--Macaulay--Hallam--Law--and many others. The third edition of this delightful book was published in 1846. And now the reader would know something of the originals, which these grave and learned men have thought it worthy of their talents and time, to turn into Greek and Latin. I scarcely know where to select a specimen, among articles, every one of which is prepared, with such exquisite taste, and such perfect knowledge of the capabilities of the language employed. Among the readers of the Transcript, I happen to know some fair scholars, who would relish a Greek epigram, on any subject, as highly, as others enjoy a pointed paragraph in English, on the subject of rum and molasses. Here is a Greek version of the ditty--"What care I how black I be," by Mr. Hawtrey, Principal of Eton, which I would transcribe, were it not that a Greek word, now and then, presented in the common type, suggests to me, that you may not have a Greek font. It may be found by those, who are of the fancy, on page 49 of the work. Here is a version by Mr. Hodgson--how the shrill, thready voice of my dear old nurse rings in my ears, while reading the original! God reward her kind, untiring spirit--she has gone where little Pickles cease from troubling, and where weary nurses are at rest:-- Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man, So I do, master, as fast as I can. Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with C, Then it will answer for Charley and me. Tunde mihi dulcem pistor, mihi tunde farinam. Tunditur, O rapida tunditur illa manu. Punge decenter acu, tituloque inscribe magistri; Sic mihi, Carolulo, sic erit esca meo. The contributions of Mr. H. Drury, the editor, are inferior to none-- There was an old man in Tobago, Who liv'd on rice gruel and sago; Till, much to his bliss, His physician said this: 'To a leg, sir, of mutton you may go.' Senex æger in Tarento De oryxa et pulmento Vili vixerat invento; Donec medicus Seni inquit valde læto, 'Senex æger, o gaudeto, Crus ovinum, jam non veto Tibi benedicus.' Decidedly the most felicitous, though by no means the most elaborate in the volume, is the following, which is also by the editor, Mr. Drury-- Hey diddle diddle! The cat and the fiddle! The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed to see such sport; And the dish ran away with the spoon. Hei didulum--atque iterum didulum! Felisque fidesque! Vacca super lunæ cornua prosiluit. Nescio qua catulus risit dulcedine ludi; Abstulit et turpi lanx cochleare fuga. A Latin version of Goldsmith's mad dog, by H. J. Hodgson, is very clever, and there are some on solemn subjects, and of a higher order. How sturdily these little ditties, the works of authors dead, buried, and unknown, have breasted the current of time! I had rather be the author of _Hush-a-bye baby, upon the tree top_, than of Joel Barlow's Vision of Columbus--for, though I have always perceived the propriety of putting babies to sleep, at proper times, I have never entirely appreciated the wisdom of doing the very same thing to adults, at all hours of the day. What powerful resurrectionists these nursery melodies are! Moll Pitcher of Endor had not a greater power over the dry bones of Samuel, than has the ring of some one of these little chimes, to bring before us, with all the freshness of years ago, that good old soul, who sat with her knitting beside us, and rocked our cradle, and watched our progress from petticoats to breeches; and gave notice of the first tooth; and the earliest words; and faithfully reported, from day to day, all our marvellous achievements, to one, who, had she been a queen, would have given us her sceptre for a hoop stick. No. XCIII. Byles is a patronymic of extraordinary rarity. It will be sought for, without success, in the voluminous record of Alexander Chalmers. It is not in the Biographia Britannica; though, even there, we may, occasionally, discover names, which, according to Cowper, were not born for immortality-- "_Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot To names ignoble, born to be forgot!_" Even in that conservative record of choice spirits, the Boston Directory for 1849, this patronymic is nowhere to be found. Henry Byles came from Sarum in England; and settled at Salisbury in this Commonwealth, as early as 1640. I am not aware, that any individual, particularly eminent, and bearing this uncommon name, has ever existed among us, excepting that eccentric clergyman, who, within the bounds of our little peninsula, at least, is still occasionally mentioned, as "_the celebrated Mather Byles_." I am aware, that he had a son, who bore the father's prænomen, and graduated at Harvard, in 1751; became a doctor of divinity, in 1770; was a minister, in New London, and dismissed from his charge, in 1769; officiated, as an Episcopal clergyman, in Boston, for several years; went to St. Johns, N. B., at the time of the revolution; officiated there; and died, March 12, 1814. But my dealings, this evening, are with "_the celebrated Mather Byles_," who was born of worthy parents, in the town of Boston, March 26, 1706. His father was an Englishman. Through the maternal line, he had John Cotton and Richard Mather, for his ancestors. He graduated, at Harvard, in 1725; was settled at the Hollis Street Church, Dec. 20, 1733; created D. D. at Aberdeen, in 1765; was, on account of his toryism, separated from his people, in 1776; and died of paralysis, July 5, 1788, at the age of 82. He was twice married; a niece of Governor Belcher was his first, and the daughter of Lieut. Governor Tailer, his second wife. I should be faithless, indeed, were I to go forward, without one passing word, for precious memory, in regard to those two perennial damsels, the daughters of Dr. Byles. How many visitations, at that ancient manse in Nassau Street! To how many of the sex--young--aye, and of no particular age--it has occurred, at the nick of time, when there was nothing under Heaven else to be done, to exclaim--"What an excellent occasion, for a visit to Katy and Polly!" And the visit was paid; and the descendants of "_the celebrated Mather Byles_" were so glad to see the visitors--and it was so long since their last visit--and it must not be so long again--and then the old stories, over and over, for the thousandth time--and the concerted merriment of these amiable visitors, as if the tales were quite as new, as the year itself, upon the first January morn--and the filial delights, that beamed upon the features of these vestals, at the effect, produced, by the recitation of stories, which really seemed to be made of that very _everlasting_ of which the breeches of our ancestors were made--and then the exhibition of those relics, and _heir looms_, or what remained of them, after some thirty years' presentation to all comers, which, in one way and another, were associated with the memory of "_the celebrated Mather Byles_,"--and then the oh don't gos--and oh fly not yets--and when will you come agains! The question naturally arises, and, rather distrustingly, demands an answer--what was "_the celebrated Mather Byles_"--celebrated for? In the first place, he was _Sanctæ Theologiæ Doctor_. But his degree was from Aberdeen; and the Scotch colleges, at that period, were not particularly coy. With a cousin at court, and a little gold in hand, it was somewhat less difficult, for a clergyman, without very great learning, or talent, to obtain a doctorate, at Aberdeen, in 1765, than for a camel, of unusual proportions, to go through the eye of a very small needle. Even in our cis-atlantic colleges, these bestowments do not always serve to mark degrees of merit, with infallible accuracy--for God's sun does not more certainly shine, upon the just and upon the unjust, than doctorates have, in some cases, fallen upon wise men, and upon fools. That, which, charily and conservatively bestowed, may well be accounted an honor, necessarily loses its value, by diffusion and prostitution. Not many years ago, the worthy president of one of our colleges, being asked, how it happened, that a doctorate of divinity had been given to a certain person of ordinary talents, and very little learning; replied, with infinite _naiveté_--"_Why ---- had it; and ---- had it; and ---- had it; and we didn't like to hurt his feelings_." Let us not consider the claims of Mather Byles as definitely settled, by the faculty at Aberdeen.--He corresponded with Pope, and with Lansdowne, and with Watts. The works of the latter were sent to him, by the author, from time to time; and, among the treasures, highly prized by the family, was a presentation copy, in quarto, from Pope, of his translation of the Odyssey. This correspondence, however, so far as I was ever able to gather information from the daughters, many years ago, did not amount to much; the letters were very few, and very far between; on the one side complimentary, and bearing congratulations upon the occasion of some recent literary success; and, on the other, fraught with grateful civility; and accompanied, as is often the case, with copies of some of the author's productions. Let me here present a somewhat disconnected anecdote: At the sale of the library of Dr. Byles, a large folio Bible, in French, was purchased, by a private individual. This Bible had been presented to the French Protestant Church, in Boston, by Queen Anne; and, at the time, when it came to the hands of Dr. Byles, was the last relic of that church, whose visible temple had been erected in School Street, about 1716. Whoever desires to know more of these French Protestants, may turn to the "Memoir," by Dr. Holmes, or to vol. xxii. p. 62, of the Massachusetts Historical Collections. Dr. Byles wrote, in prose and verse, and quite _respectably_ in both. There is not more of the spirit of poetry, however, in his metrical compositions, than in his performances in prose. His versification was easy, and the style of his prose works was unaffected; his sentences were usually short, and never rendered unintelligible, by the multiplication of adjuncts, or by any affectation of sententious brevity. Yet nothing, that I have ever met with, from the pen of Dr. Byles, is particularly remarkable for its elegance; and it is in vain to look, among such of his writings, as have been preserved, for the evidences of extraordinary powers of thought. Some dozen of his published sermons are still extant. We have also several of his essays, in the New England Weekly Journal; a poem on the death of George I., and the accession of George II., in 1727; a sort of monodial address to Governor Belcher, on the death of his lady; a poem called the Conflagration; and a volume of metrical matters, published in 1744. If his celebrity had depended upon these and other literary labors, he would scarcely have won the appellation of "_the celebrated Mather Byles_." The _correspondent_ of Byles, Isaac Watts, never imagined, that the time would arrive, when his own voluminous lyrics and his address to "_Great Gouge_," would be classed, in the _Materia Poetica_, as soporifics, and scarcely find one, so poor, as to do them reverence; while millions of lisping tongues still continued to repeat, from age to age, till the English language should be forgotten, "Let dogs delight To bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions Growl and fight, For 'tis their nature to." Dr. Byles himself could not have imagined, while putting the finishing hand to "_The Conflagration_," that, if he had embarked his hopes of reaching posterity, in that heavy bottom, they must surely have foundered, in the gulf of oblivion--and that, after all, he would be wafted down the stream of time, to distant ages, astride, as it were, upon a feather--and that what he could never have accomplished, by his grave discourses, and elaborate, poetical labors, would be so certainly and signally achieved, by the never-to-be-forgotten quips, and cranks, and bon mots, and puns, and funny sayings, and comical doings of the reverend pastor of the Hollis Street Church. The reader must not do so great injustice to Dr. Byles, as to suppose, that he mingled together _sacra profanis_, or was in the habit of exhibiting, in the pulpit, that frolicsome vein, which was, in him, as congenital, as is the tendency, in a fish, to swim in water. The sentiment of Horace applies not here-- ------------ridentem dicere verum Quid vetat? The serious writings of Dr. Byles are singularly free from everything, suggestive of frivolous association. In his pulpit, there was none of it; not a jot; while, out of it, unless on solemn occasions, there was very little else. I have heard from those, who knew him well, that he ransacked the whole vocabulary, in search of the materials for punning. Yet of his attempts, in this species of humor, few examples are remembered. The specimens of the wit and humor of this eccentric divine, which have been preserved, are often of a different character; and not a few of them of that description, which are called practical jokes. Some of these pleasantries were exceedingly clever, and others supremely ridiculous. It is now more than half a century, since I listened to the first, amusing anecdote of Mather Byles. Many have reached me since--some of them quite as clever, as any we have ever had--I will not say from Foote, or Hook, or Matthews; for such unclerical comparisons would be particularly odious--but quite as clever as anything from Jonathan Swift, or Sydney Smith. Suppose I convert my next number into a penny box, for the collection and safe keeping of these petty records--I know they are below the dignity of history--so is a very large proportion of all the thoughts, words, and actions of Kings and Emperors--I'll think of it. No. XCIV. There were political sympathies, during the American Revolution, between that eminent physician and excellent man, Dr. James Lloyd, and Mather Byles; yet, some forty-three years ago, I heard Dr. Lloyd remark, that, in company, the Reverend Mather Byles was a most troublesome puppy; and that there was no peace for his punning. Dr. Lloyd was, doubtless, of opinion, with Lord Kaimes, who remarked, in relation to this inveterate habit, that few might object to a little salt upon their plates, but the man must have an extraordinary appetite, who could make a meal of it. The daily employment of our mental powers, for the discovery of words, which agree in sound, but differ in sense, is a species of intellectual huckstering, well enough adapted to the capacities of those, who are unfit for business, on a larger scale. If this occupation could be made _to pay_, many an oysterman would be found, forsaking his calling, and successfully competing with those, who will not suffer ten words to be uttered, in their company, without converting five of them, at least, to this preposterous purpose. No conversation can be so grave, or so solemn, as to secure it from the rude and impertinent interruption of some one of these pleasant fellows; who seem to employ their little gift upon the community, as a species of laughing gas. A little of this may be well enough; but, like musk, in the gross, it is absolutely suffocating. The first story, that I ever heard, of Mather Byles, was related, at my father's table, by the Rev. Dr. Belknap, in 1797, the year before he died. It was upon a Saturday; and Dr. John Clarke and some other gentlemen, among whom I well remember Major General Lincoln, ate their salt fish there, that day. I was a boy; and I remember their mirth, when, after Dr. Belknap had told the story, I said to our minister, Dr. Clarke, near whom I was eating my apple, that I wished he was half as funny a minister, as Dr. Byles. Upon a Fast day, Dr. Byles had negotiated an exchange, with a country clergyman. Upon the appointed morning, each of them--for vehicles were not common then--proceeded, on horseback, to his respective place of appointment. Dr. Byles no sooner observed his brother clergyman approaching, at a distance, than he applied the whip; put his horse into a gallop; and, with his canonicals flying all abroad, passed his friend, at full run. "_What is the matter?_" he exclaimed, raising his hand in astonishment--"_Why so fast, brother Byles?_"--to which the Dr., without slackening his speed, replied, over his shoulder--"_It is Fast day!_" This is, unquestionably, very funny--but it is surely undesirable, for a consecrated servant of the Lord, thus lavishly to sacrifice, upon the altars of Momus. The distillery of Thomas Hill was at the corner of Essex and South Streets, not far from Dr. Belknap's residence in Lincoln Street. Dr. Byles called on Mr. Hill, and inquired--"Do you still?"--"That is my business," Mr. Hill replied.--"Then," said Dr. Byles--"will you go with me, and still my wife?" As he was once occupied, in nailing some list upon his doors, to exclude the cold, a parishioner said to him--"the wind bloweth wheresoever it listeth, Dr. Byles."--"Yes sir," replied the Dr. "and man listeth, wheresoever the wind bloweth." He was intimate with General Knox, who was a bookseller, before the war. When the American troops took possession of the town, after the evacuation, Knox, who had become quite corpulent, marched in, at the head of his artillery. As he passed on, Byles, who thought himself privileged, on old scores, exclaimed, loud enough to be heard--"_I never saw an ox fatter in my life_." But Knox was not in the vein. He felt offended by this freedom, especially from Byles, who was then well known to be a tory; and replied, in uncourtly terms, that he was a "---- fool." In May, 1777, Dr. Byles was arrested, as a tory, and subsequently tried, convicted, and sentenced to confinement, on board a guard ship, and to be sent to England with his family, in forty days. This sentence was changed, by the board of war, to confinement in his own house. A guard was placed over him. After a time, the sentinel was removed--afterwards replaced--and again removed--when the Dr. exclaimed, that _he had been guarded--regarded--and disregarded_. He called his sentry his _observ-a-tory_. Perceiving, one morning, that the sentinel, a simple fellow, was absent, and seeing Dr. Byles himself, pacing before his own door, with a musket on his shoulder, the neighbors stepped over, to inquire the cause--"_You see_," said the Dr., "_I begged the sentinel to let me go for some milk for my family, but he would not suffer me to stir. I reasoned the matter with him; and he has gone, himself, to get it for me, on condition that I keep guard in his absence._" When he was very poor, and had no money to waste on follies, he caused the little room, in which he read and wrote, to be painted brown, that he might say to every visitor--"_You see I am in a brown study_." His family, having gone to rest, were roused one night, by the reiterated cry of _thieves!--thieves!_ in the doctor's loudest voice--the wife and daughters sprang instantly from their beds, and rushed into the room--there sat the Dr. alone, in his study chair--"_Where, father?_" cried the astonished family--"_there!_" he exclaimed, pointing to the candles. One bitter December night, he called his daughters from their bed, simply to inquire if they lay warm. He had a small collection of curiosities. Some visitors called, one morning; and Mrs. Byles, unwilling to be found at her ironing board, and desiring to hide herself, as she would not be so caught, by these ladies, for the world, the doctor put her in a closet, and buttoned her in. After a few remarks, the ladies expressed a wish to see the Dr's curiosities, which he proceeded to exhibit; and, after entertaining them very agreeably, for several hours, he told them he had kept the greatest curiosity to the last; and, proceeding to the closet, unbuttoned the door, and exhibited Mrs. Byles. He had complained, long, often, and fruitlessly, to the selectmen, of a quagmire, in front of his dwelling. One morning, two of the fathers of the town, after a violent rain, passing with their chaise, became stuck in this bog. As they were striving to extricate themselves, and pulling to the right and to the left, the doctor came forth, and bowing, with great politeness, exclaimed--"_I am delighted, gentlemen, to see you stirring in this matter, at last_." A candidate for fame proposed to fly, from the North Church steeple, and had already mounted, and was clapping his wings, to the great delight of the mob. Dr. Byles, mingling with the crowd, inquired what was the object of the gathering--"_We have come, sir_," said some one, "_to see a man fly_."--"_Poh, poh_," replied the doctor, "_I have seen a horse-fly_." A gentleman sent Dr. Byles a barrel of very fine oysters. Meeting the gentleman's wife, an hour or two after, in the street, the doctor assumed an air of great severity, and told her, that he had, that morning, been treated, by her husband, in a most _Billingsgate_ manner, and then abruptly left her. The lady, who was of a nervous temperament, went home in tears, and was quite miserable, till her husband returned, at noon, and explained the occurrence; but was so much offended with the doctor's folly, that he cut his acquaintance. A poor fellow, in agony with the toothache, meeting the doctor, asked him where he should go, to have it drawn. The doctor gave him a direction to a particular street and number. The man went, as directed; and, when the occupant came to the door, told him that Dr. Byles had sent him there, to have his tooth drawn. "_This is a poor joke, for Dr. Byles_," said the gentleman; "_I am not a dentist, but a portrait painter--it will give you little comfort, my friend, to have me draw your tooth_." Dr. Byles had sent the poor fellow to Copley. Upon the 19th of May, 1780, the memorable dark day, a lady wrote to the doctor as follows--"_Dear doctor, how do you account for this darkness?_" and received his immediate reply--"_Dear Madam, I am as much in the dark, as you are_." This, for sententious brevity, has never been surpassed, unless by the correspondence, between the comedian, Sam Foote, and his mother--"_Dear Sam, I'm in jail_"--"_Dear Mother, So am I._" He had, at one time, a remarkably stupid, and literal, Irish girl, as a domestic. With a look and voice of terror, he said to her, in haste--"_Go and say to your mistress, Dr. Byles has put an end to himself_." The girl flew up stairs, and, with a face of horror, exclaimed, at the top of her lungs--"_Dr. Byles has put an end to himself!_" The astonished wife and daughters rushed into the parlor--and there was the doctor, calmly walking about, with a part of a cow's tail, that he had picked up, in the street, tied to his coat, or cassock, behind. From the time of the stamp act, in 1765, to the period of the revolution, the cry had been repeated, in every form of phraseology, that our _grievances_ should be _redressed_. One fine morning, when the multitude had gathered on the Common, to see a regiment of red coats, paraded there, who had recently arrived--"_Well_," said the doctor, gazing at the spectacle, "_I think we can no longer complain_, that our _grievances_ are not _red dressed_." "_True_," said one of the laughers, who were standing near, "_but you have two ds, Dr. Byles_." "_To be sure, sir, I have_," the doctor instantly replied, "I had them from _Aberdeen_, in 1765." These pleasantries will, probably, survive "THE CONFLAGRATION." Had not this eccentric man possessed some very excellent and amiable qualities, he could not have maintained his clerical relation to the Hollis-Street Church and Society, for three and forty years, from 1733 to 1776; and have separated from them, at last, for political considerations alone. Had his talents and his influence been greater than they were, the peculiarities, to which I have alluded, would have been a theme, for deeper deprecation. The eccentricities of eminent men are mischievous, in the ratio of their eminence; for thousands, who cannot rival their excellencies, are often the successful imitators of their peculiarities and follies. I never sympathized with that worthy, old lady, who became satisfied, that Dr. Beecher was a terrible hypocrite, and without a spark of vital religion, because she saw him, from her window, on the Lord's day, in his back yard, gymnasticising, on a pole, in the intermission season; and thereby invigorating his powers, for the due performance of the evening services. Yet, as character is power, and as the children of this generation have a devilish pleasure in detecting inconsistencies, between the practice and the profession of the children of light--it is ever to be deplored, that clergymen should hazard one iota of their clerical respectability, for the love of fun; and it speaks marvels, for the moral and religious worth of Mather Byles, and for the forbearance, intelligence, and discrimination of his parishioners, that, for three-and-forty years, he maintained his ministerial position, in their midst, cutting such wild, unpriestly capers, and giving utterance to such amusing fooleries, from morning to night. No. XCV. I have already referred to the subject of being buried alive. There is something very terrible in the idea; and I am compelled, by some recent information, to believe, that occurrences of this distressing nature are more common, than I have hitherto supposed them to be. Not long ago, I fell into the society of a veteran, maiden lady, who, in the course of her evening revelations of the gossip she had gathered in the morning, informed the company, that an entire family, consisting of a husband, wife, and seven children, were buried alive. You have heard, or read, I doubt not, of that eminent French surgeon, who, while standing by the bedside of his dying friend and patron, utterly forgot all his professional cares and duties, in his exceeding great joy, at beholding, for the first time in his life, the genuine Sardonic grin, exhibited upon the distorted features of his dying benefactor. For a moment, my sincere sorrow, for the terrible fate of this interesting family, was utterly forgotten, in the delight I experienced, at the prospect of receiving such an interesting item, for my dealings with the dead. My tablets were out, in an instant--and, drawing my chair near that of this communicative lady, I requested a relation of all the particulars. My astonishment was very much increased, when she asserted, that they had actually buried themselves--and my utter disappointment--as an artist--can scarcely be conceived, when she added, that the whole family had gone to reside permanently in the country, giving up plays, concerts, balls, soirees and operas. Putting up my tablets, with a feeling of displeasure, illy concealed, I ventured to suggest, that opportunities, for intellectual improvement, were not wanting in the country; and that, perhaps, this worthy family preferred the enjoyment of rural quiet, to the miscellaneous cries of fire--oysters--and murder. She replied, that she had rather be murdered outright, than live in the country--listen to the frogs, from morning to night--and watch the progress of cucumbers and squashes. Seriously, this matter of being buried alive, is very unpleasant. The dead, the half-dead, and the dying, were brutally neglected, in the earlier days of Greece. Diogenes Laertius, lib. 8, _de vita et moribus philosophorum_, relates, that Empedocles, having restored Ponthia, a woman of Agrigentum, to life, who was on the point of being buried, laws began to be enacted, for the protection of the apparent dead. At Athens, no one could be buried, before the third day; and, commonly, throughout all Greece, burial and cremation were deferred, till the sixth or seventh day. Alexander kept Hephestion's body, till the tenth day. I have referred, in a former number, to the remarkable cases of Aviola and the Prætor Lamia, who revived, after being placed on the funeral pile. Another Prætor, Tubero, was saved, at the moment, when the torch was about to be applied. I have also alluded to the act of Asclepiades, who, in disregard of the ridicule of the bystanders, stopped a funeral procession, and reanimated the body, about to be burnt. A perusal of the _Somnium Scipionis_, and of the accounts of Hildanus, Camerarius, and Horstius--of Plato, in his Republic--and of Valerius Maximus, will satisfy the reader, that premature burials were, by no means, uncommon, of old. The idea of reviving in one's coffin--one of Fisk and Raymond's "_Patent Metallic Burial Cases, Air-Tight and Indestructible_"--is really awful! How truly, upon such an awakening as this, the wretch must wish he had been born a savage--a Mandan of the upper Missouri--neither to be burnt nor buried--but placed upon a mat, supported by poles--aloof from the accursed wolves and undertakers--with a reasonable supply of pemmican and corncake, and a calabash of water, by his side! The dread of such an occurrence has induced some very sensible people, to prefer cremation to earth and tomb burial. Of this we have a remarkable example, in our own country. An infant daughter of Henry Laurens, the first President of Congress, had, to all appearance, died of the small pox. She was, accordingly, laid out, and prepared for the grave. A window, which, during her illness, had been kept carefully closed, having been opened after the body was shrouded, and a stream of air blowing freshly into the apartment, the child revived, and the robes of death were joyfully exchanged, for her ordinary garments. This event naturally produced a strong impression, upon the father's mind. By his will, Mr. Laurens enjoined it upon his children, as a solemn duty, that his body should be burnt; and this injunction was duly fulfilled. In former numbers, I have referred the reader to various authorities, upon this interesting subject. I will offer a brief quotation from a sensible writer--"According to the present usage, as soon as the semblance of death appears, the chamber is deserted, by friends, relatives, and physicians, and the apparently dead, though frequently living, body is committed to the management of an ignorant or unfeeling nurse, whose care extends no further than laying the limbs straight, and securing her accustomed perquisites. The bed clothes are immediately removed, and the body is exposed to the air. This, _when cold_, must extinguish any spark of life, that may remain, and which, by a different treatment, might have been kindled into a flame; or it may only continue to repress it, and the unhappy person revive amidst the horrors of the tomb."--"Coldness, heaviness of the body, a leaden, livid color, with a yellowness in the visage," says the same author, "are all very uncertain signs." Mr. Zimmerman observed them all, upon the body of a criminal, who fainted, through the dread of the punishment he had merited. He was shaken, dragged about, and turned, in the same manner dead bodies are, without the least sign of resistance: and yet, at the end of twenty-four hours, he was recalled to life, by means of volatile alkali. In 1777, Dr. William Hawes, the founder of the Humane Society in London, published an address, on premature interment. This is a curious and valuable performance. I cannot here withhold the statement, that this excellent man, before the formation of the Humane Society, for several years, offered rewards, and paid them from his own purse, for the rescue of persons from drowning, between Westminster and London bridge. Dr. Hawes remarks, that the appearance of death has often been mistaken for the reality, in apoplectic, and fainting fits, and those, arising from any violent agitation of the mind, and from the free use of opium and spirituous liquors. Children, he observes, have often been restored, who have apparently died in convulsions. In case of fevers, in weak habits, or when the cure has been chiefly attempted, by means of depletion, the patient often sinks into a state, resembling death; and the friends, in the opinion of Dr. Hawes, have been fatally deceived. In small pox, he remarks, when the pustules sink, and death apparently ensues, means of restoration should by no means be neglected. In Lord Bacon's _Historia Vitæ et Mortis_, a passage occurs, commencing--"Complura fuerunt exempla hominum, tanquam mortuorum, aut expositorum e lecto, aut delatorum ad funus, quinetiam nonnullorum in terra conditorum, qui nihilominus revixerunt," etc. But the passage is rather long, and in a dead language; and my professional experience has admonished me to be economical of space, and to occupy, for every dead subject, long or short, as little room, as possible. I therefore give an English version, of whose sufficiency the reader may judge, by glancing at the original, vol. viii. p. 447, Lond. 1824.--There were many examples, says Lord Bacon, of men, supposed to be dead, taken from their beds as corpses, or borne to their graves, some of them actually buried, who, nevertheless, revived. This fact, in regard to such as were buried, has been proved, upon re-opening their graves; by the bruises and wounds upon their heads; and by the manifest evidences of tossing about, and struggling in their coffins. John Scott, a man of genius, and a scholar, furnishes a very recent and remarkable example; who, shortly after his burial, was disinterred, and found, in that condition, by his servant, who was absent at the time of Mr. Scott's interment, and well acquainted, it seems, with those symptoms of catalepsy, to which he was liable. A like event happened, in my time, to a play-actor, buried at Cambridge. I remember the account, given me by a clever fellow, who being full of frolic, and desirous of knowing what were the feelings of persons, who were hanging, suspended himself to a beam, and let himself drop, thinking that he could lay hold on the beam, when he chose. This, however, he was unable to do; but, luckily, he was relieved by a companion. Upon being interrogated, he replied, that he had not been sensible of any pain--that, at first, a sort of fire and flashing came about his eyes--then extreme darkness and shadows--and, lastly, a sort of pale blue color, like that of the ocean. I have heard a physician, now living, say, that, by frictions and the warm bath, he had brought a man to life, who had hanged himself, and remained suspended, for half an hour. The same physician used to say, that he believed any one might be recovered, who had been suspended no longer, unless his neck was broken. Such is a version of Lord Bacon's statement. In the Gentleman's Magazine, for 1834, page 475, the following account is given of the feelings, during the process of hanging, by one, who was restored--"The preparations were dreadful, beyond all expression. On being dropped, he found himself midst fields and rivers of blood, which gradually acquired a greenish tinge; and imagined, if he could reach a certain spot in the same, he should be easy. He struggled forcibly to attain this, and felt no more." No. XCVI. It were greatly to be desired, that every driver of brute animals, Guinea negroes, and hard bargains, since he will not be a Christian, should be a Pythagorean. The doctrine of the metempsychosis would, doubtless, instil a salutary terror into his mind; and soften the harshness of his character, by creating a dread of being, himself, spavined and wind-galled, through all eternity; or destined to suffer from the lash, which he has mercilessly laid upon the slave; or condemned to endure that hard measure, which he has meted, in this world, to the miserable debtor. This opinion, which Pythagoras is said to have borrowed from the Egyptians, or, as some assert, from the Brachmans, makes the chief basis of religion, among the Banians and others, in India and China, at the present day; and is the cause of their great aversion to take the life of brute animals, and even insects. The accidental destruction of any living thing produces, with them, a feeling of sorrow, similar to that, experienced, as Mr. Catlin says, by an Indian, who unfortunately shot his _totem_, which, in that case, chanced to be a bear; that is, an animal of a certain race, one of which his guardian angel was supposed to inhabit. Vague and fantastical, as have been the notions of a future state, in different nations, the idea of a condition of being, after death, has been very universal. Such was the conclusion from the reasonings of Plato. Such were the results "quæ Socrates supremo vitæ die de immortalitate animorum disseruisset." Such was the faith of Cicero--"Sic mihi persuasi, sic sentio, quum tanta celeritas animorum sit, tanta memoria præteritorum, futurorumque prudentia, tot artes, tantæ scientiæ, tot inventa, non posse eam naturam, quæ res eas contineat, esse mortalem." De Senec. 21. Seneca was born a year before the Christian era. There is a remarkable passage, in his sixty-third letter, addressed to Lucilius. He is striving to comfort Lucilius, who had lost his friend Flaccus--"Cogitemus ergo Lucili carissime, cito nos eo perventuros quo illum pervenisse moeremus. Et fortasse (si modo sapientium vera fama est, recipitque nos locus aliquis) quem putamus perisse, præmissus est:"--Let us consider, my dear Lucilius, how soon we, ourselves, shall go whither he has gone, whose fate we deplore. And possibly (if the report of certain wise men be true, and there is indeed a place to receive us hereafter) he whom we consider as gone from us _forever_, has only gone _before_. Here is, indeed, a shadowy conception of a future state. The heathen and the Christian, the savage and the sage concur, in the feeling, or the faith, or the philosophy, whichever it may be, that, though flesh and blood, bone and muscle shall perish, the spirit shall not. An impression, like this, swells into conviction, from the very contemplation of its own instinctive and pervasive character. The Egyptians believed, in the abiding presence of the spirit with the body, so long as the latter could be preserved; and therefore bestowed great pains, in its preservation. In the travels of Lewis and Clarke, the Echeloot Indians are reported to pay great regard to their dead; and Captain Clarke was of the opinion, that they were believers in a future state. They have common cemeteries; the bodies, carefully wrapped in skins, are laid on mats, in vaults made of pine or cedar, eight feet square; the sides are covered with strange figures, cut and painted, and images are attached. On tall poles, surmounting these structures, are suspended brass kettles, old frying-pans, shells, skins, baskets, pieces of cloth, and hair. Sometimes the body is laid in one canoe, and covered with another. It is not easy to conjecture what occasion these poor Echeloots supposed spirits could have, for frying-pans and brass kettles. The faith of the inhabitants of Taheite is very peculiar. They believe, that the soul passes through no other purgatory, than the stomach of the _Eatooa_ bird. They say of the dead, that they are _harra po_, gone to the night; and they believe, that the soul is instantly swallowed, by the _Eatooa_ bird, and is purified by the process of deglutition; then it revives; becomes a superior being; never more to be liable to suffering. This soul is now raised to the rank of the _Eatooa_, and may, itself, swallow souls, whenever an opportunity occurs; which, having passed through this gastric purgation, may, in their turn, do the very same thing. Vancouver was present, at the obsequies of the chief, _Matooara_. The priest gave a funeral sermon--"_The trees yet live_," said he, "_the plants flourish, yet Matooara dies!_" It was a kind of expostulation with _Eatooa_. Baron Swedenborg's notions of the soul's condition, after death, are very original, and rather oriental. He believed, "that man eats, and drinks, and even enjoys conjugal delight, as in this world; that the resemblance between the two worlds is so great, that, in the spiritual world, there are cities with palaces and houses, and also writings and books, employments and merchandizes; that there are gold and silver, and precious stones there. There is, in the spiritual world, all and every thing that there is in the natural world; but that in Heaven, such things are in an infinitely more perfect state." Trade, in Heaven, is conducted, doubtless, on those lofty principles, inculcated, by the late Dr. Chalmers, in his commercial discourses; counterfeiters and bank robbers, marriage squabbles and curtain lectures are unknown; and no angel lendeth upon usury. In this arrangement, there is a remarkable oversight; for, as death is dispensed with, our vocation is no better, than Othello's. The superior advantages of the Baron's Heaven scarcely offer a fair compensation, for the suffering and inconvenience of removing, from our present tabernacles; and, for one, I should decidedly prefer to remain where I am, especially now that we have gotten the Cochituate water. Such being the fashion of Swedenborg's Heaven, it would be quite interesting, were he now among us, in the flesh, to have, under his own hand, a rough sketch of his Hell. As the former is a state, somewhat better, the latter must be a state somewhat worse, than our present condition. It would not be very difficult to give some little idea of Swedenborg's Orcus, or place of punishment. We should have an eternal subtreasury, of course, with a tariff, more onerous, if possible, than that of 1846: the infernal banks would not discount, and money, on prime paper, would be three per cent. a month. Slavery would cover the earth; and the South would rage against the North and its interference, like the maniac, against his best friend, who strives to prevent him, from cutting his own throat, with his own razor. Among the fancies, which have prevailed, in relation to the soul and its habits, none, perhaps, have been more remarkable, than the belief, in an actual _exodus_, or going forth, of the soul from the body, during life, on excursions of business or pleasure. This may be placed in the category of sick men's dreams; and probably is nothing else than that mighty conjuration of the mind, especially the mind of an invalid; of whose power no man had greater experience than Emanuel Swedenborg. The inhabitants of some of the Polynesian islands believe, that the spirits of their ancestors become divinities, or _Tees_. They believe the soul walks abroad, in dreams, under the charge of its _Tee_, or tutelary angel. Mydo, a boy, was brought from Taheite, by an English whaler, and died, kindly cared for, by the Moravians. One morning, he spoke to these friends, as follows:--"You told me my soul could not die, and I have been thinking about it. Last night my body lay on that bed, but I knew nothing of it, for my soul was very far off. My soul was in Taheite. I am sure I saw my mother and my friends, and I saw the trees and dwellings, as I left them. I spoke to the people, and they spoke to me; and yet my body was lying still in this room, all the while. In the morning, I was come again into my body, and was at Mirfield, and Taheite was a great many miles off. Now I understand what you say about my body being put into the earth, and my soul being somewhere else; and I wish to know where it will be, when it can no more return to my body." Such were the humble conceptions of the dying Taheitean boy--let the reader decide for himself what more there may be, under the grandiloquence of Addison-- --------Plato, thou reasonest well. Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction! 'Tis the divinity, that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. No. XCVII. The ashes of the dead are ransacked, not only for hidden treasure, and for interesting relics, but there is a figurative species of raking and scratching, among them, in quest of one's ancestors. This is, too frequently, a periculous experiment; for the searcher sometimes finds his progress--the pleasure of his employment, at least--rudely interrupted, by an offensive stump, which proves to be the relic of the whipping-post, or the gallows. Neither the party himself, nor the world, trouble their heads, about a man's ancestors, until he has distinguished himself, in some degree, or fancies that he has; for, while he is nobody, they are clearly nobody's ancestors. In Note A, upon the article _Touchet_, vol. ix., fol. ed., Lond., 1739, Bayle remarks--"It is very common to fall into two extremes, with regard to those, whom Providence raises greatly above their former condition: some, by fabulous genealogies, procure them ancestors of the first quality; others reduce them to a rank, much below the true one." This remark was amply illustrated, in the case of Napoleon Bonaparte: while some there were, who thought they could make out a clear descent from the prince of darkness, others were ready to accommodate him with the most illustrious ancestry. The Emperor of Austria had a fancy, for tracing Napoleon's descent, from one of the petty sovereigns of Treviso; and a genealogist made a merit of proving him to be a descendant, from an ancient line of Gothic princes; to all this Napoleon sensibly replied, that he dated his patent of nobility, from the battle of Monte Notte. Cicero was of the same way of thinking, and prided himself, on being _novus homo_. Among the _fragmenta_, ascribed to him, there is a declamation against Sallust, published by Lemaire, in his edition of the Classics, though he believes it not to be Cicero's; in which, sec. ii., are these words--_Ego meis majoribus virtute mea præluxi; ut, si prius noti non fuerint, a me accipiant initium memoriæ suæ_--_By my virtue, I have shown forth before my ancestors; so, that if they were unknown before, they will receive the commencement of their notoriety from me_. "I am no herald," said Sydney, "to inquire of men's pedigrees: it sufficeth for me if I know their virtues." This setting up for ancestors, among those, who, from the very nature of our institutions, are, and ever must be, a middling interest people, is as harmless, as it is sometimes ridiculous, and no more need be said of its inoffensiveness. From the very nature of the case, there can be no lack of ancestors. The simplest arithmetic will show, that the humblest citizen has more than _one million of grand parents_, within the twentieth degree; and it is calculated, in works on consanguinity, that, within the fifteenth degree, every man has nearly _two hundred and seventy millions of kindred_. There is no lack, therefore, of the raw material, for this light work; unless, in a case, like that of the little vagrant, who replied to the magistrate's inquiry, as to his parents, that he never had any, but _was washed ashore_. The process is very simple. Take the name of Smith, for example: set down all of that name, who have graduated at the English, American, and German colleges, for Schmidt is the same thing--then enrol all of that name, upon the habitable earth, who have, in any way, distinguished themselves; carefully avoiding the records of criminal courts, and such publications as Caulfield's Memoirs, the State Trials, and the Newgate Calendar. Such may be called the genealogy of the Smiths; and every man of that name, while contemplating the list of worthies, will find himself declaring a dividend, _per capita_, of all that was good, and great, and honorable, in the collection; and he will arise, from the perusal, a more complacent, if not a better man. This species of literature is certainly coming into vogue. I have lately seen, in this city, a large duodecimo volume, recently printed, in which the genealogy of a worthy family, among us, is traced, through Oliver Cromwell, to Æneas, not Æneas Silvius, who flourished in the early part of the fifteenth century, and became Pope Pius II., but to Æneas, the King of the Latins. This royal descent is not through the second marriage with Lavinia; nor through the accidental relation, between Æneas and Dido-- Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandem Deveniunt----------; but through the first marriage with the unfortunate Creusa, who was burnt to death, in the great Troy fire, which took place, according to the Parian Marbles, on the 23d of the month, Thargelion, i. e., 11th of June, 1184 years before Christ. Ascanius was certainly therefore the ancestor of this worthy family, the son of Æneas and Creusa; and the grandson of Anchises and Venus. Such a pedigree may satisfy a Welchman. I am forcibly reminded, by all this, of a very pleasant story, recounted by Horace Walpole, in a letter to Horace Mann: I refer to Letter CCV. in Lord Dover's edition. In 1749, when Mirepoix was ambassador in England, there was a Monsieur de Levi, in his suite. This man was proud of his Jewish name, and really appeared to set no bounds to his genealogical _gout_. They considered the Virgin Mary a cousin of their house, and had a painting, in which she is represented, as saying to Monsieur Levi's ancestor, who takes off his hat in her presence--"_Couvrez vous, mon cousin_:" to which he replies--"_Non pas, ma très sainte cousine, je scai trop bien le respect que je vous dois_." The editor, Lord Dover, says, in a note, that there is said to have been another ridiculous picture, in that family, in which Noah is represented, going into the ark, carrying a small trunk under his arm, on which is written--"_Papiers de la maison de Levis_." Very few persons are calculated for the task of tracing genealogies; patience and discrimination should be united with a certain slowness of belief, and wariness of imposition. Two of a feather do not more readily consociate, than two of a name, and of the genealogical fancy, contrive to strike up a relationship. There are also greater obstacles in the way, than a want of the requisite talents, temper, and attainments:--"Alterations of sirnames," says Camden, "which, in former ages, have been very common, have so obscured the truth of our pedigrees, that it will be no little labor to deduce many of them." For myself, a plain, old-fashioned sexton, as I am, I am much better satisfied, with the simple and intelligible assurance of my Bible, that I am a child of Adam, than I could possibly be, with any genealogical proofs, that Anchises and Venus were my ancestors. However, there is no such thing as accounting for taste; and it is not unpleasant, I admit, to those of us, who still cherish some of our early, classical attachments, to know, that the blood of that ancient family is still preserved among us. No man is more inclined than I am, to perpetuate a sentiment of profound respect for the memory of worthy ancestors. Let us extract, from the contemplation of their virtues, a profitable stimulus, to prevent us from being weary in well-doing. By the laws of Confucius, a part of the duty, which children owed to their parents, consisted in worshipping them, when dead. I am inclined to believe, that this filial worship or reverence may be well bestowed, in the ascending line, on all, who have deserved it, and who are, _bona fide_, our grandfathers and grandmothers. It seems to me quite proper and convenient, to have a well-authenticated catalogue or list of one's ancestors, as far back as possible; but let us exercise a sound discretion in this matter; and not run into absurdity. I am ready and willing to obey the laws of Confucius, as implicitly, as though I were a Chinaman, and reverence my ancestors; but I must, first, be well satisfied, as to their identity. I will never consent, because some professional genealogist has worked himself into a particular belief, to worship the man in the moon, for my great Proavus, nor Dido for my great, great grandmother. Domestic arboriculture is certainly getting into fashion, and a family tree is becoming quite essential to the self-complacency, at least, of many well-regulated families. The roots are found to push freely, in the superficial soil of family pride. Generally, these trees, to render them sightly, require to be pruned with a free hand; and the proprietor, when the crooked branches are skilfully removed, and all the small and imperfect fruit put entirely out of sight, may behold it, with heartfelt pleasure, and rejoice in the happy consciousness, that he is a SMINK. If, however, these family matters, instead of being preserved, for private amusement, are to be multiplied, by the press, there will, indeed, in the words of the wise man, be no end of making books. Ancestors are relics, and nothing else. Whenever the demand for ancestors becomes brisk, and genealogy becomes a _profession_--it becomes a _craft_. Laboureur, the historian, in his _Additions de Castelnau_, tom. ii. p. 559, affords a specimen of genealogical trust-worthiness. "In 1560, Renatus of Sanzay built, with John le Feron, king at arms of France, a genealogy of the house of Sanzay, made up of near fifty descents, most of them enumerated, year by year; with the names, sirnames, and coats of arms of the women; whilst all those names, families, and arms were mere phantoms; brother Stephen of Lusignan, out of this mighty tub, as from a public fountain, let flow the nobility and blood of Lusignan to all persons, who desired any of it."--Again, on page 320, Laboureur says--"They admitted, as true, all that was vented by certain false antiquaries and downright enthusiasts, such as John le Maire de Belges, Forcatel, a civilian, Stephen of Lusignan, and John le Feron, whom I will charge with nothing but credulity." This, doubtless, is the stumbling block of most men, who engage in this semi-mythical employment. Nothing is more easy, than to mistake one dead person, for another, when corruption has done its work, upon the form and features. There is something bituminous in time. What masculine mistakes are committed by experts! Those relics, which have been the object of hereditary veneration, for thirty centuries, as the virgin daughter of some great high priest in the days of Cheops and Cephrenes, may, by the assistance of the savans, with the aid of magnifiers of extraordinary power, be demonstrated to be the blackened carcass of Hum-Bug-Phi, the son of Hassan, the camel-driver; who kept a little khane or caravansera near Joseph's granaries, in old Al Karirah, on the eastern banks of the Nile, famous--very--for the quality of its leeks and onions, three thousand years ago. No. XCVIII. Thank Heaven, I am not a young widow, for two plain reasons; I do not wish to be young again--and I would not be a widow, if I could help it. A young widow, widder, or widdy, as the word is variously spelt, has been a byword, of odd import, ever since the days, when Sara, the daughter of Raguel, exclaimed, in the fifteenth verse of the third chapter of the book of Tobit--"_My seven husbands are already dead, and why should I live?_" All this tilting against the widows, with goose quills for spears, arises from the fact, that these weapons of war are mainly in the hands of one sex. Men are the scribblers--the lions are the painters. Nothing, in the chapters of political economy, is more remarkable, than the fact, that, since all creation was divided into parishes, there has never been a parish, in which there was not a Mr. Tompkins, who was the very thing for the widow Button. But the cutting out and fitting of these matters commonly belongs to that amiable sisterhood, who are ever happy, without orders, to make up, at short notice. The result of my limited reading and observation has satisfied me entirely, that there is, and ever has been, a very great majority of bad husbands, over the bad wives, and of bewizzarded widowers, over the widows bewitched. When a poor, lone, young widow, for no reason under Heaven, but the desire to prove her respect, as Dr. Johnson says, for the state of matrimony, takes the initiative, every unmarried female, over thirty, longs to cut her ears off. If there be sin or silliness, in the repetition of the matrimonial relation, or in strong indications of uneasiness, in the state of single blessedness, man is the offender in chief. _Quadrigamus_, signifying a man who had been four times married, was a word, applicable of old. Henry VIII. had six wives, in succession. Let us summon a witness, from among the dead. Let us inquire, where is there a widow, maid, or wife, who would not be deemed a candidate for the old summary punishment of Skymmington, should she behave herself, as boldly, and outrageously, as John Milton behaved? Milton, though he did not commence his matrimonial experiments, until he was thirty-five, married, in succession, Mary Powell, in 1643--Catherine Woodcock, in 1653--and Elizabeth Minshull, in 1662. Mary Powell, who was the daughter of a Cavalier, and accustomed to the gaiety of her father's house, soon became weary of her solitary condition, with John Milton, who was, constitutionally, of a choleric and lordly temper. Contrasted with the loneliness, and slender appliances of her new home, the residence of her father, at Forest Hill, appeared to her, like paradise lost. So she went home, at the end of a month, ostensibly upon a visit; and, probably, gave no very flattering account of the honeymoon. Just about that period, the King's forces had thrashed Fairfax, in the North, and taught Waller the true difference, between prose and poetry, in the West; and "the Powells," says Dr. Symmons, "began to repent of their Republican connection." Milton wrote to his wife to return. She neither came, nor responded. He next sent a messenger, who was treated with contempt. Thereupon Milton immediately proceeded to pay his suit to a very beautiful and accomplished young lady, the daughter of a Dr. Davis; and Dr. Symmons is evidently of opinion, that the lady and her family had no objections to the proceeding, which is fully exhibited, in Milton's Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 205, Lond., 1806. Talk not of widows after this. Finding, even in those days of disorder, that no divorce, _a vinculo_, could be obtained, under existing laws, he wrote his celebrated works--The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, and the Judgment of Martin Bucer, concerning Divorce. In these works he sets forth his particular grievance, which the reader may easily comprehend, from one or two brief quotations--he speaks of a "_mute and spiritless mate_" and of "_himself bound to an image of earth and phlegm_." After the fight of Naseby, the Powells appear to have thought better of it; and Madame Milton returned, made the amende, and was restored in full. What sort of composition Milton made with Miss Davis nobody has ever disclosed. Certain it is, that compasionate damsel and the works upon divorce were all laid upon the same shelf. We are apt to find something of value, in a thing we have discarded, when we perceive, that it is capable of giving high satisfaction to another. This consideration may have influenced Mrs. Milton; and, very possibly, the desire of returning to the residence of Milton may have been secondary to that of jilting Miss Davis, which she was certainly entitled to do. I knew an old gentleman, who was always so much affected, in this manner, by the sight of his cast-off clothing, upon the persons of his servants, that nothing would content him, short of reclaimer. Milton was ever Milton still--_nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_. Take a brief extract or two from his work on divorce:--"What therefore God hath joined let no man put asunder. But here the Christian prudence lies, to consider what God hath joined. Shall we say that God hath joined error, fraud, unfitness, wrath, contention, perpetual loneliness, perpetual discord? Whatever lust, or wine, or witchery, threat or enticement, avarice or ambition hath joined together, faithful or unfaithful, Christian with anti-Christian, hate with hate, or hate with love--shall we say this is God's joining?"--"But unfitness and contrariety frustrate and nullify forever, unless it be a rare chance, all the good and peace of wedded conversation; and leave nothing between them enjoyable, but a prone and savage necessity, not worth the name of marriage, unaccompanied with love." Every word of all this was written with an eye to the object of his unlawful passion: but the legislature very justly considered the greatest good of the greatest possible number; and would not turn aside, to pass a bill, for the special relief of John Milton and Miss Davis. Selden, in his _Uxor Hebraica_, has proved, that polygamy existed, not only among the Hebrews, but among all nations, and in all ages. Mark Anthony is mentioned, as the first, among the Romans, who took the liberty of having two wives. What a gathering there would have been, in the Forum, if the news had been spread, that Mrs. Mark Anthony had taken the liberty of having two husbands! Every body knows, that widows are occasionally burnt, in Hindostan, on the funeral pile with their husbands. Whoever heard of a widower being burnt or even scorched, on a similar occasion? The Landgrave of Hesse, the most warlike of the Protestant leaders, caused a representation to be made to the theologians, that he must have two wives, and that he would not be denied. A most rampant and outrageous protocol was prepared, and handed to Bucerus, for the ministers at Wittemberg. The substance of this was equally discreditable to the Landgrave, and insulting to Luther and the holy fathers. The Landgrave was no gentleman, for he told the theologians, that his lady got drunk, and was personally disagreeable to him. He calls God to witness, that, if they do not sanction his polygamy, he will do just what he likes, and the sin will be upon their heads. He particularly wishes information, on one point--why he is not as good as Abraham, Jacob, David, Lamech, and Solomon; and why he has not as good a right to have a spare wife or two, as they had. He asks for two only. Luther was deeply troubled, and perplexed. The Reformation professed to bring back the world to the Scriptures, in which polygamy was expressly recognized. The Reformers held marriage to be _res politica_, and therefore subject to the law of the State. The matter became worse by delay. The Landgrave was filled with fury, and the theologians with fear. At last, poor Luther and the rest signed a paper, concluding with these memorable words--"If however your highness is utterly determined upon marrying a second wife, we are of opinion, that it ought to be done secretly. Signed and sealed at Wittemberg, after the feast of St. Nicholas, in the year 1539. Martin Luther, Philip Melancthon, Martin Bucer, Antony Corvin, Adam John Lening, Justin Wintfert, Dyonisius Melanther." The detail of all this may be found, in Hazlitt's translation of Michelet's Life of Luther, page 251, Lond. 1846. Bayle, article Luther, observes, that the theologians would have promptly refused to sanction such a thing, had the request come from any private gentleman--or, permit me to add, if it had come from the lady of the Landgrave, for a brace of husbands. It is my opinion, that great injustice is done to widows. The opinion of St. Jerome, who never was a widow, and knew nothing about it, that they should never marry again, is perfectly absurd; for there are some men, whose constitutional timidity would close the matrimonial highway forever, were it not for that peculiar species of encouragement, which none but widows can ever administer. For my own part, I would have a widow speak out, and spare not; for I am very fearful, that the opposite course is productive of great moral mischief, and tends to perpetuate a system of terrible hypocrisy. But let a sound discretion be exercised. I disapprove altogether of conditional engagements, made _durante vita mariti_. No. XCIX. Jonny Moorhead was a man of a kind heart and a pleasant fancy. He came hither from Belfast, in 1727. He became pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Long Lane, in 1730.--_Tempora mutantur_--Long Lane, and Jonny Moorhead, and the little, old, visible temple, and Presbyterianism itself, are like Rachel's first born--they are not. But in 1744, the good people built a new church, for Jonny Moorhead; in due time, Long Lane became Federal Street; and, Jonny's church bore the bell, which had rung so many peals, and the gilded tell-tale, which, for so many years, had done obeisance to all the winds of Heaven, upon the _old_ Brattle Street Church. These, upon the demolition of that church, in 1774, were the gift of John Hancock. Jonny Moorhead had little comfort from that bell, for he died December 3, 1774, and could he have lived to see that Presbyterian weathercock go round, in after-times, it would have broken the tough, old strings of Jonny Moorhead's Irish heart. About one hundred years ago, Jonny Moorhead, upon a drowsy summer afternoon, gave out the one hundred and eighty-seventh psalm--the chief minstrel, with infinite embarrassment, suggested, that there were not so many in the _Book_--and tradition tells us, that Jonny replied--"_Weel, then, sing as mony as there be_." My recollection of this anecdote of Jonny Moorhead will be painfully revived, when I send forth the one hundredth number of these dealings with the dead. They have been prepared like patch-work, from such fragments, as my common-place book supplied, and at such broken hours of more than ordinary loneliness, as might otherwise have been snoozed, unconsciously away. I had cast all that I had written into a particular drawer; and great was my surprise, to find, that the hundredth was the last, and that, with that number, I shall have sung--"_as mony as there be_." One hundred--thought I--is an even number--few individuals care to survive one hundred. When these dealings with the dead had reached the number of four-score, I had serious misgivings, that their _strength_, to my weary reader, might prove nothing better than _labor and sorrow_; notwithstanding the occasional tokens of approbation, from some exceedingly old-fashioned people, who were altogether behind the times. Having attained this _point d'appui_, which appears well enough adapted for the long home of an old sexton, it occurred to me, that I could not possibly do a better thing, for myself, or a more acceptable thing for the public, than to gather up my tools, as snugly as possible, and quietly give up the ghost. But giving up the ghost, even in the sacristan sense of that awful phrase, is not particularly agreeable, after all. If I look upon each one of these hundred dealings, as a sepulchre of my own digging--I cannot deny, that the employment of my spade has been a particular solace to me. But there are other solaces--I know it--there are an hundred according to the exiled bard of Sulmo-- "----centum solatia curæ Et rus, et comites, et via longa dabunt." Other suggestions readily occur, and are as readily, discarded. Parents, occasionally, experiment upon the sensibility of their children, by fondly discoursing of the uncertainty of human existence, and mingling deep drawn sighs, with shadowy allusions to wills and codicils. For three-and-thirty years, our veteran, maiden aunt, Jemima Wycherly, at the close of her annual visit, which seldom fell short of six weeks, in its duration, though it seemed much longer, took each of us by the hand, and, with many tears, commended us fervently to the protecting arm of an overruling Providence, and bade us an eternal farewell! I have always contemplated the conduct of Charles V. in relation to the rehearsal of his funeral obsequies, as a piece of imperial foolery. "He ordered his tomb to be erected, in the chapel of the monastery. His domestics marched thither in funeral procession, with black tapers in their hands. He himself followed, in his shroud. He was laid in his coffin, with much solemnity. The service for the dead was chanted; and Charles joined in the prayers, which were offered for the rest of his soul, mingling his tears with those, which his attendants shed, as if they had been celebrating a real funeral. The ceremony closed, with sprinkling holy water on the coffin, in the usual form, and, all the assistants retiring, the doors of the chapel were shut. Then Charles rose out of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment." Such is the statement of Dr. Robertson.[1] Notwithstanding this high authority, it is comforting, even at this late day, to believe, that a story, so discreditable to the memory of Charles, is without any substantial foundation. It has ever appeared remarkable, that Bayle should not have alluded to this curious anecdote. After bestowing the highest praise, on Richard Ford's Hand Book, for Travellers in Spain, the London Quarterly Review[2] furnishes an extract from the work, in which, after giving a minute and interesting account of the convent of St. Yuste, the final retreat of Charles V., Mr. Ford says--"_the story of his having had the funeral service said over himself, while alive, is untrue; no record, or tradition of the kind existed among the monks_." There is something, in these drafts upon _posterity_, to be accepted and paid, by the _present generation_, for the honor of the drawer, resembling the conduct of a man, who encroaches on his principal, or who anticipates his revenues. There is, undoubtedly, a species of luxury in leave-taking. We have delighted, to contemplate the edifying history of that gray-headed old rat, who, weary of the world, and determined to spend the remnant of his days, in pious meditation, took a final and affectionate leave of all his relatives and friends, and retired to a quiet hole--_in the recesses of a Cheshire cheese_. However gratified we may be, to witness the second, or third coming of an able, ardent, and ambitious politician, it is not in the gravest nature to restrain a smile, while we contrast that vehemence, which no time can temper--that _vis vivida vitæ_--ready for all things, in the forum or the field--that unquenchable fire, brightly burning, beneath the frost of more than seventy winters--with those sad infirmities of ace--those silver hairs--that one foot in the grave--the necessity of turning from all sublunary things, and making way for Heaven, under the pale rays of life's parting sun--those senatorial adieus--and long, last farewells--those solemn prayers and fervent hopes for the happiness of his associates, whom he should meet no more, on this side of the eternal world--those _esto perpetuas_ for his country! How touching these things would be, but for their frequency! What more natural, or more excusable, having enjoyed the luxury of leave-taking, than a desire--after a reasonable interval--to repeat the process, which afforded so much pleasure, and inflicted so little pain! As to my own comparatively humble relation to the public--_parvis componere magna_--I am of opinion, that I should gain nothing, by affecting to retire, or by pretending to be dead. As to the former, it may be as truly averred of sextons, as it was, by Mr. Jefferson, of office-holders--"_few die and none resign_;" and, in respect to the latter, I not only despise the idea of such an imposition upon the public, but have some little fear, that the affectation might be too suddenly followed, by the reality, as Dr. Robertson, rightly or wrongly, affirms it to have been, in the case of Charles the Fifth. I am now fairly committed, for the first number, at least, of another hundred, but for nothing more. I pretend not to look deeper into futurity, than six feet, which is the depth of a well-made grave. When I shall have completed the second hundred, and commenced upon a third, I shall be well nigh ready to exclaim, in the words of Ovid-- "Vixi Annos bis centum: nunc tertia vivitur ætas." A relation of liberty and equality is decidedly the best, for my reader and for me--I am not constrained to write, nor he to read--if he cannot lie cozily, in a grave of my digging--I do not propose to detain him there--to bury him alive. Dealing with the dead has not hardened my heart. I am a sexton of very considerable sensibility; and have, occasionally, mingled my tears with the earth, as I shovelled it in. In less figurative phrase, it is my desire to write, for my amusement, till one of us, the reader or myself, gives in, or gives out, and cries _enough_. I have a perfect respect for the old proverb, _de gustibus_, and by no means anticipate the pleasure of pleasing every body-- Men' moveat cimex Pantilius? aut cruciet, quod Vellicet absentem Demetrius? aut quod ineptus Fannius Hermogenis lædat conviva Tigelli? There are some readers, for example, who seem to look upon a classical quotation, as a personal affront. I conceive this objection to be scarcely equitable, from those, whose hybrid English, it is quite as hard to bear. There are mortals--offenders in some sort--whom it is difficult to please, like the culprit who cried _higher_ and _lower_, under the lash, till the Irish drummer's patience was perfectly exhausted, and he exclaimed--"_By Jasus, there's no plasing ye, strike where I will_." No. C. The sayings of eminent men, in a dying hour, are eminently worthy of being gathered together--they are often illustrative of the characters of the dead, and impressive upon the hearts of the living. Not a few of these parting words are scattered, over the breadth and length of history, and might form a volume--a _Vade Mecum_, for the patriot and the Christian--a casket of imperishable jewels. As an example of those sayings, to which I refer, nothing can be more apposite, than that of the Chevalier Bayard, while dying upon the field of battle. "He received a wound," says Robertson, "which he immediately perceived to be mortal, and being unable any longer to continue on horseback, he ordered one of his attendants to place him under a tree, with his face toward the enemy; then fixing his eyes on the guard of his sword, which he held up, instead of a cross, he addressed his prayers to God; and, in this posture, which became his character, both as a soldier and as a Christian, he calmly awaited the approach of death." Bourbon, who led the foremost of the enemy's troops, found him in this situation, and expressed regret and pity, at the sight. "_Pity not me_," cried the high-spirited chevalier, "_I die, as a man of honor ought, in the discharge of my duty; they indeed are objects of pity, who fight against their king, their country, and their oath_." How significant of the life of that great military phlebotomist, who, from the overthrow of the council of five hundred, in 1799, to his own in 1815, delighted in blood, and in war, were those wild, wandering words of the dying Napoleon--_tete d'armee!_ We have the last words of consciousness, that were uttered, by the younger Adams, when stricken by the hand of death in the capitol--_the last of earth!_ We have also those of his venerable father, who expired, on the anniversary of that day, which he had so essentially contributed to render glorious, so long as the annals of our country shall continue to be preserved. On the morning of that day, the dying patriot, at the age of ninety-one, was awakened, by the customary pealing of bells, and the roar of artillery. Upon being asked, if he recognized the day, he replied--"_it is the glorious Fourth--God bless the day--God bless you all_." On the ninth day of July, 1850, another patriot died, at his post, and in the service of his country, whose parting words will long remain, engraven at full length, upon the broad area of the whole American heart,--I AM PREPARED--I HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DO MY DUTY! Here, in this comprehensive declaration of General Taylor, are embodied all, and more than all, contained in the long cherished words of the departing patriot--ESTO PERPETUA! "And you brave Cobham, to the latest breath, Shall feel your ruling passion, strong in death: Such in those moments, as in all the past; 'O save my country, Heaven!' shall be your last." The ninth day of July is, with the Swiss, the day of their National Independence. On that memorable day, in 1836, they fought, and won the great battle of Sempach, against Leopold, Duke of Austria, which victory established the liberties of Switzerland. Upon the anniversary of that very day, just ninety-five years ago, Washington was signally preserved, from the sweeping and indiscriminate carnage of Indian warfare, for those high destinies, which he fulfilled so gloriously. The ninth day of July, 1755, was the day of General Braddock's defeat--the battle, as it is sometimes called, of Fort du Quesne. Hereafter, it will be noted, as a day of gloom, in our national calendar. A great--good man has fallen--in a trying hour--in the very midst of his labors--a wiser, a worthier could not have fallen, at a moment of deeper need. From sea to sea--from the mountain tops to the valleys below--from the city and from the wilderness--from the rich man's castle, and from the hunter's cabin--from the silver-haired and from the light-hearted, what an acclaim--what a response, as the voice of one man--has already answered to that dying declaration--I AM PREPARED--I HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DO MY DUTY! As an entire people, we know it--we feel it--and may God, in his infinite wisdom and goodness, enable us to profit, by a dispensation, so awfully solemn, and so terribly severe. The spirit of this great, good man is now by the side of that sainted shade, which once animated the form of the immortal Washington. They are looking down upon the destinies of their country. Who is so dull of hearing, as not to catch the context of those dying words? _I am prepared_--_I have endeavored to do my duty_--AND MAY MY DEATH CEMENT THAT UNION, WHICH I SO CHEERFULLY DEVOTED MY LIFE TO PRESERVE! It is finished. The career of this good man has closed forever. Ingratitude and calumny to him are nothing now. After days and nights of restless agitation, he has obtained one long, last night of sweet repose, reserved for those, who die _prepared, and who have endeavored to do their duty_. He has gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest. No summons to attend the agitating councils of the Cabinet shall disturb his profound repose--no sarcastic commentaries upon his honest policy, from the over-heated leaders of the Senate or the House, shall give him additional pain. Party malignity can no longer reach that ear. Even the hoary-headed, political Zoilus of the age can scarcely find a motive, base enough, among the recesses of an envenomed heart, for posthumous abuse. In view of this solemnizing event, the raving abolitionist and the Utopian non-resistant may be expected to hold their incomparably senseless tongues, at least till these obsequies be past. If I do not greatly mistake, the death of General Harrison and the death of General Taylor, so very soon after entering upon the performance of their presidential duties, will not fail to present before the whole American people, for their learning, a first and a second lesson, so perfectly legible, that he, who runs, may read. It perfectly comports with a respect, sincere and profound, for the memories of these excellent men, solemnly to inquire, if, upon certain well known and universally acknowledged principles, it would not be as wise, and even more wise, to select a statesman, whose conduct in the cabinet had made him preëminently popular, and to place him, with a sword, in his unpractised hand, at the head of the armies of the Republic--than to place, in the Presidential chair, a great soldier, universally and deservedly popular, for his success in war--however strong his common sense--however inflexible his integrity--however pure and devoted his patriotism--unless he also possesses that skill, and knowledge of affairs, which never came to man, by intuition; and which cannot be acquired, but by the laborious training and experience of years? This is a solemn question, for the people; and it may well be put, irrespectively of the public weal, and with a reference, directly, to the happiness, and even to the continued existence, of those, who may be so unfortunate as to become the objects of the popular favor. Is there any doubt, that all the battles, in which General Taylor has ever been engaged, have occasioned less wear and tear of body and mind, than have been produced, by the numberless trials and anxieties of the Presidential relation? It is a popular saying, and, perhaps, not altogether unworthy of general acceptation, that both General Harrison and General Taylor were _killed, not by kindness, but by care_. It may readily be supposed, that a gallant soldier would rather encounter the brunt of a battle, than such torrents of filth, as have been poured, professionally, upon the chief magistrate of the nation, from week to week, by the great scavenger, and his auxiliaries, at Washington. All this would have been borne, with comparative indifference, by a practised statesman, whose training had been among the contests of the forum, and whose moral cutis had been thickened, by time and exposure. To appear, and to be, all that a chief magistrate ought to appear, and to be, in the centre of his cabinet, what a mass of information, on a great variety of subjects--what tact, amid the details of the cabinet--must be required, which very few gentlemen, who have devoted themselves to the military profession, can be supposed to possess! If knowledge is power, ignorance is weakness; and the consciousness of that weakness produces a condition of suffering and anxiety. Instead of coming to the great work of government, with the necessary stock of knowledge, training, and experience--how incompetent is he, who comes to that work, like an actor, who is learning his part, during the progress of the play. The crude, iron ore is quite as well adapted to the purposes of the smith, or the cutler, without any subjection to the preparatory processes of metallurgy, as talent and virtue, however consummate, without preparatory training, and appropriate study, for the great and complicated work of government. Too much confidence is apt to be reposed, upon the idea, that the President will be sustained, by his cabinet; and that any deficiencies, in him, will be compensated, by their wisdom and experience. The President is an important, component part of the acting government. He is not, like the august Personage, at the head of the government of England, who can do no wrong; and whose chief employment is the breeding of royal babies, and the occasional reading of a little speech. He can do a great deal of wrong, and must do a great deal of work; and, when he differs from his cabinet, the more need he feels of practical and applicable wisdom and knowledge; and, the more upright and conscientious he is, the more miserable he becomes, under an oppressive sense of his incapacity. General Taylor will long be remembered, by the people of the United States, with profound and affectionate respect. His amiable and excellent qualities are embalmed in their hearts. He fought the battles of his country, with consummate skill and bravery. He led their armies, in many battles--and never, but to victory! A grateful people, in the fulness of their hearts, and amid the blindness of popular enthusiasm, and with the purest purposes, and with sentiments of patriotic devotion, rewarded their gallant soldier, by placing upon his brows, A GILDED CROWN OF THORNS! No. CI. The form of a Chinese tomb, says Mr. Davis, in his "Description of the Empire of China," whether large or small, is exactly that of the Greek _omega_ [Greek: Ô]. Their mourning color is white. Their cemeteries are upon the hills. No interments are permitted in cities. No corpse is suffered to be carried, through any walled town, which may lie in its way to the place of interment. The tombs of the rich, says M. Grosier, are shaped like a _horse shoe_, which, when well made, might pass for a very respectable [Greek: Ô]. Almost immediately after death, says the latter writer, the corpse is arrayed in its best attire. A son will sell himself, as a slave, to purchase a coffin, for his father. The coffin, upon which no cost is spared, remains, frequently, for years, the most showy article of the expectant's furniture. The body lies in state, and is visited by all comers, for seven days. The hall of ceremony is hung with white, interspersed with black or violet colored silk. Flowers, perfumes, and wax lights abound. Those, who enter, salute the dead, as if he were alive, and knock their heads, three times, upon the ground. Upon this, the sons of the defunct creep forth, on their hands and knees, from behind a curtain, and, having returned the salutation, retire in the same manner. A Chinese hearse is a very elegant affair; it is covered with a dome-shaped canopy of violet-colored silk, with tufts of white, neatly embroidered, and surmounted with net work. In this the coffin reposes; and the whole is borne, by sixty-four men. Mourning continues for three years, during which the aggrieved abstain from flesh, wine, and all ordinary amusements. As we have had recently, among us, some half a dozen visitors, male and female, from the Celestial Empire, I am strongly tempted to turn from the dead, to the living. I have repeatedly attended the morning levees of Miss PWAN YEKOO, who was exhibited with her serving-maid, LUM AKUM, Mr. SOO CHUNE, the musical professor, his son and daughter, MUN CHUNG and AMOON, and Mr. ALEET MONG, the interpreter. This was certainly a very interesting group; such as never before has been presented in this city, and will not be again, I presume, for many years. Miss Yekoo is said to be seventeen, which appears to be her age. With the costume of the Chinese, which, in our eyes, is superlatively graceless, we have become sufficiently familiar, by the exhibition of the living males and the stuffed females, in our Chinese Museums. Of their music, we had an interesting specimen, a few years since. Being fortunately deaf, I can say nothing of the performances of Miss _Yekoo_ and Professor _Chune_. Their features and complexions are Chinese, of course, and cannot be better described than in the words of Sir John Barrow, as applicable to the race: "The narrow, elongated, half-closed eye; the linear and highly-arched eyebrow; the broad root of the nose; the projection of the upper jaw a little beyond the lower; the thin, straggling beard, and the body generally free from hair; a high, conical head, and triangular face: and these are the peculiar characteristics which obtained for them, in the _Systema Naturæ_ of Linnæus, a place among the varieties of the species, distinguished by the name of _homines monstrosi_." Apart from these and other considerations, it was well for all, who had it in their power, to avail themselves of an opportunity, which is not likely to be presented again, for years, and examine, with their own eyes, those "_golden lilies_," for the production of which this little Chinese spinster, Miss _Pwan Yeekoo_ has been severely tortured, from her cradle. She is neither very large, nor very small, for a girl of seventeen, and her feet are precisely _two inches and a half_ in length. A small female foot, as it came from the hand of the great Creator, has ever been accounted a great beauty, since Eve was born. But, to the eyes of all beholders, on this side of the Yellow Sea, no more disgusting objects were ever presented, than the horribly contracted and crippled deformities, upon the ends of Miss Yekoo's little trotters. The bare feet are not exhibited; but a model of the foot, two inches and a half in length, on which is a shoe, which is taken off, by the exhibitor, and put upon the real foot of Miss Yekoo, over a shoe, already there. This model is affirmed to be exact. As it is presented in front, the great toe nail alone is visible, forming a central apex, for the foot. On being turned up, the four smaller toes are seen, closely compacted, and inverted upon the sole. It is not possible to walk, with the weight of the body upon the inverted toes, without pain. Miss Yekoo, like all other Chinese girls, with these crippled feet, walks, with manifest uneasiness and awkwardness, upon her heels. The _os calcis_ receives the whole weight of the body. To sustain the statement, that Miss Yekoo is a "_Chinese lady_," it is said, that these crippled feet are signs of aristocracy. Not infallible, I conceive:--not more so, than crippled ribs, occasioned by tight lacing, which may originate in the upper circles, but find hosts of imitators, among the lower orders. "We may add," says Mr. Davis, writing of this practice, "that this odious custom extends lower down, in the scale of society, than might have been expected, from its disabling effect, upon those, who have to labor for their subsistence. If the custom were first imposed, by the tyranny of the men, the women are fully revenged, in the diminution of their charms and domestic usefulness." Mr. Davis evidently supposes, that the custom had its rise in jealousy, and a desire to prevent the ambulatory sex, from gadding about. Various causes have been assigned, for this disgusting practice. Sir John Barrow, after expressing his surprise, at the silence of Marco Polo, on the subject of crippled feet, which were, doubtless, common in his time, observes--"Of the origin of this unnatural custom, the Chinese relate twenty different accounts, all absurd. Europeans suppose it to have originated in the jealousy of the men, determined, says M. de Pauw, to keep them '_si etroit qu'on ne peut comparer l'exactitude avec laquelle on les gouverne_.'" A _practice_, which, at its very birth, and during its infancy, required the assignment of some plausible reason, for its existence and support--when it grows up to be a _custom_, lives on and thrives, irrespectively of its origin, and, frequently, in spite of its absurdity. The blackened teeth of the Japanese--the goitres of the Swiss, in the valley of Chamouni--the flattened heads of certain Indian races--the crippled feet of the Chinese are illustrations of this truth, in the admiration which they still continue to receive. "Whatever," says Sir John Barrow, "may have been the cause, the continuance may more easily be explained: as long as the men will marry none but such as have crippled feet, crippled feet must forever remain in fashion among Chinese ladies." M. De Pauw, in his Philosophical Dissertations, alludes to this practice, in connection with that, formerly employed by the Egyptians, and which he calls--"_the method of confining the women anciently, in Egypt, by depriving them, in some measure, of the use of their feet_." Plutarch, in his _Precepta Connub_, says, that shoes were entirely forbidden to women, by the Egyptians. "Afterwards," says De Pauw, "they imagined it to be inconsistent with decency, that they should appear in public, with the feet naked, and, of course, they remained at home." The Kalif, Hakin, who founded the religion of the Druses, re-enacted this law. De Pauw remarks, that the assertion of Plutarch might seem doubtful, if a decree, prohibiting the manufacture of shoes for women, under the pain of death, were not found, as it is, in the _Kitab-al-Machaid_, or bible of the Druses. Upon my first visit to Pwan Yekoo and her _suite_, in connection with other visitors, I was not admitted for nearly two hours, after the appointed time. Ample sleeping arrangements had not been made, for these Celestials; and, for one night, at least, they had been packed, like a crate of China ware, in a closet, or small apartment, contiguous to the hall of exhibition. Yekoo was indignant, and refused to show her "golden lilies." By dint of long importunity, she appeared, but in no gentle humor. Indeed, when Yekoo came forth, followed by Lum Akum, I was reminded, at a glance, of Cruikshank's illustration of Mrs. Varden, followed by Meigs, with the Protestant manual. They soon recovered their better nature; and some little attention, paid by the visitors, to the Celestial pappooses, put them into tolerably good humor. At the close of the exhibition, we were invited near the platform. It would be superfluous to describe the Chinese costume, so commonly presented, in various works. I was especially attracted by the hair of Yekoo, and Lum Akum, who passes for her waiting woman. I examined it with my glasses. It was jet black, coarse, abundant, and besmeared with a stiffening paste or gluten, which mightily resembled grease. Upon the top of the head a slender, round stick, about the size of a crow's quill, is attached, projecting _aft_, in marine parlance, several inches, like a small ring tail boom. The design of this is to support the hair, which is thrown over it, and hangs, or is plastered, down with the shining paste, assuming the appearance, seen _a tergo_, of a rudder. The Chinese, in relation to the rest of mankind, are, certainly, a contrarious people. In 1833, Mr. Charles Majoribanks addressed a letter to the Right Hon. Charles Grant, in which he says: "China may, in many respects, be said to stand alone, among the nations; not only differing, but, in many instances, diametrically opposed, in the nature of its laws, customs, and institutions. A Chinese, when he goes into mourning, puts on white; the left hand they consider the place of honor; they think it an act of unbecoming familiarity to uncover the head; their mariner's compass, they assert, points to the South; the stomach they declare to be the seat of the understanding; and the chief God of their idolatry is the Devil." Suicide is no crime, with the Chinese. To receive a present, with one hand, is deemed an act of rudeness. They never say of the departed, that he is _dead_, but that he has _gone to his ancestors_. Among the good traits of the Chinese are to be numbered filial respect, and general sobriety. In one particular, their legislation may be considered superior to our own--among the grounds of divorce, says Mr. Davis, they include "_excessive talkativeness_." I have been reared, in the faith, that the Chinese are not only a _peculiar_, but an exceedingly _nasty_ generation. According to Barrow, and to Du Halde, in his _Hist. Gén. de la Chine_, they are so liable to a species of leprosy, that, for the purpose of arresting its progress, it is numbered among the causes of divorce. The itch and other cutaneous diseases are extremely common. "They seem," says De Pauw, "to have neither horror nor repugnance for any kind of food; they eat rats, bats, owls, storks, badgers, dogs," &c. Brand, in his _Reise nach China_, observes--"Dogs are chiefly employed, as food, by the Chinese, during the great heat in summer, because they fancy their flesh to have a cooling quality." Barrow was private secretary to the Earl of Macartnay, and, in 1804, published his travels in China, a work of great merit, and which has been highly lauded, for its candor and fidelity. In proof of my remark, I offer the following quotation, from that work, on pages 76 and 77. After alluding to the custom of crippling the feet, Mr. Barrow proceeds--"The interior wrappers of the ladies' feet are said to be seldom changed, remaining sometimes, until they can no longer hold together; a custom that conveys no very favorable idea of Chinese cleanliness. This indeed forms no part of their character; on the contrary, they are what Swift would call a _frowzy_ people. The comfort of clean linen, or frequent change of under-garments, is equally unknown to the sovereign and the peasant. A sort of thin coarse silk supplies the place of cotton or linen next the skin, among the upper ranks; but the common people wear a coarse kind of open cotton cloth. These vestments are more rarely removed for the purpose of washing, than for that of being replaced with new ones; and the consequence of such neglect is, as might naturally be supposed, an abundant increase of those vermin, to whose growth filthiness is found to be most favorable. The highest officers of state made no hesitation of calling their attendants, in public, to seek in their necks, for those troublesome animals, which, when caught, they very composedly put between their teeth. They carry no pocket handkerchief, but generally blow their noses into small square pieces of paper, which some of their attendants have ready prepared for the purpose. Many are not so cleanly, but spit about the rooms, or against the walls, like the French, and they wipe their dirty hands, in the sleeves of their gowns. They sleep at night in the same clothes they wear by day. Their bodies are as seldom washed, as their articles of dress. They never make use of the bath, warm or cold. Notwithstanding the vast number of rivers and canals, with which every part of the country is intersected, I do not remember to have seen a single group of boys bathing. The men, in the hottest day of summer, make use of warm water, for washing the hands and face. They are unacquainted with the use of soap." I do not disbelieve, that we, occasionally, meet men, who are very dirty, and remarkably orthodox, and, now and then, a well-washed and well-dressed villain--but sin and filth are too frequently found to form the very bond of iniquity. "Great crimes," says Sir John Barrow, "are not common, but little vices pervade all ranks of society. A Chinese is cold, cunning, and distrustful; always ready to take advantage of those he has to deal with; extremely covetous and deceitful; quarrelsome, vindictive, but timid and dastardly. A Chinese in office is a strange compound of insolence and meanness. All ranks and conditions have a total disregard for truth. From the Emperor downwards, the most palpable falsehoods are proclaimed, with unblushing effrontery, to answer a political, an interested, or exculpatory purpose." I beg leave respectfully to suggest to Miss Yekoo, to pay a little more attention to her teeth, and somewhat improve her personal appearance. The collections, upon their upper portions, are, by no means, necessary to prove her Tartar origin. No. CII. Death is rarely more unwelcome to any, than to those, who reasonably suppose the perils of the deep to be fairly passed, and who are permitted, after a long sojourn in other lands, to look once again upon their own--so near withal, that their eyes are gladdened, by the recognition of familiar landmarks; and who, in the silent chancel of their miscalculating hearts, thank God, that they are _at home at last_--and yet, in the very midst of life and joy, they are in death! There has ever seemed to me to be something exceedingly impressive, in the death of that eminent patriot, Josiah Quincy. He died when the bark, which bore him homeward was in sight of land--the headlands of Gloucester, April 26, 1775-- ----Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos. Few men, of our own country, have accomplished more, or acquired a more honorable celebrity, at the early age of thirty-one. His was a death in the common course of nature. I more especially allude, at this moment, to death as it occurs, from shipwreck, on one's own shores, when the voyage is apparently at an end, and the voyagers are anticipating an almost immediate reunion with their friends. The frequency of these occurrences revives, at the present moment, the sentiment of Horace, delivered some eighteen centuries ago-- Illi robur et æs triplex Circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci Commisit pelago ratem Primus.------------ We are oblivious of perils past. The tax on commerce, levied by the whirlwind, and by recklessness, and ignorance, far exceeds the common calculation of those, who know little, experimentally, of the perils of the deep; and who go not down upon the sea in ships. Precisely fifty years ago, it was estimated, at Lloyd's, that one ship per diem, three hundred and sixty-five ships, annually, were lost, in the open sea, and on lee shores. And, in Lloyd's Lists, for 1830, it was stated, that six hundred and seventy-seven British vessels were lost, during that year. Whether or not it be attributable to that natural eagerness, which increases, as the object of our heart's desire draws near, and is apt to abate somewhat of our ordinary vigilance--certain it is, that calamities of this nature are of no unfrequent occurrence, near the termination of a voyage, and when we have almost arrived at the haven, where we would be. About ten years ago, while enjoying the hospitality of some Southern friends, I became acquainted with a lady, the varying expression of whose features arrested my attention, and excited my surprise. Whenever her countenance was lighted up, by a smile, it was for an instant only; and an expression of solemnity, and even of sadness, immediately succeeded; as the darkness of an autumnal sky follows the feeble flashes of electric light. I sought an explanation of this peculiarity, from an old friend, who knew this lady well, Mr. Doddridge Crocker, formerly a merchant of this city, and then a resident of Charleston. He informed me, that, many years before, he had been a passenger, in company with this lady and her father, together with other citizens of Charleston, for New York, on board the Rose in Bloom. They had a prosperous voyage, until they came in sight of the Highlands. The passengers proceeded to make their toilets; and arrangements were in progress, for going speedily on shore. The ship was under a press of canvas, with a strong breeze. The wind shifted its direction suddenly, and soon became a gale. The Rose in Bloom was capsized, and lost. The lady, said Mr. Crocker, to whom you refer, and her father, amid the terrible confusion, which ensued, clung to some floating article, whose buoyancy, it soon became apparent, was not sufficient to support them both. The filial and paternal contest may be easily conceived, each entreating the other, to retain the only means of preservation. At length, the father abandoned his hold, and struck out for a floating spar, at some little distance. His struggles were ineffectual--he sunk, before his daughter's eyes! We were, ere long, rescued from our imminent peril. The impression, left upon her mind, was left there forever. The reader may possibly surmise, that my leading remarks have a particular reference to the recent shipwreck of the Elizabeth, upon the coast of New York. This catastrophe, which is imputed to ignorance and miscalculation, involves the loss of an interesting and intelligent young gentleman, Mr. Horace Sumner, of this city, and of the Marquis and Marchioness Ossoli, and their child. One of these sufferers I have known, in earlier days. Under the quiet, unpresuming roof of her worthy father, Mr. Timothy Fuller, I have met his daughter Margaret. Few then would have anticipated her melancholy fate, and fewer still, that she would become an Italian marchioness! Let me devote the remaining space, in the present article, to those unmitigated wretches, with hearts of flint, who rioted and revelled, amid the sufferings of their fellow-beings. An opportunity will now be afforded, to stamp this hellish practice, with all the force of the law, and whatever there may be of indignant severity, in public sentiment. Luring vessels on shore, by arranging false lights, and robbing wrecks are crimes of great antiquity. But I had no suspicion, that even the latter practice was carried on, so systematically, and so boldly, as it appears to have been, at the present day, in the State of New York. The names of the places, where these atrocities were committed, Fire Island, Patchogue, Islip, Babylon have something of a Cornish sound, undoubtedly. Of old, in all the northern regions of Europe, and especially, along the coasts of the Baltic Sea, a wreck was deemed "_a Providence_;" and laws were in force, authorizing the inhabitants to fall on, and plunder at discretion, or, in the language, then employed--"_in naufragorum miseria et calamitate, tanquam vultures, ad prædam currere_." Of the earlier periods of our own history, tales have been told, which, though almost beyond belief, would not have been related, if they had not been somewhere, upon the outskirts or frontiers of probability. Thus many--many--very many years ago, tradition intimates, that a worthy clergyman of Truro was interrupted, in the middle of his discourse, by one of his deacons, who caused the whole congregation to rise _en masse_, by seizing his hat and crying aloud--"_a wreck!_" whereupon the good man is reported, while putting up his notes, and opening the pulpit door, to have exclaimed--"_Stay--stay, my Christian friends, let us all have a fair start_." More than five hundred years ago, in the 13th of Edward III., laws were passed, in England, for the punishment of such offenders. These laws were amended and confirmed, in the 12th of Anne, and 4th of George I., 26th of George II., and 8th of Elizabeth. By the statute of 26 George II., ch. 19, plundering a vessel, in distress, or wrecked, and putting out false lights, to deceive, were made capital felonies. By the civil law, stealing even a plank from a vessel, in distress, or wrecked, made the offender liable, for the entire ship and cargo. The early Neapolitan constitutions and the laws of the Wisigoths inflicted the severest punishment, not only upon such as plundered a wreck, but upon all, who were convicted of neglecting to aid a vessel in distress, when in their power to render comfort and assistance. By the laws of the United States--I refer to the act of March 3, 1825--persons who plunder vessels in distress; and all, who obstruct the escape of the sufferers; the exhibitors of false lights and extinguishers of true ones, with intent to produce shipwreck, are punishable, by fine, not exceeding five thousand dollars, and imprisonment and hard labor, not exceeding ten years. The extreme mildness of this law has always struck me with amazement; for, among the offenders, described in the statute, are those, "_who shall wilfully obstruct the escape of any person, endeavoring to save his or her life_," &c. Since men went down upon the sea in ships, there has rarely occurred, in our own country, a case of deeper atrocity, than the present; and, it is to be hoped, that the tribunals of New York will exhibit a forcible example of mercy to the whole community, by a prompt and condign punishment of these heartless wretches. The fiendish spirit, which, of old, animated the Buccaneers of the Tortugas, will probably never entirely die out from the heart of man, till the period of millennial purgation. It is impossible to conceive of anything, in a population of hyænas, more selfish, cold, and cruel, than the conduct of that abandoned class, of whose existence we have abundant evidence; to whom no music is so sweet, as that of the midnight hurricane; and who have, immemorially, obtained the appellation of _moon-cursers_, because they delight in that darkness, which is suited to their infernal profession. The laws of England have been unable to accomplish the extinction of these miscreants. The Cornish coast, exposed, as it is, to marine disaster, has ever been famous, for this species of crime and cruelty. It is chiefly confined to a few parishes, on the craggy shore, between Mount's Bay and the Lizard. "When a wreck takes place," says Mr. Haydn, page 559, following the words of Phillips, "thousands assemble with hatchets, axes, crowbars, &c., and many women and children fight, by habit, for the plunder, utterly regardless of the sufferers." For the honor of human nature I trust, that many, very many years have gone by, since any such atrocities were practised, upon the sea-coast of New England. The late Dr. Holbrook, of Milton, related an incident, which occurred, during the last war with Great Britain, extending not beyond mere pilfering; and which, in the case of one individual, at least, had rather an amusing termination. A vessel was wrecked, on Nantasket beach; and, her cargo was broken up, and scattered along the shore. On the following day, Dr. Holbrook was hastily summoned, to visit a patient, who was thought to be dying. He was thoroughly exhausted, and had vomited, through the whole day, a substance, in no degree offensive, but, on the contrary, exceedingly aromatic and agreeable. Nevertheless, he was sinking from exhaustion. Dr. Holbrook could not prevail upon the patient to admit, that he had partaken of any other, than his customary diet. His wife stated, that he had been absent the preceding night, and had not told her, in what manner he had been engaged. At last, the doctor gravely informed him, that it was folly to practise such deception; that, unless a physician knew the nature of the poison, he could not easily prescribe an antidote; and, that, if he persisted in his folly, death might be the consequence. At this, the fellow, who, with others, had been pilfering from the wreck, became thoroughly frightened; and, with an expression of great terror, confessed, that he feared he had _eaten rather too heartily of nutmegs_. No. CIII. In the Transcript of August 14, I notice an editorial criticism, upon the recent employment of the word _catafalque_. In primitive strictness, I believe that criticism to be perfectly correct; and that, in its original signification, _catafalque_ cannot be understood to mean a _funeral car_. In the _grand Dictionaire_, by Fleming & Tibbins, _catafalque_ is thus defined--"_decoration funebre qu'on eleve au milieu d'une église pour y placer le cercueil ou le representation d'un mort a qui l'on veut rendre les plus grands honneurs_." Herse is defined, by the same lexicographers, "_un cercueil, une biere, voiture pour porter un mort au tombeau, un char funebre, corbillard, pierre tumulaire provisoire_." Thus, while _catafalque_ seems to signify an ornamental structure, erected in the middle of a church, to support the coffin or the effigy of the dead, whom it is intended to honor--_herse_, at the present day, is understood to mean a coffin, a bier, a carriage to bear the dead to the tomb, a funeral car, a van, a temporary mausoleum or gravestone. _Herse_, whose etymology, according to Johnson, is unknown, imported, three hundred years ago, a temporary structure, in honor of the dead; such also is the meaning of the word _catafalque_; of this, there cannot be the slightest doubt. In this sense, herse was employed by Shakspeare, in his Henry IV.: "To add to your laments Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's herse," &c. Johnson furnishes two definitions of the word, herse--1. A carriage, in which the dead are conveyed to the grave. 2. A temporary monument, set over a grave. It is quite certain, however, that the _herse_, whether justly styled _a monument_, or not, was _not_ usually "_set over the grave_," but more frequently, like the _catafalque_, agreeably to the definition given above--_au milieu d'une eglise_. No writer, probably, refers to the _herse_, so frequently, as old John Strype, in his Memorials; and, in no instance, I believe, in the sense of a _car_ or _vehicle_, or as a structure, "_set over the grave_." Strype's Memorials are the records of a Roman Catholic age, or of a period, during which, the usages of the Romish Church, in England, had not entirely worn out their welcome with the people--the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Bloody Mary, and Elizabeth. For, even during the reigns of Edward VI., and of Elizabeth, not a few of those pompous practices, which grew up, in the times of their respective predecessors, still clung upon the imaginations of the populace, and were reluctantly surrendered. The church is the theatre of the Romish ecclesiastic. The service is an attractive spectacle. If the world were struck blind, who does not perceive, that the principal supports of Romanism would be instantly taken away! It has been the practice of all churches, that deal somewhat extensively, in forms and ceremonies, to demand of their members, with a greater or less degree of peremptoriness, that certain acts shall be publicly performed--_au milieu d'une eglise_. Thus the ceremony of marriage--the baptism of infants--the churching of women--and the burial of the dead furnish occasion, for throwing open the temple, and exhibiting its showy furniture to the multitude; and of verifying a pleasing saying of the late eminent, and excellent Archbishop of Bordeaux, while Bishop of Boston--"_If we cannot catch them, in one way, we catch them in another_." Nothing has ever been a more prolific source of capital to the Romish church, in former ages, than funereal parade, _au milieu d'une eglise_. Strype, with very few exceptions, speaks of the _herse_ as a "_herse of wax_." To this I have alluded in an earlier number. It may require a brief explanation here. Wax candles, of divers colors and forms, were attached to the _herse_, and the wax chandler of those days was in great request, and often rose to wealth and distinction. The reader will readily perceive, that the _herse_, of those early times, was identical with the _catafalque_, if he will give his attention to the following statements--"1554, on the 5th of October were the obsequies of the said Duke of Norfolk celebrated at St. Mary Overy's: an herse being made with timber, and hanged with black, with his arms, and four goodly candlesticks gilded, and as many great tapers standing about it, all the choir hung in black," &c. Mem. vol. iii., part 1, ch. 25. Here is no _car_, but a temporary structure, _au milieu d'une eglise_--not "_set over the grave_"--_the choir hung in black, &c._ To show how Strype distinguished between the _herse_ and a _car_ for conveyance, the reader may turn to the Memorials, vol. iii., part 1, page 471, where, after describing the ceremonies, in the church, at the funeral of the Bishop of Winchester, Strype adds--"at the gate, the corpse was put into a _wagon_ with four horses, all covered with black," &c. This is our modern _herse_, but was not so called by Strype. "1557.--On the 5th of May was the Lady Chamberlin buried, with a fair hearse of wax." The following is sufficiently explicit--"1557, the same day (July 29) began the hearse, at Westminster, for the Lady Anne of Cleves, consisting of carpenters' work of seven principals; being as goodly a hearse, as had been seen." Vol iii. p. 11. "1557.--On the 3d of August, the body of the Lady Anne of Cleves was brought from Chelsy, where her house was, unto Westminster, to be buried; with all the children of Westminster, and many priests and clerks." Father Strype did not probably intend to say they were all to be buried together. "Then the gray Amis of Paul's, and three crosses, and the monks of Westminster, and my Lord Bishop of London, and Lord Abbot of Westminster, rode together next the monks. Then the two secretaries, Sir Edmund Peckham and Sir Robert Freston, cofferer to the Queen of England, my Lord Admiral and Mr. Darcy, of Essex, and many knights and gentlemen. And before her corpse, her servants, her banner of arms. Then her gentlemen and her head officers; and then her chariot, with eight banners of arms, consisting of divers arms, and four banners of images of white taffeta, wrought with gold, and her arms. And so they passed by St. James's, and thence to Charing Cross, with an hundred torches burning, her servants bearing them. And the twelve beadmen of Westminster had new black gowns, bearing twelve torches burning. There were four white branches with arms; then ladies and gentlewomen, all in black with their horses; eight heralds of arms, in black, with their horses, &c., &c. At the church door all did alight; and there the Lord Bishop of London and the Lord Abbot, in their copes, did receive the good lady, censing her. Men bore her under a canopy of black velvet, with four black staves _and so brought her into the hearse_, and there tarried dirge, remaining there all night, with lights burning." Ibid. "On the 22d was the hearse of the Lady Anne of Cleves, lately set up in Westminster Abbey, taken down, which the monks, by night, had spoiled of all the velvet cloth, arms, banners, pensils, majesty, and valance and all,--the which was never seen afore so done." Ibid. page 15. Hence it is manifest, that the _herse_, in the time of Strype, was identical with the _catafalque_ of the present day. Nevertheless, _herse_ and _catafalque_ are as clearly not convertible terms, since the latter word can never be correctly applied to a funeral car. Two and twenty pages of original record are devoted, by Strype, to an account of the "ceremonies and funeral solemnities, paid to the corpse of King Henry VIII." These pages are extremely interesting, and full of curious detail. They also furnish additional evidence, that _the herse_ was then understood to mean all, that is now meant by _the catafalque_. The works of Strype are not in the hands of very many; and the reader will not be displeased to know, in what manner they dealt with the dead body of an English King, some three hundred years ago. A few extracts are all, that my limits will allow:-- "After the corps was cold, and seen by the Lords of the Privy Council and others of the nobility of the realm, as appertained, commandment was given to the apothecaries, chirurgeons, wax-chandlers, and others, to do their duties in spurging, cleansing, bowelling, cering, embalming, furnishing, and dressing with spices the said corpse; and also for wrapping the same in cerecloth of many folds over the fine cloth of rains and velvet, surely bound and trammel'd with cords of silk: which was done and executed of them accordingly, as to the dignity of such a mighty prince it appertaineth; and a writing in great and small letters annexed against the breast, containing his name and style, the day and year of his death, in like manner. And after this don, then was the plumber and carpenter appointed to case him in lead, and to chest him. Which being don, the said chest was covered about with blew velvet, and a cross set upon the same." "And the corps being thus ordained, the entrails and bowels were honorably buried in the chappel," &c. Mem., vol. 2, p. 289. "Then was the corps in the chest had into the midds of the privy chamber, and set upon tressels, with a rich pall of cloth of gold, and a cross thereon, with all manner of lights thereto requisite." Ibid. "In the said chappel was ordained a goodly, formal herse, with four-score square tapers; every light containing two foot in length, poising in the whole eighteen hundred weight of wax, garnished about with pensils and escutcheons, banners and bannerols of descents. And, at the four corners, four banners of saints, beaten in fine gold upon damask, with a majesty thereover," &c., &c. Ibid. 290. "The second day of the month of February, being Wednesday and Candlemas day, betwixt eight and nine of the clock at night, the herse being lighted, and all other things appointed and prepared, the said most royal corps was reverendly taken and removed from the chambers, &c., and so brought to the chappel, &c., and there it was honorably set and placed within the said herse under a pall of rich cloth of tissue, garnished with escutheons, and a rich cloth of gold, set with precious stones." Ibid. 292. "And the herse, standing in the midst of said choir, was of a wonderful state and proportion; that is to say formed in the compass of eight panes and thirteen principals, double storied, of thirty-five foot high, curiously wrot, painted and gilded, having in it a wonderful sort of lights, amounting, in price, of wax, to the sum of four thousand pound weight, and garnished underneath with a rich majesty, and a doome double vallanced: on the which, on either side, was written the King's word, in beaten gold, upon silk, and his arms of descents. And the whole herse was richly fringed with double fringes of black silk and gold on either side, both within and without very gorgeous and valiant to behold." Ibid. 295. It does not appear, that, in those days any _single_ English word was employed, to express the _vehicle_, which we call a _hearse_, at the present day, unless the word _bier_ may suffice: and this, like the Roman _feretrum_, which I take to be much like our common graveyard article with legs, will scarcely answer the description of a four-wheeled car. I infer, that the _feretrum_ was a thing, which might be taken up, and set down, from the word _posito_ in Ovid's Fasti, iv., 851-- Osculaque applicuit posito suprema feretro. The _feretrum_ and the _capulus_, among the Romans, were designed mainly, for the poor. Citizens of any note were borne, as was our own practice, not very many years ago, on the shoulders of their friends. The _funeral car_ of Henry VIII. was a noble affair:-- "There was ordained for the corps a sumptuous and valuable chariot of four wheels, very long and large, with four pillars, overlaid with cloth of gold at the four corners, bearing a pillow of rich cloth of gold and tissue, fringed with a goodly deep fringe of blew silk and gold; and underneath that, turned towards the chariot, was a marvellous excellent cloth of majesty, having in it a doom artificially wrought, in fine gold upon oyl: and at the nether part of the said Chariot was hanged with blew velvet down to the ground, between the wheels, and at other parts of the chariot, enclosed in like manner with blew velvet." Ibid. 295. "The next day early, the 14 February, the chariot was brought to the court hall door; and the corps with great reverence brought from the _herse_ to the same, by mitred prelats and others, temporal lords." Ibid. 598. Then, over the area of thirteen remaining pages, the record contains the minute particulars of the monarch's obsequies, which, though full of interest, are no farther to our present purpose. No. CIV. Bull--I speak not of Ole, but of John--Bull, when the teazle of opposition has elevated the nap of his temper, is a pestilent fellow: whatever the amount--and there is enough--of the milk of human kindness within him, there is, then, but one way, known among men, of getting it out, and that is, by giving Bull a bloody nose; whereupon he comes to his senses directly, and to a just appreciation of himself and his neighbors. True indeed it is, Bull is remarkably oblivious; and it sometimes becomes necessary to give him another, which is invariably followed, by the same happy result. _Qui hæret in cortice_ will never come at the milk of a cocoa nut. It is necessary to strip off its rough coat, and punch sundry holes in its _wooden walls_, and give it a regular cracking. It is precisely so with Bull. When the fit is upon him, Bull is terrible. He is the very Bull of Crete--the Bull of Claudian, in his rape of Proserpine-- Dictæus quatiens mugitibus urbes Taurus-------------------------- Bull is a prodigious fellow; Nations tremble at his bellow. There seems to have existed a strange, political hallucination, in regard to Bull and Jonathan. We are clearly, all of us, of one and the same family--a Bull-begotten people; and have a great deal of pleasure, in believing, that old madam Bull was the mother of us all. A goodly number of highly respectable Bulls came over the water, of old, and were well contented with the green pastures of the New World. They differed, upon some points, from the Bulls they had left behind. They did not believe, that there was a power or right, to bellow louder than the rest, vested in any particular Bull, which power came down from Bull to Bull, in unbroken succession, from the Bull of Bashan. Such a belief, in their opinion, would have been a terrible Bull. Well; all at once, the trans-atlantic Bulls began to call the cis-atlantic Bulls--_Jonathans_. A very good name it was--a great deal better than _Bulls_. There could be no objection to the name, in the abstract. But, unfortunately, it was bestowed, as a diminutive, and in derision; and the old Bulls, ere long, began to beat their flanks with their tails, and paw up the earth, and look unutterable things, about Jonathan's cowardice; and they came over the water in droves, and began to roar awfully; and tore up the earth, under our very noses: and, after doing all, in our power to spare the world the miserable spectacle of a conflict, among Bulls, that were brothers, of the whole blood, we went to work, _ex necessitate_, with hoofs and horns; and tossed up such a terrible dust, at Lexington, and Concord, and Bunker's Hill, and Long Island, and White Plains, and upon the Lakes, and at Sheensborough, and Albany, and Brandywine, and Saratoga, and Bennington, and Germantown, and Rhode Island, and Briar's Creek, and Camden, and Broad River, and Guilford, and Hobkirk's Hill, and the Eutaw Springs, and York Town, and at fifty places beside, that the old Bulls were perfectly astonished; and so very severely gored withal, that their roaring sunk, at last, into something like Snug's, when he became fearful of frightening the ladies. The old Bulls--those that survived--went _back again_, like Sawney, out of the peach orchard; and the mammoth Bull, in London, publicly acknowledged, that we were as independent a set of Bulls, as ever he saw, or heard of. No man, in his senses, marvels, that a contemptuous, and supercilious sentiment, towards us, in our days of small things, should have been indulged, by the vulgar and unphilosophical, among the English people. It is matter for surprise, nevertheless, that so much ignorance of the American character should have existed, in the higher ranks of British society--such disparaging estimates of men and _materiel_, on this side the water--such mistaken conceptions--such a general belief of almost universal pusillanimity, among men, who were not a whit the less Englishmen, than their revilers; as though there were something, particularly enervating, in breathing the bracing air of America, and listening to the thorough bass of the wild waters, breaking on our original walls of granite; and in struggling, with our horny hands, along the precipices, for bread--such an awful miscalculation of probabilities, as resulted at last, in the loss to King George of thirteen inestimable jewels, of the fairest water. The impressions, entertained of the Americans, by the English people, or a great majority of them, about that period, were truly amusing. It is scarcely worth while to comment on the abuse of us, by the early reviewers, and the taunting inquiry, long--long ago, what American had ever produced an epic?--Unluckily, Joel did, at last.--This question, thus early and impudently propounded, was quite as sensible, as it might be, to ask men, who, by dint of industry and thrift, are just getting plain shirts to their backs--who among them ever had lace ruffles? We have improved since that time; and _halmost hevery man in the ole population can hutter imself hin werry decent Henglish_. Josiah Quincy, _then_ junior, father of the late President of Harvard University, has noted some curious facts, in his journal, as reported by Gordon, i. 438. In a conversation between him and Col. Barré, who, though he opposed the Stamp Act, in 1765, supported the Boston Port Bill, in 1774. Col. Barré said to Mr. Quincy--"About fourteen or fifteen years ago, I was through a considerable part of your country; for, in the expedition against Canada, my business caused me to pass by land, through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, and Albany; and, when I returned again to this country, I was often speaking of America, and could not help speaking well of its climate, soil, and inhabitants; for you must know, sir, America was always a favorite with me. But, will you believe it, sir, yet I assure you it is true, more than two thirds of this island, at this time, thought the Americans were all negroes." Mr. Quincy replied that he did not in the least doubt it, for, if he was to judge by the late acts of Parliament, he should suppose, that a great majority of the people of Great Britain still thought so, for he found that their representatives still treated them as such. The ministry had decided, that "_the punishment of a few of the worst sort of traitors, such as Hancock and his crew, might be sufficient to teach the rest their duty, in future_."--"Some men of rank in the army," says Gordon, i. 457, "treated all idea of resistance, by the Americans, with the utmost contempt. They are neither soldiers, nor ever can be made so, being naturally of a pusillanimous disposition, and utterly incapable of any sort of order or discipline; and by their laziness, uncleanliness, and radical defect of constitution, they are disabled from going through the service of a campaign. Many ludicrous stories, to that purport, were told, greatly to the entertainment of the house." Jonathan turned out, at the end of the Bull baiting, to have been neither a fool nor a coward: and the American Congress received a memorable compliment from Lord Chatham--"_For genuine sagacity, for singular moderation, for manly spirit, for sublime sentiments, and simplicity of language, for everything respectable and honorable, the Congress of Philadelphia shines unrivalled_." In the war of 1812, Bull was the very identical Bull, that he had been before: Frenchmen were frogs; Yankees were cowards--there was nobody that could fight, on the land or the sea, but Bull. "It has always," says that wittiest, and, I fear, wickedest of wags, William Cobbett, while addressing Lord Liverpool, "been the misfortune of England, that her rulers and her people have spoken and have thought contemptuously of the Americans. Was there a man in the country, who did not despise the American navy? Was there a public writer beside myself, who did not doom that navy to destruction in a month? Did not all parties exceedingly relish the description given, in a very august assembly, of '_half a dozen of fir frigates, with bits of striped bunting tied to their mast heads_'! Did not the Guerriere sail up and down the American coast, with her name, written on her flag, challenging those fir frigates? Did not the whole nation, with one voice exclaim at the affair of the _Little Belt_--'Only let Rogers come _within reach_ of one of our _frigates_!' If such was the opinion of the whole nation, with what justice is the Board of Admiralty blamed, for not sending out the means of combatting this extraordinary sort of foe? and for issuing a privilege to our frigates to run away from one of those _fir things with a bit of striped bunting at its mast head_? The result of the former war, while it enlightened nobody, added to the vindictiveness of hundreds of thousands; so that we have entered into this war with all our old stock of contempt, and a vastly increased stock of rancor. To think that the American republic is to be a great power is unsupportable. Of the effect of this contempt I know nobody, who has so much reason to repent, as the officers of his Majesty's navy. If they had triumphed, it would only have been over half a dozen _fir things, with bits of bunting at their mast heads_. They were sure to gain no reputation in the contest; and, if they failed, what was their lot? The worst of it is, they themselves did, in some measure, contribute to their own ill fate: for, of all men living, none spoke of poor Jonathan with so much contempt. There are some people, who are for taking the American commodores at their word, and ascribing their victories to the immediate intervention of Providence. Both Perry and McDonough begin their despatches by saying--"_Almighty God has given us a victory_." This is keen political satire; and it is well, that it should come to neighbor Bull's ears, from the mouth of an Englishman. It is more gracefully administered thus. That it was entirely deserved, no one will doubt, who has any recollection of Bull's unmeasured and unmitigated impudence, during the war of 1812, in its earlier stages. May God of his infinite mercy grant, that Peace Societies may have these matters, hereafter, very much their own way; though I have a little misgiving, I confess, as to the expediency of any sudden, or very general conversion of swords into ploughshares, or spears into pruning hooks. No. CV. _Modus in rebus_--an admirable proverb, upon all common occasions--is inapplicable, of course, to musical matters. No doubt of it. The luxury of sweet sounds cannot be too dearly bought; and, for its procurement, mankind may go stark mad, without any diminution of their respectability. Such I infer to be the popular philosophy of today--_while it is called today_. The moderns have been greatly perplexed, by the legends, which have come down to us, respecting the melody of swans. The _carmina cycnorum_ of Ovid, and the _Cantantes sublime ferent ad sidera cycni_, of Virgil, are perfectly incomprehensible by us. Cicero also, in his Tusculan Questions, i. 74, says, they die, _cum cantu et voluptate_. Martial, xiii. 77, asserts the matter, very positively-- _Dulcia defecta modulatur carmina lingua Cantator cycnus funeris ipse sui._ I no more believe in the power of a living or a dying swan to make melody of any kind, than I believe in the antiquated hum-bug of immediate emancipation. Pliny had no confidence in the story, and expresses himself to that effect, x. 23, _Olorum morte narratur flebilis cantus (falso, ut arbitror) aliquot experimentis_. No mortal has done more than Shakspeare, among the moderns, to perpetuate this pleasant fancy--no bard, when weary of Pegasus, and preferring a drive to a ride, has harnessed his cygnets more frequently--or compelled them to sing more sweetly, in a dying hour. A single example may suffice. When prince Henry is told, that his father, King John, sang, during his dying frenzy, he says-- "Tis strange, that death should sing-- I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death: And, from the organ pipe of frailty, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest." One brief example more--Emilia, after the murder of her mistress-- "Hark! canst thou hear me? I will play the swan; And die in music." In all this there lurks not one particle of sober prose--one syllable of truth. The most learned refutation of it may be found, in the Pseudodoxia of Sir Thomas Browne, ii. 517, Lond. 1835. In the "_Memoires de l'Académie des Inscriptions_," M. Morin discusses the question very agreeably, why swans, that sang so delightfully, of old, sing so miserably, at the present day. Tame swans, he observes, are mutes: but the wild swan exerts its vocal powers, after a fashion of its own. He introduces the observations of the Abbé Arnaud, upon the performances of a couple of wild swans, which had located, upon the lagoons of Chantilly. "One can hardly say," says the Abbé, "that the swans of Chantilly sing--they cry; but their cries are truly and constantly modulated. Their voice is not sweet; on the contrary, it is shrill, piercing, and rather disagreeable; I could compare it to nothing better than the sound of a clarionet, winded by a person unacquainted with the instrument." Nothing surely savors less of melody than this. So thought Buffon--"_Des sons bruyans de clarion, mais dont les tons aigus et peu diversifiés sont néanmoins tres--éloignés de la tendre mélodie et de la variété douce et brilliante du ramage de nos oiseaux chanteurs_." Nat. Hist. des Oisaux, ix. 25. In his exposition of this error, imposed upon mankind, by the poets, Buffon expresses himself with singular beauty, in the concluding paragraph--"Nulle fiction en Histoire Naturelle, nulle fable chez les Anciens n'a ete plus célébrée, plus répétée, plus accréditee; elle s'étoit emparée de l'imagination vive et sensible des Grecs; poëtes, orateurs, philosophes méme l'ont adoptée, comme une verité trop agreable pour vouloir en douter. Il faut bien leur pardonner leurs fables; elles étoient aimables et touchantes; elles valoient bien de tristes, d'arides verités c'etoient de doux emblémes pour les ames sensibles. Les cygnes, sans doute, ne chantent point leur mort; mais toujours, en parlant du dernier essor et de derniers élans d'un beau génie pret á s'éteindre, on rappellera avec sentiment cette expression touchante--_c'est le chant du cygne!_" Ibid. 28. It is not surprising, that these celebrated naturalists, Buffon and Morin, who discourse, so eloquently, of Grecian and Roman swans, should say nothing of Swedish nightingales, for, between their time and the present, numerous additions have been made to the catalogue of songsters. The very thing, which the barber, Arkwright did, for all the spinning Jennies, in Lancashire, some seventy years ago, has been done by Jenny Lind, for all the singing Jennies upon earth, beside herself--they are cast into the shade. She came here with an irresistible prestige. A singing woman has been a proverb, since the world began; and, of course, long before Ulysses dropped in, upon the island of Ogygia, and listened to Calypso; or fell into serious difficulty, among the Sirens. A singing woman, a Siren, has been frequently accounted, and with great propriety, a singing bird of evil omen. How grateful then must it be, to know, that, while lending their ears and their eyes to this incomparable songstress, our wives, our daughters, and our sisters have before them a pure, and virtuous, and gentle, and generous creature, as free, as poor, human nature can well be free, from life's alloy, and very much as she was, when created--_a little lower than the angels_. Among other mythological matters, Pausanias relates, that the three Sirens, instigated by Juno, challenged the Muses to a trial of skill in singing. They were beaten, of course, for the Muses, being nine in number, there were three upon one. The victors, as the story goes, proceeded very deliberately, to pluck the golden feathers, from the wings of the vanquished, and converted them into crowns, for their own brows. Now, it cannot be denied, that Jenny has vanquished us all, and made the golden feathers fly abundantly. But this is not Jenny's fault; for, whatever the wisdom or the folly, the affair was our own entirely. If, for the sake of distinction, any one has seen fit to pluck every golden feather from his back, and appear, like the featherless biped of Diogenes, and give the golden feathers to Jenny, to make her a crown; we have substantial facts, upon which to predict, that Jenny will make a better use of those golden feathers, than to fool them away, for a song. If Jenny plucks golden feathers, from the backs of the rich, she finds bare spots enough, for a large part of them all, upon the backs of the poor: and, as for the crown, for Jenny's brows, if she goes onward, as she has begun, investing her treasure _in Heaven_, and selecting the Lord for her paymaster, _there_ will be her coronation; and her crown a crown of Glory. And, when she comes to lie down and die, let the two last lines of Johnson's imperishable epitaph, on Philips, be inscribed upon her tomb-- "Rest undisturb'd, beneath this marble shrine, Till angels wake thee, with a note like thine." Orpheus was changed into a swan; Philomela into a nightingale; and Jenny, in due time, will be changed into an angel. Indeed, it is the opinion of some competent judges, that the metamorphosis has already commenced. Music is such a delightful, soothing thing, that one grieves, to think its professors and amateurs are frequently so excessively irritable. The disputes, between Handel and Senesino, and their respective partisans, disturbed all London, and finally broke up the Academy of Music, after it had been established, for nine years. The quarrels of Handel and Buononcini are said to have occasioned duels, among the amateurs; and the nation was filled, by these musical geniuses, with discord and uproar. Good humor was, in some degree, restored, by the following epigram, so often ascribed to Swift, the two last lines of which, however, are alone to be found in the editions of his works, by Nicholls, and Scott: "Some say, that signor Buononcini, Compar'd with Handel, is a ninny; Others aver to him, that Handel Does not deserve to hold a candle; Strange, all this difference should be, 'Twixt tweedle dum and tweedle dee." This epigram cannot be attributed to that contempt for music, which is sometimes occasioned, by a constitutional inability to appreciate its effect, upon the great mass of mankind. It undoubtedly sprang from a desire to put an end, by the power of ridicule, to these unmusical disturbances of the public peace. Swift's musical pun, upon the accidental destruction of a fine Cremona fiddle, which was thrown down by a lady's mantua, has always been highly and deservedly commended; and recently, upon the very best authority, pronounced the finest specimen extant of this species of wit--"Perhaps," says Sir Walter Scott, in his life of Swift, speaking of his puns, i. 467, "the application of the line of Virgil to the lady, who threw down with her mantua a Cremona fiddle, is the best ever made-- "Mantua væ miseræ nimium vicina Cremonæ!" In every nation, and in every age, the power of music has been acknowledged by mankind. Now and then, the negative idiosyncracies of certain persons place this particular department of pleasure, beyond the sphere of their comprehension, as effectually as utter blindness denies the power of enjoying the finest specimens of the painter's art. Occasionally, some pious divine, absolutely drunk with over-potent draughts of orthodoxy, like the friar, before Boccaccio, shakes his holy finger at this wicked world, and warns them to beware of the singing woman! The vocal power of music is ascribed to the angels in Heaven; and my own personal knowledge has assured me, that it affords a melancholy solace, to the slave in bonds. I passed the winter of 1840-41 with an invalid daughter, in the island of St. Croix. With a party of some six or eight, we devoted one delightful, moonlight evening, to a ride, on horseback, among the sugar-loaf summits of that beautiful speck amid the main. We were ascending the hills, in the neighborhood of the Annelly plantation--the moon was at full, that night; and the Caribbean Sea, far and wide, shone like a boundless prairie of burnished silver. As we were slowly winding our way, to the summit, one of our party called the attention of the rest to the sounds of music, coming from the slave cabins, at a distance. As we advanced, slowly and silently, towards the spot, the male and female voices were readily distinguished. We drew near, unperceived, and, checking our horses, listened, for several minutes, to the wild, simple notes of these children of bondage. "There is melody in this"--said one of our party aloud, and all was hushed, in an instant. We rode down to the cabins, and begged them to continue their song--but our solicitations were in vain--even the offer of sundry five stiver pieces, which operate, like a charm, upon many occasions, with the _uncles_ and the _aunties_, was ineffectual then. "_No massa--b'lieve no sing any more_"--were the only replies, and we went upon our way. As we descended the Annelly hills, on the opposite side, after leaving the negroes and their cabins, at some distance, we halted and listened--they had recommenced--the same wild music was floating upon the breeze. As we rode slowly along, my daughter asked me, if I could account for their reluctance to comply with our request. I told her, I could not. "Perhaps," said she, "they have a reason, somewhat like the reason of those, who sat down, by the waters of Babylon, and wept, and who could not sing one of the songs of Zion, in a strange land." It might have been thus. "_They that carried us away captive, required of us a song! They, that wasted us, required of us mirth!_" No. CVI. While pursuing his free inquiry into the origin of evil, I doubt, if Soame Jenyns had as much pleasure, as Sir Joseph Banks enjoyed, in his famous investigation, if fleas were the prototypes of lobsters. These inquiries are immeasurably pleasant. When a boy, I well remember my cogitations, what became of the old moons; and how joyously I accepted the solution of my nurse, who had quite a turn for judicial astrology, that they were unquestionably cut up, for stars. It is truly delightful to look into these occult matters--_rerum cognoscere causas_. There are subjects of deep interest, which lie somewhat nearer the surface of the earth--the origin of certain usages and undertakings, and the authorship of certain long-lived works, which appear to be made of a species of literary everlasting, but whose original proprietors have never been discovered. I have great respect, for those antiquarians, whose researches have unlocked so many of these long hidden mysteries; and, however bare-headed I may be, when the venerated names of Speed, or Strype, or Stow, or Rushworth, or Wood, or Holinshed occurs to my memory, I have an involuntary tendency to take off my hat. It was, doubtless, in allusion to their grotesque and uncouth versification, that the Earl of Rochester prepared his well-known epigram-- "Sternhold and Hopkins had great qualms, When they translated David's Psalms." This version, which held its ground, for a century and a half, and, as Chalmers says, slowly gave place to the translation, by Tate and Brady, had an origin, of which, I presume, few individuals are apprized. Thomas Sternhold lived to translate fifty-one only of the Psalms; and the first edition was published in 1549, with this title--"_All such Psalms of David as Thomas Sterneholde, late groome of the king's majestye's robes did in his lyfetime drawe into Englyshe metre_." About this period, the larger cities of the kingdom had become inundated with obscene and blasphemous songs, to such a degree, that some powerful expedient seemed to be required, for the removal of this insufferable grievance. Accordingly, the felicitous idea occurred to Mr. Thomas Sternhold, of substituting the Psalms of David, as versified by himself, for the bacchanalian songs, then in use, throughout the realm. He anticipated a practical illustration of the command of St. James--"_Is any merry let him sing Psalms_." Ostensibly prepared for the use of the churches, the moving consideration, for this version, with Mr. Sternhold, was such as I have shown it to be. The motive is plainly stated, in the title-page--"_Set forth and allowed to be sung in churches of the people together, before and after evening prayer, as also before and after sermon; and moreover, in private houses, for their godly solace and comfort, laying apart all ungodly songs and ballads, which tend only to the nourishment of vice and the corrupting of youth_." Wood, in his Athenæ Oxonienses, i. 183, Lond: 1813, says of Sternhold--"Being a most zealous reformer and a very strict liver, he became so scandalized, at the amorous and obscene songs used in the court, that he, forsooth turned into English metre fifty-one of David's Psalms, and caused musical notes to be set to them, thinking thereby, that the courtiers would sing them, instead of their sonnets, but did not, only some few excepted." How cheerfully would I go, undieted, for a long summer's day, to know who was the author of "Jonny Armstrong's Last Good Night;" and for a much longer term, to ascertain the writer of Chevy Chase, of which Ben Jonson used to say, he had rather have been the author of it, than of all his works. The words of Sir Philip Sidney, in his Discourse on Poetry, are quoted, by Addison, in No. 70 of the Spectator--"_I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more moved than with a trumpet_." The ballad of Chevy Chase was founded upon the battle of Otterburn, which was fought in 1388, and of which a brief account will be found in the fourteenth chapter of Sir Walter's first series of the Grandfathers Tales. The author of those songs for children, which have been lisped, by the tongues of millions, shall never be forgotten, while dogs delight to bark and bite--but who was the author of Hush-a-bye baby--Now we go up, up, up--Cock Robin--or Dickory Dock, no human tongue can tell! Poor André, we know, was the author of the Cow Chace; but the composer of our national air is utterly unknown. Who would not give more of the _siller_, to know to whose immortal mind we are indebted for Yankee Doodle, than to ascertain the authorship of the Letters of Junius? Both France and England have been more fortunate, in respect to the origin and authorship of their most popular, national songs. Speaking of Barbaroux and the Marseillois, Sir Walter Scott, in his Life of Napoleon, observes--"Besides the advantage of this enthusiastic leader, the Marseillois marched to the air of the finest hymn, to which Liberty or the Revolution had yet given birth." I am aware that something like doubt or obscurity hangs over the reputed authorship of the Hymn of the Marseillais. But in respect to the national air of Great Britain--_God save the King_--the authorship appears to be more satisfactorily, if not perfectly, indicated. It is certainly worthy of note, that this celebrated air, in which _John Bull_ has taken so much delight, ever since it came into existence, is by some persons supposed to have been the production of JOHN BULL himself, a celebrated composer of his day. An engraving of him may be found, in the History of Music, by Hawkins. There is an original painting of him, by J. W. Childe, in the Music School, at Oxford, which was engraved by Illman, with the words below--"John Bull, Mus. Doct. Cantab. Instaur. Oxon. MDXCII." A portrait of Dr. Bull will also be found, in Richard Clarke's _Account of the National Anthem, God save the King_, 8vo. Lond. 1822. The account of Bull, by Wood, in his Fasti, i. 235, Lond. 1815, is somewhat amusing--"1586, July 9.--John Bull, who had practised the fac. of music for 14 years, was then admitted batch, of music. This person, who had a most prodigious hand on the organ, and was famous, throughout the religious world, for his church music, had been trained up under an excellent master, named Blitheman, organist of Qu. Elizabeth's chappel, who died much lamented, in 1591. This Blitheman perceiving that he had a natural geny to the faculty, spared neither time nor labor to advance it to the utmost. So that in short time, he being more than master of it, which he showed by his most admirable compositions, played and sung in many churches beyond the seas, as well as at home, he took occasion to go incognito, into France and Germany. At length, hearing of a famous musician, belonging to a certain cathedral, (at St. Omers, as I have heard,) he applied himself, as a novice, to learn something of his faculty, and to see and admire his works. This musician, after some discourse had passed between them, conducted Bull to a vestry, or music school, joyning to the cathedral, and shew'd him a lesson, or song of forty parts, and then made a vaunting challenge to any person in the world to add one more part to them, supposing it to be so compleat and full, that it was impossible for any mortal man to correct or add to it. Bull thereupon desiring the use of ink and rul'd paper (such as we call musical paper) prayed the musician to lock him up in the said school for 2 or 3 hours; which being done, not without great disdain by the musician, Bull, in that time or less, added forty more parts to the said lesson or song. The musician thereupon being called in, he viewed it, try'd it and retry'd it. At length he burst out into great ecstacy, and swore by the great God, that he that added those 40 parts must either be the Devil or Dr. Bull, &c. Whereupon Bull making himself known, the musician fell down and adored him." Of music it may be said, as of most other matters--_the fashion of these things passeth away_. So great was the fame of Bull in his day, and such tempting offers of preferment were made him, by the Emperor, and by the Kings of France and Spain, that Queen Elizabeth commanded him home. It is stated, in the Biographical History of England, ii. 167, that the famous Dr. Pepusch preferred some of the lessons in Bull's Partheniæ, to the productions of most of the composers of that time. Yet Dr. Burney says of these lessons--"_They may be heard, by a lover of music, with as little emotion as the clapper of a sawmill, or the rumbling of a post-chaise_." Musicians are a sensitive and jealous generation. "Handel," says Chalmers, "despised the pedantry of Pepusch; and Pepusch, in return, refused to join, in the general chorus of Handel's praise." Handel, when a stripling at Hamburgh, laid claim to the first harpsichord, against a master, greatly his superior, in point of years, and the matter, upon trial, was decided in Handel's favor, which so incensed the other, that he drew, and made a thrust, at his young rival, whose life, according to Dr. Burney's version, was saved, by a fortunate contact, between the point of the rapier and a metal button. The principles, which govern, in all mutual admiration societies, are deeply laid in the nature of man. If Handel had borne the pedantry of Dr. Pepusch, with forbearance, or common civility, the Doctor would have, doubtless, afforded Handel the advantage of his highest commendation. The managers of musical matters act wisely, in tendering, to every conductor of a public journal, the Melle soporatam et medicatis frugibus offam-- But I fear they are not always as cautious and discriminating, as the occasion appears to demand. How very different would have been the fate of the poor strolling player, whom Goldsmith so pleasantly describes, had he taken a little more pains--only a little--to propitiate "_the lady, who had been nine months in London_!" The managers, upon such occasions, should never omit the most careful espionage, into the musical pretensions of every member of the press--I speak of their pretensions, and not of their actual knowledge--that, in the present connection, is of little importance: and, when they discover one of this powerful brotherhood, who, in musical matters, would be thought to know more than his neighbors, however mistaken he may be--let them pay him particular attention--let them procure him an excellent seat--once--twice perhaps--express a hope, that he is well accommodated--and occasionally, during the performance, be sure to catch his eye, as if with a "fearful longing after immortality," such as tomorrow's leader may possibly confer on the candidate for fame. How often the omission to observe these simple rules has been followed, by faint praise, and invidious discriminations! No. CVII. My great grandmother used to say, that she never desired to be told, that anything was broken, in her household; for, though she had been a housekeeper, for fifty years, nothing was ever broken, in her family, that had not been cracked before. I have the very same feeling in regard to the majority of all inventions and discoveries; for some ingenious fellow invariably presents himself, who, as it turns out, had verified the suggestion already. I never found my mind in a very feverish condition, while pursuing the inquiry, whether the art of medicine was first invented, by Hermes, Isis, or Osiris; nor while examining the arguments, ingenious though they are, of Clemens Alexandrinus, to prove, that Moses was a very respectable apothecary. I have ever supposed, that Necessity, the mother of invention, was the inventress of the blessed art; and that the origin was somewhat on this wise:--before the transgression, all went on well--there were neither aches nor ails--the apple certainly disagreed with Adam--he sought relief, by hunting for an antidote; and finding great comfort, in chewing such carminative herbs, as catmint and pennyroyal, he prescribed them to the sharer of his joys and sorrows. It is quite likely, that, with no family, and a great deal of time upon her hands, while walking in her garden, as poppies were not forbidden, Eve, to satisfy her curiosity, might have sucked their narcotic juice; and thus acquired a knowledge of opiates, so useful, ever since the fall. Physicking was, at first, a very general affair. Whether benevolence, or the desire of a little reputation lies at the bottom, there has ever existed, among mankind, a pungent, irresistible desire to physick one another. It is to be regretted, that Irenæus, who was just the man for it, had not given a few years of his life to ascertain, if Eve, during the parturition of Cain, or Abel, received any alleviation, from slippery elm. Plato, Theoctet. p. 149, says, the midwives of Athens did great, good service, on these occasions, with certain drugs and charms. In the beginning, so little was to be known, upon this subject, it is not wonderful, that almost every man should have known that little. Thus, according to Homer, Od. iv., 320, every Egyptian was a doctor:-- "From Pæon sprung, their patron god imparts To all the Pharian race his healing arts." Herodotus, who was born, about 484, B. C., in Book II. of his history, sec. 84, speaks distinctly of the fact, that the Egyptian _doctors_ were not physicians, in the general sense, but confined their practice, respectively, to particular diseases. The passage may be thus translated--_Now, in truth, the art of medicine with them was so distributed, that their physicians managed particular disorders, and not diseases generally; thus, though all were referred to the physicians, some were doctors for the eyes, some for the head, some for the teeth, some for the belly, and some for the occult diseases_. The first mention of physicians, in Holy Writ, is in Genesis, 50, 2--"_And Joseph commanded his servants, the physicians, to embalm his father: and the physicians embalmed Israel_." _Physicians_, to this extent, were mechanical operators; and the celebrated physicians of Greece, Chiron, Machaon, Podalirius, Poeon, and even Æsculapius, were _surgeons_. Their art, as Pliny says, did not go beyond curing a green wound. The cure of internal, or complicated, disorders was beyond their province. Celsus says, that Podalirius and Machaon, the physicians, who went with Agamemnon, to the wars of Troy, were never employed, to cure the plague, or internal maladies, nor anything but external injuries. No physician was required to manage external applications, in certain cases of common occurrence. In Kings II. xx. 7, Hezekiah appears to have thought himself extremely sick; when Isaiah applied a poultice of figs to his boil, and he soon was upon his legs again. This seems to have been accounted a remarkable cure, in those days, for Isaiah thought it worth repeating, xxxviii. 21. Job does not appear to have resorted to fig poultices, nor to any remedies, whatever: and, while Hezekiah behaved like a great baby, and wept bitterly, Job toughed it out, like a man; and, instead of mourning and murmuring, under the torment, not of one, but of countless boils, he poured forth torrents of incomparable eloquence, all the while, on various topics. Job's affliction, being viewed in the light of a direct judgment, it was deemed quite outrageous, by many, to stave off the wrath of Heaven, by interposing fig poultices, or remedies of any kind. Thus it appears, that Asa suffered severely with the gout; and there is a sharp fling against him, Chron. II. xvi. 12, on account of his want of faith--"_Yet in his disease he sought not to the Lord, but to the physicians_." This seems to be in accordance, with the opinion of those modern Fathers, who consider the use of ether or chloroform, in obstetric cases, a point blank insult to the majesty of Heaven, because of the primeval fiat--_in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children_. The race of Cyclops entertained a similar sentiment of submission, in sickness, according to Homer, Od. IX. 485. When _Oudeis_ (_Anglice Noman_) which always seemed to me an undignified pun, for an Epic, had put out the eye of Polyphemus, his roaring collected the neighboring giants. They inquired, outside the portal, what was the matter; and he replied, that _Oudeis_--_Noman_--was killing him; upon which they reply-- "If _Noman_ hurts thee, but the power divine Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign. To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray, The Cyclops cried, and instant strode away." The theory was, that God worked upon mortals, by the agency of a great number and variety of evil spirits, or devils; and that the employment of remedial means was therefore neither more nor less, than withstanding the Almighty. Hence arose the custom, being supposed less offensive, in the sight of Heaven, of resorting to charms and incantations; and of employing diviners and magicians; and, as old Sir Robert Walpole is reported to have said, that every man has his price; so it was supposed to be the case, with those devils, who were engaged, in the system of tormenting mankind. Instead therefore of turning directly to the Lord, the sufferers were much in the habit of making their propitiatory suit, directly, to some false god, or influential demon. Of this we have an example, in Kings II. i. 2, et seq. Ahaziah, King of Israel, went up into his garret, probably, in the dark, and fell through the scuttle. He was severely bruised, and sent a messenger, post haste, to Ekron, to consult the false god, Baalzebub. Elisha, who, though a prophet, had no reputation, as a physician, was consulted by Hazael and by Naaman, about their distempers. Enchantments, talismans, music, phylacteries were in use, among the Hebrews, and formed no small part of their _materia medica_. Charms were used, as preventives against the bites of serpents. "Who," says Ecclesiasticus xii. 13, "_will pity a charmer, that is bitten with a serpent_?" This seems not to have availed, against the deaf adder, "which," Psalm lviii. 5, "_will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely_." And Jeremiah, viii. 17, declares, that the Lord will send cockatrices and serpents, that will not be charmed, upon any terms whatever. Some verses are preserved, by Cato, De Re Rustica, art. 160, which were used, in reducing a dislocated member. Dr. Johnson has informed us, though without naming his authority, that ABRACADABRA was a superstitious charm, against agues. It is quite amusing, while reading Sir Thomas Browne's remarks on quackery, in his Pseudodoxia, ch. xi. to see how readily he admits satanic agency, himself. Take the following passage--"When Gracchus was slain, the same day the chickens refused to come out of the coop; and Claudius Pulcher underwent the like success, when he commanded the tripudiary augurations; they died, not because the pullets would not feed, but because the devil foresaw their death, and contrived that abstinence in them." Sir Thomas was a wise and safe counsellor, in all cases, in which there was no chance for the devil to operate; but whenever there was a loop hole, according to the belief in those days, for diabolical influence to creep through, no man was more inclined to give the devil his due, than Sir Thomas. In this chapter, designed to be purely philosophical, he says of satan--"He deludeth us also by philters, ligatures, charms, ungrounded amulets, characters, and many superstitious ways, in the cure of common diseases, seconding herein the expectation of men with events of his own contriving, which, while some, unwilling to fall directly upon magic, impute unto the power of imagination, or the efficacy of hidden causes, he obtains a bloody advantage." This description of the devil and of his manoeuvres so precisely fits the empiric, and all his proceedings, that I should suspect Sir Thomas of the unusual sin of perpetrating a pleasantry; and, under the devil's _effigies_, presenting the image of a charlatan; were it not, for the knowledge we have of this great and good man's credulity, and his firm belief in satanic realities; and, that, in part upon his own testimony, two miserable women were condemned and executed, for witchcraft. No. CVIII. John Jahn says, in his Biblical Archæology, Upham's translation, page 105, that, in Babylon, when first attacked with disease, the patients were placed in the streets, for the purpose of ascertaining, from casual passengers, what practices or medicines _they_ had found useful, in similar cases. Imagine a poor fellow, suddenly attacked with a windy colic, and deposited for this purpose, in State Street, in the very place, formerly occupied, by the razor-strop man, or the magnolia merchant! If it be true--I very much doubt it--that, in a multitude of counsellors, there is safety, this must be an excellent arrangement for the patient. I have often thought, that benevolence was getting to be an epidemic; particularly when I have noticed the attentions of one or two hundred charitably disposed persons, gathered about a conservative horse, that would not budge an inch. They have not the slightest interest in the horse, nor in the driver--it's nothing under heaven, but pure brotherly love. The driver is distracted, by the advice of some twenty persons, pointing with sticks and umbrellas, in every direction, and all vociferating together. In the meanwhile, three or four volunteers are belaboring the shins of the refractory beast, while as many are rapping his nose with their sticks. Four stout fellows, at least, are trying to shove the buggy forward, and as many exerting their energies, to shove the horse backward. Half a dozen sailors, attracted by the noise, tumble up to the rescue; three seize the horse's head, and pull _a starboard_, and three take him, by the tail, and pull _to larboard_, and all yell together, to the driver, to put his helm hard down. At last, urged, by rage, terror, and despair, the poor brute shakes off his persecutors, with a rear, and a plunge, and a leap, and dashes through the bow window of a confectioner's shop, or of some dealer in naked women, done in Parian. I am very sorry we have been delayed, by this accident. Let us proceed. Never has there been known, among men, a more universal diffusion of such a little modicum of knowledge. The knowledge of the materia medica and of pathology, what there was of it, seems to have been held, by the Babylonians, as tenants in common, and upon the Agrarian principle--every man and woman had an equal share of it. Such, according to John Jahn, Professor of Orientals in Vienna, was the state of therapeutics, in Babylon. The Egyptians carried their sick into the temples of Serapis--the Greeks to those of Æsculapius. Written receipts were preserved there, for the cure of different diseases. Professor Jahn certainly seems disposed to make the most of the knowledge of physic and surgery, among the Israelites. He says they had "_some acquaintance with chirurgical operations_." In support of this opinion, he refers to the rite of circumcision, and to--nothing else. He also says, that it is evident "_physicians sometimes undertook to exercise their skill, in removing diseases of an internal nature_." If the reader is good at conundrums, will he be so obliging as to _guess_, upon what evidence the worthy professor grounds this assertion? I perceive he gives it up--Well--on Samuel I. xvi. 16. And what sayeth Samuel?--"And Saul's servants said unto him, behold now an evil spirit from God troubleth thee. Let our Lord now command thy servants, which are before thee, to seek out a man, who is a cunning player on a harp: and it shall come to pass, when the evil spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall play with his hand, and thou shalt be well." This, reduced into plain language, is simply this--Saul's servants took the liberty of telling his majesty, that the devil was in him, and he had better have a little music. Accordingly, David was called in--_as a physician_, according to Jahn--and drove the devil out of Saul, by playing on his Jews'-harp. Jahn also informs us, and the Bible did before, that the art of healing was committed to the priests, who were specially bound, by law, "_to take cognizance of leprosies_." There were, as he admits, other _physicians_, probably of little note. _The priests_ were the regular, legalized faculty. On this ground, we can explain the severe reproach, cast upon Asa, who, when he had the gout, "_sought not the Lord but to the physician_:" that is, he did not seek the Lord, in prayer, through the intermediation of the regular faculty, the priests. There are ecclesiastics among us, who consider, that the Levitical law is obligatory upon the priesthood, throughout the United States of America, at the present day; and who believe it to be _their_ bounden duty, to take cognizance of leprosies, and all other disorders; and to physick the bodies, not less than the souls, of their respective parishioners. To this I sturdily object--not at all, from any doubt of their ability, to practise the profession, as skilfully, as did the son of Jesse, and to drive out devils with a Jews'-harp; and to cure all manner of diseases, in the same manner, in which the learned Kircherus avers, according to Sir Thomas Browne, vol. ii. page 536, Lond. 1835, the bite of the tarantula is cured, by songs and tunes; and to soothe boils as big as King Hezekiah's, with fig poultices, according to Scripture; for I have the greatest reverence for that intuition, whereby such men are spared those _studia annorum_, so necessary for the acquirement of any tolerable knowledge of the art of medicine, by all, who are not in holy orders. My objection is of quite another kind--I object to the union of the cure of souls and the cure of bodies, in the same person; as I object to the union of Church and State, and to the union of the power of the purse and the power of the sword. It is true, withal, that when a sufferer is killed, by ministerial physic, which never can happen, of course, but for the patient's want of faith, nobody dreams of such an irreverent proceeding, as pursuing the officious priest, for _mala praxis_. Priests and witches, jugglers, and old women have been the earliest practitioners of medicine, in every age, and every nation: and the principal, preventive, and remedial medicines, in all the primitive, unwritten pharmacopæias, have been consecrated herbs and roots, charms and incantations, amulets and prayers, and the free use of the Jews'-harp. The reader has heard the statement of Professor Jahn. In 1803, Dr. Winterbottom, physician to the colony of Sierra Leone, published, in London, a very interesting account of the state of medicine, in that colony. He says, that the practice of physic, in Africa, is entirely in the hands of old women. These practitioners, like the servants of Saul, believe, that almost all diseases are caused by evil spirits; in other words, that their patients are bedevilled: and they rely, mainly, on charms and incantations. Dr. W. states, that the natives get terribly drunk, at funerals--funerals produce drunkenness--drunkenness produces fevers--fevers produce death--and death produces funerals. All this is imputed to witchcraft, acting in a circle. In the account of the Voyage of the Ship Duff to Tongataboo, in 1796, the missionaries give a similar statement of the popular notion, as to the origin of diseases--the devil is at the bottom of them all; and exorcism the only remedy. In Mill's British India, vol. ii. p. 185, Lond. 1826, the reader may find a statement of the paltry amount of knowledge, on the subject, not only of medicine, but of surgery, among the Hindoos: "Even medicine and surgery, to the cultivation of which so obvious and powerful an interest invites, had scarcely attracted the rude understanding of the Hindus." Sir William Jones, in the Asiatic Researches, vol. i. p. 354, says, "there is no evidence, that, in any language of Asia, there exists one original treatise on medicine, considered as a science." Crawford, in his Sketches, and he has an exalted opinion of the Hindoos, states, that surgery is unknown among them; and, that, in cases of wounds from the sabre or musket, they do no more than wash the wound; bind it up with fresh leaves, and keep the patient on rice gruel. Buchanan, in his journey, through Mysore, vol. i. p. 336, informs us, that medicine was in the hands of ignorant and impudent charlatans. Origen, who was born, about 185 A. D., states that the Egyptians believed thirty-six devils divided the human body, among them; and that diseases were cured, by supplication and sacrifice, to the particular devil, within whose precinct the malady lay. This is a convenient kind of practice. May it not have some relation to the fact, referred to by Herodotus, in his History, book ii. sec. 84, that the doctors, in Egypt, were not practitioners, in a general sense, but for one part of the body only. Possibly, though I affirm nothing of the sort, Origen may have written _devils_ for _doctors_, by mistake: for the doctors, in those days, were, manifestly, very little better. If it be true--_et quis negat?_--that Hippocrates was the father of physic--the child was neither born nor begotten, before its father, of course, and Hippocrates was born, about 400 B. C., which, according to Calmet, was about 600 years after David practised upon Saul, with his Jews'-harp. His genealogy was quite respectable. He descended from Æsculapius, through a long line of doctors; and, by the mother's side, he was the eighteenth from Hercules, who was, of course, the great grandfather of physic, at eighteen removes; and who, it will be remembered, was an eminent practitioner, and doctored the Hydra. Divesting the subject of all, that is magical and fantastical, Hippocrates thought and taught such rational things, as no physician had thought and taught before. It appears amazing to us, the uninitiated, that the healing art should have been successfully practised at all, from the beginning of the world, till 1628, in utter ignorance of the circulation of the blood; yet it was in that year the discovery was made, when Dr. William Harvey dedicated to Charles I. and published his _Exercitatio anatomica de motu cordis et sanguinis_. No. CIX. Quackery may be found, in every vocation, from the humblest, to the holiest. _If the dead rise not at all_, says St. Paul, _what shall they do, who are baptized for the dead_! Nine different opinions are set forth, by Bosius, in regard to the true meaning of this passage. Scaliger and Grotius, who were men of common sense, conclude, that St. Paul referred to a practice, existing at the time; and St. Chrysostom tells a frolicsome story of this vicarious baptism; that a living sponsor was concealed under the bed of the defunct, and answered all the questions, put by the sagacious priest, to the corpse, about to be baptized. The dead have been, occasionally, through inadvertence, summoned to give evidence, in courts of justice. But, fortunately for quacks, in every department, dead men are mute upon the stand. Saul, if we may believe the singing women, who came out to meet him, after the fall of Goliath, hath slain his thousands; and, could dead men testify, it would, doubtless, appear, that quacks have slain their tens of thousands. When we consider the overbearing influence of that ignorant, impudent, and plausible jabber, which the quack has always at command, it must be admitted, that these, his fatal victories, are achieved, with the very same weapon, employed by Samson, in his destruction of the Philistines. There is nothing marvellous, in the existence of quackery, if we recognize the maxim of M. Sorbiere, in his _Relation d'une Voiage en Angleterre_, p. 155, _homo est animal credulum et mendax_--man is a credulous and lying animal. David said, that all men were liars; but, as this is found in one of his lyrics, and he admits, that he uttered it in haste, it may be fairly carried to the account of _poetica licentia_. With no more, however, than a moderate allowance, for man's notorious diathesis towards lying, for pleasure or profit, it is truly wonderful, that credulity should preserve its relative level, as it does, and ever has done, since the world began. Many, who will not go an inch with the Almighty, without a sign, will deliver their noses, for safe keeping, into the hands of a charlatan, and be led by him, blindfold, to the charnel-house. Take away credulity, and the world would speedily prove an exhausted receiver, for all manner of quackery. At the close of the seventeenth century, there was a famous impostor in France, whom the royal family, on account of his marvellous powers, invited to Paris. His name was James Aymar. I shall speak of him more fully hereafter; and refer to him, at present, in connection with a remark of Leibnitz. Aymar's imposture had no relation to the healing art, but the remark of Leibnitz is not, on that account, the less applicable. That great man wrote a letter, in 1694, which may be found in the Journal of Tenzelius, in which he refers to Aymar's fraud, and to his subsequent confession, before the Prince of Condè. Aymar said, according to Leibnitz, that he was led on, _non tam propria audacia, quam aliena credulitate hominum, falli volentium, et velut obtrudentium sibi_--not so much by his own audacity, as by the credulity of others, who were not only willing to be cheated, but actually thrust themselves upon him. All Paris was occupied, in attempting to explain the mystery of Aymar's performances, with his wonderful wand: and Leibnitz says-- _Nuper scripsi Parisios, utilius et examine dignius, mihi videri problema morale vel logicum, quomodo tot viri insignes Lugduni in fraudem ducti fuerint, quam illud pseudo-physicum, quomodo virga coryllacea tot miracula operetur_--I wrote lately to the Parisians, that a solution of the moral or logical problem, how it happened, that so many distinguished persons, in Lyons, came to be taken in, seemed to me of much greater utility, and far more worthy of investigation, than how this fellow performed miracles, with his hazel wand. It is worth noting, perhaps, that Leibnitz himself, according to the statement of the Abbé Conti, in the _Gazzette Litteraire_, for 1765, fell a victim to a quack medicine, given him by a Jesuit, for the gout. Ignorance is the hotbed of credulity. This axiom is not the less respectable, because the greatest philosophers, occasionally, place confidence in the veriest fools, and do their bidding. Wise and learned men, beyond the pale of their professional pursuits, or peculiar studies, are, very frequently, the simplest of simple folk--_non omnia possumus omnes_. Ignorance must be very common; for a vast majority of the human race have not proceeded so far, in the great volume of wisdom and knowledge, as that profitable but humiliating chapter, whose perusal is likely to stimulate their energies, by convincing them, that they are of yesterday and know nothing. Credulity must therefore be very common. Credulity has very little scope, for its fantastical operations among the exact sciences. Who does not foresee the fate of a geometrical quack, who should maintain, that the square of the hypothenuse, in a right-angled triangle, is either greater or less than the sum of the squares of the sides; or of the quack arithmetician, who would persuade our housewives, that of two and two pounds of Muscovado sugar, he had actually discovered the art of making five? The healing art--the science of medicine, cannot be placed, in the exact category. It is a popular saying, that _there is a glorious uncertainty in the law_. This opinion has been ably considered, by that most amiable and learned man, the late John Pickering, in his lecture, on the alleged uncertainty of the law--before the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, in 1834. The credulity of the client, to which Mr. Pickering does not refer, must, in some cases, be of extraordinary strength and quality. After presenting a case to his counsel, as favorably to himself as he can, and carefully suppressing much, that is material and adverse, he fondly believes, that his advocate will be able to mesmerise the court and jury, and procure a verdict, in opposition to the facts, apparent at the trial. He is disappointed of course; and then he complains of the uncertainty of the law, instead of the uncertainty of the facts. In a dissertation, before the Medical Society, in June, 1828, Dr. George Cheyne Shattuck, after setting forth a melancholy catalogue of the troubles and perplexities of the medical profession, concludes by saying, that "all these trials, to which the physician is subjected, do not equal that, which proceeds from the _uncertainty_ of the healing art." When we contrast this candid avowal, from an accomplished and experienced physician, with the splendid promises, and infallible assurances of empirics--with their balms of Gilead, panaceas, and elixirs of everlasting life--we cannot marvel, that the larger part of all the invalids, in this uncertain and credulous world, fly from those conservative professors, who promise nothing, to such as will assure them of a perfect relief, from their maladies, no matter how complicated, or chronic, they may be--with four words of inspiriting import--NO CURE NO PAY. I am no physician; my opinion therefore is not presented _ex cathedra_: but the averment of Dr. Shattuck is, I presume, to be viewed in no other light, than as the opinion of an honorable man, who would rather claim too little, than too much, for his own profession: who would rather perform more, than he has promised, than promise more, than he can perform. If the regularly bred and educated physician complains of uncertainty, none but a madman would seek for its opposite, in the palace, or the kennel, of a quack; for the charlatan may occasionally be found in either. The first thing to be done, I suppose, by the regular doctor, is to ascertain what the disease is. This, I believe, is the very last thing, thought of by the charlatan. He is spared the labor of all pathological inquiry, for all his medicines are, fortunately, panaceas. Thus, he administers a medicine, for the gout; the patient does not happen to have the gout, but the gravel; it is the same thing; for the physic, like our almanacs, was calculated, for different meridians. These gentlemen sometimes limit their practice to particular diseases, cancers, fistulas, fevers, &c. A memorial was presented, some few years since, to the legislature of Alabama, for the establishment of a medical college, to be devoted, exclusively, to vegetable practice. A shrewd, old member of the assembly rose, and spoke, much after this fashion--I shall support this measure, Mr. Speaker, on one condition, that a neighbor of mine shall be appointed president of this college. It is proper, therefore, that you should know how far he is qualified. He was a travelling merchant; dealt chiefly in apple-trade and other notions, and failed. He had once taken an old book, on fevers, in exchange for essences. This he got by heart. Fevers are common with us. He was a man of some tact; and, a week after he failed, he put up his sign, "BELA BODKIN, FEVER DOCTOR--ROOTS AND HERBS--F. R. S.--L. L. D.--M. D. No charge to the poor or the reverend clergy."--When asked, what he meant by adding those capital letters to his name, he said the alphabet was common property; that F. R. S. stood for Feverfew, Ragwort, and Slippery Elm--L. L. D. for Liverwort, Lichens, and Dill--and M. D. for Milk Diet. The thing took--his garret was crowded, from morning till night, and the regular doctor was driven out of that town. Those, who got well, proclaimed Dr. Bodkin's praises--those, who died, were a very silent majority. Everybody declared, of the dead, 'twas a pity they had applied too late. Bodkin was once called to a farmer's wife. He entered the house, with his book under his arm, saying FEVER! with a loud voice, as he crossed the threshhold. This evidence of his skill was astonishing. Without more than a glance at the patient, he asked the farmer, if he had a sorrel sheep; and, being told, that he had never heard of such a thing, he inquired, if he had a sorrel horse. The farmer replied, that he had, and a very valuable one. Dr. Bodkin assured him the horse must be killed immediately, and a broth made of the _in'ards_ for the sick wife. The farmer hesitated; the wife groaned; the doctor opened the book, and showed his authority--there it was--readable enough--"_sheep sorrel, horse sorrel, good in fevers_." The farmer smiled--the doctor departed in anger, saying, as he went, "you may decide which you will sacrifice, your wife or your nag." The woman died, and, shortly after, the horse. The neighbors considered the farmer a hard-hearted man--the wife a victim to the husband's selfishness--the sudden death of the horse a particular providence--and Dr. Bodkin the most skilful of physicians. No. CX. No class of men, not even the professors of the wrangling art, are, and ever have been, more universally used and abused, than the members of the medical profession. It has always appeared to me, that this abuse has been occasioned, in some degree, by the pompous air and Papal pretensions of certain members of the faculty; for the irritation of disappointment is, in the ratio of encouragement and hope; and the tongue of experience can have little to say of the infallibility of the medical art. The candid admission of its uncertainty, by Dr. Shattuck, in his dissertation, to which I have referred, is the true mode of erecting a barrier, between honorable and intelligent practitioners, and charlatans. The opinion of Cato and of Pliny, in regard to the art is, of course, to be construed, with an allowance, for its humble condition, in their day. With the exception of the superstitious, and even magical, employment of roots and herbs, it consisted, essentially, in externals. There was nothing like a systematic nosology. The [Greek: iatroi] of Athens, and the _medici_ of Rome were _vulnerarii_, or surgeons. Cato, who died at the age of 85, U. C. 605, is reported, by Pliny, lib. xxix. cap. 7, to have said of the doctors, in a letter to his son Marcus--_Jurarunt inter se, barbaros, necare omnes, medicina_. They have sworn among themselves, barbarians as they are, to kill us all with their physic. In cap. 5 of the same book, he thus expresses his opinion--_mutatur ars quotidie, toties interpolis, et ingeniorum Greciæ flatu impellimur: palamque est, ut quisque inter istos loquendo polleat, imperatorem illico vitæ nostræ necisque fieri: ceu vero non millia gentium sine medicis degant_. The art is varying, from day to day: as often as a change takes place, we are driven along, by some new wind of doctrine from Greece. When it becomes manifest, that one of these doctors gains the ascendency, by his harangues, he becomes, upon the spot, the arbiter of our life and death; as though there were not thousands of the nations, who got along without doctors. In the same passage he says, the art was not practised, among the Romans, until the sixth hundredth year, from the building of the city. The healing art seems to have been carried on, in those days, with fire and sword, that is, with the knife and the cautery. In cap. 6, of the same book, Pliny tells us, that, U. C. 535, _Romam venisse--vulnerarium--mireque gratum adventum ejus initio: mox a sævitia secandi urendique transisse nomen in carnificem, et in tædium artem_--there came to Rome a surgeon, who was, at first, cordially received, but, shortly, on account of his cuttings and burnings, they called him a butcher, and his art a nuisance. A professional wrestler, who was unsuccessful, in his profession, met Diogenes, the cynic, as we are told, by Diog. Laertius, in Vita, lib. vi. p. 60, and told him, that he had given up wrestling, and taken to physic--"_Well done_," said the philosopher, "_now thou wilt be able to throw those, who have thrown thee_." The revolutions, which took place, in the practice of the healing art, previously to the period, when Pliny composed his Natural History, are certainly remarkable. Chrysippus, as far as he was able, overthrew the system of Hippocrates; Erasistratus overthrew the system of Chrysippus; the Empirics, or experimentalists, overthrew, to the best of their ability, the system of Erasistratus; Herophilus did the very same thing, for the Empirics; Asclepiades turned the tables, upon Herophilus; Vexius Valens next came into vogue, as the leader of a sect; then Thessalus, in Nero's age, opposed all previous systems; the system of Thessalus was overthrown by Crinas of Marseilles; and so on, to the end of the chapter--which chapter, by the way, somewhat resembles the first chapter of Matthew, substituting the word _overthrew_ for the word _begat_. Water doctors certainly existed, in those ancient days. After Crinas, says Pliny, cap. 5, of the same book, there came along one--_damnatis non solum prioribus medicis, verum, et balineis; frigidaque etiam hibernis algoribus lavari persuasit. Mergit ægros in lacus. Videbamus senes consulares usque in ostentationem rigentes. Qua de re exstat etiam Annæi Senecæ stipulatio. Nec dubium est omnes istos famam novitate aliqua aucupantes anima statim nostra negotiari._ Condemning not only all former physicians, but the baths, then in use, he persuaded his patients to use cold water, during the rigors of winter. He plunged sick folks in ponds. We have seen certain aged, consular gentlemen, freezing themselves, from sheer ostentation. We have the personal statement of Annæus Seneca, in proof of this practice. Nor can it be doubted, that those quacks, greedily seeking fame, by the production of some novelty, would readily bargain away any man's life, for lucre. The statement of Seneca, to which Pliny refers, may be found in Seneca's letters, 53, and 83, both to Lucilius; in which he tells his friend, that, according to his old usage, he bathed in the Eurypus, upon the Kalends of January. It would be easy to fill a volume, with the railings of such peevish philosophers, as Michael De Montaigne, against all sorts of physic and physicians. We are very apt to treat doctors and deities, in the same way--to scoff at them, in health, and fly to them, in sickness. That was a pertinent question of Cicero's, lib. i. de Divinatione, 14. _An Medicina, ars non putanda est, quam tamen multa fallunt? * * * num imperatorum scientia nihil est, quia summus imperator nuper fugit, amisso exercitu? Aut num propterea nulla est reipublicæ gerendæ ratio atque, prudentia, quia multa Cn. Pompeium, quædam Catonem, nonnulla etiam te ipsum fe fellerunt?_ As to medicine shall it be accounted not an art, because of the great uncertainty therein? What, then, is there no such thing as military skill, because a great commander lately fled, and lost his army? Can there be no such thing as a wise and prudent government, because Pompey has been often mistaken, even Cato sometimes, and yourself, now and then? If much more than all, that has been proclaimed, were true, in regard to the uncertainty of the healing art, still the practice of seeking some kind of counsel and assistance, whenever a screw gets loose, in our tabernacle of the flesh, is not likely to go out of fashion. What shall we do? Follow the tetotum doctor, and swallow a purge, if P. come uppermost? This is good evidence of our faith, in the doctrine of uncertainty. Or shall we go for the doctor, who works the cheapest? There is no reason, why we should not cheapen our physic, if we cheapen our salvation; for pack horses of all sorts, lay and clerical, are accounted the better workers, when they are rather low in flesh. Or shall we follow the example of the mutual admiration society, and get up a mutual physicking association? Most men are pathologists, by intuition. I have been perfectly astonished to find how many persons, especially females and root doctors, know just what ails their neighbors, upon the very first hint of their being out of order, without even seeing them. It is a curious fact, that, while men of honor, thoroughly educated, and who have devoted their whole lives, to the study and practice of the healing art, candidly admit its uncertainty, the ignorant and unprincipled of the earth alone, who have impudently resorted to the vocation, suddenly, and as an antidote to absolute starvation, boast of their infallibility, and deal in nothing, but panaceas. The fools, in this pleasant world, are such a respectable and wealthy minority, that the charlatan will not cease from among us, until the last of mortals shall have put on immortality: and then, like the fellow, who entered Charon's boat, with his commodities, he will try to smuggle some of his patent medicines, or _leetil doshes_, into the other world. A curious illustration of the popular notion, that no man is guilty of any presumptuous sin, merely because, after lying down, at night, a notorious _pedler_ or _tinker_, he rises, in the morning, a _physician_, may be found, in the fact, that a watchmaker, who would laugh at a tailor, should he offer to repair a timekeeper, will readily confide in him, as a physician, for himself, his wife, or his child. The most delicate female will sometimes submit her person, to the rubbings and manipulations of a blacksmith, in preference to following the prescriptions of a regular physician. A respectable citizen, with a pimple on the end of his nose, resembling, upon the testimony of a dozen old ladies, in the neighborhood, the identical cancer, of which every one of them was cured, by the famous Indian doctress, in Puzzlepot Alley, will, now and then, give his confidence to a lying, ignorant, half-drunken squaw, rather than to the most experienced member of the medical profession. Suffer me to close this imperfect sketch, with the words of Lord Bacon, vol. i. page 120, Lond. 1824. "We see the weakness and credulity of men is such, as they will often prefer a mountebank or witch, before a learned physician. And therefore the poets were clear-sighted, in discerning this extreme folly, when they made Æsculapius and Circe brother and sister. For, in all times, in the opinion of the multitude, witches, and old women, and impostors have had a competition with physicians. And what followeth? Even this, that physicians say, to themselves, as Solomon expresseth it, upon a higher occasion, _If it befall to me, as befalleth to the fools, why should I labor to be more wise?_" No. CXI. Van Butchell, the fistula-doctor, in London, some forty years ago, had a white horse, and he painted the animal, with many colored spots. He also wore an enormous beard. These tricks were useful, in attracting notice. In the Harleian Miscellany, vol. viii. page 135, Lond. 1810, there is a clever article on quackery, published in 1678, from which I will extract a passage or two, for the benefit of the fraternity: "Any sexton will furnish you with a skull, in hope of your custom; over which hang up the skeleton of a monkey, to proclaim your skill in anatomy. Let your table be never without some old musty Greek or Arabic author, and the fourth book of Cornelius Agrippa's Occult Philosophy, wide open, with half a dozen gilt shillings, as so many guineas, received, that morning for fees. Fail not to oblige neighboring ale-houses to recommend you to inquirers; and hold correspondence with all the nurses and midwives near you, to applaud your skill at gossippings. The admiring patient shall cry you up for a scholar, provided always your nonsense be fluent, and mixed with a disparagement of the college, graduated doctors, and book-learned physicians. Pretend to the cure of all diseases, especially those, that are incurable." There are gentlemen of the medical and surgical professions, whose high reputation, for science and skill, is perfectly established, and who have humanely associated their honorable names with certain benevolent societies. Such is the fact, in regard to Dr. John Collins Warren, who, by his adoption of the broad ground of total abstinence from all intoxicating liquors, as a beverage, by men in health, and by his consistent practice and example, has become entitled to the grateful respect of every well-wisher of the temperance cause. To the best of my ability, I have long endeavored to do, for the sextons, the very thing, which that distinguished man would accomplish for the doctors, and other classes. Never did mortal more certainly oppose his own interest, than a physician, or a sexton, who advocates the temperance reform. There are, however, personages, in the medical profession, regulars, as well as volunteers, who cling to certain societies, with the paralyzing grasp of death--holding on to their very skirts, as boys cling behind our vehicles, _to get a cast_. The patronage and advocacy of some of these individuals are absolutely fatal. It may be surely affirmed of more than one of their number, _nihil tetigit quod non damnavit_. I have long been satisfied, that, without a great increase of societies, it will be utterly impossible to satisfy the innumerable aspirants, for the offices of President, Vice President, &c., in our ambitious community. A sagacious, medical friend of mine, whose whole heart is devoted to the public service, and I am sorry to say it, to the injury of his wife and children, has handed me a list of several societies, for the want of which, he assures me, the citizens of Boston are actually suffering, at the present moment. For myself, I cannot pretend to judge of such matters. A publication of the list may interest the benevolent, and, possibly, promote the cause of humanity. I give it entire:-- A society, for soothing the feelings and relieving the apprehensions of criminals, especially midnight assassins. A mutual relief society, in case of flatulent colic. A society, for the diffusion of buttermilk, with funds to enable the visiting committee to place a full jug, in the hands of every man, woman and child, in the United States, upon the first Monday of every month. A friendly cockroach-trap society. A society, composed exclusively of medical men, without practice, for the destruction of sowbugs and pismires, throughout the Commonwealth. A society, for the promotion of domestic happiness, with power to send for persons and papers. A society, for elevating the standard of education, by introducing trigonometry into infant schools. An association, for the gratuitous administration, to the poorer classes, by steam power, of anodyne clysters. Let us return to the faculty. I am in favor of some peculiarity, in the dress and equipage of medical men. With the exception of certain stated hours, they cannot be found at home; and the case may be one of emergency. Van Butchell's spotted horse was readily distinguished, from Charing Cross to Temple Bar. This was very convenient for those, who were in quest of that remarkable leech. A small mast, abaft the vehicle, whether sulky, buggy, chariot, or phaeton, bearing the owner's private signal, would afford great public accommodation. There is nothing more nautical in such an arrangement, than in the use of the _killeck_, or small anchor, which many of the faculty regularly cast, when they are about to board a patient, and as regularly weigh, when they are about to take a new departure. The bright yellow chariot of Dr. Benjamin Rush was universally known in Philadelphia, and its environs; and his peculiar features are not likely to escape from the memory of any man, who ever beheld them. These striking points were seized, by that arch villain, Cobbett, when he published his pictured libel, representing that eminent physician, looking out of his chariot window, with a label, proceeding from his mouth--_Bleed and purge all Kensington!_ Upon Cobbett's trial for this libel, Dr. Rush swore, that, by making him ridiculous, it had seriously affected his practice. Dr. James Lloyd was easily discovered, by his large bay horse--take him for all in all--the finest harness gelding of his day, in Boston. With the eyes of a Swedenborgian, I see the good, old doctor now; and I hear the tramp of those highly polished, white topped boots; and I almost feel the lash of his horsewhip, around my boyish legs, rather too harshly administered, for mild practice however--but he was an able physician, and a gentleman--_factus ad unguem_. His remarkable courtliness of manner, arose, doubtless, in some degree, from his relation to the nobility. During the siege, General Howe and Lord Percy were his intimate friends; the latter was his tenant in 1775, occupying the Vassal estate, for which Dr. Lloyd was the agent, and which afterwards became the residence of the late Gardner Greene. Dr. Danforth, who resided, in 1789, near the residence of Dr. Lloyd, on Pemberton's Hill, nearly opposite Concert Hall, and, subsequently, in Green Street, might be recognized, by the broad top of his chaise, and the unvarying moderation of the pace, at which he drove. He was tall and thin. His features were perfectly Brunonian. There seemed to be nothing antiphlogistic about him. When pleased, he was very gentlemanly, in his manner and carriage. He ever placed himself, with remarkable exactitude, in the very centre of his vehicle, bolt upright; and, with his stern expression, wrinkled features, remarkably aquiline nose, prominent chin, and broad-brimmed hat, appeared, even some fifty years ago, like a remnant of a by-gone age. He had been a royalist. His manners were occasionally rough and overbearing. I remember to have told my mother, when a boy, that I should not like to take Dr. Danforth's physic. The character of his practice is, doubtless, well remembered, by those, who have taken his _divers_, as they were called, and lived to tell of it. The late Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse being interrogated, by some aged spinsters, as to the difference, between the practice of Dr. Danforth and his opponents, replied, that there were two ways of putting a disordered clock in tolerable condition--the first, by taking it apart, cleaning its various members of their dust and dirt, applying a little oil to the pivots, and attaching no other than its former weight; "and then," said he, "it will go very well, for a considerable time; and this we call the anti-Brunonian system." The second method he described, as follows: "You are to take no pains about examining the parts; let the dust and dirt remain, by all means; apply no oil to the pivots; but hitch on three or four times the original weight, and you will be able to drag it along, after a fashion; and this is the Brunonian system." In this, the reader will recognize one of the pleasantries of Dr. Waterhouse, rather than an impartial illustration. Dr. Isaac Rand, the son of Dr. Isaac Rand, of Charlestown, lived, in 1789, some sixty years ago, in Middle Street, just below Cross: in after years, he resided, till his death, in 1822, in Atkinson Street. He was a pupil of Dr. Lloyd. His liberalities to the poor became a proverb. The chaise, in which he practised, in his latter days, was a notable object. The width of it, though not equal to that of Solomon's temple, was several cubits. It became the property of the late Sheriff Badlam, who filled it to admiration. The mantle of Elijah was not a closer fit, upon the shoulders of Elisha. Dr. Rand was an able physician, and a truly good man. He made rather a more liberal use of the learned terms of his profession, than was the practice of other physicians. With him, this arose from habit, and a desire to speak with accuracy, and not from affectation. Charles Austin was shot dead, in State Street, by Thomas O. Selfridge, August 4, 1806, in self-defence. Dr. Rand was a witness, at the trial; and his long and learned, professional terms, so completely confounded the stenographers, that they were obliged to beat the _chamade_, and humbly beg for plainer English. I have more to say of these interesting matters, but am too near the boundary wall of my paper, to enter upon their consideration, at present. No. CXII. In my last number, I referred to three eminent physicians, of the olden time, Drs. Lloyd, Danforth, and Rand. Some sixty years ago, there were three and twenty physicians, in this city, exclusive of quacks. The residences of the three I have already stated. Dr. James Pecker resided, at the corner of Hanover and Friend Street--Thomas Bulfinch, in Bowdoin Square--Charles Jarvis, in Common Street--Lemuel Hayward, opposite the sign of the White Horse, in Newbury Street--Thomas Kast, in Fish Street, near the North Square--David Townsend, in Southack's Court--John Warren, next door to Cromwell's Head, in South Latin School Street, then kept by Joshua Brackett--Thomas Welsh, in Sudbury Street, near Concert Hall--William Eustis, in Sudbury Street, near the Mill Pond--John Homans, No. 6 Marlborough Street--John Sprague, in Federal Street--Nathaniel W. Appleton, in South Latin School Street, near the Stone Chapel--Joseph Whipple, in Orange Street--Aaron Dexter, in Milk Street, opposite the lower end of the rope walks, that were burnt, in the great fire, July 30, 1794--Abijah Cheever, in Hanover Street--William Spooner, in Cambridge Street--John Fleet, in Milk Street--Amos Winship, in Hanover Street--Robert Rogerson, in Ship Street--Alexander A. Peters, in Marlborough Street--John Jeffries, who, in 1776, went to Halifax, with the British garrison, did not return and resume practice in Boston, till 1790. Ten years after, in 1799, the number had increased to twenty-nine, of whom nineteen were of the old guard of 1789. In 1816, the number had risen to forty-three, of whom eight only were of 1789. In 1830, the number was seventy-five, two only surviving of 1789--Drs. William Spooner and Thomas Welsh. In 1840, we had, in Boston, one hundred and twenty-two physicians, surgeons, and dentists, and a population of 93,383. There are now, in this physicky metropolis, according to the Directory, for 1848-9, physicians, of all sorts, not including those for the soul, but doctors, surgeons, dentists, regulars and quacks, of all colors and both sexes, 362. THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO: an increase of two hundred and forty, in eight years. This is certainly encouraging. If 122 doctors are quite as many, as 93,383 Athenians ought to bear, 362 require about 280,000 patients, and such should be our population. Let us arrange this formidable host. At the very _tete d'armee_, marching left in front, we have seven _Female Physicians_, preceded by an _Indian doctress_--next in order, come the surgeon _Dentists_, seventy in number--then the main body, to whom the publisher of the Directory courteously and indiscriminately applies the title of _Physicians_, two hundred and fifty-seven, rank and file;--seven and twenty _Botanic Doctors_ bring up the rear! How appropriate, in the hand of the very last of this enormous _cortege_, would be a banner, inscribed with those well known words--GOD SAVE THE COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS! I shall devote this paper to comparative statistics. In 1789, with twenty-three physicians in Boston, four less, than the present number of _botanic doctors_ alone, and three hundred and thirty-nine less, than the present number of regulars and pretenders, there were nine only of _our_ profession, regularly enrolled, as F. U., funeral undertakers, and placed upon a footing with the Roman _designatores_, or _domini funerum_. There were several others, who bore to our profession the same relation, which bachelors of medicine bear to theirs, and who were entitled to subscribe themselves D. G., diggers of graves. Yet in 1840, the year, which I take, as a _point d'appui_ for my calculations, there were only twenty, enrolled as F. U., with 362 medical operatives, busily at work, day and night, upon the insides and outsides of our fellow-citizens! Here is matter for marvel! How was it done? Did the dead bury the dead? I presume the solution lies, in the fact, that there existed an unrecorded number of those, who were D. G. only. There were few dentists, _eo nomine_, some sixty years ago. Our ancestors appear to have gotten along pretty comfortably, in spite of their teeth. Many of those, who practised the "_dental art_," had so little employment, that it became convenient to unite their dental practice, with some other occupation. Thus John Templeman, was a _broker and dentist_, at the northeast corner of the Old State House. Whitlock was, doubtless, frequently called out, from a rehearsal, at the play house, to pull a refractory grinder. Isaac Greenwood advertises, in the Columbian Sentinel of June 1, 1785, not only his desire to wait upon all, who may require his services, at their houses, in the dental line; but a variety of umbrellas, canes, silk caps for bathing, dice, chess men, and cane for hoops and bonnets, by the dozen, or single stick. In the Boston Mercury of Jan. 6, 1797, W. P. Greenwood combines, with his dental profession, the sale of piano-fortes and guitars. In 1799, the registered dentists were three only, Messrs. Isaac and Wm. P. Greenwood, and Josiah Flagg. In 1816, there were three only, Wm. P. Greenwood, Thomas Parsons, and Thomas Barnes. It would appear somewhat extravagant, perhaps, to state, that, including doctors of all sorts, there is a fraction more than two doctors to every one merchant, _eo nomine_, excluding commission merchants, of course, in the city of Boston. Such, nevertheless, appears to be the fact, unless Mr. Adams has made some important error, which I do not suspect, in his valuable Directory, for 1848-9. It will not be utterly worthless, to contemplate the quartermaster's department of this portentous army; and compare it with the corresponding establishment of other times. In 1789, there were fifteen druggists and apothecaries, in the town of Boston. Examples were exceedingly rare, in those days, of wholesale establishments, exclusively dealing in drugs and medicines. At present, we have, in this city, eighty-nine apothecaries, doing business, in as many different places--drugs and medicines are also sold, at wholesale, in forty-four establishments--there are fourteen special depots, for the sale of patent medicines, Gordak's drugs, Indian purgatives, Holman's restorative, Brandreth's pills, Sherry wine bitters, and pectoral balsam, Graefenberg's medicines, and many other kinds of nastiness--eighteen dealers exclusively in botanic medicines--ninety-seven nurses--twenty-eight undertakers--and eight warehouses for the sale of coffins! It is amusing, if nothing worse, to compare the relative increase, in the number of persons, who are, in various ways, employed about the sick, the dying, and the dead, in killing, or curing, or comforting, or burying, with the increase in some other crafts and callings. In 1789, there were thirty-one bakers, in Boston: there are now fifty-seven. The number has not doubled in sixty years. The number of doctors then, as I have stated, was twenty-three: now, charlatans included, it falls short, only six, of sixteen times that number. There were then sixty-seven tailors' shops; there are now one hundred and forty-eight such establishments. There were then thirty-six barbers, hair-dressers, and wig-makers: there are now ninety-one. There were then one hundred and five cabinet-makers and carpenters: there are now three hundred and fifty. This ratio of comparison will, by no means, hold, in some other callings. There were then nine auctioneers: there are now fifty-two. There were then seven brokers, of all sorts: there are now two hundred and ten. The source from which I draw my information, is the Directory of 1789, "printed and sold by John Norman, at Oliver's Dock," and of which the writer speaks, in his preface, as "_this first attempt_." For want of sufficient designation, it is impossible, in this primitive work, to pick out the members of the legal profession. Compared with the present fraternity, whose name is legion, they were very few. There are more than three hundred and fifty practitioners of the law, in this city. In this, as in the medical profession, there are, and ever will be, _ex necessitate rei_, infernal scoundrels, and highly intelligent and honorable men--blind guides and safe counsellors. Not very long ago, a day of purification was appointed--some plan seemed to be excogitating, for the ventilation of the brotherhood. For once, they were gathered together, brothers, looking upon the features of brothers, and knowing them not. This was an occasion of mutual interest, and the arena was common ground--they came, some of them, doubtless, from strange quarters, lofty attics and lowly places-- "From all their dens the one-eyed race repair, From rifted rocks, and mountains high in air." When doctors, lawyers, and brokers are greatly upon the increase, it is very clear, that we are getting into the way of submitting our bodies and estates, to be frequently, and extensively, tinkered. I cannot doubt, that in 1789, there were quacks, about town, who could not contrive to get their names inserted, in the same page, with the regular physicians. I cannot believe, however, that they bore any proportion to the unprincipled and ignorant impostors, at the present time. In the "Massachusetts Centinel," of Sept. 21, 1785, is the following advertisement--"_John Pope, who, for eighteen years past, has been noted for curing Cancers, schrophulous Tumours, fetid and phagedenic Ulcers, &c., has removed into a house, the north corner of Orange and Hollis Street, South End, Boston, where he proposes to open a school, for Reading, Writing, Arithmetick, &c._" In 1789 there were twenty-two distillers of rum in Boston: there are nine only, named in the Directory of 1848-9. The increase of doctors and all the appliances of sickness and death have not probably arisen from the falling off, among distillers. In 1789, there were about twenty innholders: there are now eighty-eight public houses, hotels, or taverns--ninety-two restaurants--thirty-five confectionery establishments--thirty-nine stores, under the caption of "liquors and wines"--sixty-nine places, for the sale of oysters, which are not always the _spiritless_ things they appear to be--one hundred and forty-three wholesale dealers, in West India goods and groceries--three hundred and seventy-three retailers of such articles: I speak not of those, who fall below the dignity of history; whose operations are entirely subterraneous; and whose entire stock in trade might be carried, in a wheelbarrow. We have also one hundred and fifty-two provision dealers. We live well in this city. It would be very pleasant, to walk over it, with old Captain Keayne, who died here, March 23, 1656, and who left a sum of money to the town, to erect a granary or storehouse, for the poor, in case of famine! No. CXIII. The Quack is commonly accounted a spurious leech--a false doctor--clinging, like a vicious barnacle, to the very bottom of the medical profession. But impostors exist, in every craft, calling, and profession, under the names of quacks, empirics, charmers, magicians, professors, sciolists, plagiaries, enchanters, charlatans, pretenders, judicial astrologers, quacksalvers, muffs, mountebanks, medicasters, barrators, cheats, puffs, champertors, cuckoos, diviners, jugglers, and verifiers of suggestions. Butler, in his Hudibras, says, of medical quacks, they Seek out for plants, with signatures, To quack of universal cures. In the Spectator, Addison has this observation--"At the first appearance, that a French quack made in Paris, a boy walked before him, publishing, with a shrill voice, '_my father cures all sorts of distempers_;' to which the doctor added, in a grave manner, '_what the boy says is true_.'" The imposture of James Aymar, to which I have alluded, was of a different kind. Aymar was an ignorant peasant of Dauphiné. He finally confessed himself to be an impostor, before the Prince of Condè; and the whole affair is narrated, by the apothecary of the prince, in a _Lettre à M. L'Abbé, D. L., sur les veritables effets de la baguette de Jaques Aymar par P. Buissiere; chez Louis Lucas, à Paris, 1694_. The power of this fellow's wand was not limited, to the discovery of hidden treasures, or springs of water; nor were his only dupes the lowly and the ignorant. As I have said, he was detected, and made a full confession, before the Prince of Condè. The magistrates published an official account of the imposture; yet such is the energy of the credulous principle, that M. Vallemont, a man of note, published a treatise "_on the occult philosophy of the divining wand_;" in which he tries to show, that Aymar, notwithstanding his mistakes, before the Prince, was really possessed of all the wonderful power he claimed, of divining with his wand. The measure of this popular credulity will be better understood, after perusing the following translation of an extract from the _Mercure Historique_, for April, 1697, page 440.--"The Prior of the Carthusians passed through Villeneuve with Aymar, to discover, by the aid of his wand, some landmarks, that were lost. Just before, a foundling had been left on the steps of the monastery. Aymar was employed, by the Superior, to find out the father. Followed by a great crowd, and guided by the indications of his wand, he went to the village of Comaret, in the County of Venaissin, and thence to a cottage, where he affirmed the child was born." Bayle says, on the authority of another letter from M. Buissiere, in 1698, that Aymar's apparent simplicity, and rustic dialect, and the rapid motion of his wand went far, to complete the delusion. He was also exceedingly devout, and never absent from mass, or confession. While he was at Paris, and before his exposure, the Pythoness, herself, would not have been more frequently, and zealously consulted, than was this crafty and ignorant boor, by the Parisians. Fees showered in from all quarters; and he was summoned, in all directions, to detect thieves; recover lost property; settle the question of genuine identity, among the relics of _prima facie_ saints, in different churches; and, in truth, no limit was set, by his innumerable dupes, to the power of his miraculous wand. "I myself," says M. Buissiere, "saw a simple, young fellow, a silk weaver, who was engaged to a girl, give Aymar a couple of crowns, to know if she were a virgin." Joseph Francis Borri flourished, about the middle of the seventeenth century, and a most complicated scoundrel he was--heresiarch, traitor, alchymist, and empiric. He had spiritual revelations, of course. He was an intelligent and audacious liar, and converts came in apace. At his suggestion, his followers took upon themselves an oath of poverty, and placed all they possessed in the hands of Borri, who told them he would take care it should never again interfere with their devotions, but would be spent in prayers and masses, for their ulcerated souls. The bloodhounds of the Inquisition were soon upon his track, at the moment he was about to raise the standard of insurrection in Milan. He fled to Amsterdam--made capital of his persecution by the Inquisition; and won the reputation of a great chemist, and wonderful physician. He then went to Hamburg, and persuaded Queen Christina, to advance him a large sum of money, to be reimbursed, from the avails of the philosopher's stone, which Borri was to discover. This trick was clearly worth repeating. So thought Borri; and he tried it, with still better success, on his Majesty of Denmark. Still the stone remained undiscovered; and the thought occurred to Signor Borri, that it might not be amiss, to look for it, in Turkey. He accordingly removed; but was arrested at Vienna, by the Pope's agents; and consigned to the prisons of the Inquisition, for life. His fame, however, had become so omnipotent, that, upon the earnest application of the Duke d'Etrée, he was let loose, to prescribe for that nobleman, whom the regular physicians had given over. The Duke got well, and the world gave Borri the credit of the cure. When a poor suffering mortal is given over, in other words, _let alone_, by half a dozen doctors--I am speaking now of the regulars, not less than of the volunteers--he, occasionally, gets well. A wit replied to a French physician, who was marvelling how a certain Abbé came to die, since he himself and three other physicians were unremitting, in their attentions--"_My dear doctor, how could the poor abbé sustain himself, against you all four?_" The doctors do much as they did of old. Pliny, lib. xxix. 5, says, of consultations--"_Hinc illæ circa ægros miseræ sententiarum concertationes, nullo idem censente ne videatur accessio alterius. Hinc illa infelicis monumenti inscriptio_, TURBA SE MEDICORUM PERIISSE." Hence those contemptible consultations, round the beds of the sick--no one assenting to the opinion of another, lest he should be deemed his subaltern. Hence the monumental inscription, over the poor fellow, who was destroyed in this way--KILLED BY A MOB OF DOCTORS! Who has not seen a fire rekindle, _sua sponte_, after the officious bellows have, apparently, extinguished the last spark? So, now and then, the vital spark, stimulated by the _vis medicatrix naturæ_ will rekindle into life and action, after having been well nigh smothered, by all sorts of complicated efforts to restore it. This is the _punctum instans_, the very nick of time, for the charlatan: in he comes, looking insufferably wise, and brim full of sympathetic indignation. All has been done wrong, of course. While he affects to be doing everything, he does exactly nothing--stirs up an invisible, impalpable, infinitessimal, incomprehensible particle, in a little water, which the patient can neither see, feel, taste, nor smell. Down it goes. The patient's faith, as to the size of it, rather resembles a cocoanut than a grain of mustard seed. His confidence in the _new_ doctor is as gigantic, and as blind, as Polyphemus, after he had been _gouged_, by him of Ithaca. He plants his galvanic grasp, upon the wrist of the little doctor, much in the manner of a drowning man, clutching at a full grown straw. He is absolutely better already. The wife and the little ones look upon the mountebank, as their preserver from widowhood and orphanage. "_Dere ish noting_," he says, "_like de leetil doshes_;" and he takes his leave, regretting, as he closes the door, that his sleeve is not large enough, to hold the sum total of his laughter. Yet some of these quacks become _honest men_; and, however surprised at the result, they are finally unable, to resist the force of the popular outcry, in their own favor. They almost forget their days of duplicity, and small things--they arrive, somehow or other, at the conclusion, that, however unexpectedly, they are great men, and their wild tactics a system. They use longer words, move into larger houses, and talk of first principles: and all the practice of a neighborhood finally falls into the hands of Dr. Ninkempaup or Dr. Pauketpeeker. Francis Joseph Borri died, in prison, in 1695. Sorbiere in his _Voiage en Angleterre_, page 158, describes him thus--"He is a cunning blade; a lusty, dark-complexioned, good-looking fellow, well dressed, and lives at considerable expense, though not at such a rate, as some suppose; for eight or ten thousand livres will go a great way at Amsterdam. But a house, worth 15,000 crowns, in a fine location, five or six footmen, a French suit of clothes, a treat or two to the ladies, the occasional refusal of fees, five or six rix dollars distributed, at the proper time and place among the poor, a spice of insolence in discourse, and sundry other artifices have made some credulous persons say, that he gave away handfulls of diamonds, that he had discovered the philosophers stone, and the universal medicine." When he was in Amsterdam, he appeared in a splendid equipage, was accosted, by the title of "_your excellence_," and they talked of marrying him to one of the greatest fortunes. I have no taste for unsocial pleasures. Will the reader go with me to Franklin Place--let us take our station near No. 2, and turn our eyes to the opposite side--let us put back the hand of the world's timekeeper, some thirty years. A showy chariot, very peculiar, very yellow, and abundantly supplied with glass, with two tall bay horses, gaudily harnessed, is driven to the door of the mansion, by a coachman, in livery; and there it stands; till, after the expiration of an hour, perhaps, the house door is flung open, and there appears, upon the steps, a tall, dark visaged, portly personage, in black, who, looking slowly up and down the avenue, proceeds, with great deliberation, to draw on his yellow, buckskin gloves. Rings glitter upon his fingers; seals, keys, and safety chain, upon his person. His beaver, of an unusual form, is exquisitely glossy, surpassed, by nothing but the polish of his tall suwarrows, surmounted with black, silk tassels. He descends to the vehicle--the door is opened, with a bow of profound reverence, which is scarcely acknowledged, and in he gets, the very fac simile of a Spanish grandee. The chariot moves off, so very slowly, that we can easily follow it, on foot--on it goes, up Franklin, and down Washington, up Court, into Tremont, down School, into Washington, along Washington, up Winter, and through Park to Beacon Street, where it halts, before the mansion of some respectable citizen. The occupant alights, and, leaving his chariot there, proceeds, through obscure and winding ways, to visit his patients, on foot, in the purlieus of _La Montagne_. This was no other than the celebrated patentee of the famous bug liquid; who was forever putting the community on its guard, by admonishing the pill-taking public, that they _could not be too particular_, for _none were genuine, unless signed W. T. Conway_. No. CXIV. Charity began at home--I speak of Charity Shaw, the famous root and herb doctress, who was a great blessing to all undertakers, in this city, for many years--her practice was, at first, purely domestic--she began at home, in her own household; and, had she ended there, it had fared better, doubtless, with many, who have received the final attentions of our craft. The mischief of quackery is negative, as well as positive. Charity could not be fairly classed with those reckless empirics, who, rather than lose the sale of a nostrum, will send you directly to the devil, for a dollar: Charity was kind, though she vaunted herself a little in the newspapers. She was, now and then, rather severely handled, but she bore all things, and endured all things, and hoped all things; for, to do her justice, she was desirous, that her patients should recover: and, if she believed not all things, her patients did; and therein consisted the negative mischief--in that stupid credulity, which led them to follow this poor, ignorant, old woman, and thus prevented them, from applying for relief, where, if anywhere, in this uncertain world, it may be found--at the fountains of knowledge and experience. In Charity's day, there were several root and herb practitioners; but the greatest of these was Charity. Herb doctors have, for some two thousand years, attempted to turn back the tables, upon the faculty--they are a species of _garde mobile_, who have an old grudge against the _corps regulier_: for they have not forgotten, that, some two thousand years ago, herb doctors had all things pretty much in their own way. Two entire books, the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh of Pliny's Natural History, are devoted to a consideration of the medicinal properties of herbs--the twentieth treats of the medicinal properties of vegetables--the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of the medicinal properties of roots and barks. Thus, we see, of what importance these simples were accounted, in the healing art, in that early age. Herbs, barks, and roots were, and, for ages, had been, the principal _materia medica_, and were employed, by the different sects--by the Rationalists, of whom Pliny, lib. xxvi. cap. 6, considers Herophilus the head, though this honor is ascribed, by Galen, to Hippocrates--the Empirics, or experimentalists--and the Methodics, who avoided all actions, for _mala praxis_, by adhering to the rules. Pliny manifestly inclined to herb doctoring. In the chapter, just now referred to, after alluding to the _verba, garrulitatemque_ of certain lecturers, he intimates, that they and their pupils had an easy time of it--_sedere namque his in scholis auditioni operatos gratius erat, quam ire in solitudines, et quoerere herbas alias aliis diebus anni_--for it was pleasanter to sit, listening in the lecture-rooms, than to run about in the fields and woods, culling certain simples, on certain days in the year. Herb doctors were destined to be overthrown; and the account, given by Pliny, in chapters 7, 8 and 9, book xxvi. of the sudden and complete revolution, in the practice of the healing art, is curious and interesting. Asclepiades, of Prusa, in Bythinia, came to Rome, in the time of Pompey the Great, about one hundred years before Christ, to teach rhetoric; and, like an impudent hussy, who came to this city, as a cook, from Vermont, some years ago, and, not succeeding, in that capacity, but hearing, that wet nurses obtained high wages here, prepared herself, for that lucrative occupation--so Asclepiades, not succeeding, as a rhetorician, prepared himself for a doctor. He was ignorant of the whole matter; but a man of genius; and, as he knew nothing of root and herb practice, he determined to cut up the whole system root and branch, and substitute one of his own--_torrenti ac meditata quotidie oratione blandiens omnia abdicavit: totamque medicinam ad causam revocando, conjecturæ fecit_. By the power of his forcible and preconcerted orations, pronounced from day to day, in a smooth and persuasive manner, he overthrew the whole; and, bringing back the science of medicine to cause and effect, he constructed a system of inference or conjecture. Pliny is not disposed to be altogether pleased with Asclepiades, though he recounts his merits fairly. He says of him--_Id solum possumus indignari, unum hominem, e levissima gente, sine ullis opibus orsum, vectigalis sua causa, repente leges salutis humano genere dedisse, quas tamen postea abrogavere multi_--at least, we may feel rather indignant, that one, born among a people, remarkable for their levity, born also in poverty, toiling for his daily support, should thus suddenly lay down, for the human race, the laws of health, which, nevertheless, many rejected afterwards. Now it seems to me, that Asclepiades was a very clever fellow; and I think, upon Pliny's own showing, there was more reason, for indignation, against a people, who had so long tolerated the marvellous absurdities of the herb system, such as it then was, than against a man, who had the good sense to perceive, and the courage and perseverance to explode, them. What there was in the poverty of Asclepiades, or in the character of his countrymen, to rouse Pliny's indignation, I cannot conceive. Pliny says, lib. xxvi. cap. 9, after naming several things, which promoted this great change, in the practice of Physic--_Super omnia adjuvere eum magicæ vanitates, in tantum erectæ, ut abrogare herbis fidem cunctis possent_. He was especially assisted in his efforts, by the excesses, to which the magical absurdities had been carried, in respect to herbs, so that they alone were enough to destroy all confidence, in such things. Pliny proceeds to narrate some of these magical absurdities--the plant Æthiops, thrown into lakes and rivers, would dry them up--the touch of it would open everything, that was shut. The Achæmenis, cast among the enemy, would cause immediate flight. The Latace would ensure plenty. Josephus also, De Bell, Ind. lib. vii. cap. 25--speaks of an excellent root for driving out devils. Pliny says, Asclepiades laid down five important particulars--_abstinentiam cibi_, _alias vini_, _fricationem corporis_, _ambulationem_, _gestationes_--abstinence from meat, and, at other times, from wine, friction of the body, walking, and various kinds of gestation, on horseback, and otherwise. There were some things, in the old practice, _nimis anxia et rudia_, too troublesome and coarse, whose rejection favored the new doctor greatly, _obruendi agros veste sudoresque omni modo ciendi; nunc corpora ad ignes torrendi_, etc.--smothering the sick in blankets, and exciting perspiration, by all possible means--roasting them before fires, &c. Like every other ingenious physician, he had something pleasant, of his own contriving, to propose--_tum primum pensili balinearum usu ad infinitum blandientem_--then first came up the employment of hanging baths, to the infinite delight of the public. These hanging baths, which Pliny says, lib. ix. 79, were really the invention of Sergius Orata, were rather supported than suspended--fires were kindled below--there were different _ahena_, or caldrons, the _caldarium_, and _frigidarium_. The _corrivatio_ was simply the running together of the cold and hot water. Annexed was the _laconicum_, or sweating room. The curious reader may compare the Roman baths with those at Constantinople, described by Miss Pardoe. _Alia quoque blandimenta_, says Pliny, _excogitabat, jam suspendendo lectulos, quorum jactatu aut morbos extenuaret, aut somnos alliceret_. He excogitated other delights, such as suspended beds, whose motion soothed the patient, or put him to sleep. The principle here seems pretty universal, lying at the bottom of all those simple contrivances, rocking-chairs, cribs, and cradles, swings, hammocks, &c. This is truly Indian practice-- Rock-a-bye baby upon the tree top, And, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock. _Præterea in quibusdam morbis medendi cruciatus detraxit, ut in anginis quas curabant in fauces organo demisso. Damnavit merito et vomitiones, tunc supra modum frequentes._ He also greatly diminished the severity of former practice, in certain diseases, in quinsies for example, which they used to cure, with an instrument, introduced into the fauces. He very properly condemned those vomitings, then frequent, beyond all account. This refers to the Roman usage, which is almost incomprehensible by us. Celsus, De Med. lib. i. 3, refers to it, as the practice _eorum, qui quotidie ejiciendo, vorandi facultatem moliuntur_--of those, who, by vomiting daily, acquired the faculty of gormandizing. Suetonius says of the imperial brute, Vitellius, sec. xiii. that he regularly dined, at three places daily, _facile omnibus sufficiens, vomitandi consuetudine_--easily enabled to do so, by his custom of vomiting. Pliny's reflection, upon the success of the new doctor, is very natural--_quæ quum unusquisque semetipsum sibi præstare posse intelligeret, faventibus cunctis, ut essent vera quæ facillima erant, universum prope humanum genus circumegit in se, non alio modo quam si coelo emissus advenisset_. When every one saw, that he could apply the rules for himself, all agreeing that things, which were so very simple, must certainly be true, he gathered all mankind around him, precisely as though he had been one, sent from Heaven. In the following passage, Pliny employs the word, _artificium_, in an oblique sense. _Trahebat præterea mentes artifcio mirabili, vinum promittendo ægris._ He attracted men's minds, by the remarkable _artifice_ of allowing wine to the sick. During the temperance movement, some eminent physicians have asserted, that wine was unnecessary, in every case--others have extended their practice, and increased their popularity, by making their patients as comfortable, as possible--_while they continued in the flesh_. A German, who had been very intemperate, joined a total abstinence society, by the advice of a temperance physician. In a little time the _tormina_ of his stomach became unbearable. Instead of calling his temperance physician, who would, probably, have eased the irritation, with a little wormwood, or opium, he sent for the popular doctor, who told him, at once, that he wanted brandy--"How much may I take?" inquired the German. "An ounce, during the forenoon;" replied the doctor. After he had gone, the German said to his son, "Harman, go, get de measure pook, and zee how mooch be won ounz." The boy brought the book, and read aloud, eight drachms make one ounce--the patient sprang half out of bed; and, rubbing his hands, exclaimed--"dat ish de toctor vor me; I never took more nor voor trams in a morning, in all my porn days--dat ish de trouble--I zee it now." No. CXV. Miss Bungs is dead. It is well to state this fact, lest I should be suspected of some covert allusion to the living. She firmly believed in the XXXIX. articles, and in a fortieth--namely--that man is a fortune-hunter, from his cradle. She often declared, that, sooner than wed a fortune-hunter, she would die a cruel death--she would die a maid--she did so, in the full possession of her senses, to the last. Her entire estate, consisting of sundry shares, in fancy stocks, two parrots, a monkey, a silver snuff-box, and her paraphernalia, she directed to be sold; and the avails employed, for the promotion of celibacy, among the heathen. Yet it was the opinion of those, who knew her intimately, that Miss Bungs was, at heart, sufficiently disposed to enter into the holy state of matrimony, could she have found one pure, disinterested spirit; but, unfortunately, she was fully persuaded, that every man, who smiled upon her, and inquired after her health, was "_after her money_." Miss Bungs was not unwilling to encourage the impression, that she was an object of particular regard, in certain quarters; and, if a gentleman picked up her glove, or escorted her across a gutter, she was in the habit of instituting particular inquiries, among her acquaintances--in strict confidence of course--in regard to his moral character--ejaculating with a sigh, that men were so mercenary now-a-days, it was difficult to know who could be trusted. Now, this was very wrong, in Miss Bungs. By the English law, if a man or a woman pretends, falsely, that he or she is married to any person, that person may libel, in the spiritual court, and obtain an injunction of silence; and this offence, in the language of the law, is called _jactitation of marriage_. I can see no reason why an injunction in cases of _jactitation of courtship_, should not be allowed; for serious evils may frequently arise, from such unauthorized pretences. After grave reflection, I am of opinion, that Miss Bungs carried her opposition to fortune-hunters, beyond the bounds of reason. Let us define our terms. The party, who marries, only for money, intending, from the very commencement, to make use of it, for the selfish gratification of vain, or vicious, propensities--is a fortune-hunter of the very worst kind. But let us not forget, as we go along, that this field is occupied by huntresses, as well as by hunters; and that, upon such voyages of discovery, the cap may be set, as effectually, as the compass. There is another class, with whom the degree of personal attachment, which really exists, is too feeble, to resist the combined influence of selfishness and pride. Such also, I suppose, may be placed in the category of fortune-hunters. We find an illustration of this, in the case of Mr. Mewins. After a liberal arrangement had been made, for the young lady, by her father; Mr. Mewins, having taken a particular fancy to a little, brown mare, demanded, that it should be thrown into the bargain; and, upon a positive refusal, the match was broken off. After a couple of years, the parties accidentally met, at a country ball--Mr. Mewins was quite willing to renew the engagement--the lady appeared not to have the slightest recollection of him. "Surely you have not forgotten me," said he--"What name, sir?" she inquired--"Mewins," he replied; "I had the honor of paying my addresses to you, about two years ago."--"I remember a person of that name," she rejoined, "who paid his addresses to my father's brown mare." In matrimony, wealth is, of course, a very comforting accessory. It renders an agreeable partner still more so--and it often goes, not a little way, to balance an unequal bargain. Time and talent may as wisely be wasted, in pursuit of the philosopher's stone, as of an unmixed good or evil, on this side the grave. Temper may be mistaken, or it may change; beauty may fade; but £60,000, well managed, will enable the _happy man or woman_, to bear up, with tolerable complacency, under the severest trials of domestic life. What a blessed thing it is, to fall back upon, when one is compelled to mourn, over the infirmities of the living, or the absence, of the dead! What a solace! It was therefore wrong, in Miss Bungs, to designate, as fortune-hunters, those, of either sex, who have come to the rational conclusion, that money is essential to the happiness of married life. No man or woman of common sense, who is poor, will, now-a-days, commit the indiscretion of _falling in love_, unless with some person of ample possessions. What, then, is to become of the penniless, and the unpretty! We must adopt the custom of the ancient Babylonians, introduced about 1433 B. C., by Atossa, the daughter of Belochus. At a certain season of the year, the most lovely damsels were assembled, and put up, singly, at auction, to be purchased, by the _highest_ bidder. The wealthy swains of Babylon poured forth their wealth, like water; and rivals settled the question, not by the length of their rapiers, but of their purses. The money, thus obtained, became the dowry of those, whose personal attractions were not likely to obtain them husbands. They also were put up, and sold to the _lowest_ bidder, as the poor were formerly disposed of, in our villages. Every unattractive maiden, young, old, and of no particular age, was put up, at a _maximum_, and bestowed on him, who would take her, with the smallest amount of dowry. It is quite possible, that certain lots may have been withdrawn. I rather prefer this practice to that of the Spartans, which prevailed, about 884 B. C. At an appointed time, the marriageable damsels were collected, in a hall, perfectly dark; and the young men were sent into the apartment; walking, evidently, neither by faith nor by sight, but, literally, feeling their way, and thus selected their helpmates. This is in perfect keeping with the principle, that love is blind. The ancient Greeks lived, and multiplied, without marriage. Eusebius, in the preface to his Chronicon, states, that marriage ceremonies were first introduced among them, by Cecrops, about 1554 B. C. The Athenians provided by law, that no unmarried man should be entrusted with public affairs, and the Lacedemomans passed severe laws against those, who unreasonably deferred their marriage. It is not easy to reconcile the general policy of promoting marriages, with the statute, 8 William III., 1695, by which they were taxed; as they were again, in 1784. The earliest celebration of marriages, in churches, was ordained by Pope Innocent III., A. D. 1199. Marriages were forbidden in Lent, A. D. 364, conforming, perhaps, to the rule of abstinence from flesh. Fortune-hunting has not always been unaccompanied with violence. Stealing an heiress was made felony, by 3 Henry VII. 1487, and benefit of clergy denied, in such cases, by 39 Eliz. 1596. In the first year of George IV. 1820, this offence was made punishable by transportation. In the reign of William III., Captain Campbell forcibly married Miss Wharton, an heiress. The marriage was annulled, by act of Parliament, and Sir John Johnston was hanged, for abetting. In 1827, two brothers and a sister, Edward, William, and Frances Wakefield, were tried and convicted, for the felonious abduction of Miss Turner, an heiress, whose marriage with Edward Wakefield was annulled, by act of Parliament. No species of fortune-hunter appears so entirely contemptible, as the wretch, who marries for money, intending to employ it, not for the joint comfort of the parties, but for the payment of his own arrearages; and who resorts to the expedient of marriage, not to obtain a wife, but to avoid a jail. And the exultation is pretty universal, when such a vagabond falls, himself, into the snare, which he had so deliberately prepared, for another. In the fifth volume of the Diary of Samuel Pepys, pages 323, 329 and 330, Lord Braybrooke has recorded three letters to Pepys, from an extraordinary scoundrel of this description. The first letter from this man, Sir Samuel Morland, who seems to have had some employment in the navy, bears date "Saturday, 19 February, 1686-7." After communicating certain information, respecting naval affairs, he proceeds, as follows:-- "I would have wayted on you with this account myself, but I presume you have, ere this time, heard what an unfortunate and fatall accident has lately befallen me, of which I shall give you an abreviat." "About three weeks or a month since, being in very great perplexities, and almost distracted for want of moneys, my private creditors tormenting me from morning to night, and some of them threatening me with a prison, and having no positive answer from his Majesty, about the £1300 which the late Lord Treasurer cutt off from my pension so severely, which left a debt upon me, which I was utterly unable to pay, there came a certain person to me, whom I had relieved in a starving condition, and for whom I had done a thousand kindnesses; who pretended, in gratitude to help me to a wife, who was a very vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition'd lady, and an heiress, who had £500 per ann. in land and inheritance, and £4000 in ready money, with the interest since nine years, besides a mortgage upon £300 per ann. more, with plate, jewels, &c. The devil himself could not contrive more probable circumstances than were layd before me; and when I had often a mind to enquire into the truth, I had no power, believing for certain reasons, that there were certain charms or witchcraft used upon me; and, withall, believing it utterly impossible that a person so obliged should ever be guilty of so black a deed as to betray me in so barbarous a manner. Besides that, I really believ'd it a blessing from Heaven for my charity to that person: and I was, about a fortnight since, led as a fool to the stocks, and married a coachman's daughter not worth a shilling, and one who, about nine months since, was brought to bed of a bastard; and thus I am both absolutely ruined, in my fortune and reputation, and must become a derision to all the world." "My case is at present in the Spiritual Court, and I presume, that one word from his Majesty to his Proctor, and Advocate, and Judge, would procure me speedy justice; if either our old acquaintance or Christian pity move you, I beg you to put in a kind word for me, and to deliver the enclosed into the King's own hands, with all convenient speed; for a criminal bound and going to execution is not in greater agonies than has been my poor, active soul since this befell me: and I earnestly beg you to leave in three lines for me with your porter, what answer the King gives you, and my man shall call for it. A flood of tears blind my eyes, and I can write no more, but that I am your most humble and poor distressed servant, S. MORLAND." All that befell Sir Samuel and _Lady_ Morland, after his application to Pepys and the King, will be found fully set forth, by this prince of fortune-hunters, in the two remaining letters to which I have referred, and which I purpose to lay before the reader in the ensuing number. No. CXVI. The reader will remember, that we left Sir Samuel Morland, in deep distress, his eyes, to use his own words, in the letter to Pepys, _blinded by a flood of tears_. Of all fortune-hunters he was the most unfortunate, who have recorded, with their own hands, the history of their own most wretched adventures. Instead of marrying a "_vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition'd lady, with £500 per ann. in land, and £4000 in ready money, with plate, jewels, &c._," he found himself in silken bonds, with a coachman's daughter, "not worth a shilling," who, nine months before, had been introduced to a new code of sensations, by giving birth to a child, whose father was of that problematical species, which the law terms _putative_. I have promised to lay before the reader two additional letters, from Sir Samuel Morland, to Pepys, on the subject of his difficulties with Lady Morland. Here they are: the first will be found, in Pepys' Diary, vol. v. page 329. "17 May, 1688. Sir: Being of late unable to go abroad, by reason of my lame hip"--no wonder he was hipped--"which gives me great pain, besides that it would not be safe for me, at present, because of that strumpet's"--_Lady Morland's_--"debts, I take the boldness to entreat you, that, according to your wonted favors, of the same kind, you will be pleased, at the next opportunity, to give the King this following account." "A little before Christmas last, being informed, that she was willing, for a sum of money, to confess in open court a precontract with Mr. Cheek, and being at the same time assured, both by hir and my own lawyers, that such a confession would be sufficient for a sentence of nullity, I did deposit the money, and accordingly a day of tryall was appoynted; but after the cause had been pleaded, I was privately assured, that the Judge was not at all satisfyd with such a confession of hers, as to be sufficient ground for him to null the marriage, and so that design came to nothing." "Then I was advised to treat with her, and give her a present sum and a future maintenance, she giving me sufficient security never to trouble mee more; but her demands were so high, I could not consent to them." "After this she sent me a very submissive letter, by her own advocate. I was advised, both by several private friends, and some eminent divines, to take her home, and a day of treaty was appoynted for an accommodation." "In the interim, a certain gentleman came on purpose, to my house, to assure me that I was taking a snake into my bosome, forasmuch as she had for six months last past, to his certain knowledge, been kept by, and cohabited with Sir Gilb. Gerrard, as his wife, &c. Upon which making further enquiry, that gentleman furnishing me with some witnesses, and I having found out others, I am this term endeavoring to prove adultery against her, and so to obteyn a divorce, which is the present condition of your most humble and faithful servant, SAMUEL MORLAND." It was fortunate, that Sir Samuel, whose _naïveté_ and rascality are most amusingly mingled, did not take the "_snake into his bosome_," notwithstanding the advice of those "_eminent divines_," whose counsel is almost ever too celestial, for the practical occasions of the present world. The issue of Sir Samuel's fatal plunge into the abyss of matrimony, in pursuit of "£500 per annum in land and £4000 in ready money," and of all that befell the Lady Morland, until she lost her title, is recorded, in the third and last letter to Pepys, in vol. v., page 330. "19 July, 1688. Sir: I once more begg you to give yourself the trouble of acquainting His Majesty that upon Munday last, after many hott disputes between the Doctors of the Civil Law, the sentence of divorce was solemnly pronounced in open Court against that strumpet"--_Lady Morland_--"for living in adultery with Sir Gilbert Gerrard, for six months last past; so that now, unless shee appeal, for which the law allows her 15 days, I am freed from her for life, and all that I have to do, for the future, will bee to gett clear of her debts, which she has contracted from the day of marriage to the time of sentence, which is like to give me no small trouble, besides the charge, for severall months in the Chancery. And till I gett cleared of these debts, I shall bee little better than a prisoner in my own house. Sir, believing it my duty to give His Majesty this account of myselfe and of my proceedings, and having no other friend to do it for mee, I hope you will forgive the trouble thus given you, by, yours, &c., S. MORLAND." This must have interested His Majesty, very deeply. Poor James had then enough of care. If he had possessed the hands of Briareus, they would have been full already. In less than four months, after the date of this letter, William of Orange had landed at Torbay, Nov. 5, 1688, and the last days of the last of the Stuarts were at hand. If Miss Bungs were living, even that inexorable hater of all fortune-hunters would admit, that the punishment of Sir Samuel Morland was sufficient for his crimes. Few will pretend, that his sufferings were more than he deserved. A more exact retribution cannot well be imagined. It was his intention to apply "_£4000 ready money_," belonging to "_a very vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition'd lady_," to the payment of his pre-contracted debts. Instead of effecting this honorable purpose, he becomes the husband of a low-born strumpet, who is not worth a shilling, and for whose debts, contracted before, as well as after marriage, he is liable; for the law decrees, that a man takes his wife and her circumstances together. There are few individuals, of either sex, however constitutionally grave, who have not a little merriment to spare, for such happy contingencies as these. Retributive justice seldom descends, more gracefully, or more deservedly, or more to universal acceptance, upon the crafty heads of unprincipled projectors. For all, that may befall him, the fortune-hunter has little to expect, from male or female sympathy. The scolding tongue--those bewitching tresses, nocturnally deposited on the bedpost--those teeth of pearly brilliancy, which Keep or Tucker could so readily identify--the perpetual look of distrust--the espionage of jealousy--these and all other _tormina domestica_ are the allotments of the fortune-hunter, by immemorial prescription, and without the slightest sympathy, from man or woman. The case of Sir Samuel Morland is a valuable precedent, on account of his station in society, and the auto-biographical character of the narrative. But there are very few of us, who have not the record of some similar catastrophe, within the compass of our knowledge, though, probably, of a less aggravated type. There is a pleasant legend, in the humbler relations of life, to which I have listened, in earlier days, and which illustrates the principle, involved in these remarks. Molly Moodey was an excellent cook, in the family of an avaricious old widower, whose god was mammon, and who had been deterred, by the expensiveness of the proceeding, from taking a second goddess. The only sentiment, in any way resembling the tender passion, which had ever been awakened, in the bosom of Molly Moodey, was a passion for lotteries. She gave such of her waking hours, as were not devoted to roasting and boiling, to the calculation of chances, and her sleeping hours to the dreaming of dreams, about £20,000: and by certain combinations, she had come to the conclusion, that No. 26,666 was the fortunate number, in the great scheme, then presented to the public. Molly avowed her purpose, and demanded her wages, which, after severely berating her, for her folly, were handed over, and the identical ticket was bought. With the hope of being the first to inform her, after the drawing, that her ticket was a blank, her old master noted down the number, in his tablets. In about seven weeks after this occurrence, the old gentleman, while reading the newspaper, in one of the public offices, came upon the following notice--"HIGHEST PRIZE! £20,000. No. 26,666 the fortunate number, sold at our fortunate office, in one entire ticket, SKINNER, KETCHUM, & CLUTCH, and will be paid to the lucky proprietor, after the 27th current." The old gentleman took out his tablets; compared the numbers; wiped his spectacles; collated the numbers again; resorted to the lottery office; and, upon inquiry there, became satisfied, that Molly Moodey had actually drawn £20,000. A new code of sensations came over the spirit of his dreams. He hastened home, oppressed by the heat and his emotions. He bade Molly lay aside her mop, and attend him in the parlor, as he had something of importance to communicate.--"Molly," said he, after closing the doors--"I find a partner absolutely necessary to my happiness. Let me be brief. I am not the man to make a fool of myself, by marrying a young flirt. I have known you, Molly, for many years. You have what I prize above all things in a wife, solid, substantial qualifications. Will you have me?" Taken thus by surprise, she gave a striking evidence of her self-possession, by requesting leave of absence, for a moment, to remove a kettle of fat, which she was trying out, lest it should boil over. She soon came back, and turned her eye--she had but one--with great respect, upon her old master--said something of the difference of their stations--and consented. The old gentleman's attachment for Molly appeared to be very extraordinary. Until the wedding-day, which was an unusually early one, he would not suffer her to be out of his sight. The day came--they were married. On their way from church--"Molly," said the bridegroom, "whereabouts is your ticket, with that fortunate number?"--"Oh," she replied, "when I came to think of it, I saw, that you were right. I thought, 'twas quite likely it would draw a blank. Crust, the baker, offered me what I gave for it, and a sheet of bunns, to boot, and I let him have it, three weeks ago."--"Good God," exclaimed the poor old gentleman--"£20,000 for a sheet of bunns!" The shock was too much for his reason; and, in less than six weeks, Molly was a widow. She attended him, with great fidelity, to the last moment; and his dying words were engraven upon her heart--"_Twenty thousand pounds for a sheet of bunns!_" How true to reality are the gay words of Tom Moore-- "In wedlock a species of lottery lies, Where in blanks and in prizes we deal." No. CXVII. The Archbishop of Cambray, the amiable Fenelon, has remarked, that God shows us the high value he sets upon time, by giving us, in absolute possession, one instant only, leaving us, in utter uncertainty, if we shall ever have another. And yet, so little are we disturbed, by this truly momentous consideration, that, long before the breath is fairly out of the old year's body, we are found busily occupied, in gathering chaplets, for the brows of the new one. The early Christians were opposed to New Year's Gifts, as fixedly, as some of the latter Christians are opposed to the song and the dance. But I am inclined to believe the rising generation will take steps, very like their fathers--that light fantastic tongues and toes, will continue to wag, to all eternity--and that the unmusical and rheumatic will deplore over such heterodox and ungodly proceedings, till the world shall be no more. The New Year's gifts of the Romans were, originally, exceedingly simple. Sprigs of vervain, gathered in a wood, consecrated to Strenia, the goddess of Strength, somehow or other, came into favor, and were accounted of good omen. A custom arose of sending these sprigs about the neighborhood, as tokens of friendship, on New Year's day; and these trifling remembrancers obtained the name of _Strenæ_. These sprigs of vervain, ere long, wore out their welcome; and were followed, in after years, by presents of dates, figs and honey. Clients thus complimented their patrons; and, before many anniversaries, the coin of Rome began to mingle with the donative, whatever it might be; and, very soon, the advantage of the receiver came less to be consulted, than the reputation of him, who gave. When I contemplate those ample storehouses of all, that is gorgeous and glittering--those receptacles of useless finery, which nobody actually wants--and, at the same time, reflect upon all that I know, and much that I conjecture, of the necessities and distresses of mankind, I am not certain, that it may not be wise to resume the earlier custom of the Romans, and embody, in certain cases, our annual tokens of friendship and good will, in such useful materials, as _figs, dates and honey_. Are there not individuals, who, upon the reception of some gaudy and expensive bagatelle, are ready to exclaim, with the cock in Æsop--"_I had rather have one grain of dear, delicious, barley, than all the jewels under the sun!_" I am not so utopian, as to anticipate any immediate or very extensive reformation, in this practice, which, excellent as it is, when restrained within reasonable bounds, is, unquestionably, under certain circumstances, productive of evil. It is not to be expected, that expensive _bijoux_, for new year's gifts, will speedily give place to _sugar and molasses_. But there are cases, not a few, when, upon a new year's day, the wealthy giver, without paining the recipient, may convert the annual compliment, into something better than a worthless toy--a fantastical token of ostentatious remembrance. The Christian world has settled down, at last, upon the first of January, as New Year's day. It was not always thus; and, even now, no little difficulty occurs, in our attempts to refer historical events to particular years. We can do no better, perhaps, than to devote this number to a brief exposition of this difficulty. Every schoolboy knows, that Romulus divided the year into ten months. The first was March, and, from March to December, they have retained their original names, for some six and twenty centuries, excepting the fifth and sixth month, which, from _Quintilis_ and _Sextilis_, have been changed, in honor of _Julius_ and _Augustus_. Numa added two months, _Januarius_ and _Februarius_. Numa's year consisted therefore of twelve months, according to the moon's course. But Numa's lunar year did not agree with the course of the sun, and he therefore introduced, every other year, an _intercalary_ month, between the 23d and 24th of February. The length of this month was decided by the priests, who lengthened or shortened the year, to suit their convenience. Cicero, in a letter to Atticus, x. 17, writes, in strong disfavor, of Numa's calendar. Julius Cæsar, with the aid of Sosigenes of Alexandria, adjusted this astronomical account. To bring matters into order, Suetonius, in his life of Julius Cæsar, 40, says, they were constrained to make one final year of fifteen months, to close the confusion. Hence arose the Julian or Solar year, the year of the Christian world. The "_alteration of the style_" is only an amendment of the Julian calendar, in one particular, by Pope Gregory, in 1582. In 325, A. D., the vernal equinox occurred March 21, and in 1582 it occurred March 10. He called the astronomers to council, and, by their advice, obliterated ten days from the current year, between October 4, and 15. These ten days make the difference, from 1582 to February 29, 1700. From March 1, 1700, to February 29, 1800, eleven days were required, and from March 1, 1800, to February 29, 1900, twelve days. In all Roman Catholic countries, this alteration of the style was instantly adopted; but not in Great Britain, till 1752. The Greeks and Russians have never adopted the Gregorian alteration of the style. The commencement of the year has been assigned to very different periods. In some of the Italian states, as recently as 1745, the year has been taken to commence, at the Annunciation, March 25. Writers of the sixth century have, occasionally, like the Romans, considered March 1 as New Year's day. Charles IX. by a special edict, in 1563, decreed, that the year should be considered to commence, on the first of January. In Germany, about the eleventh century, the year commenced at Christmas. Such was the practice, in modern Rome, and other Italian cities, as late as the fifteenth century. Gervais of Canterbury, who lived early in the thirteenth century, states, that all writers of his country considered Christmas the true beginning of the year. In Great Britain, from the twelfth century, till the alteration of the style in 1752, the Annunciation, or March 25, was commonly considered the first day of the year. After this, the year was taken to commence, on the first of January. The Chaldæan and Egyptian years commenced with the Autumnal equinox. The Japanese and the Chinese date their year from the new moon, nearest the Winter solstice. As Diemschid, king of Persia, entered Persepolis, the sun happened to be entering into Aries. In commemoration of this coincidence, he decreed, that the year should change front, and commence, forever more, in the Vernal, instead of the Autumnal equinox. The Swedish year, of old, began, most happily, at the Winter solstice, or at the time of the sun's reäppearance in the horizon, after the usual _quarantine_, or absence of forty days. The Turks and Arabs date the advent of their year, upon the sixteenth of July. In our own country, the year, in former times, commenced in March. In the Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. xvii. p. 136, may be found certain votes, passed in Boston, Nov. 30, 1635, among which is the following--"_that all such as have allotments for habitations allotted unto them, shall build thereon, before the first of the first month next, called March_." In Johnson's Wonder-working Providence, ch. 27, the writer says of the Boston pilgrims, in 1633: "Thus this poor people, having now tasted liberally of the salvation of the Lord, &c. &c., set apart the 16 day of October, which they call the _eighth Moneth_, not out of any pevish humor of singularity, as some are ready to censor them with, but of purpose to prevent the Heathenish and Popish observation of Dayes, Moneths, and Yeares, that they may be forgotten, among the people of the Lord." If October was their _eighth_ month, March was necessarily their _first_. Whatever the practice may have been, in this respect, it was by no means universal, in New England, during a considerable period, before the alteration of the style in 1752. A reference to the record will show, that, until 1752, the old style was adhered to, by the courts, in this country, and the 25th of March was considered to be New Year's day. But it was not so with the public journals. Thus the Boston News Letter, the Boston Gazette, the New England Courant and other journals, existing here, before the adoption of the new style, in Great Britain, in 1752, considered the year, as commencing on the first of January. Private individuals very frequently did the same thing. At this moment, a letter from Peter Faneuil is lying at my elbow, addressed to Messrs. Lane and Smethurst of London, bearing date January 1, 1739, at the close of which he wishes his correspondents _a happy new year_, showing, that the first of January, for ordinary purposes, and in common parlance, was accounted New Year's day. The little people, of both sexes, would, doubtless, have voted for the adoption of the old style and of the new; in other words, for having two new year's days, in every year. They would have been as much delighted with the conceit, as was Rousseau, with the pleasant fancy of St. Pierre, who wrote, from the Isle of France, to a friend in Paris, that he had enjoyed two summers in one year; the perusal of which letter induced Rousseau, to seek the acquaintance of the author of Paul and Virginia. No. CXVIII. Dion remarks, while speaking of Trajan--_he that lies in a golden urn, eminently above the earth, is not likely to rest in peace_. The same thing may be affirmed of him, who has raised himself, eminently above his peers, wherever he may lie. During the Roman Catholic rage for relics, the graves were ransacked, and numberless sinners, to supply the demand, were dug up for saints. Sooner or later, the finger of curiosity, under some plausible pretext, will lift the coffin lid; or the foot of political sacrilege will trample upon the ashes of him, whom a former generation had delighted to honor; or the motiveless spirit of mischief will violate the sanctity of the tomb. When Charles I. was buried, in the same vault with Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, a soldier, as Wood relates, in his Athenæ Oxonienses, vol. iv. p. 39, Lond. 1820, attempted to steal a royal bone, which was afterwards found upon his person, and, which he said, upon examination, he had designed, for a handle to his knife. John Milton died, according to the respective accounts of Mitford, Johnson, and Hayley, on the 8th--about the 10th--or on the 15th of November, 1674. He was buried, in the chancel of St. Giles, Cripplegate. In the London Monthly Magazine, for August, 1833, there appeared an extract from the diary of General Murray, giving a particular account of the desecration of Milton's remains. The account was given to General Murray, at a dinner party, Aug. 23, 1790, by Mr. Thornton, who received it, from an eye-witness of the transaction. The church of St. Giles requiring repairs, the occasion was thought a proper one, to place a monument, over the body of Milton. Messieurs Strong, Cole, and others, of that parish, sought for, and discovered, the leaden coffin, the outer coffin of wood having mouldered away. Having settled the question of identity, these persons replaced the coffin, and ordered the workmen to fill up the grave. The execution of this order was postponed, for several days. In the interim, some of the parish, whose names are given, by General Murray, having dined together, and become partially drunk, resolved to examine the body; and proceeded, with lights, to the church. With a mallet and chisel, they cut open the coffin, rolled back the lead, and gazed upon the bones of John Milton! General Murray's diary shall relate the residue of a proceeding, which might call the rouge to the cheeks of a Vandal:-- "The hair was in an astonishingly perfect state; its color a light brown, its length six inches and a half, and, although somewhat clotted, it appeared, after having been well washed, as strong as the hair of a living being. Fountain said he was determined to have two of his teeth; but as they resisted the pressure of his fingers, he struck the jaw, with a paving stone, and several teeth then fell out. There were only five in the upper jaw, and these were taken by Fountain; the four, that were in the lower jaw, were seized upon, by Taylor, Hawkesworth, and the sexton's man. The hair, which had been carefully combed, and tied together, before the interment, was forcibly pulled off the skull, by Taylor and another; but Ellis, the player, who had now joined the party, told the former, that being a good hair-worker, if he would let him have it, he would pay a guinea-bowl of punch. Ellis, therefore, became possessed of all the hair: he likewise took a part of the shroud, and a bit of the skin of the skull: indeed, he was only prevented from carrying off the head, by the sextons, Hoppy and Grant, who said, that they intended to exhibit the remains, which was afterwards done, each person paying sixpence to view the body. These fellows, I am told, gained near one hundred pounds, by the exhibition. Laming put one of the leg-bones in his pocket." After reading this short, shameless record, one half inclines to cremation; even if, instead of being enshrined or inurned, our dust be given, in fee simple, to the winds. How forcibly the words of Sir Thomas ring in our ears--"_To be gnawed out of our graves, to have our skulls made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes, to delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations, escaped in burning burials_." The account from General Murray's diary, and at greater length, may be found also, in the appendix to Mitford's life of Milton, in the octavo edition of his poetical works, Cambridge, Mass., 1839. Great indignation has lately been excited, in England, against a vampyre of a fellow, named Blore, who is said to have destroyed one half of Dryden's monument, and defaced Ben Jonson's, and Cowley's, in Westminster Abbey. Inquiring after motive, in such cases, is much like raking the ashes, after a conflagration, to find the originating spark. There is a motive, doubtless, in some by-corner of the brain; whether a man burns the temple, at Ephesus; or spears the elephant of Judas Maccabæus, with certain death to himself; or destroys the Barberrini vase. The motive was avowed, on the trial, in a similar case, by a young man, who, some years ago, shot a menagerie elephant, while passing through a village, in the State of Maine, to be a wish "_to see how a fellow would feel, who killed an elephant_." Dryden's, and Cowley's monuments are on the left of Ben Jonson's, and before you, as you approach the Poet's Corner. Dryden's monument is a lofty affair, with an arch and a bust, and is thus inscribed: "J. Dryden, born 1632, died May 1, 1700.--John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, erected this monument, 1720." It is not commonly known, that the original bust was changed, by the Duchess, for one of very superior workmanship, which, of course, is the one mutilated by Blore. The monument, erected by George, Duke of Buckingham, to Cowley, is a pedestal, bearing an urn, decorated with laurel, and with a pompous and unmeaning epitaph, in Latin hexameters. If Blore understood the language, perhaps he considered these words, upon the tablet, a challenge-- --------Quis temerarius ausit-- Sacrilega turbare manu venerabile bustum. The monument of Ben Jonson is an elegant tablet, with a festoon of masks, and the inscription--_Oh rare Ben Jonson!_ It stands before you, when Dryden's and Cowley's are upon your left, and is next to that of Samuel Butler. In the north aisle of the nave, there is a stone, about eighteen inches square, bearing the same inscription. In the "History of Westminster Abbey," 4to ed Lond. 1812, vol. ii. p. 95, note, it is stated, that "Dart says one Young, afterwards a Knight in the time of Charles II., of Great Milton, in Oxfordshire, placed a stone over the grave of Ben Jonson, which cost eighteen pence, with the above inscription:" but it is not stated, that the stone, now there, is the same. Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Dryden, recites what he terms "_a wild story, relating to some vexatious events, that happened, at his funeral_." Dryden's widow, and his son, Charles, had accepted the offer of Lord Halifax, to pay the expenses of the funeral, and five hundred pounds, for a monument. The company came--the corpse was placed in a velvet hearse--eighteen coaches were in attendance, filled with mourners.--As they were about to move, the young Lord Jeffries, son of the Chancellor, with a band of rakes, coming by, and learning that the funeral was Dryden's, said the ornament of the nation should not so be buried, and proceeded, accompanied by his associates, in a body, to wait upon the widow, and beg her to permit him to bear the expense of the interment, and to pay one thousand pounds, for a monument, in the Abbey. The gentlemen in the coaches, being ignorant of the liberal offers of the Dean and Lord Halifax, readily descended from their carriages, and attended Lord Jeffries and his party to the bedside of the lady, who was sick, where he repeated his offers; and, upon her positive refusal, got upon his knees, as did the whole party; and he there swore that he would not rise, till his entreaty was granted. At length, affecting to understand some word of the lady's, as giving permission, he rushed out, followed by the rest, proclaiming her consent, and ordered the corpse to be left at Russell's, an undertaker's, in Cheapside, till he gave orders for its embalmment. During this proceeding, the Abbey having been lighted up, Lord Halifax and the Dean, who was also Bishop of Rochester, to use the tea-table phrase, waited and waited, and waited. The ground was opened, the choir attending, and an anthem set. When Mr. Dryden went, next day, to offer excuses, neither Lord Halifax, nor the Dean, would accept of any apology. After waiting three days for orders, the undertaker called on Lord Jeffries, who said he knew nothing about it, and that it was only a tipsy frolic, and that the undertaker might do what he pleased with the corpse. The undertaker threatened to set the corpse before the widow's door. She begged a day's respite. Mr. Charles Dryden wrote to Lord Jeffries, who replied, that he knew nothing about it. He then addressed the Dean and Lord Halifax, who refused to have anything to do with it. He then challenged Lord Jeffries, who refused to fight. He went himself, and was refused admittance. He then resolved to horsewhip his Lordship; upon notice of which design, the latter left town. In the midst of this misery, Dr. Garth sent for the body, to be brought to the college of physicians; proposed a subscription; and set a noble example. The body was finally buried, about three weeks after the decease, and Dr. Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration. At the close of the narrative, which, as repeated by Dr. Johnson, covers more than three octavo pages of Murphy's edition, the Doctor remarks, that he once intended to omit it entirely, and that he had met with no confirmation, but in a letter of Farquhar's. The tale is simply alluded to, by Gorton, and told, at some length, by Chalmers. Both, however, consider it a fabrication, by Mrs. Thomas, the authoress, whom Dryden styled _Corinna_, and whom Pope lampooned, in his comatose and vicious performance, the Dunciad, probably because she provoked his wrath, by publishing his letters to H. Cromwell. In the earlier editions of the Encyclopædia Britannica, the tale is told, as sober matter of fact: in the last, Napier's, of 1842, it is wholly omitted. Malone, in his Life of Dryden, page 347, ascribes the whole to Mrs. Thomas. Dryden died, in 1700. The first four volumes of Johnson's Lives of the Poets, containing Dryden's, went to the press in 1779. Considering the nature of this outrage; the eminence, not only of the dead, but of some of the living, whose names are involved; its alleged publicity; and its occurrence in the very city, where all the parties flourished; it is remarkable, that this "_wild story_," as Johnson fitly calls it, should have obtained any credit, and survived for nine-and-seventy years. No. CXIX. Deeply to be commiserated are all those, who have not read, from beginning to end, the writings of the immortal Oliver--a repast, _ab ovo usque ad mala_, to be swallowed, and inwardly digested, while our intellectual stomachs are young and vigorous, and to be regurgitated, and chewed over, a thousand times, when the almond tree begins to flourish, and even the grasshopper becomes a burden. Who does not remember his story of the Chinese matron--the widow with the great fan! The original of this pleasant tale is not generally known. The brief legend, related by Goldsmith, is an imperfect epitome of an interesting story, illustrating the power of magic, among the followers of Laou-keun, the founder of a religious sect, in China, resembling that of Epicurus. The original tale was translated from the Chinese, by Père Dentrecolles, who was at the head of the French missionaries, in China, and died at Pekin, in 1741. The following liberal version, from the French, which may, perhaps, be better called a paraphrase, will not fail, I think, to interest the reader. Wealth, and all the blessings it can procure, for man, are brief and visionary. Honors, glory, fame are gaudy clouds, that flit by, and are gone. The ties of blood are easily broken; affection is a dream. The most deadly hate may occupy the heart, which held the warmest love. A yoke is not worth wearing, though wrought of gold. Chains are burdensome, though adorned with jewels. Let us purge our minds; calm our passions; curb our wishes; and set not our hearts upon a vain world. Let our highest aim be liberty--pleasure. Chuang-tsze took unto himself a wife, whose youth and beauty seduced him from the busy world. He retired, among the delightful scenery of Soong, his native province, and gave himself up, entirely, to the delights of philosophy and love. A sovereign, who had become acquainted with the fame of Chuang-tsze, for superior wisdom, invited him to become his wuzzeer, or prime minister. Chuang-tsze declined, in the language of parable--"A heifer," said he, "pampered for the sacrifice, and decked with ornaments, marched triumphantly along, looking, as she passed, with mingled pride and contempt, upon some humble oxen, that were yoked to the plough. She proudly entered the temple--but when she beheld the knife, and comprehended that she was a victim, how gladly would she have exchanged conditions with the humblest of those, upon whom she had so lately looked down with pity and contempt." Chuang-tsze walked by the skirts of the mountain, absorbed in thought--he suddenly came among many tombs--the city of the dead. "Here then," he exclaimed, "all are upon a level--caste is unknown--the philosopher and the fool sleep, side by side. This is eternity! From the sepulchre there is no return!" He strolled among the tombs; and, erelong, perceived a grave, that had been recently made. The mound of moistened clay was not yet thoroughly dry. By the side of that grave sat a young woman, clad in the deepest mourning. With a white fan, of large proportions, she was engaged, in fanning the earth, which covered this newly made grave. Chuang-tsze was amazed; and, drawing near, respectfully inquired, who was the occupant of that grave, and why this mourning lady was so strangely employed. Tears dropped from her eyes, as she uttered a few inaudible words, without rising, or ceasing to fan the grave. The curiosity of Chuang-tsze was greatly excited--he ascribed her manner, not to fear, but to some inward sense of shame--and earnestly besought her to explain her motives, for an act, so perfectly novel and mysterious. After a little embarrassment, she replied, as follows: "Sir, you behold a lone woman--death has deprived me of my beloved husband--this grave contains his precious remains. Our love was very great for each other. In the hour of death, his agony, at the thought of parting from me, was immoderate. These were his dying words--'My beloved, should you ever think of a second marriage, it is my dying request, that you remain a widow, at least till my grave is thoroughly dry; then you have my permission to marry whomsoever you will.' And now, as the earth, which is quite damp still, will take a long time to dry, I thought I would fan it a little, to dissipate the moisture." Chuang-tsze made great efforts, to suppress a strong disposition to laugh outright, in the woman's face. "She is in a feverish haste," thought he. "What a hypocrite, to talk of their mutual affection! If such be love, what a time there would have been, had they hated each other." "Madam," said the philosopher, "you are desirous, that this grave should dry, as soon as possible; but, with your feeble strength, it will require a long time, to accomplish it; let me assist you." She expressed her deep sense of the obligation, and rising, with a profound courtesy, handed the philosopher a spare fan, which she had brought with her. Chuang-tsze, who possessed the power of magic, struck the ground with the fan repeatedly; and it soon became perfectly dry. The widow appeared greatly surprised, and delighted, and presented the philosopher with the fan, and a silver bodkin, which she drew from her tresses. He accepted the fan only; and the lady retired, highly gratified, with the speedy accomplishment of her object. Chuang-tsze remained, for a brief space, absorbed in thought; and, at length, returned slowly homeward, meditating, by the way, upon this extraordinary adventure. He sat down in his apartment, and, for some time, gazed, in silence, upon the fan. At length, he exclaimed--"Who, after having witnessed this occurrence, can hesitate to draw the inference, that marriage is one of the modes, by which the doctrine of the metempsychosis is carried out. People, who have hated each other heartily, in some prior condition of being, are made man and wife, for the purpose of mutual vexation--that is it, undoubtedly." The wife of the philosopher had approached him, unobserved; and, hearing his last words, and noticing the fan, which he was still earnestly gazing upon--"Pray, be so good, as to inform me," said she, "what is the meaning of all this; and where, I should like to know, did you obtain that fine fan, which appears to interest you so much?" Chuang-tsze, very faithfully, narrated to his wife the story of the young widow, and all the circumstances, which had taken place, at the tomb. As soon as the philosopher had finished the narrative, his wife, her countenance inflamed with the severest indignation, broke forth, with a torrent of contemptuous expressions, and unmeasured abuse, against the abominable, young widow. She considered her a scandal to her sex. "Aye," she exclaimed, "this vile widow must be a perfect monster, devoid of every particle of feeling." "Alas," said the philosopher, "while the husband is in the flesh, there is no wife, that is not ready to flatter and caress him--but no sooner is the breath out of his body, than she seizes her fan, and forthwith proceeds to dry up his grave." This greatly excited the ire of his wife--"How dare you talk in this outrageous manner," said she, "of the whole sex? You confound the virtuous with such vile wretches, as this unprincipled widow, who deserves to be annihilated. Are you not ashamed of yourself, to talk in this cruel way? I should think you might be restrained, by the dread of future punishment." "Why give way," said Chuang-tsze, "to all this passionate outcry? Be candid--you are young, and extremely beautiful--should I die, this day--do you pretend, that, with your attractions, you would suffer much time to be lost, before you accepted the services of another husband?" "Good God," cried the lady, "how you talk! Who ever heard of a truly faithful wuzzeer, that, after the death of his master, served another prince? A widow _indeed_ never accepts a second partner. Did you ever know a case, in which such a wife as I have been--a woman of my qualities and station, after having lost her tenderly beloved, forsook his memory, and gave herself to the embraces of a second husband! Such an act, in my opinion, would be infamous. Should you be taken from me, today, be assured, that I should follow you, with my imperishable love, and die, at last, your disconsolate widow." "It is easy to promise, but not always so easy to perform," replied the philosopher. At this speech, the lady was exasperated--"I would have you to know," said she, "that women are to be found, without much inquiry, quite as noble-hearted and constant, as _you_ have ever been. What a pattern of constancy you have been! Dear me! Only think of it! When your first wife died, you soon repaired your loss: and, becoming weary of your second, you obtained a divorce from her, and then married me! What a constant creature you have been! No wonder you think so lightly of women!" Saying this, she snatched the fan out of her husband's hand, and tore it into innumerable pieces; by which act she appeared to have obtained very considerable relief; and, in a somewhat gentler tone, she told her husband, that he was in excellent health, and likely to live, for very many years; and that she could not, for the soul of her, see what could induce him to torment her to death, by talking in this manner. "Compose yourself, my dear," said Chuang-tsze, "I confess that your indignation delights me. I rejoice to see you exhibit so much feeling and fire, upon such a theme." The wife of the philosopher recovered her composure; and their conversation turned upon ordinary affairs. Before many days, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and severely attacked, by some unaccountable disease. The symptoms No. CXX. Let us continue the story of Chuang-tsze, the great master of magic. Before many days, as I have stated, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and severely attacked, by some unaccountable disease. The symptoms were full of evil. His devoted wife was ever near her sick husband, sobbing bitterly, and bathing him in tears. "It is but too plain," said the philosopher, "that I cannot survive--I am upon the bed of death--this very night, perhaps--at farthest, tomorrow--we shall part forever--what a pity, that you should have destroyed that fan--it would have answered so well, for the purpose of drying the earth upon my tomb!" "For heaven's sake," exclaimed the weeping wife, "do not, weak and feeble as you are, harrass yourself, with these horrible fancies. You do me great wrong. Our books I have carefully perused. I know my duties well. You have received my troth--it shall never be another's. Can you doubt my sincerity! Let me prove it, by dying first. I am ready." "Enough," said the philosopher--"I now die in peace--I am satisfied of your constancy. But the world is fading away--the cold hand of death is upon me." The head of Chuang-tsze fell back--the breath had stopped--the pulse had ceased to beat--he was already with the dead. If the piercing cries of a despairing, shrieking widow could have raised the dead, Chuang-tsze would have arisen, on the spot. She sprang upon the corpse, and held it long, in her fond embrace. She then arrayed her person in the deepest mourning, a robe of seamless white, and made the air resound with her cries of anguish and despair. She abjured food; abstained from slumber; and refused to be comforted. Chuang-tsze had the wide-spread fame of an eminent sage--crowds gathered to his obsequies. After their performance, and when the vast assemblage had all, well nigh, departed--a youth of comely face, and elegantly arrayed, was observed, lingering near the spot. He proclaimed himself to be of most honorable descent, and that he had, long before, declared to Chuang-tsze his design of becoming the pupil of that great philosopher. "For that end," said he, "and that alone, I have come to this place--and behold Chuang-tsze is no more. Great is my misfortune!" This splendid youth cast off his colored garments, and assumed the robes of lamentation--he bowed himself to the earth, before the coffin of the defunct--four times, he touched the ground with his forehead; and, with an utterance choked by sobs, he exclaimed--"Oh Chuang-tsze, learned and wise, your ill-fated disciple cannot receive wisdom and knowledge from your lips; but he will signify his reverence for your memory, by abiding here an hundred days, to mourn, for one he so truly revered." He then again bent his forehead, four times, to the earth, and moistened it with his tears. The youthful disciple, after a few days, desired permission to offer his condolence to the widow, which she, at first declined: but, upon his reference to the ancient rites, which allow a widow to receive the visits of her late husband's friends, and especially of his disciples, she finally consented. She moved with slow and solemn steps to the hall of reception, where the young gentleman acquitted himself, with infinite grace and propriety, and tendered the usual expressions of consolation. The elegant address and fine person of this young disciple were not lost upon the widow of Chuang-tsze. She was fascinated. A sentiment of tenderness began to rise in her bosom, whose presence she had scarcely the courage to recognize. She ventured, in a right melancholy way, to suggest a hope, that it was not his purpose immediately to leave the valley of Soong. "I have endured much in the loss of my great master," he replied. "Precious forever be his memory. It will be grateful to my heart to seek here a brief home, wherein I may pass those hundred days of mourning, which our rites prescribe, and then to take part in the obsequies, which will follow. I may also solace myself the while, by perusing the works of my great master, of whose living instructions I am so unhappily deprived." "We shall feel ourselves highly honored, by your presence, under our roof," replied the lady; "it seems to me entirely proper, that you should take up your abode here, rather than elsewhere." She immediately directed some refreshments to be brought, and caused the works of Chuang-tsze to be exhibited, on a large table, together with a copy of the learned Taou-te-King, which had been a present to her late husband, from Laou-keun himself. The coffin of Chuang-tsze was deposited, in a large hall; and, on one side, was a suite of apartments, opening into it, which was assigned to the visitor. This devoted widow came, very frequently, to weep over the remains of her honored husband; and failed not to say a civil word to the youth, who, notified of her presence, by her audible sobs, never omitted to come forth, and mingle his lamentations with hers. Mutual glances were exchanged, upon such occasions. In short, each, already, was effectually smitten with the other. One day, the pretty, little widow sent privately for the old domestic, who attended upon the young man, in the capacity of body servant, and inquired, all in a seemingly casual way, if his master was married. "Not yet"--he replied.--"He is very fastidious, I suppose"--said the lady, with an inquiring look.--"It is even so, madam," replied the servant--"my master is, indeed, not easily suited, in such a matter. His standard is very high. I have heard him say, that he should, probably, never be married, as he despaired of ever finding a female resembling yourself, in every particular."--"Did he say so?" exclaimed the widow, as the warm blood rushed into her cheeks.--"He certainly did," replied the other, "and much more, which I do not feel at liberty to repeat."--"Dear me," said the widow, "what a bewitching young man he is! go to him, and if he really loves me, as you say, tell him he may open the subject, without fear, for his passion is amply returned, by one, who is willing, if he so wishes, to become his wife." The young widow, from day to day, threw herself repeatedly, and as if by accident, into the old servant's way; and began, at last, to feel surprised, and somewhat nettled, that he brought her no message from his master. At length, she became exceedingly impatient, and asked him directly, if he had spoken to his master on the subject. "Yes, madam," the old man replied.--"And pray," asked the widow, eagerly, "what said he?"--"He said, madam, that such an union would place him upon the pinnacle of human happiness; but that there was one fatal objection."--"And do, for pity's sake, tell me," said she, hastily interrupting the old man, "what that objection can be."--"He said," rejoined the old domestic, "that, being a disciple of your late husband, such a marriage, he feared, would be considered scandalous."--"But," said she, briskly, "there is just nothing in that. He was never a disciple of Chuang-tsze--he only proposed to become one, which is an entirely different thing. If any other frivolous objections arise, I beg you to remove them; and you may count upon being handsomely rewarded." Her anxiety caused her to become exceedingly restless. She made frequent visits to the hall, and, when she approached the coffin, her sobs became more audible than ever--but the young disciple came not forth, as usual. Upon one occasion, after dark, as she was standing near the coffin, she was startled, by an unusual noise. "Gracious Heaven!" she exclaimed, "can it be so! Is the old philosopher coming back to life!" The cold sweat came upon her lovely brow, as she started to procure a light. When she returned, the mystery was readily explained. In front of the coffin there was a table, designed as an altar, for the reception of such emblems and presents, as were placed there by visitors. The old servant, had become tipsy, and finding no more convenient place, in which to bestow himself, while waiting his master's bidding, he had thrown himself, at full length, upon this altar; and, in turning over, had occasioned the noise, which had so much alarmed the young widow. Under other circumstances, the act would have been accounted sacrilegious, and the fellow would have been subjected to the bastinado. But, as matters stood, the widow passed it by, and even suffered the sot to remain undisturbed. On the morning of the following day, the widow encountered the old domestic, who was passing her, with as much apparent indifference, as though she had never entrusted him, with any important commission. Surprised by his behavior, she called him to her private apartment--"Well," said she, "have you executed the business, which I gave you in charge?"--"Oh," said he, with an air of provoking indifference, "that is all over, I believe."--"How so," inquired the widow--"did you deliver my message correctly?"--"In your own words," he replied--"my master would make any sacrifice to make you his wife; and is entirely persuaded, by your arguments, to give up the objection he stated, in regard to his being the disciple of Chuang-tsze; but there are three other objections, which it will be impossible to overcome; and which his sense of delicacy forbids him to exhibit before you."--"Poh, poh," said the widow, "let me hear what they are, and we shall then see, whether they are insurmountable or not."--"Well, madam," said the old man, "since you command me, I will state them, as nearly as I can, in the words of my young master. The first of these three objections is this----" No. CXXI. We were about to exhibit those three objections of the young disciple, to his marriage, with the widow of Chuang-tsze, when we were summoned away, by professional duties. Let us proceed--"The first of my master's objections," said the old domestic, "is this--the coffin of Chuang-tsze is still in the hall of ceremony. A sight, so sad and solemnizing, is absolutely inconsistent with the nuptial celebration. The world would cry out upon such inconsistency. In the second place, the fame of your late husband was so great--his love for you so devoted--yours for him so ardent and sincere, and founded, so obviously, upon his learning and wisdom--that my master fears it will be impossible for him, to supply the place of so good, and so great, a man; and that you will, ere long, despise him, for his inferiority; and that your affections will be entirely and unchangeably fixed, on the memory of the great defunct. The third and last objection, named by my master, whose passion for you knows no bounds, is serious indeed. Though of lofty pedigree, he is very poor. He has neither money nor lands; and has not the means of purchasing those marriage gifts, which custom requires him to offer." "And are these the only objections?" said she. "There are no others," he replied; "if it were not for these insurmountable objections, the happiness of my master would be complete, and he would openly manifest that passion, by which he is now secretly consumed." "They are, by no means, insurmountable," said the young widow, with animation. "As for the coffin, what is it? A mere shell, containing the remains of poor Chuang-tsze. It is not absolutely necessary, that it should remain in the hall, during these one hundred days. At the farther end of my garden is an ancient smoke-house. It is quite dilapidated, and no longer in use. Some of my people shall carry the coffin thither, without farther delay. So you may inform your sweet, young master, that his first objection will be instantly removed. And why should he distress himself so needlessly, in regard to the second? Chuang-tsze certainly passed, with the world, for a great philosopher, and a wonderful man. The world sees from a distance. A sort of haze or mist impedes its vision. Minute particulars escape its observation. That, which is smooth and fair, seen from afar, may appear full of inequalities to one, who is near at hand. God forbid, that I should undervalue the dead; but it is well known, that Chuang-tsze repudiated his second wife, because she did not precisely suit his humor, and then married me. His great reputation induced a certain sovereign, to appoint him his chief minister. But the philosopher was not deficient in shrewdness--he knew his incapacity, and resolved to hide himself, in that solitude, where we have vegetated, so long." "About a month ago, he encountered a young widow, who, with a large fan, was endeavoring to dry up her husband's grave, because she could not marry again, under the condition her husband had imposed upon her, until this was done. Chuang-tsze, if you will believe it, made the acquaintance of this shameless woman; and actually assisted her, in drying up her husband's grave. She gave him a fan, as a keepsake; and he valued it highly. I got possession of it however, and tore it to tatters. You see how great my obligations are to this wonderful philosopher; and you may judge of the real affection, which I must feel, for the memory of such a man." "The last objection," continued the widow, "is easily disposed of. I will furnish your master with all the means he can desire. Chuang-tsze, to do the man justice, has left me the absolute mistress of an ample fortune--here, present these twenty taels to your master, from me, with such expressions of devotion, as may befit the lips of one, whose heart is all his own; and say to him, unless he himself is desirous of a longer delay, that, as the whole of life is not too long for love, I shall be happy, if he desires it, to become his bride, this very day." Thus far the course of true love, in despite of the proverb, certainly ran smooth. "Here," said the young disciple, upon sight of the twenty taels, as he turned them over, "is something substantial--run back immediately to the widow, and tell her my passion will endure the curb no longer. I am entirely at her disposal." The widow was quite beside herself, upon receiving these tidings; and, casting off her garments of heaviness, she began to embellish her fine person. The coffin of Chuang-tsze, by her directions, was immediately transferred to the old smoke-house. The hall was made ready, for the approaching nuptials. If murmurs occasionally arose, among the old, faithful domestics of Chuang-tsze, the widow's passion was more blind than moonless midnight, and deafer than the time-stricken adder. A gorgeous feast was made ready. The shades of evening drew on apace--the lanterns were lighted up, in all directions--the nuptial torch cast forth its bright beams from an elevated table. At the appointed signal, the bridegroom entered, most skilfully and splendidly arrayed,--so that his fine, manly figure was exhibited, to the greatest advantage. The young widow soon appeared, her countenance the very tabernacle of pleasure, and her bewitching form, adorned in the most costly silks, and splendid embroidery. They placed themselves, side by side, in front of the hymeneal taper, arrayed in pearls, and diamonds, and tissue of gold. Those salutations, which custom demands, having been duly performed, and the bride and bridegroom having wished each other eternal felicity, in that manner, which the marriage rites prescribe, the bridegroom holding the hand of the bride, they proceeded to the festal hall; and having drunk from the goblet of mutual fidelity, they took their places, at the banqueting board. The repast went joyously forward--the darkest cloud--how suddenly will it come over the smiling face of the bewitching moon! The festival had not yet passed, when the bridegroom fell to the floor, in horrible convulsions. With eyes turned upward, and mouth frightfully distorted, he became an object of horror. The bride, whose passion for the young disciple was ardent and sincere, screamed aloud. She threw herself, in all her bridal array, upon the floor, by his side; clasped him in her arms; covered him with kisses; and implored him, to say what she could do, to afford him relief. Miserable youth! He was unable to reply, and seemed about to expire. The old domestic rushed into the apartment, upon hearing the noise, and taking his master from the floor, proceeded to shake him with violence. "My God," cried the lady, "has this ever happened before?" "Yes, Madam," he replied, "he has a return of it about once, in every year." "And, for Heaven's sake, tell me what remedies do you employ?" she eagerly inquired. "There is one sovereign remedy," the old man replied; "his physician considers it a specific." "And what is it? tell me, in the name of Confucius," she passionately exclaimed, for the convulsions were growing more violent. "Nothing will restore him, but the brains of a man, recently dead, taken in warm wine. His father, who was governor of a province, when his son was last attacked, in this way, caused a criminal to be executed, that his brains might be thus employed." "Good God!" exclaimed the agonizing bride, for the convulsions, after a short remission, were returning, with redoubled violence, and the bridegroom was foaming terribly, at the mouth. "Tell me instantly, will the brains of a man who died a natural death answer as well?" "Undoubtedly," the old servant replied. "Well then," said she, in a tone somewhat subdued--"there is Chuang-tsze in the smoke-house." "Ah, Madam," said the old domestic, "I am aware of it--it occurred to me--but I feared to suggest it." "And of what possible use," she exclaimed, "can the brains of old Chuang-tsze be to him now, I should like to know?" At this moment, the convulsions became absolutely terrific. "These returns," said the old man, "will become more and more violent, till they destroy my poor master. There is no time to be lost." The wretched bride rushed from the apartment, and, seizing a hatchet, which happened to be lying in the outer passage, she hastily made her way to the old smoke-house. Elevating the hatchet above her head, she struck a violent blow, on the lid of the coffin. If the whole force of the blow had descended upon a secret spring, the lid could not have risen more suddenly. It seemed like the power of magic. The bride turned her eyes upon the closed lids of the corpse--they gradually opened; and the balls were slowly turned, and steadily fixed, upon her. In an instant Chuang-tsze sat, bolt upright, in his coffin! She sent forth a shriek of terror--the hatchet fell from her paralyzed hand--the cold sweat of confusion gathered thickly upon her brow. "My beloved wife," said the philosopher, with perfect calmness, "be so obliging as to lend me your hand, that I may get out.--I have had a charming nap," continued he, as he took the lamp from her hand, and advanced towards the hall. She followed, trembling at every step, and dreading the meeting, between the old philosopher and the young disciple. Though the air of unwonted festivity, under the light of the waning tapers, still hung over the apartment, fortunately the youth and the old servant seemed to have departed. Upon this, her courage, in some measure, revived, and, turning a look of inexpressible tenderness upon Chuang-tsze--"Dearest husband," said she, "how I have cherished your memory! My day thoughts and dreams have been all of you. I have often heard, that the apparent dead were revived, especially if not confined within closed apartments. I therefore caused your precious coffin to be removed, where the cool, refreshing air could blow over it. How I have watched, and listened, for some evidence of returning life! And how my heart leaped into my mouth, when my vigilance was at last rewarded. I flew with a hatchet to open the coffin; and, when I saw your dear eyes turned upon me, I thought I should"--"I can never repay your devotion," said the philosopher, interrupting her, with an expression of ineffable tenderness, "but why are you thus gaily apparelled--why these robes--these jewels--my love?" "It seemed to me, my dear husband," she readily replied, "that some invisible power assured me of your return to life. How, thought I, can I meet my beloved Chuang-tsze, in the garments of heaviness? No; it will be like a return of our wedding day; and thus, you see, I have resumed my bridal array, and the jewels you gave me, during our honeymoon."--"Ah," said the philosopher, "how considerate you are--you always had your thoughts about you." He then drew near the table. The wedding taper, which was then burning low in its socket, cast its equivocal rays upon the gorgeous bowls and dishes, which covered the festal board. Chuang-tsze surveyed them attentively, in silence; and, calling for warm wine, deliberately drained the goblet, while the lady stood near him, trembling with confusion and terror. At length, setting down the goblet, and pointing his finger--"Look behind you!" he exclaimed. She turned her head, and beheld the young disciple, in his wedding finery, with his attendant--a second glance, and they were gone. Such was the power of this mighty master of magic. The wife slunk to her apartment; and, resolving not to survive her shame and disappointment, unloosened her wedding girdle, and ascending to the garret, hung herself therewith, to one of the cross-beams, until she was dead. Tidings were soon brought to Chuang-tsze, who, deliberately feeling her pulse, and ascertaining that she was certainly dead, cut her down, and placed her precious remains, in the coffin, in the old smoke-house. He then proceeded to indulge his philosophical humor. He sat down, among the flickering lamps, at the solitary board, and struck up a dirge, accompanying his voice, by knocking with the chopsticks, and whatever else was convenient to his purpose, upon the porcelain bowls and dishes, which he finally broke into a thousand pieces, and setting fire to his mansion, he consumed it to ashes, together with the smoke-house, and all its valuable contents. He then, abandoning all thoughts of taking another wife, travelled into the recesses of Latinguin, in pursuit of his old master, Laoukeun, whom, at length, he discovered. There he acquired the reputation of a profound philosopher; and lay down, at last, in the peaceful grave, where wicked widows cease from troubling, and weary widowers are at rest. No. CXXII. A grasshopper was not the crest of Peter Faneuil's arms. I formerly supposed it was; for a gilded grasshopper, as half the world knows, is the vane upon the cupola of Faneuil Hall; and a gilded grasshopper, as many of us well remember, whirled about, of yore, upon the little spire, that rose above the summer-house, appurtenant to the mansion, where Peter Faneuil lived, and died. That house was built, and occupied, by his uncle, Andrew; and he had some seven acres, for his garden thereabouts. It was upon the westerly side of old _Treamount_ Street, and became the residence of the late William Phillips, whose political relations to the people of Massachusetts, as their Lieutenant Governor, could not preserve him from the sobriquet of _Billy_. I thought it not unlikely, that Peter's crest was a grasshopper, and that, on that account, he had become partial to this emblem. But I am duly certified, that it was not so. The selection of a grasshopper, for a vane, was made, in imitation of their example, who placed the very same thing, upon the pinnacle of the Royal Exchange, in London. The arms of the Faneuils I have seen, upon the silver castors, which once were Peter's own; and, upon his decease, became the property of his brother, Benjamin, from whom they descended to his only daughter, Mary Faneuil, who became, October 13, 1754, the wife of George Bethune, now deceased; and was the mother of George Bethune, Esquire, who will complete his eighty-second year, in April, 1851. From this gentleman, whose grand-uncle Peter Faneuil was, and from other descendants of old Benjamin Faneuil, of Rochelle, I have received some facts and documents--interesting to me--possibly to others. In conversation with an antiquarian friend, not long ago, we agreed, that very much less was generally known of Peter Faneuil, than of almost any other great, public benefactor. His name, nevertheless, is inseparably associated, with the cradle of American liberty. Drs. Eliot and Allen, in their Biographical Dictionaries, have passed him over, very slightingly, the former finishing up this noble-hearted Huguenot, with fifteen lines; and the latter, with eight; while not a few of their pages have been devoted, to the very dullest doctors of the drowsiest theology, and to-- "Names ignoble, born to be forgot." Mr. Farmer, in his Genealogical Register, does not seem to be aware, that the name of Faneuil existed, for he has not even found a niche for it there. His Register, I am aware, purports to be a register of the "_First Settlers_." But he has found room for the Baudouins (Bowdoins) and their descendants. They also were Huguenots; and came hither, with the Faneuils, after 1685. One of that family, as will be more fully shown, Claude Baudoin, presented Peter Faneuil in baptism. Yet, such was the public sense of Peter's favors, _when they were green_, that John Lovell--that same Master Lovell, who retired with the British army, in 1776--delivered, under an appointment of the town, an oration, to commemorate the virtues, and laud the munificence of Peter Faneuil. Such, in truth, was the very first occasion, upon which the citizens were summoned to listen to the voice of an orator, in Faneuil Hall; and then, in honor of him, who perfected the noble work, at his own proper cost, and whose death so speedily followed its completion--for a noble work assuredly it was, relatively to the times, in which it was wrought. The Faneuils were Huguenots. The original pronunciation of this patronymic must have been somewhat different from the present: there was an excusable _naïveté_, in the inquiry of a rural visitant of the city--if a well known mechanical establishment, with a tall, tubular chimney, were not _Funnel_ Hall? After the revocation of the edict of Nantes, by Louis XIV., in 1685, the Faneuils, in common with many other Huguenots of France,--the Baudouins, the Bernons, the Sigourneys, the Boudinots, the Pringles, the Hugers, the Boutineaus, the Jays, the Laurenses, the Manigaults, the Marions, the Prioleaus, and many others, came to these North American shores--as our pilgrim fathers came--to worship God, in security, and according to their consciences. Many of these persecuted men conferred, upon their adopted home, those blessings, which the exercise of their talents, and the influence of their characters, and of the talents and characters of their descendants have confirmed to our common country, for many generations. They came, by instalments, and arrived at different points. Thirty families of these expatriated Protestants came hither, and settled upon a tract, eight miles square, in the "Nipmug country," where now stands the town of Oxford, in the County of Worcester. This settlement commenced, in Gov. Dudley's time, and under his particular auspices; but continued only till 1696, when it was broken up, by the inroads of the savages. In the overthrow of this settlement, rum was a material agent, and occasioned, though upon a very small scale, a second massacre of some of these Huguenots. There is a letter to Gov. Dudley, from M. Bondet, the Huguenot clergyman, dated July 6, 1691, complaining bitterly of the unrestricted sale, among the Indians, of this fatal fire water; and giving a graphic account of the uproar and outrage it produced. After the failure of this attempt, many of the scattered planters collected, in Boston. For several years, they gathered, for devotional purposes, in one of the larger school-houses. Jan. 4, 1704, they purchased a piece of land, in South School Street, of John Mears, a hatter, for "£110 current silver money of New England;" but, for several years, the selectmen, for some cause, unknown to us, refused their consent, that these worthy French Protestants should build their church thereon. About twelve years after the purchase of the land, the little church--the visible temple--went up. It was of brick, and very small. Monsieur Pierre Daillé was their first pastor, André Le Mercier the second; and, if there be any truth, in tradition, these Huguenot shepherds were pure and holy men. Daillé died testate, May 20, 1715. His will bears date May 15, of that year. He directs his body to be interred, at the discretion of his executor, James Bowdoin, "_with this restriction, that there be no wine at my funeral, and that none of my wife's relations have mourning cloaths_." He empowers his executor to give them gloves; and scarfs and gloves to all the ministers of Boston. To his wife, Martha, he gives £350, Province bills, and his negro man, Kuffy. His Latin and French books he gives to the French Church, as _the nucleus of a library_. £100 to be put at interest for the use of the minister. £10 to be improved by the elders, for the use of the church, and should a meeting-house be built, then in aid of that object. To John Rawlins the French schoolmaster, £5. He then makes his brother Paul, of Armsfort, in Holland, residuary legatee. His "_books and arms_" were appraised at £2. 10. The whole estate at £274. 10. sterling. Le Mercier dedicated his book, on Detraction, to his people. Therein he says, "You have not despised my youth, when I first came among you; you have since excused my infirmities; and, as I did the same, in respect to yours, it has pleased our Saviour, the head of his church, to favor us with an uninterrupted peace and union in our church, for the almost eighteen years that I have preached the word of salvation to you." His book was published in 1733. He therefore became their pastor between 1715, when Daillé died, and 1716. He died March 31, 1764, aged 71. He was therefore born in 1693, and ordained about the age of 22. Le Mercier's will is dated, at Dorchester, Nov. 7, 1761. A codicil was added, at Boston, Feb. 3, 1764. He left his estate to his four children, "_Andrew, Margaret, Jane, and my son Bartholomew, if living_." He enjoins upon his heirs the payment of Bartholomew's debt to Thomas Hancock, for which he had become responsible, and which he had partly paid. By his will, he appointed Jane and Margaret to execute his will. In the codicil, he refers to the disordered state of Margaret's mind, and appoints Zachariah Johonnot, in her stead, requesting him to be her guardian. The whole estate was appraised at £232. 18. 6. sterling. Years rolled on: juxtaposition and intermarriage were Americanising these Huguenots, from month to month; and, ere long, they felt, less and less, the necessity of any separate place of worship. On the 7th of May, 1748, "Stephen Boutineau, the only surviving elder," and others, among whom we recognize the Huguenot names of Johonnot, Packinett, Boudoin, and Sigourney, conveyed their church and land to Thomas Fillebrown, Thomas Handyside Peck, and others, trustees for the "new congregational church, whereof Mr. Andrew Croswell is pastor." After a while, this church became the property of the Roman Catholics; and mass was first celebrated there, Nov. 2, 1788. The Catholics, in 1803, having removed to Franklin Place, the old Huguenot church was taken down; and, upon the site of it, a temple was erected, by the Universalists; showing incontrovertibly, thank God, that the soil was most happily adapted to toleration. The reader fancies, perhaps, that I have forgotten Peter Faneuil. Not so: but I must linger a little longer with these Huguenots, who attempted a settlement in the Nipmug country. In the southwesterly part of Oxford, there rises a lofty hill, whose summit affords an extensive and delightful prospect. Beneath, at the distance of a mile, or more, lies the village of Oxford; and the scenery, beyond, is exceedingly picturesque. Upon this eminence, which now bears the name of Mayo's Hill, are the well-defined remains of an ancient fort. Its construction is perfectly regular. The bastions are clearly marked; and the old well, constructed within the barrier, still remains. As recently, as 1819, says the Rev. Dr. Holmes, in his able and interesting account of the Huguenots, "grapevines were growing luxuriantly, along the line of this fort; and these, together with currant bushes, roses, and other shrubbery, nearly formed a hedge around it. There were some remains of an apple orchard. The currant and asparagus were still growing there." Such were the vestiges of these thirty families, who, in 1696, fled from a foe, not more savage and relentless, though less enlightened, than the murderers of Coligny, in 1572. The Faneuils formed no part of these thirty families; but, not many years after the little Oxford colony was broken up, and the fugitive survivors had found their way to Boston, the Faneuils, one after another, seem to have been attracted hither, from those points of our country, where they first arrived, after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, in 1685, or from other, intermediate stations, to which they had removed. There are not elements enough, I fear, for a very interesting memoir of Peter Faneuil. The materials, even for a brief account, are marvellously few, and far between; and the very best result, to be anticipated, is a warp and woof of shreds and patches. But, if I am not much mistaken, I know more of Peter Faneuil, than Master Lovell ever wot of, though he delivered the funeral oration; and, albeit the sum total is very small, it seems but meet and right, that it should be given to the world. I think it would so be decided, by the citizens, if the vote were taken, this very day--in _Faneuil Hall_. Our _neighbors_, all over the United States have heard of _Faneuil Hall_; and, though, of late years, since we have had a race, or breed, of mayors, every one of whom has endeavored to be _worthier_ or more _conceding_ than his predecessor, Faneuil Hall has been converted into a sort of omnibus without wheels; yet the glory of its earlier, and of some, among its latter days, is made, thank God, of that unchangeable stuff, that will never shrink, and cannot fade. No man has ever heard of Faneuil Hall, who will not be pleased to hear somewhat of that noble-minded, whole-souled descendant of the primitive Huguenots--and such indeed he was--who came, as a stranger and sojourner here, and built that hall, at his own proper cost and charge, and gave it--the gift of a cheerful giver--to those, among whom he had come to dwell--and all this, in the midst of his days, in the very prime of his life, not waiting for the almond tree to flourish, and for desire to fail, and for the infirmities of age to admonish the rich man, that he must set his house in order, and could carry nothing with him, to those regions beyond. Faneuil Hall has been called the _Cradle of Liberty_, so long and so often, that it may seem to savor of political heresy, to quarrel with the name--but, for the soul of me, I cannot help it. If it be intended to say, that Faneuil Hall is the _birth place_ of Liberty, I am not aware of a single instance, on record, of a baby, _born in a cradle_. The proverbial use of the cradle has ever been to rock the baby to sleep; and Heaven knows our old fathers made no such use of Faneuil Hall, in their early management of the bantling; for it was an ever-wakeful child, from the very moment of its first, sharp, shrill, life cry. No. CXXIII. General Jackson has been reported--how justly I know not--upon some occasion, in a company of ladies, to have given a brief, but spirited, description of all his predecessors, in the Presidential chair, till he came down to the time of President Tyler, when, seizing his hat, he proceeded to bow himself out of the room. The ladies, however, insisted upon his completing the catalogue--_"Well, ladies," said he, "it is matter of history, and may therefore be spoken--President Tyler, ladies, was--pretty much nothing."_ A very felicitous description; and not of very limited application to men and things. I cannot find a better, for Master John Lovell's funeral oration, upon Peter Faneuil. This affair, which Dr. Snow, in his history of Boston, calls "_a precious relic_," is certainly a wonderfully flatulent performance. A time-stained copy of the original edition of 1743 lies under my eye. I hoped, not unreasonably, that it would be a lamp to my path, in searching after the historical assets of Peter Faneuil. But not one ray of light has it afforded me; and, with one or two exceptions, in relation to the _Hall_, and the general beneficence of its founder, it is, in no sense, more of a funeral oration, upon Peter Faneuil, than upon Peter Smink. In their vote of thanks to Master Lovell, passed on the day of its delivery, the committee speak of "_his oration_," very judiciously abstaining from all unwarrantable expletives. From this oration we can discover nothing of Faneuil's birth-place, nor parentage, nor when, nor whence, nor wherefore he came hither; nor of the day of his birth, nor of the day of his death, nor of the disease of which he died; nor of his habits of life, nor of the manner, in which he acquired his large estate; nor of his religious opinions, nor of his ancestors. We collect, however, from these meagre pages, that Mr. Faneuil meditated other benefactions to the town--that his death was sudden--that votes of thanks had been passed, for his donation of the Hall, "a few months before"--that the meeting, at which the oration was pronounced, March 14, 1742, was the very first annual meeting, in Faneuil Hall--that Peter Faneuil was the owner of "a large and plentiful estate"--that "no man managed his affairs with greater prudence and industry"--that "he fed the hungry and clothed the naked; comforted the fatherless and the widows, in their affliction, and his bounty visited the prisoner." Master Lovell, not inelegantly, observes of Faneuil's intended benefactions, which were prevented by his death--"_His intended charities, though they are lost to us, will not be lost to him. Designs of goodness and mercy, prevented as these were, will meet with the reward of actions_." This passage appears to have found favor, in the eyes of the late Dr. Boyle, who has, accordingly, on page 21, of his memoir of the Boston Episcopal Charitable Society, when speaking of Faneuil, made a very free and familiar appropriation of it, with a slight verbal variation. Master Lovell's fervent aspirations, in regard to Faneuil Hall, one hundred and nine years ago, have not been fulfilled, to the letter. The gods have granted the orator's prayer--"_May Liberty always spread its joyful wings over this place_"--but not with Master Lovell's conditions annexed; for he adds--"_May_ LOYALTY _to a_ KING, _under whom we enjoy that Liberty, ever remain our character_." In this particular, Master Lovell was not to be indulged. Yet he steadily adhered to his tory principles; and, like many other conscientious and honorable men, whom it is much less the fashion to abuse, at present, than it was, of yore, adhered to his royal master; and relinquished his own sceptre, as monarch of the South Grammar School, with all the honors and emoluments thereof, choosing rather to suffer affliction, with his thwarted and mortified master, than to enjoy the pleasures of rebellion, for a season. He retired to Halifax, with the British army, in 1776, and died there, in 1778. Original copies of Master Lovell's oration are exceedingly rare; though the "_precious relic_" has been reprinted, by Dr. Snow, in his history of Boston. The title may be worth preserving--"A funeral oration, delivered at the opening of the annual meeting of the town, March 14th, 1742. In Faneuil Hall, in Boston. Occasioned by the death of the founder, Peter Faneuil Esq. By John Lovell, A. M., Master of the South Grammar School, in Boston. _Sui memores alios fecere merendo._ Boston, printed by Green, Bushell & Allen, for S. Kneeland & T. Green, in Queen Street, 1743." As an eminent historian conceived it to be a matter of indifference, at which end he commenced his history, I shall not adhere to any chronological arrangement, in the presentation of the few facts, which I have collected, relating to Peter Faneuil and his family. On the contrary, I shall begin at the latter end, and, first, endeavor to clear up a little confusion, that has arisen, as to the time of his death. Allen, in his Biog. Dic., says, that Peter Faneuil died, March 3, 1743. I am sorry to say, that, in several instances, President Allen's _dates_ resemble Jeremiah's _figs_, in the second basket; though, upon the present occasion, he is right, on a certain hypothesis. In a note to the "Memoir of the French Protestants," also, M. H. C. vol. xxii. p. 55, Peter Faneuil is said to have died, March 3, 1743. Pemberton, in his "Description of Boston," Ibid. v. 3, p. 253, by stating that the funeral oration was delivered, March 14, 1742, makes 1742 the year of Faneuil's death. The title page of the oration itself, quoted above, fixes the death, in 1742. Dr. Eliot, in his Biog. Dic., says 1742. The Probate records of Suffolk show administration granted, on Peter Faneuil's estate, March 18, 1742. His _obiit_, on a mourning ring, that I have seen, is 1742. Now, if all dealers in dates, of the olden time, would discriminate, between the old style and the new, we should be spared a vast deal of vexation; and the good people of Boston, notional as they proverbially are, would not appear, in their creditable zeal to do honor to a public benefactor, to have given him a funeral oration, a twelve month before he was dead. If the year be taken to begin, on the first of January, then Dr. Allen is right; and Peter Faneuil died March 3, 1743. But if it did not begin, till the twenty-fifth of March, and, legally, it certainly did not, before 1752, when the new style was adopted, in Great Britain, and the Provinces, then Eliot, and Pemberton, and the title page of the oration, and the records of the court, and the mourning ring are right, and Peter Faneuil died, in 1742. An illustration of this principle may be found, on the title page of the oration itself. It is stated to have been delivered, March 14, 1742, and printed in 1743. Having been delivered near the close of the year 1742, it was printed, doubtless, soon after March 25, which was New Year's day for 1743. The public journals, nevertheless, seem to have adopted, and adhered to the idea, that January 1, was the first day of the historical year, long before the style was altered; and thus, in the Weekly News Letter, published in Boston, Faneuil is stated to have died, in 1743. This journal contains an obituary notice. A few imperfect numbers of this paper are all that remain, and its extreme rarity leads me to copy the obituary here:-- "Thursday, March 10, 1743. On Thursday last, dyed at his seat in this Town, PETER FANEUIL, Esq., whose remains, we hear, are to be enterred this afternoon; a gentleman, possessed of a very ample fortune, and a most generous spirit, whose noble benefaction to this town, and constant employment of a great number of tradesmen, artificers and labourers, to whom he was a liberal paymaster; whose hospitality to all, and secret unbounded chirity to the poor--made his life a public blessing, and his death a general loss to, and universally regretted by, the inhabitants; who had been so sensible of their obligations to him, for the sumptuous edifice, which he raised at his private expence, for their Market house and Town Hall, that, at a general town meeting, as a testimony of their gratitude, they voted, that the place of their future consultations should be called by his name forever: in doing which they perpetuated their own honor as much as his memory; for, by this record posterity will know the most publick spirited man, in all regards, that ever yet appeared on the Northern continent of America, was a member of their community." In the Boston Evening Post of March 7, 1743, in a brief notice of Peter Faneuil's death, the disease of which he died is said to have been "_dropsey_." Now that we have established the period of Peter's death, it may be well, to establish the period of his birth; and this we can do, with certainty, even to an hour, from authentic documents. In addition to other means, for ascertaining dates, and various particulars, respecting Peter Faneuil, and the members of his family--through the kindness of the Genealogical Society, I have, before me, a folio volume of his commercial correspondence: mutilated, indeed it is, by some thoughtless hand, but furnishes some curious and interesting matter. Many of his letters are written in French; and those, which are in English, are well composed. I have found but a single instance, in which he writes our language, like a Frenchman. Upon that occasion, he was in a passion with a certain judge of the admiralty, complained of his ill usage, and charged him with "_capporice_." No. CXXIV. I am indebted to Mr. Charles Faneuil Jones, a grandson of Mary Ann Jones, Peter Faneuil's sister, for the use of some ancient papers, and family relics; and to George Bethune, Esquire, of Boston, the grandson of _Benjamin Faneuil_, Peter's brother, for the loan of a venerable document--time worn, torn, and sallow--the record of the birth of Peter Faneuil, and of his brothers and sisters. This document, from its manifest antiquity, the masculine character of the hand writing, and the constant use of the parental expressions--_notre fils_--_notre fille_--I, at first, supposed to be the original autograph of _Benjamin_, the father of Peter. This conjecture was, of course, demolished, by the last entry, on the record, which is of old _Benjamin's_ decease, but in the same peculiar hand. The document is in French; and, after a careful comparison--_literatim_--with the volume of Peter's commercial correspondence, now in my possession--I have very little doubt, that this record was copied, by Peter, from the paternal original, with the additional entry, by himself, of the date of his father's death. At the bottom, and beneath a line of separation, and by another hand, with a fresher ink, is the following entry--"_Le 6 D'Aout 1725, M. Gillam Phillips de Boston a epousee ma Fille Marie Faneuil agée de dix sept et quatre mois_." The 6th of August, 1725, Mr. Gillam Phillips, of Boston, married my daughter, Marie, aged seventeen and four months. The expression _ma file_, shows this entry to have been made by Peter's mother, then the widow of _Benjamin_, who appears, by this record, to have died, at New York, March 31, 1718-9, aged 50 years and 8 months. This unusual prænomen, _Gillam_, I, at first, supposed to be a corruption of _Guillaume_. But there was a merchant, of that day, in Boston, bearing the name of _Gillam Phillips_. In the Registry of Deeds, for Suffolk, lib. 43, fol. 13, there is recorded a deed, from "_Wentworth Paxton, and Faith, his wife, formerly Faith Gillam_," in which, reference is made to Faith's father, _Benjamin Gillam_. Mr. Gillam Phillips is thus named, in the will of his wife's uncle, Andrew Faneuil, to which I shall have occasion to refer. Jan 22, 1738, Peter, in a letter to Lane & Smethurst, of London, speaks of his brother-in-law, _Mr. Gillam Phillips_. This gentleman was the elder brother of _Mr. Henry Phillips_, who was indicted, for killing Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, in a duel, fought with swords, and without seconds, on Boston Common, upon the evening of July 3, 1728. This extremely interesting affair cannot be introduced, as an episode here, on account of the space it must necessarily occupy. The original documents, relating to this encounter, which terminated in the immediate death of Mr. Woodbridge, have fallen into my possession; and, as Peter Faneuil personally assisted, in the escape of the survivor, who found a city of refuge, in Rochelle, and a friend and protector, in Peter's uncle, _Jean Faneuil_; it seems, in some degree, related to the history of Peter and his kinsfolk. I may, possibly, refer to it hereafter. In 1685, the period of the revocation of the edict of Nantes, there were living, in or near Rochelle, in France, three brothers and two sisters of the Faneuil family. One of these, _Benjamin_, became the father of _our_ Peter Faneuil--the others, his uncles and aunts, when the persecution commenced, so ably and touchingly described, by James Saurin, fled for safety to foreign lands. Andrew, the elder brother, escaped into Holland, and took up his abode in Amsterdam; where he married that preëminently beautiful lady, whose portrait is now in the possession of Col. Benjamin Hunt, whose mother was Jane Bethune, a daughter of Mary Faneuil, the neice of Peter. _Andrew Faneuil_, before many years, came to this country--precisely when, I cannot say. That he was here, as early as 1709, is evident, from the proposals of Oliver Noyes and others, to build a wharf from the bottom of King Street, to low-water mark, "of the width of King Street, between Mr. East Apthorp's and Mr. Andrew Faneuil's." These proposals are dated Feb. 20, 1709, and are inserted in Dr. Snow's History of Boston, p. 209. In Holland, doubtless, Andrew acquired that passion, for flowers, which he gratified, in his seven-acre Eden, on the westerly side of Treamount Street, where he is said to have erected the first hothouse, that ever existed in New England. His warehouse, the same, by him devised, for the support of the minister of the French Church, was at the lower end of King Street, near Merchant's Row, from which Butler's Wharf then extended, as laid down, by John Bonner, in 1722. This warehouse, under the will of Andrew, reverted, to his heirs, upon the extinction of the French Church. It was then, just where we find it, in the New England Weekly Journal, of Jan. 13, 1729. "_Good New York Flower. To be sold, at Mr. Andrew Faneuil's Warehouse, at the lower end of King Street, at 35s per Hundred, as also good chocolate, just imported._" He was engaged in commerce; and, for those days of small things, acquired a large estate, which his forecast taught him to distribute, among the public funds of France, England, and Holland. His warehouse was purchased of one of his descendants, by the late John Parker. _Jean Faneuil_, another of Peter's uncles, held fast to the faith of his fathers; and lived, and died, a Roman Catholic. He died in Rochelle, of apoplexy, June 24, 1737, about four months after the decease of his brother Andrew, as appears by Peter's letter of Sept. 8, 1737. _Susannah Faneuil_ also continued, in the Roman Catholic faith, and remained in Rochelle; where she became the wife, and the widow, of Abraham de la Croix. She survived her brother Andrew, the date of whose decease is clearly shown to have been Feb. 13, 1737, by Peter's letter to S. & W. Baker, of London, giving them the inscription, "_for the handsomest mourning rings_." _Jane Faneuil_ was a Huguenot. She became the wife of Pierre Cossart, and took refuge, with her husband, in Ireland, where she died. _Benjamin Faneuil_, the father of _our_ Peter, was closely associated with that little band of Huguenots, who clustered about the town of Narragansett, otherwise called Kingstown, and the region round about, at the very close of the seventeenth century. In that village, in 1699, he married a French lady, whose name was Anne Bureau. The record, in Peter's transcript from his father's original, is now upon my table--"_Le 28 de Juillet 1699. Benjamin Faneuil et Anne Bureau ont eté marié a Narragansett, en nouvelle Angleterre, en la maison de Mons. Pierre Ayross, par Mons. Pierre Daillé ministre de L'Eglise francoise de Boston_." The 28th of July, 1699, Benjamin Faneuil and Ann Bureau were married at Narragansett, in New England, at the house of Mr. Peter Ayross, by Mr. Peter Daillé, minister of the French Church in Boston. Three years before, in 1696, Sept. 4, the name of this Benjamin Faneuil will be found, M. H. C., xxii. 60, attached to a certificate, in favor of Gabriel Bernon, referring to the massacre of John Johnson and his three children, at New Oxford. Johnson had married the sister of old _André Sigournay_. This _Benjamin Faneuil_, the præpositus, or stirps, became the father of eleven children, by his wife, _Anne Bureau_, who were all born in New Rochelle, in the State of New York, and of whom _our_ Peter was the first born. Their names, in the order of birth, are these--_Peter_, _Benjamin_, _Francis_, _Anne_, _Anne_, _Marie_, _John_, _Anne_, _Susannah_, _Mary Anne_, and _Catherine_. The two first Annes, John, and Catherine, died in infancy. The birth of our Peter is thus chronicled, in the family record--"_Le 20 de Juin, 1700, Estant Jeudy a 6 heures du soir est né nostre fils Pierre Faneuil, et a eté baptisé le 14 Juillet, par M. Peyret, ministre de l'Eglisse francoise de la Nouvelle York, presenté au Bâpteme par M. Claude Baudoin et par Sa Mere_." The 20th of June, 1700, being Thursday, at 6 o'clock in the evening, was born our son, Peter Faneuil, and he was baptized the 14th of July, by Mr. Peyret, minister of the French Church, in New York; presented in baptism, by Mr. Claude Bowdoin and its mother. _Benjamin_, _our_ Peter's brother, was born Dec. 29, 1701. He was a merchant in Boston, about the time of his uncle Andrew's death, in 1737. Shortly after that event, he went to England, and France, and returned, about two years before the death of his brother Peter, in 1742-3, upon whose estate he administered. His nephew, Edward Jones, in a letter to his mother, June 23, 1783, informs her, that "_Uncle Faneuil seems to be growing very low; I think he will not continue long_." He was then in his eighty-second year. He died in October, 1785. After Peter's death, Benjamin resided in Brighton, then Cambridge, in the street, which now bears the family name, where he erected an expensive mansion, successively occupied, after his decease, by Messieurs Bethune, English, Parkman, and Bigelow. By his wife, Mary Cutler, he had three children, Benjamin, Mary, and Peter. _This_ Benjamin, nephew of _our_ Peter, is the "_Benjamin Faneuil, junior_," whose name appears, among the signers of the "_Loyall Address_" to Gov. Gage on his departure Oct. 6, 1775. He left Boston for Halifax, with the British army, in March, 1776. He is the person, referred to, by Ward, in his Memoirs of Curwen--"_the merchant of Boston, and with Joshua Winslow, consignee of one third of the East India Company's tea, destroyed in 1773, a refugee to Halifax, afterwards in England_." He married Jane, daughter of Addington Davenport, by his first wife, Jane, who was the daughter of Grove Hirst, and sister of the Lady Mary Pepperell; and, with his wife, lived many years, abroad, chiefly in Bristol, England, which became the favorite resort of many refugees, and where he died. I have, in my possession, several of his letters, written to his relatives, during his exile. These letters are spiritedly written; and, to the very last, in the most perfect assurance, that the colonies must submit. _Mary_, _our_ Peter's niece, became the wife of George Bethune, Oct. 13, 1754, and died in 1797. A portrait, by Blackburn, of this beautiful woman, is in the possession of her son, George Bethune, Esquire, of Boston. After a very careful inspection of this portrait, not long ago, I went directly to the rooms of the Historical Society, to compare it with the portrait there of her uncle Peter, to which it seems to me to bear a strong family resemblance. This portrait of Peter was presented to the Society, by Miss Jones, the grand niece of _our_ Peter, now the wife of Dr. Cutter of Pepperell. It has been erroneously ascribed to Copley. If its manifest inferiority to the works of that eminent master were not sufficiently germaine to this question--Copley was born in 1738, and not quite five years old, when Peter Faneuil died. _Peter_, the youngest child of Benjamin, and, of course, the nephew of _our_ Faneuil Hall Peter, who may be otherwise distinguished, as Peter the Great--was baptized, in Trinity Church, in Boston, in 1738, and entered the Latin School, in 1746. He entered into trade--went to Montreal--failed--resorted to the West Indies--and, after his father's death, returned to Boston. No. CXXV. Let us conclude our post mortem examination of the brothers and sisters of Peter Faneuil. _Francis_, the third son of _Benjamin_, the old Rocheller, Peter's father, was born Aug. 21, 1703, of whom I know nothing, beyond the fact, that he was baptized, by M. Peyret, minister of the French church in New York, and presented "_par son grand pere, Francois Bureau, et Mad'selle Anne Delancey_." _Mary_, the eldest sister of _our_ Peter, that came to maturity, was born April 16, 1708, and is the _Marie_, to whom I have already referred, as having married Mr. Gillam Phillips, Aug. 6, 1725. Their abode, before the revolution, was in the mansion, more recently occupied by Abiel Smith, at the corner of State and Devonshire Streets; or, as they are called, on Bonner's plan of 1722, King Street and Pudding Lane. Her husband was a refugee. After his death, she resided in Cambridge, Mass., where she died, in April, 1778. _Anne_, the next, in order of time, was born Oct. 9, 1710, and married Addington Davenport. This fact is stated, by Peter, in a letter, of Sept. 26, 1738. This is the same gentleman, undoubtedly, to whom the ancient record of King's Chapel refers: "_Oct. 11, 1733. Voted, that the brass stand for the hourglass be lent to the church at Scituate, as also three Diaper napkins, provided the Rev. Mr. Addington Davenport, their minister, gives his note to return the same_," &c. He was, afterwards, promoted, to be assistant minister of King's Chapel, in 1737, and Rector of Trinity Church, in 1740, and was, probably, the son of Addington Davenport, who was the Register of Deeds, for Suffolk, in 1706. _Susannah_, the third sister of _our_ Peter, in the order of birth, was born March 14, 1712, and became the wife of James Boutineau, the son of Stephen Boutineau, that "_only surviving elder_," who joined in the conveyance of the French Church, in 1748. James was a royalist; and, according to Ward's Curwen, died in exile. This marriage is also referred to, by Peter, in his letter of Sept. 26, 1738. Mr. James Boutineau was a lawyer, in Boston; and occupied the "_old Dorr house_," so called, in Milk Street. Mr. Sabine, in his "American Loyalists," says _his fate is unknown, but he was in England, in 1777_. An original letter from his widow, "_Susanna Boutineau_," now before me, is dated _Bristol, Eng., Feb. 20, 1784_, and refers to the recent decease of her husband there. _Mary Ann_ was the last of Peter's sisters, that survived her infancy. She was born April 6, 1715, and died October, 1790. She became the wife of John Jones, who died at Roxbury, in 1767, and whose son, Edward, died in Boston, in 1835, at the age of 83. _She_ was a refugee; and resided, for some time, in Windsor, Nova Scotia. She is omitted by Mr. Sabine, in his list of refugees; but named by Ward, page 444. A letter, from her son, Edward, dated at Boston, June 23, 1783, advises her, if desirous of returning, not to come directly to Boston, as the law was still in force; but first, to some other State, and thence to Boston. Such were Peter Faneuil's brothers and sisters; with whom, so far as I have been able to ascertain, from his correspondence, and from all other sources, he appears to have maintained an amiable and becoming relation, as the file leader of the flock--the elder brother of the house: and it speaks a folio volume, in favor of Benjamin's equanimity, that he continued to fraternize, as the correspondence abundantly proves, that he did, in the most cordial and affectionate manner, with his brother Peter, to whom uncle Andrew had, with the exception of a few legacies, willed the whole of his "_large and plentiful estate_," as Master Lovell calls it--while five vindictive shillings were all, that were found, after the death of this unforgiving, old gentleman, in the mouth of poor Benjamin's sack. Uncle Andrew's testamentary phraseology, though not so anathematical, as that of some other obstinate, old uncles, is sufficiently uncivil, and even bitter, in relation to his "loving sister, Susannah," and his nephew, Benjamin. But, of the will of Andrew Faneuil, and his motive--an exceedingly preposterous motive, to be sure, for cutting his adopted nephew off, with five shillings--in other words, of the cause, manner, and instrument, whereby Benjamin was put in the ablative, I shall treat, more fully, hereafter. There were collaterals of the Boston Faneuils, residing in St. Domingo, in 1738. There was then, in that island, a Benjamin Faneuil, to whom Peter addressed a letter of mere friendship, in the French language, informing him, that Peter's brother Benjamin was then in Europe. It was probably a son of the St. Domingo Benjamin, the "_Monsieur Fanneuil_," of whom Washington writes to the President of Congress, Feb. 20, 1777, Sparks, iv. 327, as having memorialized, for leave to raise and command troops. The application failed, principally, on the ground of his entire ignorance of the English language. We have seen, that Peter Faneuil died, at the early age of forty-two. His premature decease becomes the more remarkable, when contrasted with the longevity of all his brothers and sisters, who lived beyond the period of infancy. Marie attained the age of seventy--Susannah was living, in Bristol, at seventy-two--Mary Ann died at seventy-five--Benjamin died, in October, 1735, being two months less than eighty-four years old. This veteran had been a generous liver, all his days. He was not a man, whose devotion was abdominal--whose God was his belly. He was no anchorite, but an advocate for social worship--he was preëminently hospitable. For more than forty years, from the period, when Peter's death afforded him the means, his hospitality had been a proverb--a by-word--but never a reproach. There was a refinement about it--it was precisely such hospitality, as Apicius would have practised, had Apicius been a bishop. His appetite never forsook him. He died suddenly--ate a cheerful dinner, on the day of his death--and went not to his account, on an empty stomach. A post mortem examination, under the autopsy of that eminently shrewd, and most pleasant, gentleman, Dr. Marshall Spring of Watertown, exhibited the whole gastric apparatus, in admirable working order, for a much longer campaign. A nephritic malady occasioned his decease. The death of Benjamin Faneuil, _the elder_, in 1718, and the previous adoption of his son Benjamin, Peter's brother, by Andrew, the wealthy Boston uncle, naturally turned the thoughts of the family, in this direction. Their interest in Boston was necessarily increased, by the marriage of sister Marie with Mr. Gillam Phillips, and her consequent removal hither. The entry of the marriage--"_ma fille_"--on the family record, shows, that her mother was then living. The time of her death I have not ascertained, but suppose it to have occurred within a year or two after, for all the daughters were wending hither, and I find no mention of the mother. Peter was here, as early, as 1728, in which year, his name is associated, with the duel, in which Woodbridge was killed. Anne had married Mr. Davenport, and Susannah Mr. Boutineau, before uncle Andrew's death, in 1737. His will was dated, in 1734. From that document, it is evident, that Mary Ann was here then. The elder Benjamin having died, in 1718,--Andrew, his brother, in 1737,--and Peter, in 1742-3, there were living Peter's brother and sisters, Benjamin, Anne, Susannah, Marie, and Marianne. They were living, during the revolution. So were their husbands, excepting Mr. Addington Davenport, who died Sept. 8, 1746. Their children also were living. The object of this particular statement is to invite the reader's attention to the extraordinary fact, that, while a religious persecution, in 1685, drove the Huguenot ancestors of these very individuals hither, for security--in 1776, a political persecution here drove many of their descendants into exile, and confiscated their estates. That very many of those refugees, during the phrensy of political excitement, were just as truly persecuted, for conscience' sake, as were the Huguenots, in 1685, is a simple truth, which the calm, impartial voice of an after-age has been willing to concede. Among those refugees, the Huguenot and the old Anglo-Saxon patronymics are blended together. The Boutineaus and the Bethunes, the Faneuils and the Johonnots are mingled with the Sewalls and the Hutchinsons, the Hollowells and the Paxtons. While perusing the letters of Samuel Curwen--and a most kind-hearted, conscientious, old gentleman was he--the veriest saint in crape cannot restrain a smile, as he contemplates the conflict, in Curwen's mind, between the loyal and the patriotic--_his most gracious majesty, and his poor bleeding country_! Mr. Curwen met frequently with Mr. Benjamin Faneuil, Peter's nephew, at Bristol. Thus, on page 240, of the Journal, under date, April 28, 1780--"_Afternoon and evening at Judge Sewall's; company, Mrs. Long, of Ireland, Mr. and Mrs. Faneuil, Mr. Oxnard, with young Inman and his wife, a son of Ralph's, in the military line, and Miss Inman_." The more intelligent of the refugees, who resorted to Bristol, hovered about the former Attorney General of Massachusetts, Jonathan Sewall, as their _Magnus Apollo_. Of all the New England tories he was the most illustrious. He was a man of eminent talents, and easy eloquence. His opinions were the opinions of the rest. As crowed the great tory cock, so crowed the bantams, the Faneuils, the Boutineaus, and the others, around the Attorney General's hospitable board, at Bristol. I mean not to intimate, that this worthy gentleman maintained, at this period, anything, beyond the most frugal hospitality. He and his associates were mainly dependent upon the British government, for their daily bread. One or two extracts from the letters of "_Benjamin Faneuil junior_," Peter's nephew, while they establish this fact, may serve to exhibit the confidence, in the entire subjugation of the colonies, entertained--_cherished_, perhaps--by him and his companions. March 9, 1777, he writes to his aunt, Mary Ann Jones, at Halifax, thus--"I cannot say I am very sorry, for your disappointment, in missing your passage for England, for unless you could bring a barrel of guineas, you are much better anywhere than here." * * * * "As soon as the Christmas holidays were over, we presented a petition to the Lords of the Treasury, setting forth our suffering, and praying for a support, till the affairs in America are settled. This method was taken, by the council, and indeed by all the refugees. Within these few days, the Lords of the Treasury have agreed to allow, for the present, Chief Justice Oliver £400 a year, Lieut. Governor Oliver and Mr. Flucker £300. The council (Mr. Boutineau among the rest) £200, the refugees in general £100, some only £50. Our affair is not yet absolutely determined, on account of Lord North's sickness; but we are told we shall be tuckt in, between the council and the refugees, and be allowed £150 a year. This is a very poor affair, and we can by no means live upon it: but there are such a confounded parcel of us, to be provided for, that I am told no more will be allowed." * * * * "Should there be any opportunity of writing to Boston, I should take it kind, if cousin Betsey would write to my father and let him know what I now write, and give our loves to Mr. Bethune's family, and my aunt Phillips. I do not mention my poor mother, as, from the accounts I have received, I doubt, whether she be alive at this time." She died in October, 1777. "When we shall be able to return to Boston I cannot say; but hope and believe it will not exceed one year more; for, sooner or later, America will be conquered, and on that they may depend." May 14, 1777. He writes from London thus--"We were promised, three months ago, that some provision should be made for us; and, about ten days since, we were assured, at the Treasury, that, in a very few days, something should be done for us. As soon as there is, we propose to set out for Bristol, and fix ourselves there, or, at least, in that part of the country, till the American affairs are settled, which, from the last advice from New York, we flatter ourselves will not be longer than this year; though I am not without my doubts, at least as to the time: but submit they must, sooner or later. Mr. Boutineau and my aunt were very well, at their lodging, at Bristol, a few days ago. Mr. Robinson has bought himself a new post chaise, horses, &c., and sets out for Wales, in five or six days; where, I suppose, they will remain, till the American affairs are brought to a conclusion." This Mr. Robinson was James Boutineau's son-in-law, the officer of the customs, who inflicted that fatal blow, upon James Otis, which is said to have affected his brain, and compelled him to retire from public life. The issue of that affair is not generally known. Mr. Sabine, in his "American Loyalists," p. 169, says--"the jury assessed £2000 sterling, damages. Boutineau appeared, as attorney, for Robinson, and, in his name, signed a submission, asking the pardon of Otis, who, thereupon, executed a free release for the £2000." The same statement may be found in Allen, and elsewhere. Mr. Benjamin Faneuil, junior, continues thus--"Mrs. Faneuil received a letter, a few days since, from Mrs. Erving (at Bristol). She sends her the prices of provisions, which are much the same they were in Boston, before the troubles came on. * * * * Miss Peggy Hutchinson has been at death's door. * * * * All the rest of us Yankees are well, but growl at each other most confoundedly, for want of money." * * * * "We hope to see you in Boston, in the course of another year." * * * * "Mrs. Faneuil is sitting by me, trying to transmography an old gown. No money to buy new." No. CXXVI. To some persons it has appeared a mystery, how Peter Faneuil, having had but a short lease of life, some two and forty years, should have acquired the "_large and plentiful estate_," that Master Lovell speaks of, in his funeral oration. This mystery is readily explained. He had, for several years, before the death of his uncle, Andrew, been engaged in commerce. As Master Lovell justly observes--"No man managed his affairs with greater prudence and industry." His commercial correspondence proves that his relations were extensive and diversified, though it must be admitted, that _rum, fish, sugar and molasses_, are the chorus, or burden, of the song. It will also appear, that the _large and plentiful estate_, was, probably overrated. Though he had a high sense of commercial honor, no man had a sharper eye for the main chance, as it is called, by money getting men. Let me illustrate both these positions, by extracts--not from "_Peter's letters to his kinsfolks_," but from Peter's letters to his correspondents. He repeatedly scolds Signor Miguel Pacheco de Silva, and Monsieur Sigal, severely, for inattention to his drafts. To S. & W. Baker, of London, who, by reason of the informality of a power to transfer stock, were unsupplied with funds, to meet his drafts, yet paid them, for the honor of the drawer; he writes a letter of cordial thanks, Sept. 7, 1737, in which he says--"_I would not for £500 you had not accepted all those drafts; for, if you had not, it would have been a slur to my character, which I value more than all the money upon earth_." January 22, 1738, he requests Mr. Peter Baynton to advise him, on several points--"_also what good French brandy is worth, and if it be possible to cloak it so, as to ship it for rum_." On the 13th of March, in the same year, he writes Mr. Peter Baynton, that he has sent him four hogsheads of brandy, and adds--"_Pray be as cautious as possible, in taking them on shore, by reason the man has signed bills of lading, for four hogsheads rum, not knowing the contents, which it is not convenient he should_." What a goodly number will openly pronounce Peter a very bad fellow, who, if they have not done this identical thing, have done things, quite as exceptionable, or more so, and who are willing to-- "Compound for sins they are inclined to, By damning those they have no mind to." Merchant princes, if I am rightly instructed, do not place the offence of cheating the Government, in the category of cardinal, or unpardonable, sins. And, notwithstanding all, that we so frequently hear, of commercial integrity, and the chivalry of trade; I rather doubt, upon the whole, if traffic is really the "_ne plus ultra strap_," upon which the very finest possible edge can be given to the moral sense. Exceptions there are, but they only establish, more fully, the general rule: and, in accordance with the spirit of the old, prudential legend, we are rather too much in the habit of postponing prayers, till we have sanded the sugar, and watered the molasses. I have long entertained the opinion, that a cheap _vade mecum_ edition of Dr. Chalmers' Commercial Discourses, for New Year's gifts, might be very beneficially distributed. Exceptions certainly there are. I have one, within my own memory. The collector of a Southern port--a Huguenot withal--of whom my personal recollections are exceedingly agreeable, and whose integrity was a proverb, was surprised one day, upon his return, at the dinner hour, by the display of a costly service of plate, which his lady had procured from London. A few inquiries developed the fact, that, by the agency of a gentleman, a friend of the family, it had been gotten over, with _his_ baggage, duty free--in other words, _smuggled_. In an instant, the old gentleman ordered his wife's whole service of silver to the public stores; and seized it for the government. Such cases, I apprehend, are not of frequent occurrence. If Peter Faneuil made not broad his phylactery, he made broad that mantle of charity, which covereth a multitude of sins. If such had not been the fact, and notoriously so, Master Lovell would not have ventured to proclaim, in Faneuil Hall, one hundred and eight years ago, and before a scanty population, as cognizant, as the population of a village, of all the shortcomings of their neighbors that-- "_Peter's acts of charity were so secret and unbounded, that none but they who were the objects of it could compute the sums, which he annually distributed_"--that "_his alms flowed, like a fruitful river_"--that "_he fed the hungry, clothed the naked, comforted the fatherless, and the widows in their affliction, and his bounty visited the prisoner. So that Almighty God, in giving riches to this man, seems to have scattered blessings all abroad among the people_"--that the building "_erected by him at an immense charge, for the convenience and ornament of the town, is incomparably the greatest benefaction ever yet known to our Western shoar_"--that this act of munificence, however great, "_is but the first fruits of his generosity, a pledge of what his heart, always devising liberal things, would have done for us, had his life been spared_." To all this good Master Lovell adds the assertion--"_I am well assured from those, who were acquainted with his purposes, that he had many more blessings in store for us, had Heaven prolonged his days_." These statements, publicly pronounced, one hundred and eight years ago, have never been gainsayed, nor even qualified. They must therefore be viewed, in the light of an ancient deposition, read before the grand inquest of the whole people, before whom Peter Faneuil was tried, shortly after his decease, according to the fashion of the Egyptians, while dealing with their departed kings. I, by no means, approve of Peter's conduct, in jostling the Government, out of the excise, on a few casks of brandy; but, in full view of all these public and private charities, there seems to be something about it, like the gallantry of Robin Hood, whose agrarian philosophy taught him to rob the rich, and feed the poor. And, when the trial comes on, in the Higher Court, about the duties upon these four hogsheads of brandy; and Peter Baynton is summoned to testify; and, upon his evidence, Peter Faneuil is convicted; most truly, do I believe, that some good natured angel, will slyly draw, over the record, a corner of that broad mantle of gold and tissue--that mantle of charity--whose warp and woof were formed of private alms and public benefactions, and which good Peter Faneuil spent so many of his hours, in weaving, in this lower world. If Peter Faneuil was otherwise an offender, I am sorry for it; having a passion for rarities, I should like to behold the _tabula immaculata_--the unsullied sheet of one human being! I am not aware of anything, in the life of Peter Faneuil, which that mantle will not abundantly cover. It may be otherwise. If the schoolmaster is not always abroad, the antiquarian is--the moral virtuoso--who delights, metaphorically speaking, to find spots on snow, and specks in amber. This species of antiquarian, male or female, may be found in every city and village. It is a curious creature, and, in the cabinet of a malicious memory, has stowed carefully away the weak points, and the peccadilloes of the living and the dead. In its contracted receptacle, there is no room for public or private charities, nor for merits of any kind: it is capable of holding nothing but delinquencies. Nothing is more refreshing to this species of antiquarian, than any fair pretence, for opening his cabinet, and showing his precious collection. Nollikens, among his _terra cottas_, was not more adroit, in fitting the heads and members of Priapi to the trunks of fauns and satyrs, than is the ingenious character, of whom I speak, in adapting the legendary gossip, which has been told, till it is stale, of one individual, to the person of another. Such personages are, characteristically, selfish and ungenerous. It would not be a very notable miracle, if some person, of this description, pained and offended, by the trying contrast, between the munificent and charitable career of Peter Faneuil, and the extremely dry and unprofitable character of his own existence, should ransack the charnel-house of his memory, for some offensive offset, against Master Lovell's laudation of Peter. For this I can truly vouch, excepting that affair of the brandy, the commercial correspondence of Peter Faneuil--and I have read the whole volume, that remains, French and English--is highly honorable to the head and the heart of the writer. The charity of Peter Faneuil was not that clap-trap munificence, examples of which are frequently heralded, among us, in demi-stipendiary journals--it did not so truly _spring_--it _oozed_ from Peter's warm heart, continually, and constitutionally. He required no impressive hints, to be charitable--he _felt_ for the poor and needy, habitually. His letter of Sept. 19, 1738, is before me, to one of his commercial correspondents, to whom he has just then made a shipment, Mons. Thomas Bayeaux--"Inclosed you have Madame Guinneau's account, by which you are indebted to that poor widow £16, which you will do well to pay her, it being for money she advanced, for the board of you and your family. One would have thought you should have paid that, before you left the country, and not to have served the poor widow as you did." However direct, and even severe, while addressing delinquents, his French politeness never forsakes him. Such letters always conclude--"_Sir, I salute you_," or "_I kiss your hand_." April 24, 1740, he writes thus to Peter Baynton--"This accompanies Capt. Burgess Hall, who carries with him to your parts two unfortunate Palatine women, that were some time ago shipwrecked, in their voyage from Europe to your place, who, being objects of charity, which the providence of God has thrown in our way, I take leave to recommend to you, as such, not doubting you will so far commisserate their condition, as to direct them the nearest way, to get among their friends, with such other relief as you may think necessary." Though Peter Faneuil had acquired property, before the death of his uncle Andrew; yet, as we shall presently see, by far the larger part of his "_large and plentiful estate_" came to him, by that uncle's will. No. CXXVII. Peter Faneuil was thirty and seven years old, when he began to reign--that is, when his uncle, Andrew, died, Feb. 13, 1737, according to Peter, in his letter to the Bakers, of London, or 1738, agreeably to the historical style, adopted by the public journals. In the News Letter of February "16, to 23," we have the following account of the funeral.--"Last Monday the Corpse of _Andrew Faneuil_ Esquire, whose death we mentioned in our last, was honorably interr'd here; above 1100 Persons, of all Ranks, besides the Mourners, following the Corpse, also a vast number of Spectators were gathered together on the Occasion, at which time the half-minute guns, from on board several vessels, were discharged. And 'tis suppos'd that as this Gentleman's Fortune was the greatest of any among us, so his funeral was as generous and expensive as any that has been known here." Peter was appointed executor sole of Andrew's will, and residuary legatee. He appears to have proceeded with great propriety. He immediately announced his uncle's death to foreign correspondents; and furnished those, who had been custodiers of his property, with duly authenticated copies of the will; and took prompt measures, for the procurement of "_the handsomest mourning rings_." John, Archbishop of Canterbury, as was usual then, sent his commission to Judge Willard, from the Prerogative Court, to swear Peter, to render a true inventory, &c.; and Peter responded to John, that, although he was not bound so to do, by the laws of the Province, yet, for his "_own satisfaction_," he should. Peter probably changed his mind, for no inventory of Andrew's estate appears, among the ancient records of the Probate Court, in Suffolk. It is not, therefore, possible, to estimate the value of that "_large and plentiful estate_," which came to Peter, from his uncle. That it was very considerable, for the times, there cannot be a doubt; but the times--one hundred and fourteen years ago--were the days of small things. It has been observed, by an eminent man, that prayer and almsgiving are the pathways to Paradise. Andrew Faneuil commences his will, with a supplication, for the _perfecting of his charities_--"_I commit my soul to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, humbly begging the pardon of my sins, the perfecting of my charities, and everlasting life above_." This will was made, Sept. 12, 1734, and witnessed, by John Read, William Price and Charles Morris; and a codicil was added, Jan. 23, 1737; and both were proved, Feb. 15, 1737, two days after the testator's death. Wills have ever been accounted an interesting department of _belles lettres_; and I shall therefore furnish the reader with an abstract of Uncle Andrew's. _First._ He gives his warehouse in Boston, in trust, to the minister of the French Church, in Boston, and his successors; two thirds of the income for the minister's support, and one third to the elders, to create a fund for repairing the warehouse; and after the creation of such fund, the whole income to the minister; and, should the French church cease to be, then said warehouse to revert to his heirs--"_excluding Benjamin Faneuil, of Boston, and the heirs of his body forever_." _Secondly._ To said French Church, three pieces of plate, of the value of £36 sterling, "_a flaggon for the communion table, a plate for the bread, and a bason to christen the children, with the coat of arms and name of the donor, engraven upon each of them_." On the 27th of February, fourteen days after his uncle's death, Peter sent a copy of the will to Claude Fonnereau, in France, requesting him to purchase the plate, and added--"_of the best fashion, and get engraved, agreeably to his orders, for which end you have his coat of arms in wax herewith, and if it should cost some small matter more, be pleased to charge the same_." _Thirdly._ £100, in Province Bills, to be paid to the elders, for the poor of the French Church. _Fourthly._ £50, in Province bills, and "_a suit of mourning throughout_," to the French minister. _Fifthly._ £100, in Province bills, to the overseers, for the poor of Boston. _Sixthly._ To the Rev. Benjamin Colman, "_a suit of mourning throughout_." _Seventhly._ "To my loving brother, John Faneuil, of Rochelle, £100, sterling." _Eighthly._ "To my loving brother-in-law, Peter Cossart, of Cork, in Ireland, and his sister Susannah Cossart, of Amsterdam, £50 each to buy mourning." _Ninthly._ "To Benjamin Faneuil of Boston, son of my brother, Benjamin Faneuil, deceased, _five shillings and no more_." _Tenthly._ To his executor, in trust, 8000 ounces of silver, or pieces of eight, to purchase an estate of inheritance, at his discretion, within one year after the testator's death, for his loving niece, Mary, wife of Gillam Phillips, and the heirs of her body, remainder to her right heirs. Peter, in correspondence with S. & W. Baker, refers to this purchase, and directs them to sell stocks of his late uncles, to meet the drafts. _Eleventhly_. To her son, Andrew, 500 ounces of silver, or pieces of eight, to be put at interest, till majority--to his mother, in case of his death before--and, in case of _her_ death and _his_ before--to her other children. _Twelfthly, thirteenthly, and fourteenthly._ To his nieces, Anne, Susannah, and Marian, £2000 sterling, each; the two first to be paid six months, after his death, and the last, at majority, or marriage; four per cent. to be allowed her, per annum, ad interim, and she to be maintained by the executor, till she attained full age, or married. These legacies were paid from the funds of Uncle Andrew, in the hands of S. & W. Baker, of London. _Fifteenthly._ To his loving sister, Susannah F., widow of Abraham de la Croix, of Rochelle, £1000 sterling. _Sixteenthly._ To his servant maid, _Hendrine Boyltins_, who probably came, with the family, from Holland, "_a suit of mourning throughout_," and 500 ounces of silver, in pieces of eight, or the value, in Province bills, at her election. _Seventeenthly._ To Henry Johnson, her son, who became the confidential clerk of Peter Faneuil, 150 ounces, in pieces of eight, to be paid, at majority. _Eighteenthly._ "I give, bequeath, and devise all the rest of my estate, both real and personal, whatsoever and wheresoever 'tis, in New England, Great Britain, France, Holland, or any other part of the world, to my loving nephew, PETER FANEUIL, eldest son of my late brother, Benjamin Faneuil, to hold to him and his heirs forever." He then appoints Peter, sole executor. The codicil revokes the legacy to his _loving_ sister, the widow Susannah de la Croix, of Rochelle--"my mind and my will is, that my said sister, Susannah F., shall not have the said thousand pounds, _nor any part of it_." The severity of these five last words--and the phrase, in relation to his nephew--"_excluding Benjamin Faneuil of Boston, and the heirs of his body forever_;" and those final words of the ninth clause, by which the testator cuts off poor Benjamin, with "_five shillings and no more_," are sufficiently piquant. Well may such an _avunculus Hector_ commence his last will, with a fervent supplication to "God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," for _the perfecting of his charities_. How the widow, Susannah, came to lose her thousand pounds I do not know. Something, that she said or did, or did not say or do, was wafted, all the way over the water, from Rochelle, no doubt, and came to the old gentleman's irritable ears, and roused his ire. But I well comprehend the occasion, upon which he came to disinherit his nephew, Benjamin Faneuil. My female readers have already arrived at the conclusion, doubtless, that Benjamin so far forgot himself, and his duty to his opulent, old uncle, as to fall in love without asking his permission. Well: they are perfectly right--such was the fact. Benjamin fell in love. He was determined not to be found, like tinkling brass, even at the hazard of losing the good will, and the gold of his uncle Andrew--so he fell in love. And, if the girl of his heart resembled her daughter, _Mary Faneuil_, as she is represented by Blackburn, how the poor fellow could have helped it, God only knows. There is nothing, in all Amboyna, more spicy, than this little incident, in the history of the Faneuils; and, having spoilt it, perhaps, by this _avant courier_, I will now venture to tell the story; premising, that it was far better told, by the lady, who related it to me, and who is a lineal descendant of Benjamin, himself. To give proper effect to this little episode, I must take the reader to a pretty village, as it was just then beginning to be, one hundred and fifty years ago, on the banks of the Hudson, some twenty miles, only, from the city of New York. There, the persecuted Huguenots gathered together, and planted their new home, their _New Rochelle_. Almost immediately after his marriage with Anne Bureau, in 1699, at Narragansett, Benjamin Faneuil rejoined his Huguenot friends, and fellow-townsmen, in _New Rochelle_; and there his children were born. _New Rochelle_, as I have stated, was the birth-place of PETER FANEUIL. Andrew, having arrived in Boston from Holland, very soon after the beginning of the eighteenth century; having buried his wife; and being childless, selected Benjamin, the second son of his brother, Benjamin Faneuil, as an object of particular regard. The boy, was, accordingly, transferred from New Rochelle to Boston. He was educated, and brought up, under his patron's eye; and was considered, by the world, as the heir apparent of his opulent uncle. As he grew up, towards man's estate, it would have been an unheard of circumstance, if the dowagers of Shawmut, with their marriageable daughters, had not fixed their hopeful eyes, upon young Benjamin, if it were only for the sake of whatever might be found, sooner or later, in the mouth of his sack. It would have been a miracle, if their exhibitions of regard, for the young man, had not visibly increased; and their fears had not been frequently and feelingly expressed, lest that excellent, old gentleman, Andrew Faneuil Esquire, had taken cold. A patron is rather too prone to look upon a _protégé_, as a puppet. The idea, that Benjamin could be led astray, however tempting the provocation, to commit the crime of matrimony, however lawful and right, however accomplished, and virtuous, and lovely the object, without leave, first had and obtained, from him, at whose board he ate his daily bread, never occurred to Uncle Andrew, for an instant. He supposed, of course, that he had the key to Benjamin's soul. It never occurred to the old gentleman, whose courtship was carried on, in Holland, that falling in love was precisely as much of an accident, as falling into the fire, or into the water. Well: Benjamin was an intelligent young man; and he was admirably posted up, upon the subject of his uncle's opinions, and prejudices. Nevertheless, he fell in love, very emphatically; and with a girl, as pretty, doubtless, as she was poor. He knew, that his uncle would never consent to such a marriage. But he knew, that he had plighted his troth; and he clearly saw, since he must run the hazard of breaking _one_ heart, or _two_, that it would be rather more equitable to risk the old gentleman's, instead of the girl's and his own. Accordingly, Benjamin secretly took unto himself a lawful wife; and, for a while, though Benjamin was, doubtless, much the happier, Uncle Andrew was nothing the wiser. However strange it may appear, though there were no giants, there were mischievous women, in those days. One of this category, in an evil hour, like a toad, as she was, whispered the secret, into the ear of Uncle Andrew. The old Huguenot was not of the melting mood. The conduct of his nephew produced not grief, but anger. It reached no tender spot, in the recesses of his heart, but chafed the old man's pericardium, till it drew a blister there. He bottled up his wrath, and corked it well; that the offender might have the full benefit of the fermentation, when the old gentleman came to pour the contents of the vial, on the devoted head of his unsuspecting nephew. The following morning, they met, at the breakfast table. The meal passed, as usual. But with what feelings must that old man have contemplated the poor fellow, the boy of his adoption, whom he was about to prostrate, as he finished the last mouthful he was ever to partake at that board! The repast was finished.--A brief colloquy ensued--"_I hear you are married_"--"_Yes, uncle, I am_"--"_Then you will leave my house_." The young man instantly took his departure. They never met again, until years had passed away,--and then, in that place, where there is no work nor device. There they lie, in the Faneuil tomb, in the Granary Ground; the unforgiving uncle and the disinherited nephew, side by side. Benjamin Faneuil died, at his residence in Brighton, in October, 1785, and was buried, in the family vault. No. CXXVIII. Notwithstanding the "_large and plentiful estate_," which Peter Faneuil derived from his uncle's will, it is my opinion, that his munificence, his unbounded charities, his hospitalities, his social, genial temperament were such, that, had he lived a much longer life, he would have died a much poorer man. Almost immediately, upon the death of his uncle, it is manifest, from his letters, that certain magnificent fancies came over the spirit of his waking dreams. And it is equally certain, that, subsequently, he had occasional misgivings, as to the just relation between his means and his prospective arrangements, which, for the times, and upon our little peninsula, were sufficiently expanded. Feb. 27, 1737, fourteen days after his uncle's death, he announced that event to his commercial friends, Messrs. S. & W. Baker of London; prescribed the arrangement of funds, for the payment of legacies; and instructed them to honor his draft, in favor of James Pope & Company, of Madeira, in payment for five pipes of wine. Four days after, on the first of March, he writes Pope & Company thus--"Send me, by the very first opportunity, for this place, five pipes of your very best Madeira wine, of an amber color, of the same sort, which you sent to our good friend, De Lancey, of New York." He directs them to draw on the Bakers of London, and adds--"As this wine is for the use of my house, I hope you will be careful, that I have the best. I am not over fond of the strongest. I am to inform you, that my uncle, Mr. Andrew Faneuil, departed this life, the 13 current, and was interred the 20, for which God prepare all his friends. I shall expect to hear from you, by the first opportunity." Feb. 27, 1737, the same day, on which he writes the Bakers, he addresses Lane & Smethurst, of London, as follows--"Be so good as to send me a handsome chariot with two sets of harness, with the arms, as enclosed, on the same, in the handsomest manner, that you shall judge proper, but at the same time nothing gaudy: and send me also, well recommended, two sober men, the one, for a coachman the other a gardener; and agree with the same, to be paid either in London, quarterly, or here, allowing for the exchange of the money, which they shall choose. And, as most servants from Europe, when here, are too apt to be debauched with strong drink, rum, &c., being very plenty, I pray your particular care in this article." On the 6th of March, he writes Gulian Verplanck, of New York--"Send me the pipe of wine, having none good to drink." Again, March 20--"By the first good opportunity the best pipe of wine you can purchase." On the 25th of April, he acknowledges the receipt of the wine from Verplanck--"The wine I hope will prove good--comes in very good time, there being none good in town." On the 22d of May, he writes the Bakers, for a bountiful supply of glass and China, and for "enough of the best scarlet cloth to trim a cloak:" and, in September of that year, for silver spoons and "silver forks with three prongs, with my arms cut upon them: let them be made very neat and handsome." Shortly after, he writes for several pairs of silver candlesticks, "with my arms engraved thereon," and sends out a piece of wax candle, as a pattern of the size. On the 1st of January, 1738, he writes Lane & Smethurst, to send him a pair of spectacles, "for a person of 50 years, as also, for the use of my kitchen, the latest, best book of the several sorts of cookery, which pray let be of the largest character, for the benefit of the maid's reading." As Peter then was not quite thirty-eight years of age, the spectacles were probably for "the maid," to enable her to master "the _best book_ of the several sorts of cookery." Dec. 20, 1738, he writes for "four stone horses." On the 18th of September of that year, he writes Thomas Kilby--"Pray don't forget the larding pins, wine, and sweetmeats, which I have wrote you about before." He frequently writes to his friend Verplanck, for "Albany horses." In a brief sketch of Brighton, published in 1850, it is stated that Peter's "_large and heavy silver punch bowl_" is in the possession of George Bethune, Esquire, of this city. This is an error. Peter's punch bowl came into the possession of James Lovell, who married a grand-daughter of Benjamin Faneuil, a sister of Mr. Bethune; and it is now in the possession of Mr. Lovell's descendants. Oh, if that "_large and heavy silver punch bowl_" could speak out, in good French or English, what glorious tales it would tell of Peter, in all his glory, enjoying, as Master Lovell says, "_that divine satisfaction, which results from communicating happiness to others_"--around that preëminently hospitable board, where, in the language of the writer of the obituary, in the News Letter of March 10, 1743-- "Divites ac parvi gustârunt dulcia mensæ." Peter's punch bowl was not at all like Oliver's "_broken teacups, wisely kept for show_." June 22, 1741, some twenty months before his death, he writes Lane & Smethurst, to send him "_six gross of the very best London King Henry's Cards, and six half chests of lemons, for my house winter supply_." Let not the reader surmise, for all this, that Peter had denied his Lord, or was exclusively absorbed in his care for creature comforts. March 5, 1738, he writes the Bakers, to send him "four handsome, large, octavo, Common Prayer Books, of a good letter and well bound, with one of the same, in French, for my own use." March 13, 1738, he writes John Depuister, to send him "six of the largest bearskins, and two large, fine, well painted beaver coats, to use in a slay." It is, in no sense, discreditable to Peter Faneuil, that his correspondence shows him to have been exceedingly partial to sweetmeats and citron water. Nor does it lower him, in my humble esteem, that his letters clearly indicate his temperament to have been somewhat irritable and fiery. I have found such to be the case, almost ever, when generosity, frankheartedness, and a noble spirit are blended together, as closely as they were, in the character of Peter Faneuil. The converse of this position, to be sure, it is not easy to maintain. It is quite amusing, to contemplate, now and then, in men, whose brains are brim full of magnificent purposes, and whose habitual dealings are with tens and hundreds of thousands--a remarkable concentration of thought and care, upon some one insignificant item of property, which is in jeopardy of falling into naught. It is, doubtless, the spirit of the woman, who lighted her candle and swept the house, and called her neighbors together, to rejoice with her, over the recovery of that one piece of silver. A brief episode will exhibit this trait, in Peter's character, and show, at the same time, that his spirit was perfectly placable. Some time before his death, Uncle Andrew, being aware, that pulmonic affections were benefited, by the air of the tropics, consigned a broken-winded horse to Mr. Joseph Ward, of Barbadoes, for sale. No account having been rendered, the fate of the old horse appears to have become a subject of exciting interest, with the residuary legatee. Before he writes to Ward, he addresses three letters of inquiry, in other directions. He then opens upon Mr. Joseph Ward, Jan. 12, 1738. I give the entire letter, as illustrative of Peter's character--"I have been very much surprised, that, ever since the death of Captain Allen, you have not advised me of the sale of a horse, belonging to my deceased uncle, left in your hands by him, which I am informed you sold for a very good price, and I am now to request the favor you would send me the net proceeds, with a fair and just account for the same, in sweetmeats and citron water; your compliance with which will stop me from giving some of my friends the trouble of calling you to an account there. I shall be glad to know, if Captain Allen did not leave a silver watch and some fish, belonging to a servant of mine, with some person of your island, and with who. I expect your speedy answer." Mr. Ward appears to have responded, more calmly, than tropical gentlemen commonly do, when accosted in this piquant style. He sent his account, and Peter was manifestly mollified, by a box of sweetmeats. Mr. Ward, however, complained of Peter's want of grace. March 24, 1738, Peter wrote to Mr. Ward--"Yours of 7 February, with the account sales of a horse, left by Captain Allen, accompanying a box sweetmeats I received, in which I observe you refer to my former, which you are pleased to look upon as in too unhandsome a stile. I must own it was not in so soft terms, as I sometimes make use of; but, at that time, I really thought the state of the case required it, not having heard anything to be depended upon, concerning the horse in dispute, either if he was dead, sold, or run away; upon either of which, I presumed the common complaisance, if not honor, among merchants, might have entitled either my uncle, in his lifetime, or myself, after his decease, to some advice at least. I had indeed transiently heard here you had kept him, for your own use, but had undervalued him, which, in some measure prest my writing you on that head, &c. I thank you for your speedy answer, and am, with return of your own compliment, as much as you are mine," &c. March 6, 1737.--Peter informs M. Isaac Beauchamp, that, he, Peter, has been empowered, by his Excellency, M. Brouillan, Governor of Cape Breton, to call him to account and says--"I am now to let you know, that out of honor and of the regards I have ever had to that gentleman, I am obliged to see some honorable issue made to that affair, for which reason I shall be glad you will advise me, after what manner you propose to satisfye the gentleman or me, without forcing violente means." This affair was occasioned, by a dispute, about tobacco, and ended in smoke. One brief illustration more. April 6, 1738, he complains to Captain Greenou of certain ill usage and says--"You may see what handsome parcell of protested bills I must pay. If this be the honor of you Ragon men, God deliver me from them, for the future. I would not take their word for a groat &c. These pretended gentlemen think I will tamely sit down by their unhandsome usage, but they will find themselves very much mistaken," &c. Many years ago, while standing by the artist, as he was working up, from the old portrait, belonging to the Historical Society, the lineaments of Peter, as he is represented, in Faneuil Hall, we agreed, that his temperament must have been choleric. He had that conformation of body, which hints of apoplexy. John, his uncle, the Rocheller, died of that disease; and Peter, as Master Lovell inform us, died _suddenly_. He belonged not to any total abstinence society. And though there is no evidence, nor the slightest suspicion, that he fell below that standard of gentlemanly temperance, which was in vogue, among those, who were given to hospitality, in our peninsula, one hundred years ago--yet I have not any reasonable doubt, that Peter would have lived longer, had it been the pleasure of his uncle Andrew to have disinherited _him_, instead of _his brother Benjamin_. No. CXXIX. Peter Faneuil was an affectionate brother. I have it from the lips of Benjamin's lineal descendants, who have preserved the tradition, that, after he had sacrificed his hopes of the inheritance, not for a mess of pottage, but for a lovely wife; and Peter had been called from New Rochelle, to supply his place, as the heir apparent; uncle Andrew, probably, without exacting an absolute promise, enjoined it upon Peter, to abstain from assisting Benjamin; to which injunction Peter paid no practical regard whatever; but, like a Christian brother, remembered, that old Benjamin Faneuil and Anne Bureau had been the father and the mother of them both. The commercial correspondence shows, that Peter gave Benjamin his confidence and affection. The relation between them plainly demonstrates, that there was no deficiency of kind and generous offices. The ease and intimacy of their friendship will be perceived, by the following note, which I copy literally from the original, in my possession. There was a difference of eighteen months only, in their ages. In this note, which was written, after Benjamin's return from Europe, Peter addresses him, by a cant name. "Boston the 18 August, 1741. Dear Cockey: The Occasion of my not Sending my Chase for you was on Account of Mr. Shirley's receiving of his Majties Commission Last Thursday appointing him Govr of this Province wh. was read the Next day, upon which Occasion he ask't me to Loane of my Charrot wh. I granted him till Last Night, so that I presume will plede my xcuse. I now Send you up the Chase, to bring you home, and have deliver'd ye Coachman Some Boild Beef, a dozen of brown biskett 6 bottles of Madera and 2 of Frontinan with a dozen of Lemmons. Your relations and friends are all well, and desire their Love and service may be made acceptable to you. Pray my Compliments to the Gentn and Ladys with you--and give me Leave to assure you that I am, Dear Cockey, Your Affectionate Brother, Peter Faneuil." The superscription of this note is torn off, but to Benjamin alone can it apply. Mr. Jones was not married, till after Peter's death. His relation to Phillips was rather formal; and still more so with Boutineau; and he never would have thought of calling his brother Addington Davenport, the Rector of Trinity, his _dear cockey_. His letters also record the evidences of his kindness to his sisters, and his attention to their most trifling wishes. Nov. 24, 1736, he writes Lynch and Blake--"My youngest sister desires, that you wont forget to send her the Canary birds, which you promised her, when you was here." May 16, 1736, he writes Lane and Smethurst of London--"My sisters have received their things, in good order and to their liking, except the stockings: for the Hosier put up white worsted, instead of thread, although the patern was sent. I have sent them back to you to be changed, in the ship Union, John Homans, master. Be pleased to send them, by the first opportunity: viz, for Mrs. Anne Faneuil, 3 pairs thread hose, with worsted clogs, and a pair of Galoushoes. Mrs. Susannah Faneuil, 2 pairs thread ditto. Mrs. Mary Anne Faneuil, 4 pairs thread stockings, and 3 pairs clogs." It is of small moment, at this late day, whether these ladies wore thread or worsted stockings, one hundred and fourteen years ago; but this ancient example of brotherly regard may not be altogether lost, upon the race of brothers, that has sprung up, during the present century. It is remarkable, that Peter, though he applies the title, _Mrs._ to each of his sisters, gives them the maiden name. The two, first named, were then the wives of Addington Davenport and James Boutineau; the last, Mary Ann, afterwards the wife of John Jones, was then single. At that early day, the moral sense of the people of the North appears to have been thoroughly asleep, on the subject of slavery. The reverend clergy were no exception from the general rule. After the decease of Parson Moorhead, in 1774, a slave was sold, among his effects, "at his late residence, near _Liberty Tree_." Jonny Moorhead was a cotemporary of Peter Faneuil, having assumed the charge of the Presbyterian Church, as it then was, in 1730. The reader will not be startled, therefore, when he comes to be informed, as, in good time he will be, at how many pounds, old tenor, each of Peter Faneuil's five slaves were appraised, after his decease. Slavery was not uncommon then, in the Province of Massachusetts Bay. Douglass, in his Summary, vol. i. page 351, states, that in 1735, about seven years before Peter's death, the whole number of whites, of 16 years and upwards, in the Province, was 35,427; and of negroes, 2600. Feb. 3, 1738. Peter Faneuil writes thus, to Peter Buckley--"Herewith you have invoice of six hogsheads fish and eight barrells of alewives, amounting to £75.9.2, which, when you arrive at Antigua, be pleased to sell, for my best advantage, and, with the nett produce of the same, purchase, for me, for the use of my house, as likely a strait negro lad as possibly you can, about the age of from 12 to 15 years; and, if to be done, one that has had the small-pox, who being for my own service, I must request the favor, you would let him be one of as tractable a disposition as you can find, which I leave to your prudent care and management, desiring, after you have purchased him, you would send him to me, by the first good opportunity, recommending him to a particular care, from the captain." I have no doubt, that Peter was a kind, considerate master; and, though I have an unconquerable aversion to being the slave of anybody, I had rather have been Peter's _born thrall_ than his _uncle Andrew_. What a glorious kitchen Peter's must have been! My female readers will scarcely find it in their eyelids to be weary, or in their hearts to blame me, for giving them one or two passages more, from Peter Faneuil's letters; when they are told, that those passages relate to a love affair, in which Peter, though not a principal, performed an important part. The Faneuils and the Jekylls were intimate--so much so, at least, as to bring the Jekylls within the circle of those, who, upon Uncle Andrew's death, were accounted the legitimate recipients of mourning rings. In a letter to Mr. Joseph Jekyll, of Jan. 22, 1738, Peter alludes to Miss Jekyll's extraordinary conduct; and, most happily and truthfully, remarks, that "_there is no accounting for the sex, in affairs of love_." On the same day, he writes Mr. Richard Blacket Jekyll--"Doubtless, you'll be surprised to find, that, by this opportunity, only your sister, Mrs. Hannah, of the family, who I hope will arrive safe to you, has the pleasure of seeing you, and her other brothers, in England. I am sorry Mrs. Mary does not consult her own interest, so much, as I could wish, whose conduct I should say nothing of, were it not out of regard to the family in general. It is now only one month past, since she suffered herself to be published to one Mr. Linnington, of St. Christophers, formerly known here, by the name of My Lord Linnington, or My Lord, whose character, if you remember the man, I need not trouble you with a description of it; but, if you do not, I can only say, that he is a worthless pretender to a great deal of money and wit, without, according to the best account I can learn, any of either: with whom she would, inevitably have been married, had not some other friends joined forces with me, and interposed." "Inclosed I send you my letter to her, on that head, and her answer, for your more private satisfaction. That affair being tolerably well over, and Captain Homan's state-room hired for the two young ladies, and their maid, I had supplied them, according to your desire, with what money they might have occasion for, to fit them out for the voyage, and paid the captain, for their laying in, and tomorrow being the appointed time to go aboard, I was, in the morning, advised Mrs. Mary had changed her mind, on account of some new proposals of matrimony, made her, by Col. Saltonstall of Haverhill, which sudden alteration I find to be, on examination, from a visit or two, within these two or three days last past, at farthest, but, however, concluded upon and determined, so that she does not come to you," &c., &c. Peter proceeds to comment, with great discretion, upon the absence of any reasonable interval, for the heart of Miss Mary Jekyll to recover its due tone and tension, after its first expansion towards _My Lord Linnington_, and before the second spasm. But, truly, in the language of the anatomist, the heart is a "wonderful muscle." I had surmised a relation of consanguinity between Peter Faneuil and the late Peter Chardon Brooks, from the fact, that, on the 29th of March, 1737, Peter Faneuil writes to the executors of Isaac Chardon, in South Carolina, whom he calls his cousin; and, in that letter, speaks of his cousin, _Peter Chardon_. But, from the best authority, I have learned, that the name of Peter Chardon was bestowed, by the Rev. Edward Brooks, formerly of North Yarmouth, and more recently of Medford, upon his son, _causa amicitiæ_; the Rev. Mr. Brooks and Peter Chardon, having been classmates, of the year 1757. It was, probably, the father of this Peter Chardon, whom Peter Faneuil calls his cousin, in 1737, and the same Peter Chardon, who is named, on the record, as one of the appraisers of Peter Faneuil's estate, in 1742-3. The name is rare; it occurs once only, on the Cambridge Catalogue; and, from its rarity, it may not be unreasonable, to look for the _stirps_, on the pages of Charlevoix, iii. 392, who speaks of _Peter Chardon_, the Jesuit, a missionary, among the Indians, bordering upon Lake Michigan, at the very close of the seventeenth century. _Our_ Peter Chardon, the cousin of Faneuil, resided in Bowdoin Square, near the street, that bears his name. After the death of his uncle Andrew, Peter Faneuil, by the power of wealth, in addition to his other qualities, intelligence, industry, and courtesy, necessarily became an influential character; and the use, which he immediately began to make of his wealth, his public spirit, his private benevolence, all conspired to make him an object of very general interest. His hospitalities were unbounded. He associated himself with the Episcopal Church. He subscribed £2000 old tenor, £200 sterling for the rebuilding of King's Chapel, in 1740, and was chosen treasurer of the building fund. His death, in 1742-3, put a stop to the project. No money had ever been collected, for that object. In 1747, the project was revived. New subscriptions were solicited, and the old ones demanded, "_at the end of this year 1748_." Peter Faneuil died March 3, 1742-3, and had therefore been dead, between five and six years. "For the subscription of Peter Faneuil," says Mr. Greenwood, in his history of the Chapel, "they were unfortunately obliged to sue his brother, and executor, Benjamin Faneuil, from whom, after a disagreeable lawsuit, they at last recovered it." Mr. Greenwood erred, in the supposition, that Peter left a will. He died intestate, and administration was granted to Benjamin, March 18, 1742, old style. The estate, of course, had been settled, doubtless, some years before the demand on the administrator, "_at the end of 1748_." Having other heirs to consult, he very properly resisted this tardy and unexpected claim; and cast the responsibility upon the court. For several years, Peter Faneuil worshipped in Trinity Church, of which his brother-in-law, Addington Davenport, became rector, in 1740. Peter's pew, in Old Trinity, was No. 40. He was an active and liberal member of the Episcopal Charitable Society. "Mr. Faneuil," says the late Dr. Boyle, "was one of the earliest members of the society. He was a liberal subscriber to its funds, and acted, as a trustee of the institution." Peter Faneuil's heart was proverbially warm, and sensitive to the necessities and distresses of his _neighbor_; and he seems to have cherished the true scriptural construction of that _ubiquitary_ word. The accession of wealth, upon his uncle's death, hardened not his heart, but gave it a deeper, fuller, and stronger pulse, upon every call of charity. To him, as to other men, who admit their motives to be human, upon common occasions, the applause of the _wise_ and _good_ was exceedingly agreeable. Whatever the prominency of higher and holier considerations, he turned a willing and a grateful ear to the approbation of the judicious and upright. Not contented with the opportunities of doing good, on a small scale, which were, doubtless, frequently presented, before a man, whose wealth and warmheartedness were equally notorious; he coveted some fair occasion, for pouring forth of his abundance, in a more magnificent manner--pleased--naturally and justifiably pleased--with the thought, that his name and his memory would be associated with the deed, in after times. No. CXXX. One may, as successfully, search for that identical peck of pickled peppers, that Peter Piper picked, as for the original Hall, that Peter Faneuil built. Like Rachel's first born, _it is not_. After all the reparations, and changes, and hard hammerings she has undergone, we may as well search, within the walls of Old Ironsides, for those very ribs of live oak, which, some fifty years ago, were launched, in the body of the frigate Constitution. In the olden time, the market men, like the mourners, went "about the streets." The inhabitants were served, at their doors. As early as 1634, Gov. Winthrop, in his journal, speaks of a market, which was kept in Boston, "on Thursday, the fifth day of the week." This weekly market on the fifth day is mentioned, by Douglass, as of 1639, vol. i. p. 434. This, I think, refers only to a gathering of sellers and buyers, at one spot, and not to any "visible temple," for storage and shelter. Citizens differed, as to the best method of getting their _provant_; some preferred the old mode, as it was supposed to save time; others were in favor of having a common point, with a covered building. Parties were formed; the citizens waxed wroth; and quarrelled about their meat, like angry dogs. Those, who were in favor of market-houses, prevailed. Three were erected; one, at the Old North Square--one, where Faneuil Hall now stands--and one, near Liberty Tree. People were no longer supplied, at their houses. It seems very strange, that this sensible arrangement should have led to violent outrage. The malcontents assembled together, in the night, "disguised like clergymen"--the devil, sometimes assumes this exterior--and "totally demolished the centre market-house." This occurred, about the year 1736-7, or about the time of Andrew Faneuil's death. Such is the account of good old Thomas Pemberton. M. H. C. iii. 255. The popular sentiment prevented the reconstruction of the centre market-house, till, in 1740, July 14, a town meeting was held to consider a petition, for this object, from Thomas Palmer and 340 others. At this meeting, it was stated, that Peter Faneuil had offered, at his own cost, to build a market-house, on the town's land, in Dock Square, for the use of the town, if the citizens, would legally empower him so to do; place the same under proper regulations; and maintain it, for that use. An impression has, somewhat extensively, prevailed, that Mr. Faneuil's proposal was not courteously received, by his fellow-citizens, and that a majority of seven only were in favor of it. On the contrary, Mr. Faneuil's proposal was received, with the most ample demonstrations of grateful respect. There were two questions before the meeting--first: shall a vote of thanks be passed to Peter Faneuil, for his liberal offer? Secondly: shall we give up the itinerant system, and have a market-house, on _any_ conditions? Upon the first question, there was but _one_ mind--on the second, there were _two_. A vote of thanks to Mr. Faneuil was instantly passed, without a dissentient. But the second question was the vexed question, revived, and excited the passions of the people. Of 727 persons present, 367 only voted in favor of granting the petition of Palmer and others, giving a majority of seven only. Accordingly, the work was commenced; and it was completed, Sept. 10, 1742, "on which day," says Dr. Snow, "Mr. Samuel Ruggles, who was employed, in building the market house, waited on the selectmen, by order of P. Faneuil, Esq., and delivered them the key of said house." Peter was a magnificent fellow. An antiquarian friend, to whom the fancy has lineally descended, through a line of highly respectable, antiquarian ancestors, informs me, that his father handed down to him a tradition, which is certainly plausible. It runs thus: while the market-house was in progress--probably on paper--it was suggested to Peter, that, with very little additional expense, a splendid town hall might be constructed over it. Peter's heart was quite as _roomy_ as the market-house, and town hall together, and he cheerfully embraced the suggestion. The tradition goes a little farther--when the cost was summed up, Peter scolded--a little. Very likely. Mr. Peter Faneuil was not an exception, I presume, to the common rule. The keys, as I have stated, were presented to the town, Sept. 10, 1742, with all that courtesy, doubtless, for which he was remarkable. Peter's relatives and connections are somewhat numerous. The descendants of Benjamin his brother are scattered over the country. It will be equally grateful to them, and honorable to our forefathers, to exhibit a portion of the record. Sept. 13, 1742, at a meeting, in the new hall, a vote of thanks was moved, by the Hon. John Jeffries, uncle of the late Dr. John Jeffries. In this vote, it is stated, that, whereas Peter Faneuil has, "at a very great expense, erected a noble structure, far exceeding his first proposal, inasmuch, as it contains, not only a large and sufficient accommodation for a market place, but a spacious and most beautiful town hall over it, and several other convenient rooms, which may prove very beneficial to the town, for offices or otherwise. And the said building being now finished, he has delivered possession thereof to the selectmen for the use of the town; it is therefore voted, that the town do, with the utmost gratitude, receive and accept this most generous and noble benefaction, for the use and intentions it is designed for; and do appoint the Hon. Thomas Cushing Esquire, the moderator of this meeting, the Hon. Adam Winthrop, Edward Hutchinson, Ezekiel Lewis, and Samuel Waldo, Esquires, Thomas Hutchinson, Esq. the selectmen and representatives of the town of Boston, the Hon. Jacob Wendell, James Bowdoin, Esq., Andrew Oliver, Esq., Captain Nathaniel Cunningham, Peter Chardon, Esq., and Mr. Charles Apthorp, to wait upon Peter Faneuil, Esq., and in the name of the town, to render him their most hearty thanks, for so bountiful a gift, with their prayers, that this and other expressions of his bounty and charity may be abundantly recompensed with the divine blessing." In addition to this vote, the citizens passed another, that the hall should be called Faneuil Hall, forever; and that the portrait of Faneuil should be painted, at full length, and placed therein. On the 14th of March, 1744, a vote was passed "to purchase the Faneuil arms, carved and gilt, by Moses Deshon, to be fixed in the hall." Pemberton says--"Previous to the Revolution, the portraits of Mr. Faneuil, General Conway, and Colonel Barré were procured by the town, and hung up in the hall. It is supposed they were carried off by the British." The portrait of Faneuil at present, in the hall, was painted by Henry Sargent, from the portrait, presented to the Massachusetts Historical Society, by Miss Jones, a grandchild of Peter's sister, Mary Ann. The original building was but half the width of the present, and but two stories high. The hall could contain but 1000 persons. In the memorable fire of Tuesday, Jan. 13, 1761, Faneuil Hall was destroyed, and nothing left standing but the walls. On the 23d of the following March, the town voted to rebuild, and the State authorized a lottery, to meet the expense. There were several classes. A ticket, of the seventh class, lies before me, bearing date March, 1767, with the spacious autograph of John Hancock, at the bottom. The building retained its primitive proportions, till 1806, when, the occasions of the public requiring its enlargement, its width was increased, from 40 to 80 feet, and a third story added. A very simple rule may be furnished, for those, who would compare the size of the present building, with that of the genuine Peter Faneuil Hall. Take a northeast view of the Hall--there are seven windows before you, in each story--run a perpendicular line, from the ground, through the centre of the middle window to the top of the belt, at the bottom of the third story--carry a straight line from that point nearly to the top of the second window, on the right, in the third story. That point is the apex of the old pediment. From that point, draw the corresponding roof line down to the belt, at the corner; and you have a profile of the ancient structure; all which is well exhibited by Dr. Snow, on the plan, in his History of Boston. Small as the original structure may appear, when compared with the present, it was a magnificent donation, for the times. It may well be considered a munificent gift, from a single individual, in 1742, when we consider, that its repairs, in 1761, were accomplished, by the aid of the Commonwealth, and the creation of a lottery, which continued to curse the community, for several years. Peter Faneuil was then in all his glory. How readily, by the power of Imagination, I raise him from the dead, bolt upright; with his over portly form, and features full of _bon homie_; speaking volumes, about those five pipes of amber-colored Madeira, such as his friend Delancey had; and that best book of all sorts of cookery, of a large character, for the maid's reading! There he is, at the door of his English chariot, "handsome, but nothing gaudy," with his arms thereon, and his English coachman, and his English horses, and that "strait negro lad" perched behind. I see him now, helping in Miss Mary Anne, his youngest maiden sister; and, as he ascends the steps, wrapping his cloak around him, trimmed with that identical "_scarlet cloth of the very best quality_." The vanity of man's anticipations, the occasional suddenness of his summons away--seldom find a more graphic illustration, than in the case of this noble hearted, and most hospitable gentleman. When he received the grateful salutations of the magnates of the town, who came to thank him, for his munificence, what could have been so little in his thoughts, or in theirs, as the idea, that he was so soon to die! In about five years--five, short, luxurious years--after the death of Andrew Faneuil, Peter, his favorite nephew, was committed to the ground, March 10, 1742, old style. The event, from its suddenness, and from the amiable and benevolent character of the individual, produced a deep sensation, in the _village_, for Boston was nothing but a seashore village then. In 1728, some fourteen years before, we learn from Douglass, i. 531, that there were but 3000 rateable polls, on the peninsula. This event was unexpected, by the living, and had been equally unexpected, by the dead. Death came to Peter, like a thief in the stilly night. He had not looked for this unwelcome visitor. He had made no will. By this event, Benjamin came into possession; and old Andrew is supposed to have turned over, indignantly, in his coffin. No. CXXXI. To such of my readers, as the Lord has abundantly blessed, in their basket and their store, and who have loaned him very little, on his simple promise, to be repaid, in Paradise; and who are, peradventure, at this very moment, excogitating revengeful wills; the issue of uncle Andrew's vindictive, posthumous arrangements may prove a profitable lesson, for their learning. Verily, God's ways are not as our ways, nor God's will as Uncle Andrew's. It may be remembered, that, in the devise of his warehouse, in trust, for the benefit of the French Church, Andrew Faneuil provided, that, in the event of the extinction of that church, the estate should revert to his _right heirs--excluding Benjamin Faneuil, of Boston, and the heirs of his body forever_, whom he cuts off, as the popular phrase runs, with "_five shillings, and no more_." In passing along, it may not be amiss to notice this popular error. The law has, at no time, required the bequest of a farthing, to one, near of kin, whom the testator intends to cut off. It is enough, if it be manifest, that the testator has _not forgotten him_; and, to leave no possible doubt upon the subject, a churlish curmudgeon, as in the present case, will transmit, in this offensive manner, the record of his vindictiveness and folly, to future generations. When Andrew Faneuil makes Peter his residuary legatee, there is no provision, for the exclusion of Benjamin, in the event of Peter's death, without heirs of his body. Prepared, as this amiable, old gentleman was, to believe, in the possible extinction of the French Church, he seems to have looked upon Peter, an inveterate old bachelor, as immortal. Yet, in regard to Peter, the issue hung, by a single hair. There was no child, with the cup in his hand, to catch the ball, and prevent it from lapsing directly into Benjamin's sack, who, with his sisters, stood close at hand, the next of kin to Peter, and heirs at law. Well: as I have said, God's will was not as Uncle Andrew's. After a few flying years, during which Peter executed the intentions of the testator, with remarkable fidelity; and lived, as magnificently, as a nobleman, and as hospitably, as a bishop, and, as charitably, as an apostle--suddenly, the silver cord was loosed, and the golden bowl was broken, and Peter dropped into the grave. The title of Benjamin and his sisters to all Peter's estate, and to all Andrew's estate, that remained, as the heirs at law of Peter, passed into them, through the atmosphere, at once; and Andrew's will, by the act of God, was set aside, in the _upper_ Court. Administration was granted to Benjamin, March 18, 1742, O. S., who returned an inventory, April 21, 1744. The appraisers of the estate were William Price, Joseph Dowse, and Peter Chardon; and the sum total of their valuation was £44,451.15.7. This, certainly, will incline the reader to Master Lovell's idea, of "_a large and plentiful estate_," until I add those words of withering import--_Old Tenor_. Sterling decimates old tenor with a vengeance--_ten_ pounds, old tenor, were but _one_ pound, sterling. The valuation, therefore, amounted to about £4,445 sterling, or, in dollars, at five to the pound, to $22,225. It may seem rather surprising, that the balance, which fell to Peter, from his uncle, under the will, and his own accumulations, should amount to no more. But a few reflections may tend to moderate our surprise. The estate of his uncle had been seriously diminished, by the payment of legacies, £2,000 stg. to each of his three nieces, $30,000--more than $8,000 to his niece, Marie Phillips; and about $2,000, in smaller legacies, raising the amount of legacies to $40,000. He had also given his warehouse, in King Street, to the French Church. These legacies Peter had paid. He had also built and presented the Market-house and the Hall to the town. But there is another important consideration. Funds still remained, in other countries, part and parcel of Andrew's property. This is evident, from an original document before me, the marriage settlement of Peter's sister, Mary Anne with John Jones, bearing date March 15, 1742, the very month of Peter's death. This document recites, that one part of her estate, as one of the heirs of Peter Faneuil, "_is in Public Funds, such as the Bank of England_." As this does not figure in Benjamin's inventory here, it is impossible to say what was the amount of foreign funds, which Peter owned, at the time of his death. For some five years, while he had been living, in a style of unbounded hospitality, he had also enjoyed the luxury of doing good, and paid, most liberally, for that enjoyment. From his commercial correspondence, I infer, that his enterprise suffered no material abatement, after his uncle's decease. I cannot doubt, that his free expenditure of money, for his personal enjoyment, the gratification of his pride, and the pleasure of ministering to the wants of the poor and needy, had lessened, and was lessening, from month to month, the amount of his estate. There is yet another consideration, which belongs to this account, the great disparity, between the value of money, then, and at the present day. The items, or particular heads, of the inventory, are one hundred and fifty-eight; and cover near four folio pages of the record. Some of them may not be wholly uninteresting to the reader. The mansion-house, the same, as I have stated, in which Lieutenant Governor Billy Phillips lived and died, and Isaiah Doane before him, the extensive garden, outhouses and yard were appraised, one hundred and eight years ago, at £12,375, or £1,237 stg., about $6,185, at five dollars to the pound. Fourteen hundred ounces of plate, at £2,122 10. This plate was divided into five parts, for the brother, and four sisters of the deceased. A memorandum lies upon my table, labelled, in the original hand of Gillam Phillips--"An account of my proportion of plate, belonging to the estate of Peter Faneuil, Esq., deceased." This document contains a list of "_Gillam Phillips' Lot_," and side by side--"_a coffee pot_--_a large, handsome chamber pot_." They made a free use of the precious metals, in those days. A parcel of jewels are appraised, at £1,490--1 white horse, £15--2 Albany horses, £100--2 English horses, £250--2 other English horses, £300--4 old and 4 new harnesses, £120--2 pairs runners, £15--1 four-wheel chaise, £150--1 two-wheel chaise, £50--a coach, £100--1 chariot, £400--5 negroes, £150--130--120--120--100. Then follows a variety of articles--fowling pieces--fishing tackle--silver-hilted sword--pistols--china, glass, hangings, carpets, and culinary articles, in profusion--lignum vitæ coffee cups, lined with silver--silver snuff-boxes--gold sleeve-buttons and rings--195 dozen of wine--arrack--beer--Cheshire and Gloucester cheeses. Indeed, Peter's establishment appears to have been a variorum edition of all manner of elegancies, luxuries, and creature comforts. The inventory comprehends eight tenements, in Cornhill, and King Street; a number of vessels, and parts of vessels; and various other items of property. The remains of this noble-spirited descendant of the Huguenots of Rochelle were deposited, in the Faneuil tomb, in the westerly corner of the Granary Ground. This tomb is of dark freestone, with a freestone slab. Upon the easterly end of the tomb, there is a tablet of slate, upon which are sculptured, with manifest care and skill, the family arms; while, upon the freestone slab, are inscribed, at the top, M. M.--_memento mori_, of course,--and, at the bottom of the slab--a cruel apology for the old Huguenot patronymic--"PETER FUNEL. 1742," and nothing more. The explanation, which arises, in my mind, of this striking inconsistency, is this: I believe this tomb, whose aspect is simple, solid, and antique, to have been built by Andrew Faneuil, who was a wealthy merchant here as early as 1709: and I think it is quite certain, that the lady, whom he married, in Holland, and whose beauty is traditional, among her descendants, made the great exchange--beauty for ashes--in this very sepulchre. In this tomb, Andrew was buried, by Peter, Feb. 20, 1737, and Peter, by his brother, Benjamin, March 10, 1742, old style, and here Benjamin himself, was laid, after an interval of two-and-forty years, where there is neither work, nor device, nor will, nor codicil. The arms of Peter Faneuil--I have them before me, at this moment, on his massive, silver pepper-pot--he found a place for them, on many of his possessions, though I cannot say, if on all the articles which came into the possession of Gillam Phillips,--were a field argent--no chevron--a large heart, truly a suitable emblem, in the centre, gules--seven stars equidistant from each other, and from the margin of the escutcheon, extending from the sinister chief to the dexter base--in the sinister base a cross molin, within an annulet--no scroll--no supporters; crest, a martlet. The arms upon the tomb, though generally like these, and like the arms, on other articles, once Peter's, and still extant, differ in some important particulars; and seem to have been quartered with those of another family, as the arms of Andrew, being a collateral, might have been. A helmet, beneath the martlet, especially, is wholly different from Peter's crest. Such precisely are the arms, on the seal of wax, upon Andrew's will, in the Registry. Hence I infer, that Uncle Andrew built this ancient sepulchre. Arms, in days of old, and still, where a titled nobility exists, are deemed, for the popular eye, sufficient evidence of ownership, without a name. So thought Uncle Andrew; and he left the freestone tablet, without any inscription. Some five years after the testator's burial, the tomb was again opened, to let in the residuary legatee. Peter's was a grand funeral. The Evening Post, of March 3, 1742-3, foretold, that it would be such; but the papers, which, doubtless, gave an account of it, are lost--the files are imperfect, of all those primitive journals. At first, and for years, the resting place of Peter's remains was well enough known. But the rust of time began to gather upon men's memories. The Faneuil arms, ere long, became unintelligible, to such, as strolled among the tombs. That "_handsome chariot, but nothing gaudy_," with Peter's armorial bearings upon its panels, no longer rolled along Treamount, and Queen Streets, and Cornhill, and drew up, of a Sabbath morning, before Trinity Church, that brother Peter and the ladies might sit upon their cushions, in No. 40, while brother Addington Davenport gave them a sermon, upon the Apostolical succession. The good people had therefore forgotten all about the Faneuil arms; and, before a great many years had rolled away, the inquiry naturally arose, in popular phraseology--"_Whereabouts was it, that Peter Faneuil was buried?_" Some worthy old citizen--God bless him--who knew rather more of this matter than his neighbors, and was well aware, that the arms would be but a dead letter to posterity, resolved to serve the public, and remedy the defect. Up he goes into the Granary Ground, in the very spirit of Old Mortality, and, with all his orthography in his ear, inscribes P. FUNEL upon the tablet! No. CXXXII. "_But Simon's wife's mother lay sick of a fever._" Mark i. 30. From this text, a clergyman--_of the old school_--had preached just as many, consecutive sermons, as I have already published articles, concerning Peter Faneuil and his family. A day or two after the last discourse, the bell of the village church was tolled, for a funeral; and a long-suffering parishioner, being asked, whose funeral it was, replied, that he had no doubt it was Simon's wife's mother's; for she had been sick of a fever, for nine weeks, to his certain knowledge. Let the reader possess himself in patience--our dealings with the Faneuils cannot last forever. We have stated, that Peter's death was sudden, the very death, from which, as a churchman, he had prayed to be delivered. But let us not forget, that no death is sudden, in the sense of the good man's prayers, however instantaneously the golden bowl may be broken, to him, whose life has been well spent, and who is prepared to die. In this connection, two interesting questions arise--how Peter Faneuil came to be a churchman--and if his life was a well-spent life, affording him reasonable assurance of admission into Paradise. The old Huguenots styled themselves "THE REFORMERS," and embraced the doctrines of Calvin, in full. Oppression commonly teaches even intolerant men the value of toleration. Our Puritan fathers, it is true, who fled from Episcopal, as the Huguenots from Roman Catholic tyranny, profited very little, by the lesson they had learned; and turned upon the Catholics and Quakers, in the spirit of preposterous cruelty. The government of Massachusetts, according to Hazard, received a profitable lesson of moderation, from that of Rhode Island. The Huguenots soon began to abate somewhat of that exorbitant severity and punctiliousness, in their religion, which, in no slight degree, had brought upon them that persecution, which was gathering, and impending over them, in 1684, a twelvemonth before the revocation of the edict of Nantes; compelling many of them, thus early, to fly from their homes, into other lands. The teachings of James Saurin, the great Huguenot preacher of the refugees, at the Hague, in 1705, and in subsequent years, were of a milder type. He was "_a moderate Calvinist_." Such, also, were Daillé and Le Mercier, the ministers of the French Church, in Boston. Peter Faneuil, undoubtedly, worshipped in this church, during a certain period. We have seen the liberal arrangement of his uncle, in 1734, for the support of its minister, and the testator's provision for its poor. Even then, he evidently anticipated, that it might cease to be; and shaped his testamentary provisions accordingly. Natural causes were in operation; I have referred to them--intermarriage, with our English people--merging the language of the few, in that of the many--juxtaposition--all tending to diminish the necessity for maintaining a separate church. There was no dissolution of the society, at first, by any formal vote. The attendance became irregular and scanty--the members went elsewhere--Le Mercier, "a worthy character," says the Rev. Dr. Holmes, ceased to officiate, and the church broke up. For years, there were no services, within the little temple; and, in 1748, it was sold, as I have stated, to the members of another denomination. It became a question with these Huguenots, the Faneuils, the Boutineaus, the Johonnots, the Oliviers, the Sigourneys, and their associates, where they should worship God. In 1740-41, the preachers, in Boston, were Charles Chauncey, at the Old Brick--at the Old North, Increase Mather, supplying the place of his brother Samuel, who, though ordained, in 1732, preached but one winter, and parted--at the Old South, Joseph Sewall, and Thomas Prince--at the Baptist, in Back Street, Jeremy Condy--at King's Chapel, Stephen Roe--at Brattle Street, William Cooper--at the Quaker meeting-house, in Leverett's Lane, whoever was moved by the Spirit--at the New North, John Webb--at the New South, Samuel Checkley--at the New Brick, Ellis Gray--at Christ Church, Timothy Cutler--at Long Lane, Jonny Moorhead--at Hollis Street, Mather Byles--at Trinity, Addington Davenport--at Lynde Street, William Hooper. Several of the descendants of the Huguenots, not at all deterred, by the resemblance, whatever that might be, between the forms of Episcopalian worship, and those of their religious persecutors, the Roman Catholics, mingled with the Episcopalians. Thus they clung to the common element, the doctrine of the Trinity; and escaped, like Saurin, from the super-sulphuretted vapors of primitive Calvinism. It is not very surprising, that the Faneuils should have settled down, upon the new and fashionable temple--Trinity had been erected but a few years before; and the new rector was Peter's brother-in-law, Mr. Addington Davenport. Peter therefore became, _pro tanto_, an Episcopalian--a liberal subscriber to the Charitable, Episcopal fund, and to the fund for the rebuilding of King's Chapel; and identified himself with the Episcopal interest. The religious character of Peter Faneuil, and the present whereabouts of this public benefactor, will be determined, by different individuals, according to the respective indications of their spiritual thermometers. I have already ventured an opinion, that the mantle of charity, which covereth a multitude of sins, should be extended, for Peter's behoof, over that little affair with Peter Baynton, touching the duties, on those four hogsheads of brandy. But there is another matter, over which, I am aware, that some very worthy people will doubt, if the mantle of charity, can be stretched, without serious danger of lesion--I refer to the importation, about the same time with the prayer books, of that enormous quantity--six gross--of "the very best King Henry's cards." I have often marvelled, how the name of the Defender of the Faith ever came to be connected, with such pestilent things. I am well aware, how closely, in the opinions of some learned divines, cards are associated with the idea of eternal damnation. If it be so; and a single pack is enough to send the proprietor to the bottomless pit, it is truly grievous to reflect how much deeper Peter, our great public benefactor, has gone, with the oppressive weight of six gross of the very best, upon his soul. Now-a-days, there seem to be very few, the Romanists excepted, who believe in purgatory; and it is pretty generally agreed, that all, who attempt the bridge of _Al Sirat_, will surely arrive, either at Paradise, or Pandemonium. How delightful it would be, to have the opinion of good old André Le Mercier, in a case like this. Though Peter no longer waited upon Le Mercier's ministrations; but, for several years, before the dissolution of the French Church, had settled down, under brother Addington Davenport, first, as the assistant at King's Chapel, and, afterwards, as the Rector of Trinity; yet Le Mercier could not forget the nephew of his benefactor, Andrew Faneuil. He was, doubtless, at Peter's funeral, who died one and twenty years, before the holy man was summoned to his account, in 1764. Yes, he was there. I have heard of a man, who accounted, for the dryness of his eyes, when all around him wept, at a pathetic discourse, on the ground, that he belonged to another parish. I have known Christian ministers--_very_--not many, thank heaven--who were influenced, to such a degree, by that spirit, which may be supposed to govern the proprietors of opposition omnibuses, as to consider the chord of human sympathy cut, through and through, and forever, between themselves, and a parishioner, who, for any cause, elected to receive his spiritual treasures out of some other earthen vessel, albeit of the very same denomination of crockery ware. Poverty, and disease, and death, and misery, in every type, might stalk in, and upon, and over that homestead, and hearth, where these Christian ministers had been warmed, and refreshed, and fostered--but it was no longer a concern of theirs. No visit of condolence--no kind inquiry--not one, cheap word of consolation had they, for such, as had ceased to receive their ideas of damnation from them--enough--these individuals had sold their pews--"_crimen difficile expiandum_"--they belonged to another parish! André Le Mercier, was not a man of this description. He was not a holy huckster of spiritual things, having not one crumb of comfort, for any, but his regular customers. André was a man, whose neighbor's ubiquity was a proverb. But what he would say, about these six gross of King Henry's cards, I am by no means, certain. He was a man of a tolerant spirit; but on certain points, the most tolerant are, occasionally, found to be imbued, with unalterable prejudices. On page 85, of his Church History of Geneva, which I have read with pleasure, he quotes approvingly, the maxim of "a doctor of the church." "_In necessariis rebus sit unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus charitas._" This breathes the spirit of toleration:--what are _dubia_, what _necessaria_ are not quite so readily settled, however. On page 100, I find a passage, not quite so favorable for Peter, in this matter of the six gross. Referring to Calvin's return to Geneva, in 1536, after his banishment, Le Mercier says--"And then _Balls and Dances_ and profane songs were forbidden, by the magistrates. And that form of Discipline remains entire, to the present Time, notwithstanding the repeated Attempts, that have been made by wicked People to overset it. King Henry's cards, I fear, even of the very best quality, would, undoubtedly, fall into this category, of things Calvinized on earth, in the opinion of André Le Mercier." The meaning of the words, "_profane songs_," may not be universally intelligible. It undoubtedly meant, as used by the Council, _all songs not sacred_. Calvin, undoubtedly, adopted the commendation of Scripture, to such, as were merry, to sing psalms. It appears, however, that certain persons entertained conservative notions, in those early days; even beyond the dictum of holy writ; for, on page 101, Le Mercier states, that Sebastian Castalio, a preacher, and professor, in the College of Geneva, "_condemned Solomon's Songs, as being profane and immodest_;" the very charge, as the reader is aware, which has been so often urged, against the songs of Tom Moore. Moore, at last, betook himself to sacred melodies. Solomon, had his life been spared, would, probably, have done the same thing, to the entire satisfaction of Sebastian Castalio. I see wisdom, and mercy, and truth, in a part of the maxim, quoted by André Le Mercier--_in dubiis libertas_. I have long suspected there were some angels in Heaven, who were damned by Calvin, on earth. I verily believe, that Peter Faneuil is in Paradise. No. CXXXIII. Some of my readers, I doubt not, have involuntarily clenched their fists, and set their teeth hard, while conning over the details of that merciless and bloody duel, so long, and so deliberately projected, and furiously fought, at last, near Bergen op Zoom, by the Lord Bruce, and Sir Edward Sackville, with rapiers, and in their shirts. Gentle reader, if you have never met with this morceau, literally dripping with blood, and are born with a relish for such rare provant--for I fear the appetite is congenital--you will find an ample account of the affair, in numbers 129 and 133 of the Guardian. This wrathful fight is of an early date, having taken place, in 1613. Who could measure the popular excitement, if tomorrow's dawn should bring the tidings of a duel, fought the night before, on Boston Common, by two young gentlemen, with rapiers, not, perhaps, quite so brutal, in its minute details, but quite as deliberately planned, and quite as fatal, in its result! What then must have been the effect of such an announcement, on the morning of the fourth of July, 1728, one hundred and twenty-three years ago, when Boston was a seaport village, just six years, after the "_perlustration_" of Mr. Salter had rated the population, at 10,670 souls. It is matter of sober history, that such a duel was actually fought, then and there, on the evening of the third of July, 1728, near the powder-house, which is indicated, on Bonner's plan of 1722. This was a very different affair from the powder-house, erected at West Boston, in 1774, with walls of seven feet in thickness. The parties, engaged, in this fatal affair were two young gentlemen, whose connections were highly respectable, whose lives had been amiable, whose characters were of good report, and whose friends were numerous and powerful. The names of Peter Faneuil and of his uncle, Jean Faneuil, of Rochelle, are associated with this transaction. The parties were very young; the survivor twenty-two, and the victim but little more. The survivor, Henry Phillips, was the brother of Gillam Phillips, who, the reader of the preceding articles will remember, married Marie, the sister of Peter Faneuil. Peter was then just twenty-eight; and, doubtless, if there were dandies in those days, one of the foremost, on the peninsula. The natural interest he felt, in the brother of his sister's husband, engaged his efforts, to spirit the wretched survivor away. He was consigned to the uncle of Peter, beyond the sea--to whom Marie, his niece, very probably, wrote a few lines, bespeaking kind offices, for the unfortunate brother of her husband. It is not impossible, that old André added a prudential word or two, by way of postscript, confirming brother Jean, as to the safety of the operation. Be this as it may, Henry Phillips escaped from his pursuers, who were speedily put upon the scent, by Governor Dummer. Henry Phillips arrived safely in Rochelle. What befel him, in the strange land, is not the least interesting portion of the narrative. Benjamin Woodbridge--such was the name of the individual, who was the victim, in this fatal encounter--was a young merchant, in partnership with Mr. Jonathan Sewall. Of his particular origin I am not entirely satisfied. The name, among us, is of the olden time. Benjamin Woodbridge was the very earliest alumnus of Harvard College: born in England in 1622, and graduated here in 1642. The originating cause of this duel, like that, which produced the terrible conflict, between the Lord Bruce and Sir Edward Sackville, is unknown. That the reader may walk along with me, confidingly, upon this occasion, it may be well to indicate the sources, from which I derive my knowledge of a transaction, so exciting at the time, so fatal in its results, and so almost universally unknown, to those, who daily pass over the very spot, on our Common, upon which these young gentlemen met, and where young Woodbridge fell. I have alluded to the subsequent relation of Peter Faneuil, and of his uncle, Jean, of Rochelle, to this affair. In my investigation into the history of Peter and his relatives, I have been aided by Mr. Charles Faneuil Jones, the grandson of Peter's sister, Mary Ann. Among the documents, loaned me, by that gentleman, are sundry papers, which belonged to Gillam Phillips, the brother of Henry, the survivor in the duel. Among these papers, are original documents, in Jean Faneuil's handwriting, relative to the fate of the miserable wanderer, after his arrival in Rochelle--accounts of disbursements--regularly authenticated copies of the testimony, relative to the duel, and to the finding of the dead body of Woodbridge, and to the coöperation of Peter Faneuil and others, in concealing the survivor, on board the Sheerness, British man of war, and of his indictment, the "_Billa Vera_," in August, 1728, by the grand jury of Suffolk, for murder. In addition to these documents, I have found a certified copy of a statement, highly favorable to the character of Henry Phillips, the survivor, and manifestly intended to have an influence upon the public mind. This statement is subscribed, by eighty-eight prominent citizens, several of them holding high official stations, and among the number, are four ministers of the Gospel, with the Rev. Timothy Cutler, of Christ Church, at their head. Appended is the certificate of Governor Burnett, who, in that very month, succeeded Governor Dummer, stating the official, professional and social position of the signers of this document, with which it was clearly intended to fortify an application to George II. for a pardon of the offender. The discovery of these papers, affording, as they do, some account of a transaction, so very remarkable, for the time and place of its occurrence, and of which I had never heard nor read before, excited my curiosity, and led me to search for additional information. If my reader is of the fancy, he will readily comprehend my chagrin, when, upon turning over the leaves of Green's "_Boston Weekly News Letter_"--the imperfect files--all that time has left us--preserved in the library of the Massachusetts Historical Society--the very paper, that next ensued, after July 3, 1728, the date of the duel, and which, doubtless, referred to an occurrence, so very extraordinary, was among the "_things lost upon earth_." I was not less unfortunate with the files of the old "Boston Gazette," of that early day. I then took up Kneeland's "New England Weekly Journal," but with very little confidence of success. The file, however, was there--No. 68--July 8, 1728, and my eyes soon fell, as the reader's fall at this moment, upon Governor Dummer's proclamation:-- "Whereas a barbarous murder was last night committed, on the body of Benjamin Woodbridge, a young gentleman, resident in the town of Boston; and Henry Phillips, of said town, is suspected to be the author of said murder, and is now fled from justice; I have therefore thought proper to issue this proclamation, hereby commanding all justices, sheriffs, constables, and all other officers, within this Province, and requiring all others, in his Majesty's name, to use their utmost endeavors, that the said Henry Phillips may be apprehended and brought to justice; and all persons, whosoever, are commanded, at their utmost peril, not to harbor nor conceal him. The said Henry Phillips is a fair young man, about the age of twenty-two years, well set, and well dressed; and has a wound in one of his hands. Given at Boston, the 4th of July, 1728, in the second year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord and King, George II." This proclamation bears the signature of his Excellency, William Dummer. The editor of the journal, which contains the proclamation, expresses himself as follows--"On Thursday last, the 4th current, about 3 in the morning, after some hour's search, was found dead, near the Powder House, the body of Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, a young gentleman, merchant of this place. He had a small stab, under the right arm; but what proved fatal to him was a thrust he received, under his right breast, which came out, at the small of his back. The fore-finger of his left hand was almost cut off, at the uppermost joint, supposed to be done, by grasping a naked sword. The coroner's inquest immediately set upon the body; and, after the best information and evidence they could obtain, upon their oaths say, that 'the said Benjamin Woodbridge was killed, with a sword, run through his body, by the hands of Henry Phillips, of Boston, merchant, on the Common, in said Boston, on the third of this instant, as appears to us, by sundry evidences.' The body was carried to the house of Mr. Jonathan Sewall, (his partner,) and, on Saturday last, was decently and handsomely interred, his funeral being attended, by the Commander-in-Chief, several of the Council, and most of the merchants and gentlemen of the town. There are many and various reports respecting this tragic scene, which makes us cautious of relating any of them. But the above, being plain matters of fact, we thought it not improper to give the public an account thereof. The unhappy gentleman, who is supposed to have committed the act, is not as yet found. This new and almost unknown case has put almost the whole town into great surprise." A sermon, upon this occasion, of uncommon length, was delivered July 18, 1728, by the Rev. Dr. Joseph Sewall, of the Old South, at the Public Lecture, and published, with a preface, by the "_United Ministers_" of Boston. To give dignity to this discourse, it is adorned with a Latin prefix--"_Duellum est damnandum, tam in acceptante quam in provocante; quamvis major sit culpa provocantis_." This discourse is singularly barren of all allusion to the cause and circumstances of this event; and appears, like our almanacs, adapted to any meridian. At his Majesty's Court of Assize and General Gaol Delivery, on the second Tuesday of August, 1728, the grand jurors, under the Attorney General Hiller's instructions, found a "_Vera Billa_" against Henry Phillips, for the murder of Benjamin Woodbridge. Phillips was then far beyond the influence and effect of the _vera billa_--on the high sea--upon his voyage of expatriation. For some cause, which I am entirely unable to comprehend, and can barely conjecture, a sympathy existed, for this young man, extending far beyond the circle of his personal friends and relatives, and engaging, on his behalf, the disinterested efforts, not only of several persons in high official stations, but in holy orders, who cannot be supposed to have undervalued the crime, of which he was unquestionably guilty, before God and man. The reader, as we proceed, may possibly be more successful than I have been, in discovering the occasion of this extraordinary sympathy. No. CXXXIV. That strong sympathy, exhibited for Henry Phillips, by whose sword a fellow creature had so recently fallen, in a duel, must have sprung, if I am not greatly mistaken, from a knowledge of facts, connected with the origin of that duel, and of which the present generation is entirely ignorant. Truth lies not, more proverbially, at the bottom of a well, than, in a great majority of instances, a woman lurks at the bottom of a duel. If Phillips, unless sorely provoked, had been the challenger, I cannot think the gentlemen, who signed the certificate, in his behalf, would have spoken of him thus:-- "These may certify to all whom it may concern, that we, the subscribers, well knew and esteemed Mr. Henry Phillips of Boston, in New England, to be a youth of a very affable, courteous, and peaceable behavior and disposition, and never heard he was addicted to quarrelling, he being soberly brought up, in the prosecution of his studies, and living chiefly an academical life; and verily believe him slow to anger, and with difficulty moved to resentment." Among the eighty-eight signers of this certificate, the names of Peter and Benjamin Faneuil, and of their uncle, Andrew, occur, almost as a matter of course. They were family connections. Who the others were, appears, by the Governor's certificate, under the seal of the Province:-- "By his Excellency, William Burnet, &c. &c. These may certify whom it may concern, that John Wentworth Esquire is Lieut. Governor of the Province of New Hampshire; that William Tailor Esquire was formerly Lieut. Governor of the Province of the Massachusetts Bay, and is now a member of his Majesty's Council for said Province; that James Stevens is Surveyor General of the Customs, for the Northern district, in America; that Thomas Lechmere Esquire was late Surveyor General of the same; that John Jekyll Esquire is Collector of the Customs, for the port of Boston; that Thomas Steele is Justice of the Peace; that William Lambert Esquire is Controller of the Customs, at Boston; that J. Minzies Esquire was Judge of the Vice Admiralty; that Messieurs Timothy Cutler, Henry Harris, George Pigot, and Ebenezer Miller are ministers of the Gospel; and that the other subscribers to the certificate on the other side, are, some of them merchants and others gentlemen of the town of Boston." This certificate, bearing the signature of Gov. Burnet, is dated Oct. 21, 1728. Of the origin of this affair, I have discovered nothing. Immediately after its consummation, Phillips manifested deep distress, at the result. About midnight, of July 3, 1728, with the assistance of his brother, Gillam, Peter Faneuil, and several other persons, Henry Phillips was removed to a place of safety. He was first conducted, by Peter Faneuil, to the house of Col. Estis Hatch, and there concealed. His brother, Gillam, in the meanwhile, applied to Captain John Winslow, of "_the Pink, Molly_," for a boat, to carry Henry, on board the British man of war, then lying between the Castle and Spectacle Island. Gillam and the Captain repaired to Hatch's, and had an interview with Peter and Henry, in the yard. It was then concluded, that Henry should go to Gibbs' Wharf, probably as the most retired wharf, for embarkation. The reader, who loves to localize--this word will do--will find this little wharf, on Bonner's plan, of 1722, at the southeastern margin of Fort Hill, about half way between Whitehorn's Wharf and South Battery. It lay directly northeast, and not far distant from the lower end of Gibbs' Lane, now Belmont Street. Henry Phillips, with Peter Faneuil, accordingly proceeded, as quietly as possible, to Gibbs' Wharf. I see them now, stealing through Hatch's back gate, and looking stealthily behind them, as they take the darker side of Belcher's Lane. I trust there was no moon, that night. It was very foggy. The reader will soon be sure, that I am right, in that particular. Gillam and Captain Winslow had gone to the Long Wharf, where the Molly's boat lay; and, as the distance was very considerable to the man-of-war, they went first to the Pink, Molly--named, doubtless, for the Captain's lady. There they took on board, four of the Pink's crew. How heavily the moments passed that night! That "_fair young man_," as Governor Dummer calls him, in the _lettres de cachet_--too young, it may seem, at twenty-two, to commence a pilgrimage, like Cain's--how sublimated his misery must have been! What sacrifice would he not have made, to break the dead man's slumber! There he lay; as yet unfound, stark, and stiff, and with eyes unclosed-- "Cut off, ev'n in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, unanointed, unanneal'd." Bootless sorrow! He had made his bloody bed--and therein must he lie o'nights, and in no other. There were no hops in that pillow, for his burning brain. The undying memory of a murdered victim--what an everlasting agrypnic it must be! Time, to this wretched boy, seemed very like eternity, that night--but the sound of the splashing oar was audible at last--the boat touched the wharf--for the last time he shook the hand of his friend, Peter Faneuil, and left the land of his birth, which he was destined never to revisit. The boat was turned from the shore, and the rowers gave way. But so intense was the fog, that night, that they got on shore, at Dorchester Neck; and, not until long after midnight, reached the Sheerness, man of war. They were received on board. Captain Conrad and Lieutenant Pritchard were very naturally disposed to sympathize with "_a fair young man_," in a predicament, like this--it was all in their line. Gillam, the elder brother, related the occurrence; and, before day, parted from Henry, whom he was destined to meet no more. Early, on the following morning, the events of the preceding night had been whispered, from man to man; for the pleasure of being among the earliest, to communicate the intelligence of a bloody murder, was precisely the same, in 1728, as it is, at the present day. Mrs. Winslow, the lady of the Captain of the Molly, had learned all the details, doubtless, before the morning watch. The surgeons, who dressed the wounds of Henry Phillips, for he also was wounded, felt themselves under no obligation to be silent. The sailors of the Molly, who had overheard the conversation of several of the party, were under no injunction of secrecy. Indeed, long before the dawn of the fourth of July--not then the glorious Fourth--the intelligence had spread, far and wide; and parties were scouring the Common, in quest of the murdered man. At an early hour, Governor Dummer's proclamation was in the hands of some trusty compositor, in the office of Samuel Kneeland, in Queen Street; and soon the handbills were upon all the town pumps, and chief corners, according to the usage of those days. There is a pleasure, somewhat difficult of analysis, undoubtedly, in gazing for hours upon the stuffed skin of a beast, that, when in the flesh, has devoured a respectable citizen. When good Mr. Bowen--not the professor--kept his museum in the mansion, occupied, before the Revolution, by the Rev. Dr. Caner, and upon whose site the Savings Bank, and Historical Society have their apartments, at present, nothing in all his collection--not even the Salem Beauty--nor Marat and Charlotte Cordé--interested me so much, as a broken sword, with a label annexed, certifying, that, during the horrors of St. Domingo, seven and twenty of the white inhabitants had fallen, beneath that sword, in the hands of a gigantic negro! How long, one of the fancy will linger--"_patiens pulveris atque solis_" for the luxury of looking upon nothing more picturesque than the iron bars of a murderer's cell! It had, most naturally, spread abroad, that young Philips was concealed, on board the man of war. Hundreds may be supposed to have gathered, in groups, straining their eyes, to get a glimpse of the Sheerness; and the officer, who, in obedience to the warrant, proceeded, on that foggy morning, to arrest the offender, found more difficulty, in discovering the man of war, than was encountered, on the preceding evening, by those, who had sought for the body of Woodbridge, upon the Common. At length, the fog fled before the sun--the vista was opened between the Castle and Spectacle Island--but the Sheerness was no longer there--literally, the places that had known her, knew her no more. Some of our worthy fathers, more curious than the rest, betook themselves, I dare say, to the cupola of the _old_ townhouse--how few of us are aware, that the present is the third, that has occupied that spot. There, with their glasses, they swept the eastern horizon, to find the truant ship--and enjoyed the same measure of satisfaction, that Mr. Irving represents the lodger to have enjoyed, who was so solicitous to get a glimpse of the "Stout Gentleman." Over the waters she went, heavily laden, with as much misery, as could be pent up, in the bosom of a single individual. He was stricken with that malady, which knows no remedy from man--a mind diseased. In one brief hour, he had disfranchised himself for ever, and become a miserable exile. Among the officers of the Sheerness, he must have been accounted a young lion. His _gallantry_, in the estimation of the gentlemen of the wardroom, must have furnished a ready passport to their hearts--_he had killed his man_!--with the _civilized_, not less than with the _savage_, this is the proudest mark of excellence! How little must he have relished the approbation of the thoughtless, for an act, which had made him the wretched young man, that he was! How paltry the compensation for the anguish he had inflicted upon others--the mourning relatives of him, whom he had, that night, destroyed--his own connections--_his mother_--he was too young, at twenty-two, to be insensible to the sufferings of that mother! God knows, she had not forgotten her poor, misguided boy; as we shall presently see she crossed the ocean, to hold the aching head, and bind up the broken heart of her expatriated son--and arrived, only in season, to weep upon his grave, while it was yet green. No. CXXXV. It is known, that _old_ Chief Justice Sewall, who died Jan. 1, 1730, kept a diary, which is in the possession of the Rev. Samuel Sewall, of Burlington, Mass., the son of the _late_ Chief Justice Sewall. As the death of the _old_ Chief Justice occurred, about eighteen months after the time, when the duel was fought, between Phillips and Woodbridge, it occurred to me, that some allusion to it, might be found, in the diary. The Rev. Samuel Sewall has, very kindly, informed me, that the diary of the Chief Justice does not refer to the duel; but that the event was noticed by him, in his interleaved almanac, and by the Rev. Joseph Sewall, who preached the occasional sermon, to which I have referred--in _his_ diary: and the Rev. Mr. Sewall, of Burlington, has obligingly furnished me with such extracts, as seem to have a bearing on the subject, and with some suggestions, in relation to the parties. On the 4th of July, 1728, Judge Sewall, in his interleaved almanac, writes thus--"_Poor Mr. Benjam. Woodbridge is found dead in the Comon this morning, below the Powder-house, with a Sword-thrust through him, and his own Sword undrawn. Henry Phillips is suspected. The town is amazed!_" This wears the aspect of what is commonly called foul play; and the impression might exist, that Phillips had run his antagonist through, _before he had drawn his sword_. It is quite likely, that Judge Sewall himself had that impression, when he made his entry, on the fourth of July: the reader will observe, he does not say _sheathed_ but _undrawn_. If there existed no evidence to rebut this presumption, it would seem, not that there had been murder, in a duel, but a case of the _most atrocious_ murder; for nothing would be more unlikely to happen, than that a man, after having received his death wound, in this manner, should have sheathed his own sword. The wound was under the right pap; he was run through; the sword had come out, at the small of his back. How strongly, in this case, the presumptive evidence would bear against Phillips, not that he killed Woodbridge, for of this there is no doubt; but that he killed him, before he had drawn his own sword. When the reader shall have read the authenticated testimony, which now lies before me, he will see, not only that the swords of both were drawn--but that both were wounded--that, after Woodbridge was wounded, he either dropped his sword, or was disarmed--and, that, when he had become helpless, and had walked some little distance from the spot, Phillips picked up the sword of his antagonist, and returned it to the scabbard. The proof of this, by an eye-witness, is clear, direct, and conclusive. The next extract, in order of time, is from the diary of the Rev. Joseph Sewall, under date July, 1728--_"N. B. On ye 4th (wch was kept, as a Day of Prayr upon ye account of ye Drought) we were surpris'd wth ye sad Tidings yt Mr. Henry Phillips and Mr Woodbridge fought a duel in wch ye latter was slain. O Ld Preserve ye Tow. and Land from the guilt of Blood".----"In ye Eveng. I visited Mrs. Ph. O Ld Sanctify thine awful judgt to her. Give her Son a thorow Rcpentce."_ These extracts are of interest, not simply because they are historical, but as illustrative of the times. "_1728, July 18. I preached ye Lecture from yese words, Ps. 119, 115, Depart from me ye evil Doers, &c. Endeavd to shew ye evill and danger of wicked Company.--Condemned Duelling as a bloody crime, &c. O Lord, Bless my poor labours._" "_1728-9, January 22. Mr. Thacher, Mr. Prince, and I met at Mrs. Phillips, and Pray'd for her son. I hope G. graciously assisted. Ld Pardon the hainous Sins of yt young man, convert and Heal his soul._" Writing to a London correspondent, June 2, 1729, Chief Justice Sewall says--"_Richard put the Letter on board Capt. Thomas Lithered, who saild this day; in who went Madam Hannah Phillips_." In his interleaved almanac is the following entry--"_1729, Sept. 27, Saturday Madam Phillips arrives; mane_." The explanation of these two last entries is at hand. Jean Faneuil of Rochelle had, doubtless, written, either to his brother André, in Boston, or to his nephew, by marriage, Gillam Phillips, giving an account of the wanderer, Gillam's brother. At length, the tidings came hither, that he was sick; and, probably, in May, 1729, intelligence arrived, that he was _dangerously ill_. The mother's heart was stirred within her. By the first vessel she embarked for London, on her way to Rochelle. The eyes of that unhappy young man were not destined to behold again the face of her, whose daylight he had turned into darkness, and whose heart he had broken. He died about the twentieth of May, 1729, as I infer from the documents before me. The first of these is the account, rendered by Jean Faneuil, to Gillam Phillips, in Jean's own hand--"_Deboursement fait par Jean faneuil pour feu Monsieur heny Phillipe de Boston_," &c. He charges in this account, for amount paid the physician, "_pendant sa maladie_." The doctor's bill is sent as a voucher, and is also before me. Dr. "_Girard De Villars, Aggregé au College Royal des Medicins de la Rochelle_" acknowledges to have received payment in full _pour l'honoraire des consultes de mes confreres et moy a Monsieur Henry Phillipe Anglois_, from the fourth of April, to the twentieth of May. The apothecary's bill of Monsieur Guinot, covering three folio pages, is an interesting document, for something of the nature of the malady may be inferred, from the _materia medica_ employed--_potion anodine_--_baume tranquille sant_--_cordial somnifere_. How effectually the visions, the graphic recollections of this miserable young man must have _murdered sleep_! The Rev. Mr. Sewall of Burlington suggests, that Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, who fell in this duel, was, very probably, the grandson of the Rev. John Woodbridge of Andover, and he adds, that his partner, Jonathan Sewall, to whose house the body was conveyed, was a nephew of the _old_ Chief Justice, and, in 1717, was in business with an elder brother, Major Samuel Sewall, with whom he resided. In 1726, Major Sewall "lived in a house, once occupied by Madam Usher, near the Common;" whither the body of Woodbridge might have been conveyed, without much trouble. The General Court, which assembled, on the 28th of that month, in which this encounter took place, enacted a more stringent law, than had existed before, on the subject of duelling. I shall now present the testimony, as it lies before me, certified by Elisha Cook, J. P., before whom the examination was had, on the morning after the duel:-- "Suffolk, ss. Memorandum. Boston, July 4, 1728. Messrs. Robert Handy, George Stewart and others being convented on examination, concerning the murther of Benja. Woodbridge last night, Mr. Handy examined saith--that sometime before night Mr. Benja. Woodbridge come to me at the White horse[3] and desired me to lett him (have) his own sword. I asked ye reason: he replied he had business called him into the Country. I was jealous he made an excuse. I urged him to tell me plainly what occasion he had for a sword, fearing it was to meet with Mr. Henry Phillips, who had lately fell out. He still persisted in his first story, upon which I gave him his sword and belt,[4] and then he left the Compy, Mr. Thomas Barton being in Company, I immediately followed, and went into the Common, found said Woodbridge walking the Common by the Powder house, his sword by his side. I saw no person save him. I againe urged the occasion of his being there. He denied informing. In some short time, I saw Mr. Henry Phillips walking towards us, with his Sword by his side and Cloke on. Before he came nere us I told them I feared there was a Quarrel and what would be the events. They both denied it. "Mr. Phillips replied again Mr. Woodbridge and he had some particular business that concerned them two onley and desired I would go about my business. I still persuaded them to let me know their design, and if any quarrel they would make it up. Mr. Phillips used me in such a manner with slites (slights) that I went of and left them by the powder house, this was about eight in the evening. I went up the Common. They walked down. After some short space I returned, being justly fearful of their designe, in order to prevent their fiteing with Swords. I mett with them about the Powder House. I first saw Mr. Woodbridge making up to me, holding his left hand below his right breast. I discovered blood upon his coat, asked the meaning of it. He told me Mr. Phillips had wounded him. Having no Sword I enquired where it was. He said Mr. Phillips had it. Mr. Phillips immediately came up, with Woodbridge's sword in his hand naked, his own by his side. I told them I was surprized they should quarrel to this degree. I told Mr. Phillips he had wounded Mr. Woodbridge. He replied yes so he had and Mr. Woodbridge had also wounded me, but in the fleshy part onley, shewing me his cut fingers. Mr. Phillips took Mr. Woodbridge's scabbard, sheathed the Sword, and either laid it down by him, or gave it to him. "Mr. Woodbridge beginning to faint satt down, and begged that surgeons might be sent for. I immediately went away, leaving these two together. Phillips presently followed, told me for God's sake to go back to Woodbridge, and take care of him, till he returned with a surgeon. I prayed him to hasten, but did not care to returne. Mr. Phillips went away as fast as he could and went down the lane by the Pound.[5] I returned to the White Horse. I found Mr. Barton and Geoe Reason together. I told Mr. Barton Phillips and Woodbridge having quarreled, Woodbridge was much wounded. I asked Barton to go and see how it was it with Woodbridge. We went a little way from the house, with a designe to go, but Barton, hearing Phillips was gone for a Chirurgeon, concluded Phillips would procure a Chirurgeon, and so declined going, and went to Mr. Blin's house where we ware invited to supper. I have not seen Mr. Hy Phillips or (heard) any from him, since I left him going for a Chirurgeon." Such is the testimony of Robert Handy; and the reader will agree with me, that, if he and Barton had been choked with their supper at Mr. Blin's, it would have been a "Providence." It would be difficult to find the record of more cruel neglect, towards a dying man. When urged to go back and sustain Woodbridge, till a surgeon could be procured, he "_did not care to returne_." And Barton preferred going to his supper. The principle, which governed these fellows, was a grossly selfish and cowardly fear of personal implication. Upon an occasion of minor importance, a similar principle actuated a couple of Yorkshire lads, who refused to assist, in righting the carriage of a member of parliament, which had been overturned, because their father had cautioned them never to meddle with state affairs. I shall present the remaining testimony, in the following number. No. CXXXVI. Let us proceed with the examination, before Justice Elisha Cook, on the fourth of July, 1728. "John Cutler, of Boston, Chirurgeon, examined upon oath, saith, that, last evening, about seven, Dr. George Pemberton came to me, at Mrs. Mears's, and informed, that an unhappy quarrel hapned betwene Mr. Henry Phillips and Benja. Woodbridge, and it was to be feared Mr. Woodbridge was desperately wounded. We went out. We soon mett Mr. Henry Phillips, who told us he feared he had killed Mr. Woodbridge, or mortally wounded him; that he left him at the bottom of the Common, and begged us to repaire there and see if any relief might be given him. Doct. Pemberton and I went, in compy with Mr. Henry Phillips, in search of said Woodbridge, but could not find him, nor make any discovery of the affair. Mr. Phillips left us. I bid him walk in Bromfield's lane. We went to Mr. Woodbridge's lodgings, and severall other houses, but heard nothing of him. Upon our return Mr. H. Phillips was at my house. I dresed his wound, which was across his belly and his fingers. Mr. Phillips shew a great concern and fear of having killed Mr. Woodbridge. I endeavored to appease him, and hope better things; but he said, could he think he was alive, he should think himself a happy man." "Doct. George Pemberton, sworn, saith that last evening about seven or eight o'clock Mr. Henry Phillips came to the Sun Tavern and informed me, first desiring me to go out wch I did and went to my house, where said Phillips shew me some wounds, and that he had wounded Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, and feared they would prove mortal--begged of me to repair to the Comon. Accompanied with Dr. Cutler and said Phillips, in quest of said Woodbridge, we went to the Powder house, and searched the ground there, but could make no discovery. Mr. Phillips then left us, and walked towards Mr. Bromfield's lane. Dr. Cutler and I went to Mr. Woodbridge's lodging, and several other places, but could hear nothing of him. We returned and found Henry Phillips, at Dr. Cutler's, who was very greatly concerned; fearing he had killed Mr. Woodbridge. We dressed Mr. Phillips' wounds which were small." "Capt. John Winslow examined saith that last night being at Mr. Doring's house, Mr. Gillam Phillips, about eleven in the evening, came to me and told me he wanted my boat to carry off his brother Henry, who had wounded or killed a man. I went, by appointment, to Mr. Vardy's where I soon mett Gillam Phillips. I asked him where his brother was--who he had been fiteing with. He made answer I should see him presently. Went down to Colo. Estis Hatche's where Mr. Gillam Phillips was to meet me. I gott there first, knocked at Mr. Hatche's door. No answer. From Mr. Hatche's house Mr. Peter Faneuil and Henry Phillips came into Mr. Hatche's yard--Mr. Gillam Phillips immediately after with Mr. Adam Tuck. I heard no discourse about the man who was wounded. They concluded, and sent Mr. Henry Phillips to Gibb's wharf. Then Gillam Phillips with me to the long wharf. I took boat there, and went on board my ship, lying in the harbor. Mr. Phillips (Gillam) being in the bote, I took four of the Ship's crew, and rowed to Gibb's Wharf, where we mett with Mr. Henry Phillips, Peter Faneuil, and Adam Tuck. I came on shore. Henry Phillips and Tuck entred the boat. I understood by discourse with Gillam Phillips, they designed on board his Majestys Ship-Sheerness, Captain James Conrad Comdr. This was about twelve and one of the Clock." "Adam Tuck of Boston farier, examined upon oath saith, that, about eleven of the clock, last evening, being at Luke Vardy's I understood there had bin a quarril betwene Henry Phillips and Benja. Woodbridge, and that Phillips had killed or mortally wounded Woodbridge. Gillam Phillips Esq. being there, I walked with him towards Colo. Hatches, where we came up with Capt. Jno. Winslow, and Henry Phillips, and Peter Faneuil. We all went to Gibb's wharf, when we, that is Mr. Gillam and Henry Phillips, with the examinant went on board Capt. John Winslow's boat. We designed, as I understood, to go on board his Majesie's ship Sheerness, in order to leave Mr. Henry Phillips on board the man of War, who, as he told me, had, he feared, wounded a man, that evening on the Comon, near the water side. The person's name I understood was Woodbridge. Soon after our being on board Lt. Pritchard caried us into his apartment, where Gillam Phillips related to the Leut. the rancounter that hapned betwene his brother Henry and Benja. Woodbridge. I took the intent of their going on board the man of War was to conceale Mr. Henry Phillips. We stayed on board about an hour and a half. We left Mr. Henry Phillips on board the Man of War and came up to Boston." "John Underwood, at present residing in Boston, mariner, belonging to the Pink Molle, John Winslow Comdr. now lying in the harbour of Boston, being examined upon oath, concerning the death or murther of Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, saith, that about twelve o'clock last night, his Captn John Winslow, with another person, unknown to him came on board. The Captn ordered the boat with four of our hands, I being one, to go to a Wharf at the South end of the Town, where we went, and there the Capt. went on Shore, and two other persons came into the Boat without the Captn. We put of and by the discourse we were designed to go on board the Man of Whar, but by reason of the fogg or thick weather we gott on shore at Dorchester neck, went up to a house and stayed there about an hour and half, then returned to our boat, took in the three persons affore-named, as I suppose, with our crew, and went on board the Man of War, now lying betwene the Castle & Specta Island. We all went on board with the men we took in at the Wharf, stayed there for the space of an hour, and then came up to Boston, leaving one of the three onley on board, and landed by Oliver's Dock." "Wm. Pavice of Boston, one of the Pink Molly's crew, examined upon oath, saith as above declared by John Underwood." "James Wood and John Brown, mariners, belonging to the Pink Molly, being examined upon oath, declare as above. John Brown cannot say, or knows not how many persons they took from the shore, at Gibb's wharf, but is positive but two returned to Boston. They both say they cant be sure whether the Capt. went in the boat from the ship to the shoar." "Mr. Peter Faneuil examined saith, that, last evening, about twelve, he was with Gillam Phillips, Henry Phillips and Adam Tuck at Gibb's wharf, and understood by Gillam Phillips, that his brother Henry had killed or mortally wounded Mr. Benja. Woodbridge this evening, that Henry Phillips went into Capt'n Winslow's boat, with his brother and Adam Tuck with the Boat's crew, where they went he knows not." Such was the evidence, presented before the examining justice, on the fourth of July, 1728, in relation to this painful, and extraordinary occurrence. I believe I have well nigh completed my operation, upon Peter Faneuil: but before I throw aside my professional apron, let me cast about, and see, if there are no small arteries which I have not taken up. I perceive there are. The late Rev. Dr. Gray, of Jamaica Plains, on page 8 of his half century sermon, published in 1842, has the following passage--"_The third or Jamaica Plain Parish, in Roxbury, had its origin in the piety of an amiable female. I refer to Mrs. Susanna, wife of Benjamin Pemberton. She was the daughter of Peter Faneuil, who, in 1740 erected and gave to the Town of Boston the far-famed Hall, which still bears his name; and who built also the dwelling house, now standing here, recently known, as late Dr. John Warren's Country seat._" Nothing could have been farther from the meaning of the amiable Mr. Gray, than a design to cast a reproach, upon the unimpeachable pedigree of this excellent lady. But Peter Faneuil was, unfortunately, never married. He was a bachelor; and is styled "_Bachelour_," in the commission, from John, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Judge Willard, to administer the oath to Benjamin Faneuil, as administrator, on Peter's estate. Peter's estate was divided, among his brother, Benjamin, and his four sisters, Anne Davenport, Susanna Boutineau, Mary Phillips, and Mary Ann Jones. This fact is established, by the original indenture of marriage settlement, now before me, between John Jones and Mary Ann Faneuil, dated the very month of Peter's decease. He had no daughter to inherit. Mrs. Susanna Pemberton had not a drop of the Faneuil blood, in her veins. Her nearest approximation consisted in the fact, that George Bethune, her own brother, married, as I have already stated, Mary Faneuil, Peter's niece, and the daughter of Benjamin. Benjamin occupied that cottage, before he removed to Brighton. He had also a town residence, in rear of the Old Brick Meeting-house, which stood where Joy's buildings now stand. Thomas Kilby was the commercial agent of Peter Faneuil, at Canso, Nova Scotia, in 1737, 8 and 9. He was a gentleman of education; graduated at Harvard, in 1723, and died in 1740, and according to Pemberton, published essays, in prose and verse. Not long ago, a gentleman inquired of me, if I had ever heard, that Peter Faneuil had a wooden leg; and related the following amusing story, which he received from his collateral ancestor, John Page, who graduated at Harvard, in 1765, and died in 1825, aged 81. Thomas Kilby was an unthrifty, and rather whimsical, gentleman. Being without property and employment, he retired, either into Maine, or Nova Scotia. There he made a will, for his amusement, having, in reality, nothing to bequeath. He left liberal sums to a number of religious, philanthropic, and literary institutions--his eyes, which were very good, to a blind relative--his body to a surgeon of his acquaintance, "excepting as hereinafter excepted"--his sins he bequeathed to a worthy clergyman, as he appeared not to have any--and the choice of his legs to Peter Faneuil. Upon inquiry of the oldest surviving relative of Peter, I found, that nothing was known of the wooden leg. A day or two after, a highly respectable and aged citizen, attracted by the articles, in the Transcript, informed me, that his father, born in 1727, told him, that he had seen Peter Faneuil, in his garden, and that, on one foot, he wore a very high-heeled shoe. This, probably, gave occasion to the considerate bequest of Thomas Kilby. The will, as my informant states, upon the authority of Mr. John Page, coming to the knowledge of Peter, he was so much pleased with the humor of it, that, probably, having a knowledge of the _testator_ before, he sent for him, and made him his agent, at Canso. Peter was a kind-hearted man. The gentleman who gave me the fact, concerning the high-heeled shoe, informed me, upon his father's authority, that old Andrew Faneuil--the same, who, in his will, prays God, for "_the perfecting of his charities_"--put a poor, old, schoolmaster, named Walker, into jail, for debt. Imprisonment then, for debt, was a serious and lingering affair. Peter, in the flesh--not his angel--privately paid the poor man's debt, and set the prisoner free. No. CXXXVII. Those words of Horace were the words of soberness and truth--_Oh imitatores, vulgum pecus!_--I loathe imitators and imitations of all sorts. How cheap must that man feel, who awakens _hesterno vitio_, from yesterday's debauch, on _imitation_ gin or brandy! Let no reader of the Transcript suppose, that I am so far behind the times, as to question the respectability of being drunk, on the real, original Scheidam or Cogniac, whether at funerals, weddings, or ordinations. But I consider _imitation_ gin or brandy, at a funeral, a point blank insult to the corpse. Everybody knows, that old oaks, old friendships, and old mocha must grow--they cannot be made. My horse is frightened, nearly out of his harness, almost every day of his life, by the hissing and jetting of the steam, and the clatter of the machinery, as I pass a manufactory, or grindery, of _imitation_ coffee. _Imitation_ coffee! What would my old friend, Melli Melli, the Tunisian ambassador, with whom--long, long ago--I have taken a cup of his own particular, once and again, at Chapotin's Hotel, in Summer Street, say to such a thing as this! This grindery is located, in an Irish neighborhood, and there used to be a great number of Irish children thereabouts. The number has greatly diminished of late. I know not why, but, as I passed, the other day, the story that Dickens tells of the poor sausage-maker, whose broken buttons, among the sausage meat, revealed his unlucky destiny, came forcibly to mind. By the smell, I presume, there is a roastery, connected with the establishment; and, now I think of it, the atmosphere, round about, is filled with the odor of roast pig--a little overdone. Good things, of all sorts, have stimulated the imitative powers of man, from the diamond to the nutmeg. Even death--and death is a good thing to him, whose armor of righteousness is on, _cap-a-pie_--death has been occasionally imitated; and really, now and then, the thing has been very cleverly done. I refer not to cases of catalepsy or trance, nor to cases of total suspension of sensibility and voluntary motion, for a time, under the agency of sulphuric ether, or chloroform. In 1843, at the request of her Majesty's principal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, Mr. Edwin Chadwick, Barrister at Law, made "_a report on the results of a special inquiry into the practice of interment in towns_." This report is very severe upon our fraternity; but, I must confess, it is a most able and interesting performance, and full of curious detail. The demands of the English undertaker, it appears, are so oppressive upon the poor, that burial societies have been formed, upon the mutual principle. It is asserted by Mr. Chadwick, that parents, under the gripings of poverty, have actually poisoned their children, to obtain the burial money. At the Chester assizes, several trials, for infanticide, have occurred, on these grounds. "_That child will not live, it is in the burial club_," is a cant and common phrase, among the Manchester paupers. Some very clever impositions, have been practised, to obtain the burial allowance. A man, living in Manchester, resolved to play corpse, for this laudable object. His wife was privy to the plot, of course,--and gave notice, in proper form, of her bereavement. The agent of the society made the customary domiciliary visit. There the body lay--stiff and stark--and a very straight and proper corpse it was--the jaw decently tied up. The visitor, well convinced, and quite touched by the widow's anguish, was turning on his heel to depart, when a slight motion of the dead man's eyelid arrested his attention: he began to smell--not of the body, like the bear in Æsop--but a rat. Upon feeling the pulse, he begged the chief mourner to be comforted; there was strong ground for hope! More obstinate than Rachel, she not only would not be comforted, but abused the visitor, in good Gaelic, for questioning her veracity. Had she not laid out the daar man, her own daar Tooly Mashee, with her own hands! and didn't she know better than to be after laying him out, while the brith was in his daar buddy! and would she be guilty of so cruel a thing to her own good man! The doctor was called; and, after feeling the pulse, threw a bucket of water, in the face of the defunct, which resulted in immediate resurrection. The most extraordinary case of imitation death on record, and which, under the acknowledged rules of evidence, it is quite impossible to disbelieve, is that of the East India Fakeer, who was buried alive at Lahore, in 1837, and at the end of forty days, disinterred, and resuscitated. This tale is, _prima facie_, highly improbable: let us examine the evidence. It is introduced, in the last English edition of Sharon Turner's Sacred History of the World, vol. iii., in a note upon Letter 25. The witness is Sir Claude M. Wade, who, at the time of the Fakeer's burial, and disinterment, was political resident, at Loodianah, and principal agent of the English government, at the court of Runjeet Singh. The character of this witness is entirely above suspicion; and the reader will observe, in his testimony, anything but the marks and numbers of a credulous witness, or a dealer in the marvellous. Mr. Wade addressed a letter to the editor of Turner's History, from which the following extracts are made:-- "I was present, at the court of Runjeet Singh, at Lahore, in 1837, when the Fakeer, mentioned by the Hon. Capt. Osborne, was buried alive, for six weeks; and, though I arrived, a few hours after his interment, I had the testimony of Runjeet Singh, himself, and others, the most credible witnesses of his court, to the truth of the Fakeer having been so buried before them; and from having been present myself, when he was disinterred, and restored to a state of perfect vitality, in a position so close to him, as to render any deception impossible, it is my firm belief that there was no collusion, in producing the extraordinary fact, that I have related." Mr. Wade proceeds to give an account of the disinterment. "On the approach of the appointed time, according to invitation, I accompanied Runjeet Singh to the spot, where the Fakeer had been buried. It was a square building, called, in the language of the country, _Barra Durree_, in the midst of one of the gardens, adjoining the palace at Lahore, with an open verandah all around, having an enclosed room in the centre. On arriving there, Runjeet Singh, who was attended on the occasion, by the whole of his court, dismounting from his elephant, asked me to join him, in examining the building, to satisfy himself that it was closed, as he had left it. We did so. There had been an open door, on each of the four sides of the room, three of which were perfectly closed with brick and mortar. The fourth had a strong door, also closed with mud, up to the padlock, which was sealed with the private seal of Runjeet Singh, in his own presence, when the Fakeer was interred. In fact, the exterior of the building presented no aperture whatever, by which air could be admitted, nor any communication held, by which food could possibly be conveyed to the Fakeer; and I may also add, that the walls, closing the doorways, bore no marks of having been recently disturbed or removed." "Runjeet Singh recognized the impression of the seal, as the one, which he had affixed: and, as he was as skeptical, as any European could be, of the successful result of such an enterprise, to guard, as far as possible, against any collusion, he had placed two companies, from his own personal escort, near the building, from which four sentries were furnished, and relieved, every two hours, night and day, to guard the building from intrusion. At the same time, he ordered one of the principal officers of his court to visit the place occasionally, and report the result of his inspection to him; while he himself, or his minister, kept the seal which closed the hole of the padlock, and the latter received the reports of the officers on guard, morning and evening." "After our examination, and we had seated ourselves in the verandah, opposite the door, some of Runjeet's people dug away the mud wall, and one of his officers broke the seal, and opened the padlock." "On the door being thrown open, nothing but a dark room was to be seen. Runjeet Singh and myself then entered it, in company with the servant of the Fakeer. A light was brought, and we descended about three feet below the floor of the room, into a sort of cell, in which a wooden box, about four feet long, by three broad, with a square sloping roof, containing the Fakeer, was placed upright, the door of which had also a padlock and seal, similar to that on the outside. On opening it, we saw"-- But I am reminded, by observing the point I have reached, upon my sheet of paper, that it is time to pause. There are others, who have something to say to the public, of more importance, about rum, sugar and molasses, turtle soup and patent medicine, children, that are lost, and puppies, that are found. No. CXXXVIII. Sir Claude M. Wade, the reader may remember, was proceeding thus--"On opening it," (the box containing the Fakeer) "we saw a figure, enclosed in a bag of white linen, drawn together, and fastened by a string over the head; on the exposure of which a grand salute was fired, and the surrounding multitude came crowding to the door to see the spectacle. After they had gratified their curiosity, the Fakeer's servant, putting his arms into the box, took the figure of his master out; and, closing the door, placed it, with his back against the door, exactly as he had been squatted, like a Hindoo idol, in the box itself. Runjeet Singh and I then descended into the cell, which was so small, that we were only able to sit on the ground in front, and so close to the body, as to touch it with our hands and knees. The servant then began pouring warm water over the figure, but, as my object was to watch if any fraudulent practice could be detected, I proposed to Runjeet Singh, to tear open the bag, and have a perfect view of the body, before any means of resuscitation were attempted. I accordingly did so; and may here remark, that the bag, when first seen by us, looked mildewed, as if it had been buried for some time. The legs and arms of the body were shrivelled and stiff, the face full, as in life, and the head reclining on the shoulder, like that of a corpse." "I then called to the medical gentleman, who was attending me, to come down and inspect the body, which he did, but could discover no pulsation, in the heart, temples or the arms. There was however, a heat, about the region of the brain, which no other part of the body exhibited. The servant then commenced bathing him with hot water, and gradually relaxing his arms and legs from the rigid state, in which they were contracted; Runjeet Singh taking his right and left leg, to aid by friction in restoring them to their proper action, during which time the servant placed a hot wheaten cake, about an inch thick, on the top of the head--a process, which he twice or thrice repeated. He then took out of his nostrils and ears the wax and cotton plugs, with which they were stopped, and after great exertion, opened his mouth, by inserting the point of a knife between the teeth, and while holding his jaws open, with his left hand, drew the tongue forward, with the forefinger of the right, in the course of which the tongue flew back, several times, to its curved position upwards, that in which it had originally been placed, so as to close the gullet. He then rubbed his eyelids with ghee (clarified butter) for some time, till he succeeded in opening them, when the eye appeared quite motionless and glazed. After the cake had been applied for the third time, to the top of the head, the body was convulsively heaved, the nostrils became violently inflated, respiration ensued, and the limbs began to assume a natural fulness. The servant then put some ghee on his tongue, and made him swallow it. A few minutes afterwards, the eyeballs became slowly dilated, recovered their natural color, and the Fakeer, recognizing Runjeet Singh, sitting close by him, articulated, in a low sepulchral tone, scarcely audible--'_Do you believe me now?_'" "Runjeet Singh replied in the affirmative; and then began investing the Fakeer with a pearl necklace, a superb pair of gold bracelets, shawls, and pieces of silk and muslin, forming what is called a _khilet_, such as is usually conferred, by the princes of India, on persons of distinction. From the time of the box being opened to the recovery of the voice, not more than half an hour could have elapsed; and, in another half an hour, the Fakeer talked with himself and those about him freely, though feebly, like a sick person, and we then left him, convinced that there had been no fraud or collusion, in the exhibition, which we had witnessed." The Hon. Captain Osborne, who was attached to the mission of Sir William Macnaughten, in the following year, 1838, sought to persuade the Fakeer to repeat the experiment, and to suffer the keys of the vault to remain in Captain Osborne's custody. At this the Fakeer became alarmed, though he afterwards consented, and, at the request of Runjeet Singh, he came to Lahore for the purpose; but, as he expressed a strong apprehension, that Captain Osborne intended to destroy him, and as Sir William Macnaughten and his suite were about to depart, the matter was given up. This is related by Captain Osborne, in his "Court and Camp of Runjeet Singh." After avowing his entire belief in all the facts, set forth in the previous narrative, Sir Claude M. Wade remarks--"I took some pains to inquire into the mode, by which such a result was effected; and was informed, that it rested on a doctrine of the Hindoo physiologists, that heat constitutes the self existent principle of life; and, that, if the functions are so far destroyed, as to leave that one, in perfect purity, life could be sustained for considerable lengths of time, independently of air, food, or any other means of sustenance. To produce such a state, the patients are obliged to go through a severe preparation. How far such means are calculated to produce such effects physiologists will be better able to judge than I can pretend to do. I only state what I saw, and heard, and think." This narrative certainly belongs to the very first part of the very first book of very wonderful things. But this marvellous book is no longer a closed volume. Millions of ingenious fingers have, for fifty years, been busily employed, in breaking its mysterious seals, one after another. Demonstration has trampled upon doubt, and the world is rapidly coming to my shrewd old grandmother's conclusion, that nothing is so truly wonderful, as that we wonder at all. There is nothing more difficult, than to exonerate the mind from the weight of its present consciousness, and to wonder by rule. We readily lose the recollection of our doubt and derision, upon former occasions, when matters, apparently quite as absurd and impossible, are presented for contemplation, _de novo_. If putrefaction can be kept off, mere animal life, the vital principle, may be preserved, for a prodigious length of time, in the lower ranks of animal creation, while in a state of torpidity. Dr. Gillies relates, that he bottled up some _cerastes_, a species of small snakes, and kept them corked tight, with nothing in the bottle, but a little sand, for several years; and, when the bottle was uncorked, they came forth, revived by the air, and immediately acquired their original activity. More than fifty years ago, having read Dr. Franklin's account of the flies, which he discovered, drowned, in a bottle of old wine, and which he restored to life, by exposure to the sun's rays; I bottled up a dozen flies, in a small phial of Madeira--took them out, at the expiration of a month--and placed them under a glass tumbler, in a sunny window. Within half an hour, nine revived; got up; walked about, wiped their faces with their fore legs; trimmed their wings, with their hinder ones; and began to knock their heads, against the tumbler, to escape. After waiting a couple of hours, to give the remaining three a fair chance, but to no purpose, and expecting nothing from the humane society, for what I had already accomplished, I returned the nine to their wine bath, in the phial. After rather more than three months, I repeated the experiment of resuscitation. After several hours, two gave evidence of revival, got upon their legs, reeled against each other, and showed some symptoms of _mania a potu_. At length they were fairly on their trotters. I lifted the tumbler; they took the hint, and flew to the window glass. It was fly time. I watched one of those, who had profited by the revival--he got four or five flies about him, who really seemed to be listening to the account of his experience. "Ants, bees, and wasps," says Sharon Turner, in his Sacred History, vol. i. ch. 17, "especially the smallest of these, the ants, do things, and exercise sensibilities, and combine for purposes, and achieve ends, that bring them nearer to mankind, than any other class of animated nature." Aye, I know, myself, some of our fellow-citizens, who make quite a stir, in their little circles, petty politicians, who extort responses from great men, and show them, _in confidence_, to all they meet--overgrown boys, in bands and cassocks, who, for mere exercise, edit religious newspapers, and scribble _treason_, under the name of _ethics_--who, in respect to all the qualities, enumerated by Sharon Turner, are decidedly inferior to pismires. The hybernation of various animals furnishes analogous examples of the matter, under consideration. A suspension of faculties and functions, for a considerable time, followed by a periodical restoration of their use, forms a part of the natural history of certain animals. Those forty days--that wonderful quarantine of the Fakeer, in the tomb, and his subsequent restoration, are marvels. I have presented the facts, upon the evidence of Sir Claude M. Wade. Every reader will philosophize, upon this interesting matter, for himself. If such experiments can be made, for forty days, it is not easy to comprehend the necessity of such a limit. If trustees were appointed, and gave bonds to keep the tomb comfortable, and free from rats, and to knock up a corpse, at the time appointed, forty years, or an hundred, might answer quite as well. What visions are thus opened to the mind. An author might go to sleep, and wake up in the midst of posterity, and find himself an entire stranger. Weary partners might find a temporary respite, in the grave, and leave directions, to be called, in season to attend the funeral. The heir expectant of some tenacious ancestor might thus dispose of the drowsy and unprofitable interval. The gentleman of _petite fortune_ might suffer it to accumulate, in the hands of trustees, and wake up, after twenty or thirty years, a man of affluence. Instead of making up a party for the pyramids, half a dozen merry fellows might be buried together, with the pleasant prospect of rising again in 1949. No use whatever being made of the time thus relinquished, and the powers of life being husbanded in the interim, years would pass uncounted, of course; and he, who was buried, at twenty-one, would be just of age when he awoke. I should like, extremely, to have the opinion of the Fakeer, upon these interesting points. No. CXXXIX. "And much more honest to be hir'd, and stand With auctionary hammer in thy hand, Provoking to give more, and knocking thrice, For the old household stuff or picture's price." DRYDEN. Old customs, dead and buried, long ago, do certainly come round again, like old comets; but, whether in their appointed seasons, or not, I cannot tell. Whether old usages, and old chairs, and old teapots revolve in their orbits, or not, I leave to the astronomers. It would be very pleasant to be able to calculate the return of hoops, cocked hats, and cork rumpers, buffets, pillions, links, pillories, and sedans. I noticed the following paragraph, in the Evening Transcript, not long ago, and it led me to turn over some heaps of old relics, in my possession-- "A substitute for the everlasting 'going, going, gone,' was introduced at a recent auction in New York. The auctioneer held up a sand-glass, through which the sand occupied fourteen seconds in passing. If a person made a bid, the glass was held up in view of all, and if no person advanced on the bid before the sand passed through, the sale was made. This idea is a novel one, though we believe it has long been practised in Europe." It was formerly the custom in England, to sell goods, at auction, "by inch of candle." An inch of candle was lighted, and the company proceeded to bid, the last crier or bidder, before the candle went out, was declared the purchaser. Samuel Pepys, who was Secretary of the Admiralty, in the reigns of the two last Stuarts, repeatedly refers to the practice, in his Diary. Thus, in Braybrook's edition, of 1848, he says, vol. i. page 151, under date Nov. 6, 1660--"To our office, where we met all, for the sale of two ships, by an inch of candle, (the first time that I saw any of this kind,) where I observed how they do invite one another, and at last how they all do cry; and we have much to do to tell who did cry last." Again, Ibid., vol. ii. page 29, Sept. 3, 1662--"After dinner, we met and sold the Weymouth, Successe, and Fellowship hulkes, where pleasant to see how backward men are at first to bid; and yet, when the candle is going out, how they bawl, and dispute afterwards who bid the most first. And here I observed one man cunninger than the rest, that was sure to bid the last man, and carry it; and, inquiring the reason, he told me, that, just as the flame goes out, the smoke descends, which is a thing I never observed before, and, by that he do know the instant when to bid last." Again, Ibid., vol. iv. page 4, Ap. 3, 1667, he refers to certain prize goods, "bought lately at the candle." Haydn says this species of auction, by inch of candle is derived from a practice, in the Roman Catholic Church. Where there is an excommunication, by inch of candle, and the sinner is allowed to come to repentance, while yet the candle burns. The sinner is supposed, of course, to be _going--going--gone_--unless he avails of the opportunity to bid, as it were, for his salvation. This naturally reminds the reader of the spiritual distich-- "For while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return." Where the bids are, from a maximum, downward, the term--_auction_--is still commonly, though improperly employed, and in the very teeth of all etymology. When I was a boy, the poor, in many of our country towns, were disposed of, in this manner. The question was, who would take Daddy Osgood, one of the town's poor, for the smallest weekly sum, to be paid by the town. The old man was started, at four shillings, and bid down to a minimum. There was yet a little work in his old bones; and I well remember one of these auctions, in 1798, in the town of Billerica, at which Dr. William Bowers bid off Daddy Osgood, for two and sixpence. The Dutch have a method of selling fresh fish, which is somewhat analogous to this, and very simple and ingenious. An account of it may be found, in Dodsley's Annual Register, for 1760, vol. iii. page 170. The salesman is called the Affslager. The fish are brought in, in the morning, and placed on the ground, near the fish stalls of the retailers. At ten, precisely, the Affslager rings his bell, which may be heard, for half a mile. Retailers, and individual consumers collect, and the Affslager--the auctioneer--puts up a lot, at a maximum price. No one offers a less sum, but the mynheers stand round, sucking at their pipes, and puffing away, and saying nothing. When the Affslager becomes satisfied, that nobody will buy the lot, at the price named, he gradually lowers it, until one of the mynheers takes his pipe from his mouth and cries "_mine!_" in High Dutch. He is, of course, the purchaser; and the Affslager proceeds to the sale of another lot. It will be seen, from one of the citations from Pepys, that some of _the auctions_ of his time were called _the candles_; precisely as the auctions, at Rome, were called _hastæ_; a spear or _hasta_, instead of a flag, being the customary signal for the sale. The proper word, however, was _auctio_, and the auctioneer was called _auctor_. Notice of the sale was given, by the crier, _a præcone prædicari_, Plaut. Men., v. 9, 94, or, by writing on tables. Such is the import of _tabulum proscripsit_, in Cicero's letter to his brother Quintus, ii. 6. In the year 1824, passing through the streets of Natchez, I saw a slave, walking along, and ringing a bell, as he went; the bell very much resembled our cowbells, in size and form. Upon a signal from a citizen, the slave stopped ringing, and walked over to him, and stood before him, till he had read the advertisement of a sale at auction, placarded on the breast of the slave, who then went forward, ringing his bell, as before. The Romans made their bids, by lifting the finger; and the auctioneer added as many _sesterces_, as he thought amounted to a reasonable bid. Cicero uses this expression in his fine oration against Verres, i 54--_digitum tollit Junius patruus--Junius, his paternal uncle, raised his finger_, that is, he made a bid. The employment of a spear, as the signal of an auction sale, is supposed to have arisen from the fact, that the only articles, originally sold, in this manner, were the spoils of war. Subsequently, the spear--_hasta_--came to be universally used, to signify a _sale at auction_. The auction of Pompey's goods, by Cæsar, is repeatedly alluded to, by Cicero, with great severity, as the _hasta Cæsaris_. A passage may be found, in his treatise, _De Officiis_, ii. 8, and another, in his eighth Philippic, sec. 3--"Invitus dico, sed dicendum est. Hasta Cæsaris, Patres Conscripti, multis improbis spem affert, et audaciam. Viderunt enim, ex mendicis fieri repente divites: itaque hastam semper videre cupiunt ii, qui nostris bonis imminent; quibus omnia pollicetur Antonius." I say it reluctantly, but it must be said--Cæsar's auction, Conscript Fathers, inflames the hopes and the insolence of many bad men. For they see how immediately, the merest beggars are converted into men of wealth. Therefore it is that those, who are hankering after our goods and chattels, and to whom Antony has promised all things, are ever longing to behold such another auction, as that. The auctioneer's bell, in use, at the Hague, in 1760, was introduced into Boston, seventy-seven years ago, by Mr. Bicker, whose auction-room was near the Market. Having given some offence to the public, he inserted the following notice, in the Boston Gazette and Country Journal, Monday, April 18, 1774--"As the method, lately practised by the Subscriber, in having a Person at his Door, to invite Gentlemen and others to his public Sales--has given Dissatisfaction to some (Gentlemen Shopkeepers in particular) to avoid giving Offence for the future, he shall desist from that Practice, and pursue one (as follows) which he flatters himself cannot fail giving universal Satisfaction, as he sincerely wishes so to do. The Public are most earnestly requested to remember (_for their own advantage_) that, for the future, Notice will be given, by sounding a Bell, which he has purchased for that Purpose, which is erected over the Auction Room Door, near the Market, Boston, where constant Attendance is given both early and late, to receive the favors of all such who are pleased to confer on their _Much obliged, Most Obedient, and very humble Servant_, M. Bicker." Albeit there is no less bickering or dickering here now, than of yore, yet Bicker and his bell have gone, long ago, to the "receptacle of things lost upon earth." The very name is no more. Haydn says, the first auction in Britain was about 1700, by Elisha Yale, a Governor of Fort George, in the East Indies, of the goods he had brought home with him. That Mr. Haydn must be mistaken is manifest, from the citation from Pepys, who speaks of auctions, by inch of candle, as early as 1660; and not then as a novelty, but the first of the kind that he had witnessed. Fosbroke says, in his Antiquities, page 412--"In the middle age, the goods were cried and sold to the highest bidder, and the sound of a trumpet added with a very loud noise. The use of the spear was retained, the auctions being called _Subhastationes_; and the _Subhastator_, or auctioneer, was sworn to sell the goods faithfully. In Nares, we have, _sold at a pike or spear_, i. e. by public auction or outcry; and auctions called _port sales_, because originally, perhaps, sales made in ports--the crier stood under the spear, as in the Roman æra, and was, in the thirteenth century, called _cursor_." Of late, _mock auctions_, as they are termed, have become a very serious evil, especially in the city of New York. In 1813 petitions, in regard to these public impositions, were sent to the Lords of the Treasury, from many of the principal cities of Great Britain. In 1818 a select committee reported, very fully, upon this subject, to the British Parliament. This committee, after long and critical investigation, reported, that great frauds were constantly committed on the public, by _mock_ or fraudulent _auctions_. The committee set forth several examples of this species of knavery. Goods are sold, as the furniture of gentlemen, going abroad. For this purpose, empty houses are hired for a few days, and filled with comparatively worthless furniture. Articles of the most inferior manufacture are made for the express purpose of being put into such sales, as the property of individuals of known character and respectability. To impose, more effectually, on the public, the names of the most respectable auctioneers have been used, with the variation of a letter. This bears some analogy to the legislative change of name, in this city, for the purpose of facilitating the sale of inferior pianos. Respectable auctioneers have been compelled, in self-defence, to appear at such mock auctions, and disclaim all connection therewith. Great masses of cutlery and plated ware of base manufacture, with London makers' names, and advertised, as made in London, are constantly sold, at these auctions; forcing the London makers to appear at the sales rooms, and expose the fraud. The committee say that no imposition is more common than the sale of ordinary wine, in bottles, as the _bonne bouche_ of some respectable Amphitryon deceased. They farther state, that daring men are known to combine, attend real sales, and by various means, drive respectable purchasers away, purchase at their own price, and afterwards privately sell, under a form of public sale, among themselves, at _Knock Out_ auctions, as they are called. The committee recommended an entire revision of the auction laws--an increase of the license--heavier penalties for violation--no sale, without previous exposure of the goods for twenty-four hours, or printed catalogue--name and address of the auctioneer to be published--severe penalty, for using a fictitious name, &c. The whole advertising system of mock auctions, like that, connected with the kindred impostures of quackery and patent medicines, furnishes a vast amount of curious and entertaining reading; and affords abundant scope, for the exercise of a vicious ingenuity. I have heard of a horse, that could not be compelled, by whip or spur, to cross a bridge, which lay in the way to his owner's country residence--the horse was advertised to be sold at auction for no fault but that his owner was _desirous of going out of the city_. No. CXL. Few things are more difficult, than shaving a cold corpse, and making, what the _artistes_ call _a good job of it_. I heard Robert New say so, forty years ago, who kept his shop, at the north--easterly corner of Scollay's buildings. He said the barber ought to be called, as soon, as the breath was out of the body, and a little before, if it was a clear case, and you wished the corpse "_to look wholesome_." I think he was right. Pope's Narcissa said-- "One need not sure be ugly, though one's dead." There is considerable mystery, in shaving a living corpse. I find it so; and yet I have always shaved myself; for I have never been able to overcome a strong, hereditary prejudice, against being taken by the nose. My razor is very capricious; so, I suppose, is everybody's razor. There is a deep and mystical philosophy, about the edge of a razor, which seems to have baffled the most scientific; and is next of kin to witchcraft. A tract, by Cotton Mather, upon this subject, would be invaluable. The scholar will smile, at any comparison, between Pliny the elder and Cotton Mather. So far, as respects the scope of knowledge, and power of intellect, and inexhaustible treasures, displayed in Pliny's thirty-seven books of Natural History, one might as well compare Hyperion to a mummy. I allude to nothing but the _Magnalia_ or _Improbabilia_; and, upon this point of comparison, Mather, witchcraft and all fairly fade out of sight, before the marvels and fantastical stories of Pliny. In lib. xxviii. 23, Pliny assigns a very strange cause, why _aciem in cultris tonsorum hebetescere_--why the edge of a barber's razor is sometimes blunted. The reader may look it up, if he will--it is better in a work, _sub sigillo latinitatis_, than in an English journal. I have often put my razor down, regretting, that my beard did not spread over a larger area; so keenly and agreeably has the instrument performed its work. It really seemed, that I might have shaved a sleeping mouse, without disturbing his repose. After twelve hours, that very razor, untouched the while, has come forth, no better than a pot-sherd. The very reverse of all this has also befallen me. I once heard Revaillon, our old French barber, say, that a razor could not be strapped with too light a hand; and the English proverb was always in his mouth--"a good lather is half the shave." Some persons suppose the razor to be an instrument, of comparatively modern invention, and barbers to have sprung up, at farthest, within the Christian era. It is written, in Isaiah vii. 20, "In the same day shall the Lord shave with a razor, that is hired," &c. Ezekiel began to prophecy, according to Calmet, 590 years before Christ: in the first verse of ch. v. he says--"take thee a sharp knife, take thee a barber's razor, and cause it to pass upon thy head and upon thy beard." To cause a razor _to pass upon the beard_ seems to mean something very different from _shaving_, in the common sense of that word. Doubtless, it does: the _culter_ or _novacula_, that is, _the razor_, of the ancients, was employed, for _shearing_ or _shortening_, as well as for _shaving_ the beard. Barbers were first known, among the Romans A. U. C. 454, i. e. 298 years before Christ. Pliny says, vii. 59--Sequens gentium consensus in tonsoribus fuit, sed Romanis tardior. In Italiam ex Sicilia venere post Romam conditam anno quadringentessimo quinquagessimo quarto, adducente P. Ticinio Mena, ut auctor est Varro: antea intonsi fuere. Primus omnium radi quotidie instituit Africanus sequens: Divus Augustus cultris semper usus est. Then barbers came into use, among the nations, but more slowly among the Romans. In the year of the city 454, according to Varro, P. Ticinius Mena introduced barbers into Italy from Sicily: until that time, men wore their beards. The latter Africanus first set the example of being shaven daily. Augustus constantly used razors. The passage of Varro, referred to by Pliny, showing, that, before A. U. C. 454, men wore their beards, states the fact to be established, by the long beards, on all the old male statues. That _passing of the sharp knife or razor, upon the beard_, spoken of, by Ezekiel, I take to be the latter of the two modes, employed by the Romans--"vel strictim, hoc est, ad cutem usque; vel paulo longius a cute, interposito pectine"--either close to the skin, or with a comb interposed. That both modes were in use is clear from the lines of Plautus in his play of the Captives, Act ii. sc. 2, v. 16-- Nunc senex est in tonstrina; nunc jam cultros adtinet; Sed utrum strictimne adtonsurum dicam esse, an per pectinem, Nescio. Now the old man is in the barber's shop and under the razor; but whether to be close shaved, or clipped with the comb, I know not. Pliny, as we have seen, states, that the practice came from Sicily. There it had been long in use. There is a curious reference to the custom in Cicero's Tusculan Questions, v. 20. Speaking of the tyrant, Dionysius he says--Quin etiam ne tonsori collum committeret, tondere suas filias docuit. Ita sordido ancillarique artificio regiæ virgines, ut tonstriculæ tondebant barbam et capillum patris. For, not liking to trust his throat to a barber, he taught his daughters to shave him, and thus these royal virgins, descending to this coarse, servile vocation, became little, she barbers, and clipped their father's beard and hair. There is a curious passage in Pliny which not only proves, that barbers' shops were common in his time, but shows the very ancient employment of cobweb, as a styptic. In lib. xxix. 36, he says--Fracto capiti aranei tela ex oleo et aceto imposita, non nisi vulnere sanato, abscedit. Hæc et vulneribus tonstrinarum sanguinem sistit. Spiders' web, with oil and vinegar, applied to a broken head, adheres, till the wound heals. This also stops the bleeding from cuts, in barbers' shops. Razors were sharpened, some two thousand years ago, very much as they are at present. Pliny devotes sec. 47, lib. xxxvi. to hones and whetstones, oil stones and water stones--quarta ratio--he says--est saliva hominis proficientium in torstrinarum officinis--the fourth kind is such as are used in the barbers' shops, and which the man softens with his saliva. Most common, proverbial sayings are, doubtless, of great antiquity. Chopping-blocks with a razor is a common illustration of the employment of a subtle ingenuity, upon coarse and uninteresting topics. Thus Goldsmith, in his Retaliation, says of Burke-- In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and chop blocks with a razor. The latter illustration is as old as Livy--_novacula cotem discindere_. The Romans made a prodigious fuss, about their beards. The first crop, called _prima barba_, and sometimes _lanugo_, was, according to Petronius, consecrated to some god. Suetonius says, in his Life of Nero, 12--Gymnico quod in septis edebat, inter buthysiæ apparatum, barbam primam posuit, conditamque in auream pyxidem, et pretiosissimis margaritis adornatam, capitolio consecravit.--During the games, which he had given in the enclosures, and in the very midst of the splendor of the sacrifice, for the first time, he laid down his beard, and having placed it in a golden box, adorned with precious stones, he made a sacred deposit thereof, in the capitol. After the custom of shaving had been introduced, by Mena, A. U. C. 454, it went out, for a short time, in Rome, during the time of Adrian, who as Spartianus relates, in his Life of that Emperor, having some ugly excrescences on his chin, suffered his beard to grow to conceal them--of course the courtiers followed the example of the emperor--the people, that of the courtiers. The grave concealed those excrescences, more effectually, A. D. 139, and the _navacula_ again came into use, among the Romans: Marcus Antoninus, his successor, had no excrescences on his chin. The day, upon which a young Roman was said _ponere barbam_, that is, to shave for the first time, was accounted a holiday; and Juvenal says, iii. 187, he received presents from his friends. Ovid, Trist. iv. 10, 67, dates his earliest literary exhibitions, before the people, by his first or second shave, or clip-- Carmina quum primum populo juvenilia legi, Barba resecta mihi bisve semelve fuit. Which may be thus translated-- When first in public I began To read my boyish rhymes, I scarcely could be call'd a man, And had not shav'd three times. Cæsar says of the Britons, B. G. V. 14--omni parte corporis rasa, præter caput et labrum superius--they shave entirely, excepting the head and upper lip. Half-shaving was accounted, in the days of Samuel, I suppose, as reducing the party to a state of semi-_barbarism_: thus, in Samuel II. x. 4--"Wherefore Hanan took David's servants, and shaved off the one half of their beards." To be denied the privilege of shaving was accounted dishonorable, among the Catti, a German nation, in the days of Tacitus; for he says, De Moribus Germanæ, 31--Apud Cattos in consensum vertit, ut primum adoleverint, crinem barbamque submittere, nec, nisi hoste cæso--It was settled among the Catti, that no young man should cut his hair, or shave his beard, till he had killed his man. Seneca, Cons. Polyb. xxxvi. 5, blames Caius, for refusing to shave, because he had lost his sister--Idem ille Caius furiosa in constantia, modo barbam capillumque submittens--There is that Caius, clinging so absurdly to his sorrow, and suffering his hair and beard to grow on account of it. There is an admirable letter, from Seneca to Lucillus, Ep. 114, which shows, that the dandies, in old Rome, were much like our own. He is speaking of those--qui vellunt barbam, aut intervellunt; qui labra pressius tondent et abradunt, servata et submissa cætera parte--who pull out the beard, by the roots, or particular parts of it--who clip and shave the hair, either more closely, or leave it growing, on some parts of their lips. Juvenal, ii. 99, and Martial, vi. 64, 4, laugh at such, as use a mirror while shaving. Knives and razors of _brass_, are of great antiquity, according to the Archæological Æliana, p. 39.--Fosbroke, p. 351, says, that razors are mentioned by Homer. But I am going to a funeral, this afternoon, as an amateur, and it is time for me to shave--not with a razor of brass, however--Pradier is too light for me--I use the Chinese. Hutchinson, i. 153, says, that Leverett was the first Governor of Massachusetts, who is painted without a beard, and that he laid it aside, in Cromwell's court. China is the paradise of barbers. There, according to Mr. Davis, they abound. No man shaves himself, the part, to be shorn, being out of his reach. There would be no difficulty in removing the scanty hair upon their chins; but the exact tonsure of the crown, without removing one hair from the Chinaman's long tail, that reaches to his heels, is a delicate affair. Their razors are very heavy, but superlatively keen. No. CXLI. Barbers were chiefly peripatetics, when I was a boy. They ran about town, and shaved at their customers' houses. There were fewer shops. This was the genteel mode in Rome. The wealthy had their domestic barbers, as the planters have now, among their slaves. I am really surprised, that we hear of so few throats cut at the South. Some evidence of this custom--not of cutting throats--may be found, in one of the neatest epitaphs, that ever was written; the subject of which, a very young and accomplished slave-barber, has already taken a nap of eighteen hundred years. I refer to Martial's _epitaphium_, on Pantagathus, a word, which, by the way, signifies one, who is good at everything, or, as we say--a man of all works. It is the fifty-second, of Book VI. Its title is _Epitaphium Pantagathi, Tonsoris_: Hoc jacet in tumulo raptus puerilibus annis Pantagathus, domini cura, dolorque sui, Vix tangente vagos ferro resecare capillos Doctus, et hirsutas excoluisse genas. Sic, licet, ut debes, Tellus placata, levisque; Artificis levior non potes esse manu. In attempting a version of this, I feel, as if I were about to disfigure a pretty spinster, with a mob-cap. Here lies Pantagathus, the slave, Petted he liv'd, and died lamented; No youth, like him could clip and shave, Since shears and razors were invented. So light his touch, you could not feel The razor, while your cheeks were smoothing; And sat, unconscious of the steel, The operation was so soothing. Oh, mother Earth, appeas'd, since thou Back to thy grasping arms hast won him, Soft be thy hand, like his, and now Lie thou, in mercy, lightly on him. Rochester was right; few things were ever benefited, by translation, but a bishop. The _Tonstrinæ_, or barbers' shops, in Rome, were seldom visited by any, but the humbler classes. They were sometimes called the _Shades_. Horace, Ep. i. 7, 50, describes Philippus, an eminent lawyer, as struck with sudden envy, upon seeing Vulteius Mena, the beadle, sitting very much at ease, in one of these shades, after having been shaved, and leisurely cleaning his own nails, an office commonly performed by the barbers:-- Adrasum quendam vacua tonsoris in umbra, Cultello proprios purgantem leniter ungues. There were she-barbers, in Rome, residing in the _Saburra_ and _Argiletum_, very much such localities, as "_the Hill_," formerly in Boston, or _Anthony Street_, in New York. Martial describes one of these _tonstrices_, ii. 17-- Tonstrix Saburræ fancibus sedet primis, etc. Some there were, of a better order. Plautus, Terence, and Theophrastus have many allusions to the barbers' shops. They have ever been the same "_otiosorum conciliabula_," that they were, when Terence wrote--resorts of the idle and garrulous. In old times--very--not now, of course--not now, a dressmaker, who was mistress of her business, knew that she was expected to turn out so much work, and so much _slander_. That day has fortunately gone by. But the "barber's tale" is the very thing that it was, in the days of Oliver Goldsmith, and it was then the very thing, that it was, as I verily believe, in the days of Ezekiel. There are many, who think, that a good story, not less than a good lather, is half the shave. It is quite _in rerum natura_, that much time should be consumed, in waiting, at the _tonstrinæ_--the barbers' shops; and to make it pass agreeably, the craft have always been remarkable, for the employment of sundry appliances--amusing pictures around the walls--images and mechanical contrivances--the daily journals--poodles, monkeys, squirrels, canaries, and parrots. In the older countries, a barber's boy was greatly in request, who could play upon the _citterne_, or some other musical instrument. If there had not been a curious assemblage of _materiel_, in an old Roman _tonstrina_, it would not have been selected as an object for the pencil. That it was so selected, however, appears from a passage in Pliny, XXXV. 37. He is writing of Pureicus--arte paucis postferendus: proposito, nescio an destruxerit se: quoniam humilia quidem sequutus, humilitatis tamen summam adeptus est gloriam. Tonstrinas, sutrinasque pinxit, et asellos, et obsonia, ac similia--He had few superiors in his art: I know not if the plan he adopted was fatal to his fame; for, though his subjects were humble, yet, in their representation, he attained the highest excellence. He painted barbers' and shoemakers' shops, asses, eatables, and the like. A rude sketch of Heemskerck's picture of a barber's shop lies now upon my table. Here is the poodle, with a cape and fool's cap, walking on his hind legs--the suspended bleeding basin, and other et cætera of the profession. Little is generally known, as to the origin and import of the barber's pole. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, surgery was in such low repute, that farriers, barbers, sow-spayers, and surgeons were much upon a level. The truth of this, in respect to surgeons and barbers, has been established by law: and, for about two hundred years, both in London and Paris, they were incorporated, as one company. I remember a case, reported by Espinasse--not having the book at hand, I cannot indicate the volume and page--which shows the judicial estimate of surgery then, compared with the practice of physic. A physician's fees, in England, were accounted _quiddam honorarium_, and not _matter of lucre_, and therefore could not be recovered, in an action at law. Upon an action brought for surgical services, the fees were recoverable, because surgeons, upon the testimony of Dr. Mead, were of a lower grade, having nothing to do with the pathology of diseases, and never prescribing; but simply performing certain mechanical acts; and being, like all other artificers and operatives, worthy of their hire. Nothing can more clearly exhibit the low state of this noble science, at the time, and the humble estimation of it, by the public. Chirurgery seemed destined to grovel, in etymological bondage, [Greek: cheir ergon], a mere _handicraft_. Barbers and surgeons were incorporated, as one company, in the fifteenth century, in the reign of Edward IV., and were called barber-surgeons. At the close of the sixteenth century, Ambrose Paré, the greatest surgeon of his time in France, did not reject the appellation of _barber-surgeon_. Henry VIII. dissolved this union, and gave a new charter in 1540, when it was enacted, that "_no person, using any shaving or barbery in London, shall occupy any surgery, letting of blood, or other matter, excepting only the drawing of teeth_." The _barber-surgeon_ was thus reduced to the _barber-dentist_, which seems not so agreeable to the practitioner, at present, as the loftier appellation of _surgeon-dentist_. Sterne was right: there is something in a name. The British surgeons obtained a new charter, in 1745, and another, in 1800, and various acts have been subsequently passed, on their behalf. July 17, 1797, Lord Thurlow, in the House of Peers, opposed a new bill, which the surgeons desired to have passed. Thurlow was a man of morose temperament, and uncertain humor. He averred, that so much of the old law was in force, that, to use his own words, "the barbers and surgeons were each to use a pole, the barbers were to have theirs blue and white, striped, with no other appendage; but the surgeons', which was the same, in other respects, was likewise to have a gallipot and a red rag, to denote the particular nature of their vocation." Brand, in his Popular Antiquities, says, that the barber's pole, used in bleeding, is represented, in an illuminated missal, of the time of Edward I., Longshanks, whose reign began in 1272. Fosbroke, in his Encyc. of Antiquities, page 414, says--"A staff, bound by a riband, was held, by persons being bled, and the pole was intended to denote the practice of phlebotomy." According to Lord Thurlow's statement, in the House of Peers, the pole was required, by the statute, to be used, as a sign. The first statute, incorporating the barber-surgeons, was that of Edward IV., as I have stated. The missal of Edward I., referred to by Brand, shows, that the usage was older than the law, and, doubtless, that the popular emblem was adopted, in the statute, to which Lord Thurlow refers, as still in force, in 1797. In Brand's Newcastle, I find, that "it is ordered, Dec. 11, 1711, that periwig-making be considered part and branch of the Company of Barber-_Chirurgeons_." The history of the pole is this: A staff about three feet high, with a ball on the top, and inserted, at the bottom, in a small cross-piece, was very convenient for the person to hold, who extended his arm, as he sat down, to be bled; and a fillet, or tape, was equally convenient for the ligature. These things the barber-surgeons kept, in a corner of their shops; and, when not in use, the tape or fillet was wound or twirled round the staff. When the lawgivers called for a sign, no apter sign could be given unto them, than this identical staff and fillet; much larger of course, and to be seen of men much farther. No. CXLII. Ancient plays abound with allusions to the barber's _citterne_, or lute, upon which not only he himself, and his apprentices were accustomed to play, but all the loiterers in the _tonstrina_. Much of all this may be found, in the Glossary of Archdeacon Nares, under the article CITTERNE, and in Fosbroke's Antiquities. The commonness of its use gave rise to a proverb. In the Silent Woman, Act II., scene 2, Ben Jonson avails of it. Morose had married a woman, recommended by his barber, and whose fidelity he suspected, and the following passage occurs, between Morose and Truewit. Lond., 1816, iii. 411. _Morose._ That cursed barber! _Truewit._ Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir. _Morose._ I have married his _cittern_, that's common to all men. Upon this passage is the following note--"It appears from innumerable passages, in our old writers, that barbers' shops were furnished with some musical instrument, commonly a cittern or guitar, for the amusement of such customers as chose to strum upon it, while waiting for their turn to be shaved, &c. It should be recollected, that the patience of customers, if the shop was at all popular, must, in those tedious days of love-locks, and beards of most fantastical cuts, have been frequently put to very severe trials. Some kind of amusement therefore was necessary, to beguile the time." In old times, in old England, barbers were in the habit of making a variety of noises, with their fingers and their shears, which noises were supposed to be agreeable to their customers. Fosbroke, p. 414, refers to Lily's old play of Mydas, iii. 2, as showing the existence of the custom, in his time. Lily was born about 1553. There were some, who preferred to be shaved and dressed quietly. Nares, in his Glossary, refers to Plutarch, De Garrulitate, for an anecdote of King Archelaus, who stipulated with his barber to shave him in silence. This barbers' trick was called the "_knack with the fingers_;" and was extremely disagreeable to Morose, in Ben Jonson's play, to which I have referred. Thus, in i. 2, Clerimont, speaking of the partiality of Morose for Cutbeard, the barber, says--"The fellow trims him silently, and has not the knack with his shears or his fingers: and that continence in a barber he thinks so eminent a virtue, as it has made him chief of his counsel." As barbers were brought first into Rome, from Sicily, so the best razors, according to Nares and Fosbroke, before the English began to excel in cutlery, were obtained in Palermo. Their form was unlike those now in use, and seems more perfectly to correspond with one of the Roman names, signifying a razor, i. e. _culter_. The blade, like that of a pruning knife, or sickle, curved slightly inward, the reverse of which is the modern form. Smith, in his Ancient Topography of London, says--"The flying barber is a character now no more to be seen in London, though he still remains in some of our country villages: he was provided with a napkin, soap, and pewter basin, the form of which may be seen, in many of the illustrative prints of Don Quixote. His chafer was a deep leaden vessel, something like a chocolate pot, with a large ring or handle, at the top; this pot held about a quart of water, boiling hot; and, thus equipped, he flew about to his customers." Old Randle Holme says, "_perawickes_" were very common in his time, about 1668, though unused before "contrary to our forefathers, who wore their own hair." A barber, in Paris, to recommend his bag wigs, hung over his door the sign of Absalom. Hone, i. 1262, states that a periwig-maker, to recommend his wares, turned the reason into rhyme: "Oh, Absalom, oh Absalom, Oh Absalom, my son, If thou hadst worn a periwig, Thou hadst not been undone." Hutchinson, i. 152, says periwigs were an eyesore in New England, for thirty years after the Restoration of Charles II. Among the Romans, after Mena introduced the practice of shaving, those, who professed philosophy, still maintained their dignity, and their beards, as an _ecce signum_. Hence the expression of Horace, Sat. ii. 3, 35, _sapientem pascere barbam_: and of Persius, iv. 1, when speaking of Socrates: barbatum hæc crede magistrum Dicere, sorbitio tollit quem dira cicutæ. Of those, who wear beards, at the present day, it has been computed, that, for one philosopher, there are five hundred fools, at the very lowest estimate. Manage them as you will, they are troublesome appendages; of very questionable cleanliness; and mightily in the way of such, as are much addicted to gravy and spoon victual. Like the burden of our sins, the postprandial odor of them must be sometimes intolerable. What an infinite variety of colors we have now-a-days! Bottom, in Midsummer Night's Dream, i. 2, is in doubt, what beard he shall play Pyramus in, and, at last, he says--"I will discharge it in either your straw-colored beard, your orange tawny beard, your purple ingrain beard, or your French crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow." Now I can honestly aver, that every fifth dandy I meet, looks precisely like Bottom, performing Pyramus. Now and then, I meet a fine, full, black beard; but, even then, it seems to me, that the proud satisfaction the fortunate proprietor must feel, in going about town with it, must be, in some degree, counterbalanced, by the necessity of sleeping in it, during the summer solstice. The fancy colors, proposed by Bottom, refer to the dyes, in use, at the period, when Bottom flourished. Indeed, dyeing the beard is of the highest antiquity. I have no authority that Aaron dyed his. In 1653, John Bulwer published his "Anthropo-Metamorphosis," or Artificial Changeling, a very able and curious production. For the antiquity of the silly practice of dyeing the beard, he refers to Strabo. Old John Bulwer, ch. ix., comments, with just severity, upon the conduct of those ancient fools, who adopt the practice--"_In every haire of these old coxcombs, you shall meet with three divers and sundry colors; white at the roots, yellow in the middle, and black at the point, like unto one of your parrat's feathers_." What a graphic description of this nasty appendage! It has ever been to me a matter of infinite surprise, how any mortal can presume to say his prayers, with one of these pied abominations on his chin; giving the lie direct to the volume of inspiration, which avers that he cannot make one hair black nor white. Another mystery--how can any man's better half become reconciled to a husband, dyed thus, in the wool! The colors are not all fast colors, I believe; and are liable to be rubbed off, by attrition. Beards were cultivated, to such an excess, in Elizabeth's time, as to require and receive a check from the legislature. "The growth of beards," says Nares, in his Glossary, "was regulated by statute, at Lincoln's Inn, in the time of Eliz.--Primo Eliz. it was ordered, that no fellow of that house should wear a beard above a fortnight's growth. Transgression was punished with fine, loss of commons, and finally expulsion. But fashion prevailed, and in November, the following year, all previous orders, touching beards, were repealed." It was formerly calculated, by Lord Stanhope, that the sum, expended upon snuff, and the value of the time, consumed in taking it, and the cost of snuff-boxes, handkerchiefs, &c., if duly invested, would pay off the national debt. I have a proposal to offer, and I offer it, timidly and respectfully, for the consideration of those amiable females, who go about, so incessantly, doing good. Perhaps I may not be able to awaken their interest, more effectually, than by suggesting the idea, that here is a very fair opportunity, for the formation of another female auxiliary society. I take it for granted, that there are some of these bearded gentlemen, from whom contributions in money, could not easily be obtained, for any benevolent object. There are some, whose whole estate, real, personal, and mixed, comprehends very little, beyond a costly malacca joint, a set of valuable shirtstuds, and a safety chain. Still if we cudgel the doctrine of political economy, we may get some small contributions, even from them. Cortez found, in the treasury of Montezuma, a multitude of little bags, which were, at last, discovered to be filled with dead lice. The Emperor, to keep the Mexican beggars out of mischief, had levied this species of tax. I am well aware, that the power of levying taxes is not vested in young ladies. They have certain, natural, inherent rights, however, and, among them, the right and the power of persuasion. Let them organize, throughout the Union, and establish committees of correspondence. Let them address a circular to every individual, who wears a beard; and, if their applications succeed, they will enjoy the luxury of supplying a comfortable hair mattrass, to every poor widow, and aged single woman in the United States. No. CXLIII. The barber's brush is a luxury of more modern times. Stubbe, in his "Anatomy of Abuses," says--"When they come to washing, oh, how gingerly they behave themselves therein. For then shall your mouths be bossed with the lather or some that rinseth of the balles, (for they have their sweete balles, wherewith all they use to washe) your eyes closed must be anointed therewith also. Then snap go the fingers, ful bravely, God wot. Thus, this tragedy ended; comes the warme clothes to wipe and dry him with all." Stubbe wrote, about 1550. Not very long ago, a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, observed--"I am old enough to remember when the operation of shaving in this kingdom, was almost exclusively performed by the _barbers_: what I speak of is some threescore years ago, at which time gentlemen shavers were unknown. Expedition was then a prime quality in a barber, who smeared the lather over his customer's face with his hand; for the delicate refinement of the brush had not been introduced. The lathering of the beard being finished, the operator threw off the lather, adhering to his hand, by a peculiar jerk of his arm, which caused the joints of his fingers to crack, this being a more expeditious mode of clearing the hand, than using a towel for that purpose; and, the more audible the crack, the higher the shaver stood, in his own opinion, and in that of the fraternity. This I presume is the custom alluded to by Stubbe." The Romans, when bald, wore wigs. Some of the emperors wore miserable periwigs. Curly locks, however becoming in a male child, are somewhat ridiculous, trained with manifest care, and descending upon the shoulders of a full grown boy of forty. In addition to the pole, a peruke was frequently employed, as the barber's sign. There was the short bob, and the full bottom; the "hie perrawycke" and the scratch; the top piece, and the periwig with the pole lock; the curled wig with a dildo, and the travelling wig, with curled foretop and bobs; the campain wig, with a dildo on each side, and the toupet, a la mode. It may seem a paradox to some, that the most _barbarous_ nations should suffer the hair and beard to grow longest. The management of the hair has furnished an abundant subject matter for grave attention, in every age and nation. Cleansing, combing, crimping, and curling, clipping, and consecrating their locks gave ample occupation to the ladies and gentlemen of Greece and Rome. At the time of adolescence, and after shipwreck, the hair was cut off and sacrificed to the divinities. It was sometimes cut off, at funerals, and cast upon the pile. Curling irons were in use, at Rome. Girls wore the hair fastened upon the top of the head; matrons falling on the neck. Shaving the crown was a part of the punishment of conspirators and thieves. We know nothing, at present, in regard to the hair, which was unknown at Rome--our _frizzing_ was their _capillorum tortura_. They had an instrument, called _tressorium_, for plaiting the hair. In the time of Edward the Confessor, the hair was worn, universally, long, the laws of England not compelling all, but the nobility, as in France, to cut the hair short, in that age. The Romans are said, occasionally to have worn wigs of an enormous size, which gave occasion to the term, in Martial's epigram, _caput calceatum_. We have no exact record of the size of those Roman wigs--but I sincerely wish, that Augustus Cæsar or-- "Mæcenas, whose high lineage springs, From fair Etruria's ancient kings," could have seen the Rev. Dr. Lathrop's! In Mr. Ward's journal of Samuel Curwen, that venerable and truly respectable, and amiable, old tory is represented, with precisely such a wig, but of much smaller diameter. Dr. John Lathrop died, Jan. 4, 1816, at the age of 75. He published a considerable number of sermons on various occasions, no one of which is remarkable for extraordinary talent, or learning. It was, by some intelligent persons, supposed, that the wig was a great help to him. In his latter days, he found himself unable, any longer, to bear up, under such a portentous superstructure, which really appeared to "_overhang_," contrary to the statute, and he laid it aside. His influence certainly appeared to diminish, in some measure, probably, from the increasing infirmities of age; but, doubtless, in some degree, from the deposition of the wig. I honestly confess, that I never felt for Dr. Lathrop the same awful reverence, after he had laid aside this emblem of wisdom. A "wig full of learning" is an ancient saying, and Cowper makes use of it, in one of his lighter poems. I have always looked upon barbers, as an honorable race of men, quite as much so, as brokers; the barbers seldom fail to shave more gently, and commonly dismiss an old customer, without drawing blood, or taking off the skin. We owe them a debt of gratitude withal, on other scores. How very easily they might cut our throats! In this goodly city, at the present time, there are more than one hundred and ten gentlemen, who practice the art of barbery, beside their respective servants and apprentices. When I was a small boy--very--some sixty years ago, there were but twenty-nine, and many of them were most respectable and careful operators--an honor to their profession, and a blessing to the community. There was Charles Gavett, in Devonshire Street, the Pudding Lane of our ancestors. Gavett was a brisk, little fellow; his _tonstrina_ was small, and rather dark, but always full. In Brattle Square, just behind the church, John Green kept a shop, for several years. But John became unsteady, and cut General Winslow, and some other of his customers, and scalded several others, and lost his business. In Fish Street, which had then, but recently, ceased to be the court end of the town, there were several clever barbers--there was Thomas Grubb, and Zebulon Silvester, and James Adams, and Abraham Florence. I never heard a syllable against them, or their lather. At No. 33, Marlborough Street, William Whipple kept a first rate establishment, and had a high name, among the dandies, as an accomplished haircutter. Jonathan Edes kept a small shop, in Ann Street, and had a fair run of transient custom. He had always a keen edge and a delicate hand. He was greatly urged to take a larger establishment, in a more fashionable part of the town, near Cow Lane, but Mr. Edes was not ambitious, and turned a wiry edge to all such suggestions. William Mock kept a shop, in Newbury Street, an excellent shaver, but slow; his shop was not far from the White Horse. He was a peripatetic. I suspect, but am not certain, that he shaved Dr. Lemuel Hayward. At the corner of Essex Street, old Auchmuty's Lane, George Gideon kept a fine stand, clean towels, keen edge, and hot lather; but he had a rough, coarse hand. He had been one of the sons of liberty, and his shop being near the old site of Liberty tree, he was rather apt to take liberties with his customers' noses, especially the noses of the disaffected. There were two professed wig-makers, in Boston, at that time, who performed the ordinary functions of barbers beside, William Haslet, in Adams Street, and John Bosson, in Orange Street. Mr. Bosson was very famous, in his line, and in great request, among the ladies. In Marshall's Lane, Edward Hill was an admirable shaver; but, in the department of hair cutting, inferior to Anthony Howe, whose exceedingly neat and comfortable establishment was in South Latin School Street. An excellent hotel was then kept, by Joshua Bracket, at the sign of Cromwell's Head, on the very spot, where Palmer keeps his fruit shop, and the very next door below the residence of Dr. John Warren. Bracket patronized Howe's shop, and sent him many customers. Captain John Boyle, whose house and bookstore were at No. 18 Marlborough Street, patronized Anthony Howe. Samuel Jepson kept his _barbery_, as the shop was sometimes called, in Temple Street, between the two bakeries of William Breed and Matthew Bayley. James Tate was established in Purchase Street. He would have been a good barber, had he not been a poor poet. He was proud of his descent from Nahum Tate, the psalmodist, the copartner of Brady. Richard Fox kept also in Purchase Street, and had a large custom. A much frequented barber's shop was kept, by William Pierce, near the Boston Stone. Jonathan Farnham was an excellent barber, in Back Street. He unluckily had an ominous squint, which was inconvenient, as it impressed new comers, now and then, with a fear lest he might cut their throats. Joseph Alexander shaved in Orange Street, and Theodore Dehon, on the north side of the Old State House. Joseph Eckley was one of the best shavers and hair cutters in town, some sixty years ago. His shop was in Wing's Lane. Daniel Crosby, who was also a wig maker, in Newbury Street, was clerk of Trinity Church. Augustine Raillion, whose name was often written Revaillion kept his stand, at No. 48 Newbury Street. He was much given to dogs, ponies, and other divertisements. State Street was famous, for four accomplished barbers, sixty years ago--Stephen Francis, John Gould, John M. Lane, and Robert Smallpiece. The last was the father of Robert Smallpiece, who flourished here, some thirty years ago or more, and kept his shop, in Milk Street, opposite the Old South Church. It is well known, that the late Robert Treat Paine wrote an ode, upon the occasion of the Spanish successes, to which he gave the title of "_Spain, Commerce and Freedom, a National Ode_." It bore unquestionable marks of genius; but some of the ideas and much of the phraseology were altogether extravagant. It commenced finely-- "Sound the trumpet of fame! Strike that pæan again! Religion a war against tyranny wages; From her seat springs, in armor, regenerate Spain, Like a giant, refresh'd by the slumber of ages. From the place, where she lay, She leaps in array, Like Ajax, to die in the face of the day." The ode contained some strange expressions--"redintegrant war"--"though the dismemberd earth effervesce and regender," and so many more, that the ode, though evidently the work of a man of genius, was accounted bombastic. A wag of that day, published a parody, of which this Robert Smallpiece was the hero. It was called, if I mistake not--"Soap, Razors, and Hot Water, a Tonsorial Ode." The first stanza ran thus-- "Strap that razor so keen! Strap that razor again! And Smallpiece will shave 'em, if he can come at 'em; From his stool, clad in aprons, he springs up amain, Like a barber, refresh'd by the smell of pomatum. From the place, where he lay, He leaps in array, To lather and shave, in the face of the day. He has sworn from pollution our faces to clean, Our cheeks, necks, and upper lips, whiskers and chin." "Paullo majora canamus." No. CXLIV. In 1784, Mr. Thomas Percival, an eminent physician, of Manchester, in England, published a work, against duelling, and sent a copy to Dr. Franklin. Dr. Franklin replied to Mr. Percival, from Passy, July 17, 1784, and his reply contains the following observations--"Formerly, when duels were used to determine lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would in every instance, favor truth and right, with victory, they were excusable. At present, they decide nothing. A man says something, which another tells him is a lie. They fight; but whichever is killed, the point in dispute remains unsettled. To this purpose, they have a pleasant little story here. A gentleman, in a coffee-house, desired another to sit further from him. 'Why so?'--'Because, sir, you stink.'--'That is an affront, and you must fight me.'--'I will fight you, if you insist upon it; but I do not see how that will mend the matter. For if you kill me, I shall stink too; and, if I kill you, you will stink, if possible, worse than you do at present.'" This is certainly germain to the matter. So far from perceiving any moral courage, in those, who fight duels, nothing seems more apparent, than the triumph of one fear, over four other fears--the fear of shame, over the fear of bringing misery upon parents, wives and children--the fear of the law--the fear of God--and the fear of death. Many a man will _brave_ death, who fears it. Death is the king of terrors, and all men stand in awe of him, saving the Christian, with his armor of righteousness about him, _cap-a-pie_; and even he, perhaps, is slightly pricked, by that fear, now and then, in articulo, between the joints of the harness. I must honestly confess, that I once knew a man, who had a terrible vixen of a wife, and, when about to die, he replied to his clergyman's inquiry, if he was not afraid to meet the king of terrors, that he was not, for he had lived with the queen, for thirty years. I do not suppose there is a more hypocritical fellow, upon earth, than a duellist. Mandeville, in his Fable of the Bees, in the second dialogue, part ii., puts these words into the mouth of Cleomenes, when speaking to Horatio, on the subject of his duel: "I saw you, that very morning, and you seemed to be sedate and void of passion: you could have no concern." Horatio replies--"It is silly to show any, at such times; but I know best what I felt; the struggle I had within was unspeakable: it is a terrible thing. I would then have given a considerable part of my estate, that the thing which forced me into it, had not happened; and yet, upon less provocation, I would act the same part again, tomorrow." Such is human nature, and many, who sit down quietly, to write in opposition to this silly, senseless, selfish practice, would be quite apt enough, upon the emergency, to throw aside the pacific steel, wherewith they indite, and take up the cruel rapier. When I was a young man, a Mr. Ogilvie gave lectures, in Boston, on various subjects. He was the son of Mr. Ogilvie, to whose praises of the prospects in Scotland, Dr. Johnson replied, by telling him, that "the noblest prospect, which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road, that leads him to England." The son of this gentleman gave his lectures, in the old Exchange Coffee House, where I heard him, several times. Under the influence of opium, which he used very freely, he was, occasionally, quite eloquent. He lectured, one evening, with considerable power, against duelling. On his way to his lodgings, some person repeated to him, several piquant and cutting things, which a gentleman had said of his lecture. Ogilvie was exceedingly incensed, and swore he would call him out, the very next day. This law of honor is written nowhere, unless, in letters of blood, in the volume of pride, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. "What," says Cleomenes, in the work I have just now referred to--"What makes so just and prudent a man, that has the good of society so much at heart, act knowingly against the laws of his country?"--"The strict obedience," says Horatio, "he pays to the laws of honor, which are superior to all others."--"If men of honor," says Cleomenes, "would act consistently, they ought all to be Roman Catholics."--"Why so?"--"Because," he rejoins, "they prefer oral tradition, to all written laws; for nobody can tell, when, in what king's or emperor's reign, in what country, or by what authority, these laws of honor were first enacted: it is very strange they should be of such force." It is certainly very strange, that their authority should have been acknowledged, in some cases, not only by professing Christians, but even by the ministers of religion. Four individuals, of this holy calling, stand enrolled, as duellists, on the blood-guilty register of England. In 1764, the Rev. Mr. Hill was killed in a duel, by Cornet Gardner. On the 18th of June, 1782, the Rev. Mr. Allen killed Mr. Lloyd Dulany, in a duel. In August, 1827, Mr. Grady was wounded in a duel, by the Rev. Mr. Hodson. The Rev. Mr. Bate fought two duels--was subsequently made Baronet--fought a third duel, and was made Dean. If such atrocities were not preëminently horrible, how ridiculous they would be! It would not be agreeable to be placed in that category, in which a worthy bishop placed those, who, after Dr. Johnson's death, began to assail his reputation. "_The old lion is dead_," said the bishop, "_and now every ass will be kicking at his hide_." Better and safer, however, to be there, than to bide with those, who receive all the coarse, crude, mental eructations of this truly good and great man, for _dicta perennia_. A volume of outrageously false teachings might readily be selected, from the recorded outpourings of this great literary whale, whenever Boswell, by a little tickling, caused his Leviathan to spout. Too much tea, or none at all, too much dinner, or too little certainly affected his qualifications, as a great moral instructor; and, under the teazle of contradiction, the nap of his great spirit fairly stood on end; and, at such times, he sought victory too often, rather than the truth. It has always seemed to me, that dinner-table philosophy, especially _aprés_, is often of very questionable value. Dr. Johnson has frequently been quoted, on the subject of duelling. Some of his opinions were delivered, on this subject, suddenly, and seem entirely unworthy of his majestic powers. At a dinner party, at Gen. Oglethorpe's--I refer to Boswell's Johnson, in ten volumes, Lond. 1835, vol. iii. page 216--Boswell brought up the subject of duelling. Gen. Oglethorpe, _the host_, "fired at this, and said, with a lofty air, 'undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honor.'" Dr. Johnson, the _principal guest_, did the civil thing, and took the same side, and is reported, by Boswell, to have said substantially--"Sir, as men become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise; which are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to atone for them; though, in reality, they are not so. A body, that has received a very fine polish, may be easily hurt. Before men arrive at this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbor he lies--his neighbor tells him he lies--if one gives his neighbor a blow, his neighbor gives him a blow: but, in a state of highly polished society, an affront is held to be a serious injury. It must therefore be resented, or rather a duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed to banish, from society, one, who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel. Now, sir, it is never unlawful to fight, in self-defence. He, then, who fights a duel, does not fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of self-defence, to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. I could wish there was not that superfluity of refinement; but, while such notions prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel." I must have another witness, besides Mr. Boswell, before I believe, that Dr. Johnson uttered these words. Dr. Johnson could never have maintained, that the _lawfulness_ of an act depended upon the existence of certain popular _notions_. Nor is it true, nor was it then true, that _men have agreed to banish, from society, one, who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel_. Dr. Johnson seems to have made no distinction, between military men and the rest of the world. It is impossible to doubt, that the Doctor was graciously disposed to favor Gen. Oglethorpe's _notions_, and that he would have taken the opposite side, had he been the guest of the Archbishop of Canterbury. "_It is not unlawful to fight, in self-defence_:" the law, by punishing all killing, in a duel, as murder, in the very first degree, shows clearly enough, that duelling is never looked upon, as fighting, in self-defence. It is remarkable, that Mr. Boswell, himself a lawyer, should have thought this paragraph worthy of preservation. On page 268, of the same volume, Mr. Boswell has the following record--"April 19, 1773, he again defended duelling, and put his argument upon what I have ever thought the most solid basis; that, if public war be allowed to be consistent with morality, private war must be equally so." And this, in Mr. Boswell's opinion, was _the most solid basis_! It is difficult to perceive what is stubble, if this is not. Whither does this argument carry us all, but back to the state of nature--of uncovenanted man--of man, who has surrendered none of his natural rights, as a consideration for the blessings of government and law? A state of nature and a state of society are very different things. Who will doubt, that, if Dr. Johnson really uttered these things, he would have talked more warily, could he have imagined, that Bozzy would have transmitted them to distant ages? It is, nevertheless, perfectly clear, that Dr. Johnson, upon both these occasions, had talked, only for the pride and pleasure of talking; for Mr. Boswell records a very different opinion, vol. iv. page 249. Sept. 19, 1773.--Dr. Johnson then had thoroughly digested General Oglethorpe's dinner; and Mr. Boswell's record runs thus--"_He fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of duelling_." Poor Mr. Boswell! It is not unreasonable, to suppose, that he had inculcated his notions, upon the subject of duelling, in his own family, and repeated, for the edification of his sons, the valuable sentiments of Dr. Johnson. Mr. Boswell died, May 19, 1795. Seven and twenty years after his death, his son, Sir Alexander Boswell, was killed, in a duel, at Auchterpool, by Mr. James Stuart, March 26, 1822. Upon the trial of Stuart, for murder, Mr. Jeffrey, who defended him, quoted the very passage, in which Dr. Johnson had justified, to the father, that fatal sin and folly, which had brought the son to an untimely grave! No. CXLV. Dr. Franklin, in his letter to Mr. Percival, referred to, in my last number, observes, that, "formerly, when duels were used, to determine lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would, in every instance, favor truth and right with victory, they were excusable." Dr. Johnson did not think this species of duel so absurd, as it is commonly supposed to be: "it was only allowed," said he, "when the question was in equilibrio, and they had a notion that Providence would interfere in favor of him, who was in the right." Bos., vol. iv. page 14. The lawfulness of a thing may excuse it: but there are some laws, so very absurd, that one stares at them, in the statute book, as he looks at flies in amber, and marvels "_how the devil they got there_." There was, I am gravely assured, in the city of New Orleans, not very long ago, a practitioner of the healing art, who was called _the Tetotum doctor_--he felt no pulse--he examined no tongue--he asked no questions for conscience' sake, nor for any other--his tetotum was marked with various letters, on its sides--he sat down, in front of the patient, and spun his tetotum--if B. came uppermost, he bled immediately--if P., he gave a purge--if E., an emetic--if C., a clyster, and so on. If there be less wisdom, in this new mode of practice, than in the old wager of Battel, I perceive it not. Both Drs. Franklin and Johnson refer to it, as an _ancient_ practice. It was supposed, doubtless, to have become obsolete, and a dead letter, extinguished by the mere progress of civilization. Much surprise, therefore, was excited, when, at a period, as late as 1818, an attempt was made to revive it, in the case of Ashford _vs._ Thornton, tried before the King's Bench, in April of that year. This was a case of appeal of murder, under the law of England. Thornton had violated, and murdered the sister of Ashford; and, as a last resort, claimed his right to _wager of battel_. The court, after full consideration, felt themselves obliged to admit the claim, under the unrepealed statute of 9, William II., passed A. D. 1096. Ashford, the appellant, and brother of the unfortunate victim, declined to accept the challenge, and the murderer was accordingly discharged. This occurred, in the 58th year of George III., and a statute was passed, in 1819, putting an end to this terrible absurdity. Had the appellant, the brother, accepted this legalized challenge, what a barbarous exhibition would have been presented to the world, at this late day, through the inadvertence of Parliament, in omitting to repeal this preposterous law! In a former number, I quoted a sentiment, attributed, by Boswell, to Dr. Johnson, and which, I suppose, was no deliberate conviction of his, but uttered, in the course of his dinner-table talk, for the gratification of Gen. Oglethorpe, "_Men have agreed to banish from society, a man, who puts up with an affront without fighting a duel_." This is not asserted, as an independent averment, but assumed or taken for granted, as the basis of the argument, such as it was. Is this a fact? Cannot cases innumerable be stated, to prove, that it is not? The words, ascribed to Dr. Johnson, are not confined to any class or profession, but are of universal application. Have men agreed to banish from society every man, who refuses to fight a duel, when summoned to that refreshing amusement? Let us examine a few cases. General Jackson did not lose caste, because he omitted to challenge Randolph, for pulling his nose. Josiah Quincy was not banished from society, for refusing the challenge of a Southern Hotspur. I believe, that Judge Thacher, of Maine, would have been much less respected, had he gone out to be shot, when invited, than he ever has been, for the very sensible answer to his antagonist, that he would talk to Mrs. Thacher about it, and be guided by her opinion. Nobody ever supposed, that Judge Breckenridge suffered, in character or standing, because he told his challenger, that he _wouldn't come_; but, that he might sketch his, the Judge's, figure, on a board, and fire at that, till he was weary, at any distance he pleased; and if he hit it, upon a certificate of the fact, the Judge would agree to it. Had Hamilton refused the challenge of Burr, his _deliberate murderer_, his fame would have remained untarnished--his countrymen would never have forgotten the 14th of October, 1781--the charge of that advanced corps--the fall of Yorktown! On his death-bed, Hamilton expressed his abhorrence of the practice; and solemnly declared, should he survive, never to be engaged in another duel. "_Pendleton knows_," said he, in a dying hour, referring to Burr, and addressing Dr. Hossack, "_that I did not intend to fire at him_." How different from the blood-thirsty purposes of his assassin! In vol. x. of Jeremy Bentham's works, pages 432-3, the reader will find a letter from Dumont to Bentham, in which the Frenchman says, referring to a conversation with Burr, in 1808, four years after the duel--"_His duel with Hamilton was a savage affair_:" and Bentham adds--"_He gave me an account of his duel with Hamilton; he was sure of being able to kill him, so I thought it little better than murder_." In England, _politics_ seem to have given occasion to very many affairs of this nature--the duels of the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun, in 1712, fatal to both--Mr. Martin and Mr. Wilkes, in 1763--the Lords Townshend and Bellamont, in 1773--C. J. Fox and Mr. Adam, in 1779--Capt. Fullerton and Lord Shelburne, in 1780--Lord Macartney and Major General Stuart, in 1786--the Duke of York and Colonel Lenox, in 1789--Mr. Curran and Major Hobart, in 1790--Earl of Lonsdale and Capt. Cuthbert, in 1792--Lord Valentia and Mr. Gawler, in 1796--William Pitt and George Tierney, in 1798--Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Paull, in 1807--Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Canning, in 1809--Mr. O'Connell and Mr. D'Esterre, in 1815--Mr. Grattan and the Earl of Clare, in 1820--Sir A. Boswell and James Stuart, in 1822--Mr. Long Wellesly and Mr. Crespigny, in 1828--the Duke of Wellington and the Earl of Winchelsea, in 1829--Lord Alvanley and Morgan O'Connell, in 1835--Sir Colquhon Grant and Lord Seymour, in 1835--Mr. Roebuck and Mr. Black, in 1835--Mr. Ruthven and Mr. Scott, in 1836--the Earl of Cardigan and Mr. Tuckett, in 1840. Sir J. Barrington says, that, during his grand climacteric, two hundred and twenty-seven duels were fought. In different ages and nations, various preventives have been employed. Killing in a duel, here and in England, is murder, in the surviving principal, and seconds. To add effect to the law, it was proclaimed, by 30, Charles II., 1679, to be _an unpardonable offence_. Disqualification from holding office, and dismissal from the army and navy have, at different times, been held up, in terrorem. In England, eighteen survivors have suffered the penalty, provided against duelling. Major Campbell was hung, in 1808, for having killed Capt. Boyd, in a duel. In 1813, Lieutenant Blundell was killed in a duel at Carisbroke Castle: the survivor and both seconds were tried, and convicted of murder; and, though subsequently pardoned, dismissed the service. "Duels," says Sir George Mackenzie, "are but illustrious murders." Mr. Addison recommends the pillory. The councils of Valentia and Trent excommunicated such combatants; but a man, who has made up his mind to fight a duel, cares little for the church. During the first eighteen years of the reign of Henry IV., four thousand persons were slain, in duels, in France. He published his famous edict of Blois, against duels, in 1602: and, in 1609, added, to the existing penalties, punishment by death, confiscations, fines, and imprisonment, respectively, for all, concerned in fighting or abetting, even as spectators, or as casual passers, who did not interpose. All this, however, was the work of Sully: for this consistent king, at this very time, gave Crequi leave to fight the Duke of Savoy, and even told him, that he would be his second, were he not a king. Duels were so frequent, in the reign of his successor, Louis XIII., that Lord Herbert, who was then ambassador, at the court of France, used to say, there was not a Frenchman, worth looking at, who had not killed his man. "_Who fought yesterday?_" was the mode of inquiring after the news of the morning. The most famous duellist of the age was Montmorenci, Count de Bouttville. He and the Marquis de Beuoron, setting their faces against all authority, and, persisting in this amusement, it was found necessary to take their stubborn heads off. They were tried, convicted, and beheaded. A check was, at length, put to these excesses, by Louis XIV. A particular account of all this will be found in Larrey, _Histoire de France, sons le Régne de Louis XIV._, tom. ii. p. 208. Matters, during the minority of Louis XIV., had come to a terrible pass. The Dukes de Beaufort and Nemours had fought a duel, with four seconds each, and converted it into a _Welch main_, as the cock-fighters term a _meleé_. They fought, five to five, with swords and pistols. Beaufort killed Nemours--the Marquis de Villars killed D'Henricourt, and D'Uzerches killed De Ris. In 1663, another affair took place, four to four. The king finally published his famous edict of 1679. The marshals of France and the nobility entered into a solemn league and covenant, never to fight a duel, on any pretence whatever; and Louis le Grand adhered to his oath, and resolutely refused pardon to every offender. This greatly checked the evil, for a time. Kings will die, and their worthy purposes are not always inherited by their successors; soon after the death of the great monarch, the practice of duelling revived in France. The only radical and permanent preventive, of this equally barbarous, and foolish custom, lies, in the moral and religious education of the people. The infrequency of the practice, in New England, arises entirely from the fact, that the moral and religious training of the community has taught them to look upon a duellist, as an exceedingly unfashionable personage. New Englanders are a calculating race. They _calculate_, that it is infinitely better to mind their business, and die quietly in their beds, than to go out and be shot, by the very fellow, who has not the decency to say he is sorry, for treading on their toes, when he was drunk--and they are a fearful race, for they fear the reprehension of the wise and good, and the commands of God, more than they fear the decisions of a lawless tribunal, where fools sit in judgment, and whose absurd decrees are written on the sand. No. CXLVI. Some nine and thirty years ago, I was in the habit, occasionally, when I had no call, in my line, of strolling over to the Navy Yard, at Charlestown, and spending an evening, in the cabin of a long, dismantled, old hulk, that was lying there. Once in a while, we had a very pleasant dinner party, on board that old craft. That cabin was the head-quarters of my host. It was the cabin of that ill-fated frigate, the Chesapeake. My friend had been one of her deeply mortified officers, when she was surrendered, by James Barron, to the British frigate Leopard, without firing a gun, June 23, 1807. A sore subject this, for my brave, old friend. I well remember to have dined, in that cabin, one fourth of July, with some very pleasant associates--there were ten of us--we were very noisy then--all, but myself, are still enough now--they are all in their graves. I recollect, that, towards the close of the entertainment, some allusion to the old frigate, in which we were assembled, revived the recollection of the day, when those stars and stripes came down. We sat in silence, listening to the narrative of our host, whose feelings were feverishly and painfully excited--"It would have been a thousand times better," said he, "if the old hulk had gone to bottom and every man on board. The country might then, possibly, have been spared the war; for our honor would have been saved, and there would have been less to fight for. Unprepared as we were, for such an attack, at a time of profound peace, we ought to have gone down, like little Mudge, who, while his frigate was sinking, thanked God the Blanche was not destined to wear French colors!" When he paused, and, with the back of his hand, brushed away the tears from his eyes, we were all of his mind, and wished he had been in command, that day, instead of James Barron; for this old friend of mine was a very, very clever fellow--a warmer heart never beat in a braver bosom. There was one thing, however, that I could never break him of, and yet I had some little influence with him, in those days--I mean the _habit_ of fighting duels. He would not harm a fly, but he would shoot a man, in an honorable way, at the shortest notice, and the shortest distance. He fought a duel, on one occasion, when, being challenged, and having the choice of distance, he insisted on three paces, saying he was so near-sighted, he could not hit a barn door, at ten. He was apt to be, not affectedly, but naturally, jocular, on such occasions. Another old friend of mine, in by-gone days, the elder son of the late Governor Brooks, was second, in one of these duels, to the friend, of whom I am speaking. Major Brooks had, occasionally, indulged himself, in the publication of poetical effusions. When the parties and their seconds came upon the ground, he found, that he had brought no leather, to envelop the ball, as usual, in loading; and, drawing a newspaper from his pocket, tore off the corner, on which some verses were printed: at this moment, his principal drawing near, said, in an under tone, "_I hope that isn't one of your fugitive pieces, Alek_." Though our lines were, of late years, cast far apart, I always rejoiced in his good fortune. After having occupied a very elevated position, for some time, in the naval department, he fell--poor fellow--not in a duel--but in a moment, doubtless, of temporary, mental derangement, by his own hand. The news of my old friend's death reached me, just before dinner--I postponed it till the next day--went home--sat alone--and had that old dinner, in the cabin of the Chesapeake, warmed over, upon the coals of the imagination, and seated around me every guest, who was there that day, just as fresh, as if he had never been buried. James Barron was an unlucky dog, to say the least of it. Striking the stars and stripes, without firing a gun, was enough for one life. For this he was tried, found guilty, and suspended from duty, for five years, from Feb. 8, 1808, and deprived of his pay. He went abroad; and, during his absence, war was declared, which continued about two years, after the termination of his suspension. He returned, at last, and sought employment; Decatur officially opposed his claims; and thereupon he challenged, and killed Decatur, the pride of the American navy; and, after this, he received employment from the government. The services of James Barron are not likely to be undervalued. Decatur's offence consisted, in his declaration of opinion, that Barron did not return to the service of his country, as in duty bound. The duel took place March 22, 1820. After this, Barron demanded a Court of Inquiry, to settle this point. The Court consisted of Commodores Stewart and Morris and Captain Evans, and convened May 10, 1821, and the conclusion of the sentence is this--"It is therefore the opinion of the court, that his (Barron's) absence from the United States, without the permission of the government, was contrary to his duty, as an officer, in the navy of the United States." Here then was another silly and senseless duel. Mr. Allen, in his Biographical Dictionary remarks--"The correspondence issued in a challenge from Barron, though he considered duelling '_a barbarous practice, which ought to be exploded from civilized society_.' And the challenge was accepted by Decatur, though he '_had long since discovered, that fighting duels is not even an unerring criterion of personal courage_.'" They fired at the same instant; Barron fell immediately, wounded in the hip, where Decatur had mercifully declared his intention to wound him; Decatur stood erect, for a moment--put his hand to his right side--and fell, mortally wounded. He was raised, and supported, a few steps, and sunk down, exhausted, near Barron. Captain Mackenzie, in his Life of Decatur, page 322, gives his opinion, that this duel could have been gracefully prevented, on the ground; and such will be the judgment, doubtless, of posterity. Capt. Jesse D. Elliot was the second of Barron--Com. Bainbridge of Decatur. After they had taken their stands, Barron said to Decatur, that he hoped, "_on meeting, in another world, they would be better friends, than they had been in this_." To this Decatur replied, "_I have never been your enemy, sir_." "Why," says Captain Mackenzie, "could not this aspiration for peace, between them, in the next world, on one part, and this comprehensive disclaimer of all enmity, on the other, have been seized by the friends, for the purposes of reconciliation?" A pertinent question truly--but of very ready solution. These seconds, like most others, acted, like military undertakers; their office consists, as they seem to suppose, in seeing the bodies duly cared for; and all consideration for the chief mourners, and such the very principals often are, is out of the question. With all his excellent qualities, Commodore Bainbridge, as every one, who knew him well, will readily admit, was not possessed of that happy mixture of qualities, to avail of this pacific _prestige_. It was an overture--such Barron afterwards avowed it to have been. On the 10th of October, 1818, Decatur had been the second of Com. Perry, in his duel with Captain Heath, which was terminated, after the first fire, by Decatur's declaration, that Com. Perry had avowed his purpose, not to fire at Capt Heath. Had Perry lived, and been at hand, it is highly probable, that Decatur would not have fallen, for Perry would, doubtless, have been his second, and readily availed of the expressions of the parties, on the ground. Had Charles Morris, whose gallantry and discretion have mingled into a proverb--had he been the second of his old commander, by whose side, he stood, on the Philadelphia's deck, in that night of peril, February, 1804, who can doubt, the pacific issue of this most miserable adventure! Seconds, too frequently, are themselves the instigators and supporters of these combats. True or false, the tale is a fair one, of two friends, who had disputed over their cups; and, by the exciting expressions of some common acquaintances, were urged into a duel. They met early the next morning--the influence of the liquor had departed--the seconds loaded the pistols, and placed their principals--but, before the word was given, one of them, rubbing his eyes, and looking about him, exclaims--"there is some mistake, there can be no enmity between us two, my old friend; these fellows, who have brought us here, upon this foolish errand, are our enemies, let us fire at them." The proposition was highly relished, by the other party, and the seconds took to their heels. Well: we left Decatur and Barron, lying side by side, and weltering in their blood. The strife was past, and they came to a sort of friendly understanding. Barron, supposing his wound to be fatal, said all things had been conducted honorably, and that he forgave Decatur, from the bottom of his heart. Mackenzie, in a note, on page 325, refers to a conversation between them, as they lay upon the ground, until the means of transportation arrived. He does not give the details, but says they would be "creditable to the parties, and soothing to the feelings of the humane." I understood, at the time, from a naval officer of high rank, and have heard it often, repeated, that Decatur said, "Barron, why didn't you come home and fight your country's battles?" that Barron replied, "I was too poor to pay my debts, and couldn't get away,"--and that Decatur rejoined, "If I had known that, we should not be lying here." Strip this matter of its honorable epidermis, and there is something quite ridiculous in the idea of doing such an unpleasant thing, and all for nothing! These changes, from hostility to amity, are often extremely sudden. I have read, that Rapin, the historian, when young, fought a duel, late in the evening, with small swords. His sword broke near the hilt--he did not perceive it, and continued to fence with the hilt alone. His antagonist paused and gave him notice; and, like the two girls, in the Antijacobin, they flew into each other's arms, and "swore perpetual amity." No. CXLVII. M. De Vassor wrote with a faulty pen, when he asserted, in his history, that the only good thing Louis XIV. did, in his long reign of fifty-six years, consisted in his vigorous attempts, to suppress the practice of duelling. Cardinal Richelieu admits, however, in his _Political Testament_, that his own previous efforts had been ineffectual, although he caused Messieurs de Chappelle and Bouteville to be executed, for the crime, in disregard of the earnest importunities of their numerous and powerful friends. No public man ever did more, for the suppression of the practice, than Lord Bacon, while he was attorney general. His celebrated charge, upon an information in the star chamber, against Priest & Wright, vol. iv. page 399, Lond. 1824, was ordered to be printed, by the Lords of Council; and was vastly learned and powerful, in its way. It is rather amusing, upon looking at the decree, which followed, dated Jan. 26, 2 James I., to see how such matters were then managed; the information, against Priest, was, "_for writing and sending a letter of challenge together with a stick, which should be the length of the weapon_." Such measures are surely well enough, as far as they go; but can be of no lasting influence, unless certain processes are simultaneously carried on, to meliorate the moral tone, in society. Without the continual employment of moral and religious alteratives--laws, homilies, charges, decrees, ridicule, menances of disinherison here, and damnation hereafter will be of very little use. They are outward applications--temporary repellants, which serve no other purpose, than to drive back the distemper, for a brief space, but reach not the seat of the disorder. As was stated, in a former number, nothing will put an end to this practice, but indoctrination--the mild, antiphlogistic system of the Gospel. Wherever its gentle spirit prevails, combined with intellectual and moral culture, there will be no duels. Temperance forms, necessarily, an important part of that antiphlogistic system--for a careful examination will show, that, in a very great number of cases, duels have originated over the table--we import them, corked up in bottles, which turn out, now and then, to be vials of wrath. One of the most ferocious duels, upon record, is that, between Lord Bruce and Sir Edward Sackville, of which the survivor, Sir Edward, wrote an account from Louvain, Sept. 8, 1613. These fellows appear to have been royal tigers, untameable even by Herr Driesbach. This brutal and bloody fight took place, at Bergen op Zoom, near Antwerp. The _cause_ of this terrible duel has never been fully ascertained, but the _manner and instrument_, by which these blood-thirsty gentlemen were put in the ablative, are indicated in the letter--they fought with _rapiers and in their shirts_. I have neither room nor taste for the details: by the curious in such matters, some account may be gathered, in Collins's Peerage, which refers to the correspondence, preserved in manuscript, in Queen's College library, Oxford. These, with Sir Edward's letter, may be found in Wood's Athenæ Oxonienses also, vol. iii. page 314, Lond. 1817. Wood says--"_he (Sackville) entered into a fatal quarrel, upon a subject very unwarrantable, with a young Scottish nobleman, the Lord Bruce_." Sackville was afterward Earl of Dorset. A more accessible authority, for the reader, probably, is the Guardian, vol. iii. No. 133, though the former is more full, and taken from the original manuscript, in the Ashmole Museum, with the ancient spelling. The duel, with swords, between the Lords Mohun and Hamilton, in Hyde Park, Nov. 15, 1712, was nearly as brutal. Both were killed. Richard Brinsley Sheridan's duel with Matthews--the second I mean, for they had two duels--was a very doglike thing indeed. They fought, first, with pistols, and, not killing each other, as speedily as they wished, resorted to their swords. They cut and pricked each other, at a terrible rate; and, losing all patience and temper, closed, rough and tumble, went heels over head, rolled, and puffed, and tussled, in the dust and dirt, till, at last, they were literally pulled apart, like two dogs, by their tails, and a part of Matthews' sword was found sticking in Sheridan's ear. Gentlemanly satisfaction this! It has sometimes occurred, that advantages, unduly taken, on the ground, such as firing out of order, for example, have converted the killing into murder, in the eyes even of the seconds, which it ever is, at all such meetings, in the eye of the law. Such was the case in the duels, between M'Keon and Reynolds, Jan. 31, 1788, and between Campbell and Boyd, June 23, 1808. Doubtless, there are men of wonderfully well balanced minds, who go about their business, with great apparent composure, after they have killed their antagonists in duels. Now and then, there is one, who takes things more gravely--_nervously_, perhaps. Poor fellow, he feels rather unpleasantly, when he chances to go by the husbandless mansion--or passes that woman, whom he has made a widow--or sees, hand in hand, those little children, in their sober garments, whom the accursed cunning of his red, right hand has rendered orphans! Such feeble spirits there are--the heart of a duellist should be made of sterner stuff. June 8, 1807, Mr. Colclough was killed in a duel, by Mr. Alcock, who immediately lost his reason, and was carried from the ground to the madhouse. Some years ago, I visited the Lunatic Hospital in Philadelphia; and there saw, among its inmates, a well known gentleman, who had killed _his friend_, in a duel. He had referred, while conversing, to his hair, which had grown very gray, since I last saw him. A bystander said, in a mild way--gray hairs are honorable--"_Aye_," he replied, "_honor made my hairs gray_." I know, very well, that the common, lawless duel is supposed, by many persons, to have sprung from the old _wager of battel_, defined, by Fleta, in his law Latin, _singularis pugnus inter duos ad probandum litem, et qui vicit probasse intelligitur_. The first time we hear of the _wager of Battel_, as a written judicial rule, is A. D. 501, in the reign of Gundibald, king of Burgundy; and it was in use, among the Germans, Danes, and Franks. The practice or usage was common, however, to all the Celtic nations. It came into England, with William the Conqueror. It happens, however, that men have ever been disposed to settle their disputes, by fighting about them, since the world began. If the classical reader will open his Velleius Paterculus, lib. ii., and read the first sentence of section 118, he will see, that, when Quintilius Varus endeavored to persuade the rude Germans, to adopt the laws and usages of Rome, in the adjustment of their disputes, between man and man, they laughed at his simplicity, and told him they had a summary mode of settling these matters, among themselves, by the arm of flesh. This occurred, shortly after the birth of Christ, or about 500 years _before_ the time of Gundibald. Instead of attempting to trace the origin of modern duelling to the legalized _wager of battel_, we may as well look for its moving cause, in the heart of man. Duels are of very ancient origin. Abel was a noncombatant. Had it been otherwise, the affair, between him and Cain, would have been the first affair of honor; and his death would not have been _murder_, but _killing in a duel_! One thousand and fifty-eight years, according to the chronology of Calmet, before the birth of Christ, the very first duel was fought, near a place called _Shochoh_, which certainly sounds as roughly, on the ear, as _Hoboken_. There seems not to have been, upon that occasion, any of the ceremony, practised, now-a-days--there were no regular seconds--no surgeons--no marking off the ground--and each party had the right, to use whatever weapons he pleased. Two armies were drawn up, in the face of each other. A man, of unusually large proportions, stepped between them, and proposed an adjustment of their national differences, by single combat, and challenged any man of his opponents, to fight a duel with him. He was certainly a fine looking fellow, and armed to the teeth. He came, without any second or friend, to adjust the preliminaries; and no one was with him, but an armor bearer, who carried his shield. The audacity of this unexpected challenge, and the tremendous limbs of the challenger, for a time, produced a sort of panic, in the opposite army--no man seemed inclined to break a spear with the tall champion. At last, after he had strutted up and down, for some time, there came along a smart little fellow, a sort of cowboy or sheep-herd, who was sent to the army by his father, with some provisions, for his three brothers, who had enlisted, and a few fine cheeses, for the colonel of their regiment, the father thinking, very naturally, doubtless, that a present of this kind might pave the way for their promotion. The old gentleman's name was Jesse--an ancestor, doubtless, of John Heneage Jesse, whose memoirs of George Selwyn we have all read, with so much pleasure. The young fellow arrived with his cheeses, at the very time, when this huge braggart was going about, strutting and defying. Hearing, that the King had offered his daughter in marriage, with a handsome dowry, to any one, who would kill this great bugbear out of the way, this stripling offered to do it. When he was brought into the royal presence, the King, struck by his youth and slender figure, told him, without ceremony, that the proposition was perfect nonsense, and that he would certainly get his brains knocked out, by such a terrible fellow. But the young man seemed nothing daunted, and respectfully informed his majesty, that, upon one occasion, he had had an affair with a lion, and, upon another, with a bear, and that he had taken the lion by the beard, and slain him. The King finally consented, and proceeded to put armor on the boy, who told his majesty, that he was very much obliged to him, but had much rather go without it. The challenge was duly accepted. But, when they came together, on the ground, all the modern notions of etiquette appear to have been set entirely at defiance. Contrary to all the rules of propriety, the principals commenced an angry conversation. When the challenger first saw the little fellow, coming towards him, with a stick and a sling, he really supposed they were hoaxing him. He felt somewhat, perhaps, like Mr. Crofts, when he was challenged, in 1664, by Humphrey Judson, the dwarf; who, nevertheless, killed him, at the first fire. When the youngster marched up to him, the challenger was very indignant, and asked if he took him for a dog, that he came out to him, with a stick; and, in a very ungentlemanly way, hinted something about making mince meat of his little antagonist, for the crows. The little fellow was not to be outdone, in this preparatory skirmish of words; for he threatened to take off the giant's head in a jiffy, and told him the ravens should have an alderman's meal, upon his carcass. Such bandying of rough words is entirely out of order, on such occasions. At it they went; and, at the very first fire, down came the bully upon his face, struck, upon the frontal sinus, with a smooth stone from a sling. The youngster, I am sorry to say, contrary to all the rules of duelling, ran up to him, after he was down, and chopped off his head, with his own sword; for, as I have already stated, there were no seconds, and there was no surgeon at hand, to attend to the mutilated gentleman, after he was satisfied. The survivor, who seems to have been the founder of his own fortune--_novus homo_--became eminently distinguished for his fine poetical talents, and composed a volume of lyrics, which have passed through innumerable editions. The one hundred and forty-fourth of the series is supposed, by the critics, to have been commemorative of this very affair of honor--_Blessed be the Lord, my strength, who teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight_. No. CXLVIII. The duel, between David and Goliath, bears a striking resemblance to that, between Titus Manlius and the Gaul, so finely described, by Livy, lib. vii. cap. 10. In both cases, the circumstances, at the commencement, were precisely alike. The armies of the Hernici and of the Romans were drawn up, on the opposite banks of the Anio--those of the Israelites and of the Philistines, on two mountains, on the opposite sides of the valley of Elah. "Tum eximia corporis magnitudine in vacuum pontem Gallus processit, et quantum maxima voce potuit, _quem nunc_ inquit _Roma virum fortissimum habet, procedat, agedum, ad pugnam, ut noster duorum eventus ostendat, utra gens bello sit melior_." Then, a Gaul of enormous size, came down upon the unoccupied bridge, and cried out, as loud as he could, let the bravest of the Romans come forth--let him come on--and let the issue of our single combat decide, which nation is superior in war.--And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. * * * * And he stood, and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them, why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine, and ye servants of Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to fight with me and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve us. The next point, is the effect upon the two armies: "Diu inter primores juvenum Romanorum silentium fuit, quum et abnuere certamen vererentur, et præcipuam sortem periculi petere nollent." There was a long silence, upon this, among the chiefs of the young Romans; for, while they were afraid to refuse the challenge, they were reluctant to encounter this peculiar kind of peril.--When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid. After Titus Manlius had accepted the challenge, he seems desirous of giving his commander a proof of his confidence in himself, and the reasons, or grounds, of that confidence: "Si tu permittis, volo ego illi belluæ ostendere, quando adeo ferox præsultat hostium signis, me ex ea familia ortum, quæ Gallorum agmen ex rupe Tarpeia dejecit." If you will permit me, I will show this brute, after he has vaunted a little longer, in this braggart style, before the banners of the enemy, that I am sprung from the family, that hurled the whole host of Gauls from the Tarpeian rock.--And David said to Saul, let no man's heart fail because of him, thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine. * * * * Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock. And I went out after him, and delivered it out of his mouth; and when he arose against me, I caught him, by his beard, and smote him and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear, and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them. The difference in their port and appearance may also be considered. "Nequaquam visu ac specie æstimantibus pares. Corpus alteri magnitudine eximium, versicolori veste, pictisque et auro cælatis refulgens armis; media in altero militaris statura, modicaque in armis habilibus magis quam decoris species." In size and appearance, there was no resemblance. The frame of the Gaul was enormous. He wore a vest whose color was changeable, and his refulgent arms were highly ornamented and studded with gold. The Roman was of middle military stature, and his simple weapons were calculated for service and not for show. Of Goliath we read--He had a helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail. * * * And he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his shoulders, and the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and David took his staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip, and his sling was in his hand. The General's consent is given to Titus Manlius, in these words--"Perge et nomen Romanum invictum, juvantibus diis, præsta." Go, and have a care, the gods assisting thee, that the Roman name remains unconquered. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the Lord be with thee. The Philistine and the Gaul were both speedily killed, and here the parallel ends; for David hewed off the Philistine's head. The Roman was more generous than the child of Israel--"Jacentis inde corpus, ab omni alia vexatione intactum, uno torque spoliavit; quem, respersum cruore, collo circumdedit suo." He despoiled the body of his fallen foe, in no otherwise insulted, of a chain, which, bloody, as it was, he placed around his own neck. I cannot turn from this gallant story, without remarking, that this Titus Manlius must have been a terrible wag: Livy says, that his young companions having prepared him for the duel--"armatum adornatumque adversus Gallum stolide lætum, et (quoniam id quoque memoria dignum antiquis visum est) linguam, etiam ab irrisu exscrentem, producunt"--they brought him forward, armed and prepared for his conflict with the Gaul, childishly delighted, and (since the ancients have thought it worth repeating) waggishly thrusting his tongue out of his mouth, in derision of his antagonist. Doubtless, the challenge of Charles V. by Francis I., in which affair, Charles, in the opinion of some folks, showed a little, if the cant phrase be allowable, of the white feather, gave an impetus to the practice of duelling. Doubtless, the _wager of battel_ supplied something of the form and ceremony, the use of seconds, and measuring the lists, the signal of onset, &c. of modern duels: but the principle was in the bosom of Adam, and the practice is of the highest antiquity. Woman, in some way or other, has been, very often, at the bottom of these duels. Helen, as the chief occasion of the Trojan war, was, of course, the cause of Hector's duel with Ajax, which duel, as the reader will see, by turning to his Iliad, lib. viii. v. 279, was stopped, by the police, at the very moment, when both gentlemen, having thrown their lances aside, were drawing their long knives. Lavinia set Turnus and Æneas by the cars. Turnus challenged him twice. Upon the first occasion, Æneas was unwell; but, upon the second, they had a meeting, and he killed his man. David would not have accepted Goliath's challenge, had not his heart been set upon Saul's daughter, _and the shekels_. I find nothing of this, in the commentators; but the reader may find it, in the Book of Nature, _passim_. For one so young, David practised, with all the wariness of an old bachelor. When he first arrived in camp, some one asked him, if he had seen Goliath, and added, _and it shall be that the man who killeth him the King will enrich him with great riches, and will give him his daughter_. David had no idea of going upon a fool's errand; and, to make matters sure, he turned to those about him, and inquired, clearly for confirmation, _what shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine?_ And they repeated what he had heard before. David was a discreet youth, for one of his time, the titman, as he was, of Jesse's eight children--and, to avoid all chance of mistake, he walks off to another person, near at hand, and repeats his inquiry, and receives a similar answer. Sam. I. xvii. 30. A wide difference there is, between the motives of Titus Manlius, in accepting the challenge of the Gaul, and those of David, in accepting that of the Philistine--the love of country and of glory in the first--in the last, the desire of possessing Saul's daughter _and the shekels_. Duels have been occasioned, by other Helens than her of Troy. A pleasant tale is told, by Valvasor, in his work, _La Gloire de Duche de Carniole_, Liv. ii. p. 634--of Andrew Eberhard Rauber, a German Knight, and Lord of the fortress of Petronel. Maximilian II., Emperor of Germany, had a natural daughter, Helen Scharseginn, of exquisite beauty, who had a brace of gallant admirers, of whom Rauber was one--the other was a Spanish gentleman, of high rank. Both were at the court of Maximilian, and in such high favor, that the Emperor was extremely unwilling to disoblige either. Upon the lifting of a finger, these gallants were ready to fight a score of duels, for the lady's favor, in the most approved fashion of the day. To this the Emperor was decidedly opposed; and, had they resorted to such extremities, neither would have taken anything, by his motion. The Emperor secretly preferred the German alliance, but was unwilling to offend the Spaniard. He was young and of larger proportions, than his German rival; but Rauber's prodigious strength had become a proverb, through the land. He had the power of breaking horse-shoes with his thumbs and fingers; and, upon one occasion, at Gratz, in the presence of the Archduke Charles, according to Valvasor's account, he seized an insolent Jew, by his long beard, and actually pulled his jaw off. He was a terrible antagonist, of course. Maximilian, heartily wearied with their incessant strife and importunity, finally consented, that the question should be settled, by a duel, in presence of the whole court. The hour was appointed, and the parties duly notified. The terms of the conflict were to be announced, by the Emperor. The day arrived. The Lords and Ladies of the Court were assembled, to witness the combat; and the rivals presented themselves, with their weapons, prepared to struggle manfully, for life and love. The Emperor commanded the combatants to lay their rapiers aside, and each was presented with a large bag or sack; and they were told, that whichever should succeed, in putting the other into the sack, should be entitled to the hand of the fair Helen Scharseginn. Though, doubtless, greatly surprised, by this extraordinary announcement, there appeared to be no alternative, and at it they went. After a protracted struggle, amid shouts of laughter from the spectators, Rauber, Lord of the fortress of Petronel, obtained the victory, bagged his bird, and encased the haughty Spaniard in the sack, who, shortly after, departed from the court of Maximilian. Would to God, that all duels were as harmless, in their consequences. It is not precisely so. When the gentleman, that does the murder, and the two or more gentlemen, who aid and abet, have finished their handiwork, the end is not yet--mother, wife, sisters, brothers, children are involuntary parties--the iron, or the lead, which pierced that selfish heart, must enter their very souls. Where these encounters have proved fatal, the survivors, as I have stated, have, occasionally, gone mad. It is not very common, to be sure, for duels to produce such melancholy consequences, as those, which occurred, after that, between Cameron and McLean, in 1722. McLean was killed. Upon receiving the intelligence, his aged mother lost her reason, and closed her days in a mad-house. The lady, to whom he was betrothed, expired in convulsions, upon the third day, after the event--_n'importe!_ No. CXLIX. It is quite unpleasant, after having diligently read a volume of memoirs, or voyages, or travels, and carefully transferred a goodly number of interesting items to one's common-place book--to discover, that the work, _ab ovo usque ad mala_, is an ingenious tissue of deliberate lies. It is no slight aggravation of this species of affliction, to reflect, that one has highly commended the work, to some of his acquaintances, who are no way remarkable, for their bowels of compassion, and whose intelligible smile he is certain to encounter, when they first meet again, after the _éclaircissement_. There is very little of the _hæc olim meminisse juvabit_, in store, for those, who have been thus misled. If there had been, absolutely, no foundation for the story, in the credulity of certain members of the Royal Society, Butler would not, probably, have produced his pleasant account of "_the elephant in the moon_." There were some very grave gentlemen, of lawful age, who were inclined to receive, for sober truth, that incomparable hoax, of which Sir John Herschell was represented, as the hero. Damberger's travels, in Africa, and his personal adventures there gave me great pleasure, when I was a boy; and I remember to have felt excessively indignant, when I discovered, that the work was written, in a garret, in the city of Amsterdam, by a fellow who had never quitted Europe. I never derived much pleasure or instruction, from Wraxall's memoirs of the Kings of France of the race of Valois, nor from his tour through the Southern Provinces, published in 1777. But his Historical memoirs of his own time, prepared, somewhat after the manner of De Thou, and Bishop Burnet, and extending from 1772 to 1784, I well remember to have read, with very considerable pleasure, in 1816; and was pained to find them cut up, however unmercifully, with so much irresistible justice, in the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, and the British Critic. Mr. Wraxall made matters immeasurably worse, by his defence. There could be no adequate defence, for a man, who had asserted, that Lord Dorset told him an anecdote, touching an event, _which event did not happen, till Lord Dorset was dead_. A single instance of this kind, in a writer of common accuracy, might be carried, in charity, to the debit of chance, or forgetfulness; but the catalogue, presented by the reviewers, is truly overpowering. To close the account, Sir N. W. Wraxall was, in May, 1816, convicted of a libel, in these very memoirs, upon Count Woronzow, the Russian minister; and Mr. Wraxall was imprisoned in Newgate, for that offence. After this disqualification of my witness, I am, nevertheless, about to vouch in Mr. Wraxall, by reciting one of his stories, in illustration of a principle. I quote from memory--I have not the work--the reviewers prevented me from buying it. June 16, 1743, the battle of Dettingen was fought, and won, by George II. in person, and the Earl of Stair, against the Marechal de Noailles and the Duke de Grammont. Mr. Wraxall relates--_me memoria mea non fallente_--the following incident. After the battle, the Earl gave a dinner, at his quarters; and, among the guests, were several of the French prisoners of war. Of course, the Earl of Stair presided, at one end of the table--at the other sat a gentleman, of very common-place appearance, of small stature, thin and pale, evidently an invalid, and who, unless addressed, scarcely opened his lips, during the entertainment. This unobtrusive, and rather unprepossessing, young man was the Lord Mark Kerr, the nephew, and the aid-de-camp of the Earl. After the removal of the cloth, the gentlemen discussed the subject of the battle, and the manoeuvres, by which the victory had been achieved. A difference of opinion arose, between the Earl and one of the French Colonels, as to the time of a particular movement. The latter became highly excited, and very confident he was right. The Earl referred to Lord Mark Kerr, whose position, at the time of that movement, rendered his decision conclusive. Lord Mark politely assured the French Colonel, that he was mistaken; upon which the Frenchman instantly insulted him, without saying a word, but in that felicitous manner, which enables a Frenchman to convey an insult, even by his mode of taking snuff. Soon after, the party broke up, and the Earl of Stair was left alone. In about half an hour, Lord Mark Kerr returned, and found his uncle very much disturbed. "Nephew," said he, "you know my strong dislike of duelling. In our situation we are sometimes, perhaps, unable to avoid it. The French Colonel insulted you, at table; others noticed it, besides myself. I fear, my dear nephew, you will have to ask him to apologize." "I noticed it myself, my Lord," replied the Lord Mark; "you need have no trouble, on that account--we have already met--I ran him through the body; and they are now burying him, in the outer court." Duels are often produced, by a foolish, and fatal misestimate, which one man makes of another's temperament. The diminutive frame, the pale cheek, and small voice, modest carriage, youth, and inexperience, afford no certain indicia: _nimium ne crede colori_. Men of small stature, are sometimes the more _brusque_, and more on the _qui vive_, from this very circumstance. Ingentes animos angusto in pectore volvunt. That a man will not fight, like a dragon, simply because he has neither the stature of Falstaff, nor the lungs of Bottom, is a well authenticated _non sequitur_. A well told, and well substantiated illustration of all this, may be found, in Mackenzie's Life of Decatur, page 55. I refer to the case of Joseph Bainbridge, who, in 1803, when a midshipman, and an inexperienced boy, was purposely and wantonly insulted, at Malta, by a professed duellist, the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor. No one can read Mackenzie's Narrative, without a conviction, that Bainbridge owed the preservation of his life, to the address of Decatur. They met--fired twice, at four paces; and, at the second fire, the English duellist fell, mortally wounded in the head: Bainbridge was untouched. When I was a school boy, more than fifty years ago, I remember to have read, in an English journal, whose name I have now forgotten, a story, which may have been a fiction; but which was very naturally told, and made a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavor to draw it forth from the locker of my memory; and engage, beforehand, to be very much indebted to any one, who will indicate its original source. Three young gentlemen, who had finished the most substantial part of their repast, were lingering over their fruit and wine, at an eating-house, in London; when a man, of middle age, and middle stature, entered the public room, where they were sitting; seated himself, at one end of a small, unoccupied table; and, calling the waiter, ordered a simple mutton chop, and a glass of ale. His appearance, at first view, was not likely to arrest the attention of any one. His hair was getting to be thin and gray; the expression of his countenance was sedate, with a slight touch, perhaps, of melancholy; and he wore a gray surtout, with a standing collar, which, manifestly, had seen service, if the wearer had not--just such a thing, as an officer would bestow upon his serving man. He might be taken for a country magistrate, or an attorney, of limited practice, or a schoolmaster. He continued to masticate his chop, and sip his ale, in silence, without lifting his eyes from the table, until a melon seed, sportively snapped, from between the thumb and finger of one of the gentlemen, at the opposite table, struck him upon the right ear. His eye was instantly upon the aggressor; and his ready intelligence gathered, from the illy suppressed merriment of the party, that this petty impertinence was intentional. The stranger stooped, and picked up the melon seed, and a scarcely perceptible smile passed over his features, as he carefully wrapped up the seed, in a piece of paper, and placed it in his pocket. This singular procedure, with their preconceived impressions of their customer, somewhat elevated, as they were, by the wine they had partaken, capsized their gravity entirely, and a burst of irresistible laughter proceeded from the group. Unmoved by this rudeness, the stranger continued to finish his frugal repast, in quiet, until another melon seed, from the same hand, struck him, upon the right elbow. This also, to the infinite amusement of the other party, he picked from the floor, and carefully deposited with the first. Amidst shouts of laughter, a third melon seed was, soon after, discharged, which hit him, upon the left breast. This also he, very deliberately took from the floor, and deposited with the other two. As he rose, and was engaged in paying for his repast, the gayety of these sporting gentlemen became slightly subdued. It was not easy to account for this. Lavater would not have been able to detect the slightest evidence of irritation or resentment, upon the features of the stranger. He seemed a little taller, to be sure, and the carriage of his head might have appeared to them rather more erect. He walked to the table, at which they were sitting, and with that air of dignified calmness, which is a thousand times more terrible than wrath, drew a card from his pocket, and presented it, with perfect civility, to the offender, who could do no less than offer his own, in return. While the stranger unclosed his surtout, to take the card from his pocket, they had a glance at the undress coat of a military man. The card disclosed his rank, and a brief inquiry at the bar was sufficient for the rest. He was a captain, whom ill health and long service had entitled to half pay. In earlier life he had been engaged in several affairs of honor, and, in the dialect of the fancy, was a dead shot. The next morning a note arrived at the aggressor's residence, containing a challenge, in form, and one only of the melon seeds. The truth then flashed before the challenged party--it was the challenger's intention to make three bites at this cherry, three separate affairs out of this unwarrantable frolic! The challenge was accepted, and the challenged party, in deference to the challenger's reputed skill with the pistol, had half decided upon the small sword; but his friends, who were on the alert, soon discovered, that the captain, who had risen by his merit, had, in the earlier days of his necessity, gained his bread, as an accomplished instructor, in the use of that very weapon. They met and fired, alternately, by lot; the young man had elected this mode, thinking he might win the first fire--he did--fired, and missed his opponent. The captain levelled his pistol and fired--the ball passed through the flap of the right ear, and grazed the bone; and, as the wounded man involuntarily put his hand to the place, he remembered that it was on the right ear of his antagonist, that the first melon seed had fallen. Here ended the first lesson. A month had passed. His friends cherished the hope, that he would hear nothing more from the captain, when another note--a challenge of course--and another of those accursed melon seeds arrived, with the captain's apology, on the score of ill-health, for not sending it before. Again they met--fired simultaneously, and the captain, who was unhurt, shattered the right elbow of his antagonist--the very point upon which he had been struck by the second melon seed: and here ended the second lesson. There was something awfully impressive, in the _modus operandi_, and exquisite skill of this antagonist. The third melon seed was still in his possession, and the aggressor had not forgotten, that it had struck the unoffending gentleman, upon the left breast! A month had past--another--and another, of terrible suspense; but nothing was heard from the captain. Intelligence had been received, that he was confined to his lodgings, by illness. At length, the gentleman who had been his second, in the former duels, once more presented himself, and tendered another note, which, as the recipient perceived, on taking it, contained the last of the melon seeds. The note was superscribed in the captain's well known hand, but it was the writing evidently of one, who wrote _deficiente manu_. There was an unusual solemnity also, in the manner of him, who delivered it. The seal was broken, and there was the melon seed, in a blank envelope--"And what, sir, am I to understand by this?"--"You will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you--he is dead." No. CL. A curious story of vicarious hanging is referred to, by several of the earlier historians, of New England. The readers of Hudibras will remember the following passage, Part ii. 407-- "Justice gives sentence, many times, On one man for another's crimes. Our brethren of New England use Choice malefactors to excuse, And hang the guiltless in their stead, Of whom the churches have less need: As lately 't happen'd:--in a town There liv'd a cobbler, and but one, That out of doctrine could cut use, And mend men's lives, as well as shoes. This precious brother having slain, In times of peace, an Indian, Not out of malice, but mere zeal, Because he was an infidel; The mighty Tottipottymoy Sent to our ciders an envoy; Complaining sorely of the breach Of league, held forth by brother Patch, Against the articles in force Between both churches, his and ours, For which he crav'd the saints to render Into his hands, or hang th' offender: But they, maturely having weigh'd They had no more but him o' the trade, A man that served them, in a double Capacity, to teach and cobble, Resolved to spare him; yet to do The Indian Hoghan Moghan too Impartial Justice, in his stead did Hang an old weaver, that was bedrid." This is not altogether the sheer _poetica licentia_, that common readers may suppose it to be. Hubbard, Mass. Hist. Coll. xv. 77, gives the following version, after having spoken of the theft--"the company, as some report pretended, in way of satisfaction, to punish him, that did the theft, but in his stead, hanged a poor, decrepit, old man, that was unserviceable to the company, and burthensome to keep alive, which was the ground of the story, with which the merry gentleman, that wrote the poem, called Hudibras, did, in his poetical fancy, make so much sport. Yet the inhabitants of Plymouth tell the story much otherwise, as if the person hanged was really guilty of stealing, as may be were many of the rest, and if they were driven by necessity to content the Indians, at that time to do justice, there were some of Mr. Weston's company living, it is possible it might be executed not on him that most deserved, but on him that could be best spared, or was not likely to live long, if let alone." Morton published his English Canaan, in 1637, and relates the story Part iii. ch. iv. p. 108, but he states, that it was a proposal only, which was very well received, but being opposed by one person, "they hanged up the real offender." As the condemned draw nigh unto death--the scaffold--the gibbet--it would be natural to suppose, that every avenue to the heart would be effectually closed, against the entrance of all impressions, but those of terrible solemnity; yet no common truth is more clearly established, than that ill-timed levity, vanity, pride, and an almost inexplicable pleasure, arising from a consciousness of being the observed of all observers, have been exhibited, by men, on their way to the scaffold, and even with the halter about their necks. The story is well worn out, of the wretched man, who, observing the crowd eagerly rushing before him, on his way to the gallows, exclaimed, "gentlemen, why so fast--there can be no sport, till I come!" In Jesse's memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 345, it is stated, that John Wisket, who committed a most atrocious burglary, in 1763, the evidence of which was perfectly clear and conclusive, insisted upon wearing a large white cockade, on the scaffold, as a token of his innocence, and was swung off, bearing that significant appendage. In the same volume, page 117, it is said of the famous Lord Lovat, that, in Scotland, a story is current, that, when upon his way to the Tower, after his condemnation, an old woman thrust her head into the window of the coach, which conveyed him, and exclaimed--"_You old rascal, I begin to think you will be hung at last_." To which he instantly replied--"_You old b----h, I begin to think I shall_." In Walpole's letters to Mann, 163, a very interesting and curious account may be found, of the execution of the Lords Kilmarnock, and Balmarino. These Lords, with the Lord Cromartie, who was pardoned, were engaged, on the side of the Pretender, in the rebellion of 1745. "Just before they came out of the Tower, Lord Balmarino drank a bumper to King James's health. As the clock struck ten, they came forth, on foot, Lord Kilmarnock all in black, his hair unpowdered, in a bag, supported by Forster, the great Presbyterian, and by Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. Lord Balmarino followed, alone, in a blue coat, turned up with red, _his rebellious regimentals_, a flannel waistcoat, and his shroud beneath, the hearses following. They were conducted to a house near the scaffold; the room forwards had benches for the spectators; in the second was Lord Kilmarnock; and in the third backwards Lord Balmarino--all three chambers hung with black. Here they parted! Balmarino embraced the other, and said--'My lord, I wish I could suffer for both.'" When Kilmarnock came to the scaffold, continues Walpole,--"He then took off his bag, coat, and waistcoat, with great composure, and, after some trouble, put on a napkin cap, and then several times tried the block, the executioner, who was in white, with a white apron, out of tenderness concealing the axe behind himself. At last the Earl knelt down, with a visible unwillingness to depart, and, after five minutes, dropped his handkerchief, the signal, and his head was cut off at once, only hanging by a bit of skin, and was received in a scarlet cloth, by four undertakers' men kneeling, who wrapped it up, and put it into the coffin with the body; orders having been given not to expose the heads, as used to be the custom. The scaffold was immediately new strewed with sawdust, the block new covered, the executioner new dressed, and a new axe brought. Then came old Balmarino, treading with the air of a general. As soon as he mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription on his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then surveyed the spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even upon masts of ships in the river; and, pulling out his spectacles, read a treasonable speech, which he delivered to the sheriff, and said the young Pretender was so sweet a prince, that flesh and blood could not resist following him; and, lying down to try the block, he said--'if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down here in the same cause.' He said, if he had not taken the sacrament the day before, he would have knocked down Williamson, the Lieutenant of the Tower, for his ill usage of him. He took the axe and felt of it, and asked the headsman how many blows he had given Lord Kilmarnock, and gave him two guineas. Then he went to the corner of the scaffold, and called very loud to the Warder, to give him his periwig, which he took off, and put on a night cap of Scotch plaid, and then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and lay down; but being told he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately gave the sign, by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. He received three blows, but the first certainly took away sensation. As he was on his way to the place of execution, seeing every window open, and the roofs covered with spectators--'Look, look,' he cried, 'see how they are piled up like rotten oranges!'" Following the English custom, the clergymen of Boston were in the habit, formerly, of preaching to those, who were under sentence of death. I have before me, while I write, the following manuscript memoranda of Dr. Andrew Eliot--"1746, July 24. Thursday lecture preached by Dr. Sewall to three poor malefactors, who were executed P. M." "1747, Oct. 8. Went to Cambridge to attend Eliza Wakefield, this day executed. Mr. Grady began with prayer. Mr. Appleton preached and prayed." There is a printed sermon, preached by Dr. Andrew Eliot, on the Lords' day before the execution of Levi Ames, who was hung for burglary Oct. 21, 1773. Ames was present, and the sermon was preached, by his particular request. The desire of distinction dies hard, even in the hearts of malefactors. Dr. Andrew Eliot was a man of excellent sense, and disapproved of the practice, then in vogue, of lionizing burglars and murderers, of which, few, at the present day, I believe, have any just conception. For their edification I subjoin a portion of a manuscript note, in the hand writing of the late Dr. Ephraim Eliot, appended to the last page of the sermon, delivered by his father. "Levi Ames was a noted offender--though a young man, he had gone through all the routine of punishment; and there was now another indictment against him, where there was positive proof, in addition to his own confession. He was tried and condemned, for breaking into the house of Martin Bicker, in Dock Square. His condemnation excited extraordinary sympathy. _He was every Sabbath carried through the streets with chains about his ankles and handcuffed, in custody of the Sheriff's officers and constables, to some public meeting, attended by an innumerable company of boys, women and men._ Nothing was talked of but Levi Ames. The ministers were successively employed in delivering occasional discourses. Stillman improved the opportunity several times, and absolutely persuaded the fellow, that he was to step from the cart into Heaven." It is quite surprising, that our fathers should have suffered this interesting burglar--"_misguided_" of course--to be hung by the neck, till he was dead. When an individual, as sanguine, as Dr. Stillman appears to have been, in regard to Levi Ames, remarked of a notorious burglar, a few days after his execution, that he had certainly been _born again_, an incredulous bystander observed, that he was sorry to hear it, for some dwelling-house or store would surely be broken open before morning. No. CLI. We are sufficiently acquainted with the Catholic practice of roasting heretics--that of boiling thieves and other offenders is less generally known. _Caldariis decoquere_, to boil them in cauldrons, was a punishment, inflicted in the middle ages, on thieves, false coiners, and others. In 1532, seventeen persons, in the family of the Bishop of Rochester, were poisoned by Rouse, a cook; the offence was, in consequence, made treason, by 23 Henry VIII., punishable, by boiling to death. Margaret Davie was boiled to death, for the like crime, in 1541. Quite a number of Roman ladies, in the year 331 B. C., formed a poisoning society, or club; and adopted this quiet mode of divorcing themselves from their husbands: seventy of the sisterhood were denounced, by a slave, to the consul, Fabius Maximus, who ordered them to be executed. None of these ladies were boiled. Boiling the dead has been very customary, after beheading or hanging, and drawing, and quartering, whenever the criminal was sentenced to be hung afterwards, in chains. Thus father Strype--"1554.--Sir Thomas Wyatt's fatal day was come, being the 11th of April, when, between nine and ten of the clock, aforenoon, on Tower Hill, he was beheaded; and, by eleven of the clock, he was quartered on the scaffold, and his bowels and members burnt beside the scaffold; and, a car and basket being at hand, the four quarters and the head were put into the basket, and conveyed to Newgate, to be parboiled." One more quotation from Strype--"1557.--May 28th, was Thomas Stafford beheaded on Tower Hill, by nine of the clock, Mr. Wode being his ghostly father; and, after, three more, viz., Stowel, Proctor, and Bradford were drawn from the Tower, through London, unto Tyburn, and there hanged and quartered: and, the morrow after, was Stafford quartered, and his quarters hanged on a car, and carried to Newgate to boil." How very ingenious we have been, since the days of Cain, in torturing one another! Boiling and roasting are not to be thought of. The Turkish bowstring will never be adopted here, nor the Chinese drop, nor their mode of capital punishment, in which the criminal, having been stripped naked, is so confined, that he can scarcely move a muscle, and, being smeared with honey, is exposed to myriads of insects, and thus left to perish. Crucifixion will never be popular in Massachusetts, though quite common among the Syrians, Egyptians, Persians, Africans, Greeks, Romans, and Jews. Starving to death, sawing in twain, and rending asunder, by strong horses, have all been tried, but are not much approved of, by the moderns. The rack may answer well enough, in Catholic countries, but, in this quarter, there is a strong prejudice against it. Exposure to wild beasts is objectionable, for two reasons; one of these reasons resembles the first of twenty-four, offered to the Queen of Hungary, for not ringing the bells upon her arrival,--there were no bells in the village--we have no wild beasts. The second reason is quite germain--man is savage enough, without any foreign assistance. Burying alive, though it has been employed, as a punishment, in other countries, is, literally, too much for flesh and blood; and, I am happy to say, there is not a sexton in this city, who would, knowingly, be a party to such a barbarous proceeding. Death has been produced, by preventing sleep, as a mode of punishment. Impaling, and flaying alive, tearing to pieces with red hot pincers, casting headlong from high rocks, eviscerating the bowels, firing the criminals from the mouths of canons, and pressing them slowly to death, by weights, gradually increased, upon the breast, the _peine forte et dure_, are very much out of fashion; though one and all have been frequently employed, in other times. There is a wheel of fashion, as well as a wheel of fortune, in the course of whose revolutions, some of these obsolete modes of capital punishment may come round again, like polygon porcelain, and antiquated chair-backs. Should our legislature think proper to revive the practice, in capital cases, of heading up the criminal in a barrel, filled with nails, driven inward, a sort of inverted _cheval de frize_, and rolling him down hill, I have often thought the more elevated corner of our Common would be an admirable spot for the commencement of the execution, were it not for interrupting the practice of coasting, during the winter; by which several innocent persons, in no way parties to the process, have been very nearly executed already. Shooting is apt to be performed, in a bungling manner. Hanging by the heels, till the criminal is dead, is very objectionable, and requires too much time. The mode adopted here and in England, and also in some other countries, of hanging by the neck, is, in no respect agreeable, even if the operator be a skilful man; and, if not, it is highly offensive. The rope is sometimes too long, and the victim touches the ground--it is too frail, and breaks, and the odious act must be performed again--or the noose is unskilfully adjusted, the neck is not broken, and the struggles are terrible. The sword, in a Turkish hand, performs the work well. It was used in France. Charles Henry Sanson, the hereditary executioner, on the third of March, 1792, presented a memorial to the Constituent Assembly, in which he objected to decollation, and stated that he had but two swords; that they became dull immediately; and were wholly insufficient, when there were many to be executed, at one time. Monsieur Sanson knew nothing then of that delightful instrument, which, not long afterward, became a mere plaything, in his hands. Stoning to death and flaying alive have been employed, occasionally, since the days of Stephen and Bartholomew. The axe, so much in vogue, formerly, in England, was a ruffianly instrument, often mangling the victim, in a horrible manner. After all, there is nothing like the guillotine; and, should it ever be thought expedient to erect one here, I should recommend, for a location, the knoll, near the fountain, on our Common, which would enable a very large concourse of men, women, and children, to witness the performances of both, at the same moment. The very best account of the guillotine, that I have ever met with, is contained in the London Quarterly Review, vol. lxxiii. page 235. It is commonly supposed, that this instrument was invented by Dr. Guillotin, whose name it bears. It has been frequently asserted, that Dr. Guillotin was one of the earliest, who fell victims to its terrible agency. It has been still more generally believed, that this awfully efficient machine was conceived in sin and begotten in iniquity, or in other words, that its original contrivers were moved, by the spirit of cruelty. All these conjectures are unfounded. The guillotine, before its employment, in France, was well known in England, under the name of the Halifax gibbet. A copy of a print, by John Doyle, bearing date 1650, and representing the instrument, may be found, in the work, to which I have, just now, referred. Pennant, in his Tour, vol. iii. page 365, affirms, that he saw one of the same kind, "in a room, under the Parliament house, at Edinburgh, where it was introduced by the Regent, Morton, who took a model of it, as he passed through Halifax, and, at length, suffered by it, himself." The writer in the London Quarterly, puts the question of invention at rest, by exhibiting, on page 258, a copy of an engraving, by Henry Aldgrave, bearing date 1553, representing the death of Titus Manlius, under the operation of "an instrument, identical with the guillotine." During the revolution, Dr. Guillotin was committed to prison, from which he was released, after a tedious confinement. He died in his bed, at Paris, an obscure and inoffensive, old man; deeply deploring, to the day of his decease, the association of his name, with this terrible instrument--an instrument, which he attempted to introduce, in good faith, and with a merciful design, but which had been employed by the devils incarnate of the revolution, for the purposes of reckless and indiscriminating carnage. Dr. Guillotin was a weak, consequential, well-meaning man, willing to mount any hobby, that would lift him from the ground. He is described, in the _Portraits des Personnes célebres_, 1796, as a simple busybody, meddling with everything, _à tort et à travers_, and being both mischievous and ridiculous. He had sundry benevolent visions, in regard to capital punishment, and the suppression, _by legal enactment_, of the _sentiment_ of prejudice, against the families of persons, executed for crime! Among the members of the faculty, in every large city, there are commonly two or three, at least, exhibiting striking points of resemblance to Dr. Guillotin. In urging the merits of this machine, upon merciful considerations, his integrity was unimpeachable. He considered hanging a barbarous and cruel punishment; and, by the zeal and simplicity of his arguments, produced, even upon so grave a topic, universal laughter, in the constituent assembly--having represented hanging, as a tedious and painful process, he exclaimed, "Now, with my machine, _Je vous sauter le tête_, I strike off your head, in the twinkling of an eye, and you never feel it." No. CLII. The Sansons, hereditary executioners, in Paris, were gentlemen. In 1684, Carlier, executioner of Paris, was dismissed. His successor was Charles Sanson a lieutenant in the army, born in Abbeville, in Picardy, and a relative of Nicholas Sanson, the celebrated geographer. Charles Sanson married the daughter of the executioner of Normandy, and hence a long line of illustrious executioners. Charles died in 1695; and was succeeded by his son Charles. Charles Sanson, the second, was succeeded by his son, Charles John Baptiste, who died Aug. 4, 1778, when his son Charles Henry was appointed in his place; and, in 1795, retired on a pension. By his hand, with the assistance of two of his brothers, the King, Louis XVI. was guillotined. This Charles Henry had two sons. His eldest, the heir-apparent to the guillotine, was killed, by a fall from the scaffold, while holding forth the head of a man, executed for the forgery of assignats. Henry, the younger son of Charles Henry, therefore became his successor, at the time of his retirement, in 1795. To fill this office, he gave up his military rank, as captain of artillery. He died Aug. 18, 1840. He was an elector, and had a taste for music and literature. He was succeeded by his son, Henry Clement, Dec. 1, 1840. These particulars will be found on page 27 of _Recherches Historiques et Physiologiques, sur la Guillotine, &c._, par M. Louis du Bois. Paris, 1843. Monsieur du Bois informs us, that all these Sansons were very worthy men, and that the present official possesses a fine figure, features stamped with nobility, and an expression sweet and attractive. How very little all this quadrates with our popular impressions of the common hangman! The objection to the guillotine, which was called, for a time, _Louison_, after M. Louis, Secretary of the College of Surgeons, that it would make men familiar with the sight of blood, was urged by the Abbé Maury, and afterwards, by A. M. La Cheze. The Duke de Liancourt, inclined to _mercy_, that is, to the employment of the guillotine. He contended, that it was necessary to efface all recollections of hanging, which, he gravely remarked, had recently been so _irregularly applied_, referring to the summary process of lynching, as we term it--_à la lanterne_. It is curious to note the doubt and apprehension, which existed, as to the result of the first experiment of decollation. March 3, 1792, the minister, Duport du Tertre, writes thus to the Legislative Assembly--"It appears, by the communications, made to me, by the executioners themselves, that, without some precautions, the act of decollation will be horrible to the spectators. It will either prove them to be monsters, if they are able to bear such a spectacle; or the executioner, himself, alarmed, will fall before the wrath of the people." The matter being referred to Louis, then Secretary of the Academy of Surgeons, he made his report, March 7, 1792. The new law required, that the criminal should be decapitated--_aura la tête tranchée_; and that the punishment should be inflicted _without torture_. Louis shows how difficult the execution of such a law must be--"We should recollect," says he, "the occurrences at M. de Lally's execution. He was upon his knees, with his eyes covered--the executioner struck him, on the back of his neck--the blow was insufficient. He fell upon his face, and three or four cuts of the sabre severed the head. Such _hacherie_ excited a feeling of horror." To such a polite and gentle nation, this must have been highly offensive. April 25, 1798. Roederer, Procureur Genéral, wrote a letter to Lafayette, telling him, that a public trial of the new instrument would take place, that day, in the _Place de Grève_, and would, doubtless, draw a great crowd, and begging him not to withdraw the gens d'armes, till the apparatus had been removed. In the Courrier Extraordinaire, of April 27, 1792, is the following notice--"They made yesterday (meaning the 25th) the first trial of the _little Louison_, and cut off a head, one Pelletier. I never in my life could bear to see a man hanged; but I own I feel a greater aversion to this species of execution. The preparations make me shudder, and increase the moral suffering. The people seemed to wish, that M. Sanson had his old gallows." After the _Louison_, or guillotine, had been in operation rather more than a year, the following interesting letter was sent, by the Procureur Genéral, Roederer, to citizen Guideu. "13 May, 1793. I enclose, citizen, the copy of a letter from citizen Chaumette, solicitor to the commune of Paris, by which you will perceive, that complaints are made, that, after these public executions, the blood of the criminals remains in pools, upon the _Place de Grève_, that dogs came to drink it, and that crowds of men feed their eyes with this spectacle, which naturally instigates their hearts to ferocity and blood. I request you therefore to take the earliest and most convenient opportunity, to remove from the eyes of men a sight so afflicting to humanity." Voltaire, who thought very gravely, before he delivered the sentiment to the world, has stated of his countrymen, that they were a mixture of the monkey and the tiger. Undoubtedly he knew. In the revolution of 1793, and in every other, that has occurred in France--those excepted which may have taken place, since the arrival of the last steamer--the tiger has had the upper hand. Prudhomme, the prince of pamphleteers, having published fifteen hundred, on political subjects, and author of the General History of the crimes, committed, during the revolution, writing of the execution of Louis XVI. remarks--"Some individuals steeped their handkerchiefs in his blood. A number of armed volunteers crowded also to dip in the blood of the despot their pikes, their bayonets, and their sabres. Several officers of the Marseillais battalion, and others, dipped the covers of letters in this impure blood, and carried them, on the points of their swords, at the head of their companies, exclaiming 'this is the blood of a tyrant.' One citizen got up to the guillotine itself, and plunging his whole arm into the blood of Capet, of which a great quantity remained; he took up handsful of the clotted gore, and sprinkled it over the crowd below, which pressed round the scaffold, each anxious to receive a drop on his forehead. 'Friends,' said this citizen in sprinkling them, 'we were threatened, that the blood of Louis should be on our heads, and so you see it is.'" Rev. de Paris, No. 185, p. 205. Upon the earnest request of the inhabitants of several streets, through which the gangs of criminals were carried, the guillotine was removed, June 8, 1794, from the _Place de la Revolution_ to the _Place St. Antoine_, in front of the ruins of the Bastile; where it remained five days only, during which time, it took off ninety-six heads. The proximity of this terrible revolutionary plaything annoyed the shopkeepers. The purchasers of finery were too forcibly reminded of the uncertainty of life, and the brief occasion they might have, for all such things, especially for neckerchiefs and collars. Once again then, the guillotine, after five days' labor, was removed; and took its station still farther off, at the _Barrière du Trône_. There it stood, from June 9 till the overthrow of Robespierre, July 27, 1794: and, during those forty-nine days, twelve hundred and seventy heads dropped into its voracious basket. July 28, it was returned to the _Place de la Revolution_. Sanson, Charles Henry, the executioner of Louis XVI. had not a little _bonhomie_ in his composition--his infernal profession seems not to have completely ossified his heart. He reminds me, not a little, of Sir Thomas Erpingham, who, George Colman, the younger, says, carried on his wars, in France, in a benevolent spirit, and went about, I suppose, like dear, old General Taylor, in Mexico, "pitying and killing." On the day, when Robespierre fell, forty-nine victims were ascending the carts, to proceed to the guillotine, about three in the afternoon. Sanson, at the moment, met that incomparable bloodhound, the _Accusateur Public_, Fouquier de Tinville, going to dinner. Sanson suggested the propriety of delaying the execution, as a new order of things might cause the lives of the condemned to be spared. Fouquier briefly replied, "the law must take its course;" and went to dine--the forty-nine to die; and, shortly after, their fate was his. The guillotine, viewed as an instrument of justice, in cases of execution, for capital offences, is certainly a most merciful contrivance, liable, undoubtedly, during a period of intense excitement, to be converted into a terrible toy. During the reign of terror, matters of extreme insignificancy, brought men, women, and children to the guillotine. The record is, occasionally, awfully ridiculous. A few examples may suffice--Jean Julian, wagoner, sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment, took it into his head, on the way--_s'avisa_--to cry--_Vive le Roi_; executed September, 1792.--Jean Baptiste Henry sawed a tree of liberty; executed Sept. 6, 1793.--M. Baulny, ex-noble, assisted his son to emigrate; executed Jan. 31, 1794.--La veuve Marbeuf _hoped_ the Austrians would come; executed Feb. 5, 1794.--Francis Bertrand, publican, sold sour wine; executed May 15, 1793.--Marie Angelique Plaisant, sempstress, exclaimed--"a fig for the nation;" executed July 19, 1794. No. CLIII. An interesting, physiological question arose, in 1796, whether death, by decollation, under the guillotine, were instantaneous or not. Men of science and talent, and among them Dr. Sue, and a number of German physicians, maintained, that, in the brain, after decapitation, there was a certain degree--_un reste_--of thought, and, in the nerves, a measure of sensibility. An opposite opinion seems to have prevailed. The controversy, which was extremely interesting, acquired additional interest and activity, from an incident, which occurred, on the scaffold, immediately after the execution of Marie Anne Charlotte de Corday d'Armont--commonly known, under the imperishable name of _Charlotte Corday_. A brute, François Le Gros, one of the assistant executioners, held up the beautiful and bleeding head, and slapped the cheek with his hand. A blush was instantly visible to the spectators. In connection with the physiological question, to which I have referred, a careful inquiry was instituted, and it was proved, very satisfactorily, that the color--the blush--appeared on _both_ cheeks, after the blow was given. Dr. Sue's account of this matter runs thus--"The countenance of Charlotte Corday expressed the most unequivocal marks of indignation. Let us look back to the facts--the executioner held the head, suspended in one hand; the face was then pale, but had no sooner received the slap, which the sanguinary wretch inflicted, than both cheeks visibly reddened. Every spectator was struck, by the change of color, and with loud murmurs cried out for vengeance, on this cowardly and atrocious barbarity. It can not be said, that the redness was caused by the blow--for we all know, that no blows will recall anything like color to the cheeks of a corpse; besides this blow was given on one cheek, and the other equally reddened." _Sue; Opinion sur le supplice de la guillotine, p. 9._ Sir Thomas Browne, in his Religio Medici, remarked, that he had never known a religion, in which there were impossibilities enough to give full exercise to an active faith. This remark greatly delighted Sir Kenelm Digby, who was an ultra Catholic. The faith of Browne, in regard to things spiritual, was not an overmatch for his credulity, in regard to things temporal, which is the more remarkable, as he gave so much time to his Pseudodoxia, or exposition of vulgar errors? He was a believer in the existence of invisible beings, holding rank between men and angels--in apparitions; and affirmed, _from his own knowledge_, the certainty of witchcraft. Hutchinson, in his essay on witchcraft, repeats the testimony of Dr. Browne, in the case of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, who were tried, before Sir Matthew Hale, in 1664; and executed, at St. Edmunds Bury, as witches. Sir Thomas stated in court, "_that the fits were natural, but heightened, by the devil's coöperating with the malice of the witches, at whose instance he did the villanies_." He added that "a great discovery had lately been made, in Denmark, of witches, who used the very same way of afflicting persons, by conveying pins into them." Now it would be curious to know what Sir Thomas thought of the famous and apposite story of Sir Everard Digby, the father of Sir Kenelm, and if the faith of Sir Thomas were strong enough, to credit that extraordinary tale. Charlotte Corday was _beheaded_, and Sir Everard Digby was _hanged_. The difference must be borne in mind, while considering this interesting subject. Sir Everard, who was an amiable young man, was led astray, and executed Jan. 30, 1606, for the part he bore, in the gunpowder plot. Wood, in his "Athenæ Oxonienses," vol. iii. p. 693, Lond. 1817, has the following passage--"Sir Everard Digby, father to Sir Kenelme, was a goodly gentleman, and the handsomest man of his time, but much pitied, for that it was his ill fate to suffer for the powder plot, in 1605, aged 24, at which time, when the executioner pluck'd out the heart, when the body was to be quartered, and, according to the manner, held it up, saying, _here is the heart of a traytor_, Sir Everard made answer, _thou liest_. This a most famous author mentions, but tells us not his name, in his _Historia Vitæ et Mortis_." This most famous author is Lord Bacon--Hist. Vit. et Mort., vol. viii. p. 446, Lond. 1824. The passage is so curious, that I give it entire--"Anguillæ, serpentes et insecta diu moventur singulis partibus, post concisionem. Etiam aves, capitibus avulsis, ad tempus subsultant: quin et corda animalium avulsa diu palpitant. Equidem meminimus ipsi vidisse hominis cor, qui evisceratus erat (supplicii genere apud nos versus proditores recepto) quod in ignem, de more, injectum, saltabat in altum, primo ad sesquipedem, et deinde gradatim ad minus; durante spatio (ut meminimus) septem aut octo minutarum. Etiam vetus et fide digna traditio est, de bove sub evisceratione mugiente. At magis certa de homine, qui co supplicii genere (quod diximus) evisceratus, postquam cor avulsum penitus esset, et in carnificis manu, tria aut quatuor verba precum auditus est proferre"--which may be Englished thus--Snakes, serpents, and insects move, a long time, after they have been cut into parts. Birds also hop about, for a time, after their heads have been wrung off. Even the hearts of animals, after they have been torn out, continue long to palpitate. Indeed, we ourselves remember to have seen the heart of a man, who had been drawn, or eviscerated, in that kind of punishment, which we employ against traitors, and which, when cast upon the fire, according to custom, leapt on high, at first, a foot and a half, and gradually less and less, during the space, if we justly remember, of seven or eight minutes. There is also an ancient tradition, well entitled to credit, of a cow, that bellowed, under the process of evisceration. And more certain is the story of the man, who was eviscerated, according to the mode of punishment we have referred to, who, when his heart was actually torn out, and in the hands of the executioner, was heard to utter three or four words of imprecation. Sir Everard was executed, as I have stated, in 1605. Lord Bacon was born Jan. 22, 1561, and died April 9, 1626, twenty-one years only after Digby's execution, and at the age of 65. Lord Bacon was therefore 44 years old, when Digby's execution took place, which fact has some bearing upon the authenticity of this extraordinary story. Lord Bacon speaks confidently of the fact; and his suppression of the name was very natural, as the family of Sir Everard were then upon the stage. A writer in the London Quarterly Review remarks, in a note on page 274, vol. 73, comparing the case of Charlotte Corday with that of Sir Everard Digby--"This" (Sir Everard's) "was a case of _evisceration_, and not of _decapitation_, which makes the whole difference, as to the credibility of the story." Chalmers relates the anecdote, and refers to Wood's Athenæ, and Lord Bacon's Historia Vitæ et Mortis, but speaks of the tale, as "_a story, which will scarcely now obtain belief_." In the Harleian Miscellany, vol. iii. page 5, Lond. 1809, there is an account of the discovery of the gunpowder plot, imprinted at London, by Robert Barker, 1605. On page 47, a very brief cotemporaneous account is given of Digby's execution, in St. Paul's churchyard, which contains no allusion whatever to the circumstance, stated by Wood, and so very confidently, by Lord Bacon. I suppose few will really believe, that any man's conversational abilities can be worth much, after his head is off, or his heart is out. From the expression of the Quarterly reviewer, it may be inferred, that he did not consider the story of Sir Everard Digby utterly impossible and incredible. For my own part, I am very much inclined to hand over this extraordinary legend to Judæus Appella. Every man, who has not, by long experience, like George Selwyn, acquired great self-possession, while enjoying an execution, inclines to the marvellous. Sir Everard, before the work of evisceration began, it must be remembered, had been hanged, the usual length of time; and the words--"_thou liest_"--are stated to have been uttered, at the moment, when the heart, having been plucked out, was held up by the executioner. It is more easy of belief, that some guttural noise, like that, spasmodically uttered by certain birds, after their heads have been chopped off, may have sounded to the gaping bystanders, who looked and listened, _auribus arrectis_, not very unlike the words in question. The belief, that Digby spoke these words, seems to be analogous to the belief, that, in _hydrophobia_, the sufferers bark like dogs, simply because, oppressed with phlegm, and nearly strangled, their terrific efforts, to clear the breathing passages, are accompanied with a variety of unintelligible, and horrible sounds. There are some curious cases, on record, which may have something to do with our reasoning, upon this subject. A similar species of death, attended by spasms or convulsions, is said to have been produced, by the bite of other animals. Dr. Fothergill relates cases of death, from the bite of a cat. Thiermayer recites two cases, both terminating fatally, from the bite of a goose, and a hen. Le Cat, Receuil Periodique, ii. page 90, presents a similar case, from the bite of a duck. But we are not informed, that, the patient, in either of these cases, during the spasms, mewed, quacked, cackled, or hissed; and yet there seems to be no rational apology for a patient's _barking_, simply because he has been bitten, by a cat, or a duck, a goose, or a hen. Spasmodic or convulsive motion, in a human body, which has been hung, or shot, or eviscerated, is a very different thing, from an intelligent exercise of the will, over the organs of speech, producing the utterance even of a word or syllable. In the cases of persons, who have been shot through the heart, violent spasmodic action is no unusual phenomenon. When I was a boy, the duel took place, between Rand and Millar, at Dorchester Point, then a locality as solitary, as Hoboken, or the Hebrides. The movements of the parties were observed, and their purposes readily surmised, by the officers, on Castle William; and a barge was immediately despatched, from the fort. Shots were exchanged, between the combatants, while the barge was passing over. Rand fell, wounded through the heart; and, after lying motionless, for a very brief space, was seen to leap into the air several feet, and fall again, upon the earth. No. CLIV. We are living and learning, forever. Life is a court of cassation, where truth sits, as chancellor, daily reversing the most incomparably beautiful decrees of theoretical philosophy. It is not unlikely, that a very interesting volume of 600 pages, folio, might be prepared, to be called the _Mistakes of Science_. The elephant in the moon, and the weighing of the fish have furnished amusement, in their day. Even in our own times, philosophers, of considerable note, have seriously _doubted_ the truth of that incomparable hoax, concerning Sir John Herschell's lunar discoveries. Savans were completely deceived, for a considerable period, by the electrical beatifications of Mr. Bose. One of the most amusing occurrences, upon record, on which occasion, the philosopher, unlike Mr. Bose, was a perfectly honest man, befell the famous mathematical instrument-maker, Mr. Troughton. He became fully possessed, by the idea, that certain persons, a select few, were capable of exerting a magnetic influence, over the needle, by advancing their faces towards it. So far from being common, this power was limited to a very small number. The statements of Mr. Troughton, and his well-established reputation, for integrity, caused the subject to be gravely discussed, by members of the Royal Society. Every individual of the very small number, who possessed this remarkable power--every _medium_--was carefully examined. Collusion seemed utterly impossible. A new theory appeared to be established. Amazement ran through the learned assembly. A careful inquiry was instituted, in relation to the manner of life of these _mediums_, from their youth upwards, their occupations, diet, &c., and some very learned papers would, erelong, have been read, before the Royal Society, if Mr. Troughton himself had not previously made a most fortunate discovery--he discovered, that he wore a wig, constructed with _steel_ springs--such, also, was the case with every other _medium_! The tendency to predicate certainty, of things, manifestly doubtful, is exceedingly common. I fell, recently, into the society of some very intelligent gentlemen, who were _certain_, that Sir John Franklin was lost, irrecoverably lost. There are some--perhaps their name is not Legion--whose faith is of superior dimensions to the mustard seed, and who believe, that Sir John Franklin is not destroyed; that he yet lives; and, that, sooner or later, he will come back to his friends and the world, with a world of wonders to relate, of all that he has seen and suffered. God, all merciful, grant it may be so. To all human observation, after a careful balancing of probabilities, there is certainly nothing particularly flattering in the prospect. Yet, on the other hand, absolute, unqualified despair is irrational, and unjustifiable. The present existence of Sir John Franklin is certainly _possible_. No one, I presume, will say it is _probable_. Some half a dozen good, substantial words are greatly needed, to mark shades between these two, and to designate what is more than _possible_, and less than _probable_. A careful consideration of the narrative of Sir John Ross, the narrative, I mean, of his second voyage, in quest of a northwest passage, and of his abode in the Arctic regions, and of the opinion, very generally entertained, for a great length of time, that he was lost, will strengthen the impression, that Sir John Franklin also may be yet alive, _somewhere_! Even then, a question may arise, in connection with the force of certain currents, referred to, by those, who have lately returned, from an unsuccessful search for Sir John Franklin, whether it may be possible to return, against those currents, with such means and appliances, as he possessed; and whether, even on this side the grave, there may not be a bourne, from which no presumptuous voyager ever shall return. The residence of Sir John Ross, in the Arctic regions, continued, through five consecutive years, 1829, '30, '31, '32, '33. To such, as imagine there is any effective summer, in those regions, and who have been accustomed to associate spring and summer, with flowers and fruits, it may not be amiss, by way of corrective, to administer a brief passage, from the journal of Sir John Ross, in August, 1832--"But to see, to have seen, ice and snow, to have felt snow and ice forever, and nothing forever but snow and ice, during all the months of a year; to have seen and felt but uninterrupted and unceasing ice and snow, during all the months of four years, this it is, that has made the sight of those most chilling and wearisome objects an evil, which is still one in recollection, as if the remembrance would never cease." At this period, August, 1832, very little hope was entertained, that Sir John Ross and his companions were living. Even a year before, they were generally supposed to be lost. The abandonment of their ship, which had been locked fast in the ice, for years, and their almost inconceivable toil, while crossing, with their boats, on sledges, to the confluence of Regent's Inlet, and Barrow's Strait, are fully presented in the narrative. Their hour of deliverance came at last, and the event cannot be better described, than in the words of Sir John Ross himself. As they were standing along the southern shore of Harrow's Strait, in their boats, on the 26th of August, a sail, to their inexpressible joy, hove in sight. After a period of great anxiety, lest she should not observe their signals of distress, their deep delight may be imagined, even by an unpractised landsman, when they first became assured, that they had attracted the notice of the crew, in one of the ship's boats. The reader will be better satisfied with an account from the lips of the [Greek: polytropos os malla polla], himself. "She was soon along side, when the mate in command addressed us, by presuming, that we had met with some misfortune and lost our ship. This being answered in the affirmative, I requested to know the name of his vessel, and expressed our wish to be taken on board. I was answered, that it was the 'Isabella, of Hull, once commanded by Captain Ross;' on which I stated, that I was the identical man in question, and my people the crew of the Victory. That the mate, who commanded this boat, was as much astonished, as he appeared to be, I do not doubt; while, with the usual blunderheadedness of men, on such occasions, he assured me, that I had been dead two years. I easily convinced him, however, that what ought to have been true, according to his estimate, was a somewhat premature conclusion; as the bear-like form of the whole set of us, might have shown him, had he taken time to consider, that we were certainly not whaling gentlemen, and that we carried tolerable evidence of our being 'true men and no imposters,' on our backs, and in our starved and unshaven countenances." However close the resemblance, between Sir John Ross and his comrades to _bears_, they soon become _lions_ on board the Isabella. Sir John continues thus-- "A hearty congratulation followed, of course, in the true seaman style, and, after a few natural inquiries, he added, that the Isabella was commanded by Captain Humphreys; when he immediately went off in his boat to communicate his information on board; repeating, that we had long been given up as lost, not by them alone, but by all England." In this precedent, there is kindling stuff for hope, if not substantial fuel. After reading this account, the hearts of the strong-hearted cannot fail to be strengthened the more. A scientific and elaborate comparison of all the facts and circumstances, in the respective cases of Ross and Franklin, may lead to dissipate our hope. But hope is a vivacious principle, like the polypus, from the minutest particle remaining, growing up to be the integral thing, that it was. Science, philosophy, perched upon theoretical stilts, occasionally walk confidently into the mire. Sir John Franklin may yet be among the living, notwithstanding those negative demonstrations, in which many so very plausibly indulge themselves. Let us follow Sir John Ross and his companions on board the Isabella.--"As we approached slowly after him (the mate of the Isabella) he jumped up the side, and, in a minute, the rigging was manned; while we were saluted with three cheers, as we came within cable's length, and were not long in getting on board my old vessel, where we were all received, by Captain Humphreys, with a hearty seaman's welcome. Though we had not been supported by our names and characters, we should not the less have claimed, from charity, the attentions we received; for never was seen a more miserable looking set of wretches. If to be poor, wretchedly poor, as far as all our present property was concerned, were to have a claim on charity, none could well deserve it more; but, if to look so, be to frighten away the so called charitable, no beggar, that wanders in Ireland, could have outdone us, in exciting the repugnance of those, who know not what poverty can be. Unshaven, since I know not when, dirty, dressed in the rags of wild beasts, instead of the tatters of civilization, and starved to the very bones, our gaunt and grim looks, when contrasted with those of the well dressed and well fed men around us, made us all feel, I believe, for the first time, what we really were, as well as what we seemed to others." Very considerable training must, doubtless, be required, to reconcile a Mohawk Indian to a feather bed. A short passage from the Journal of Sir John Ross forcibly illustrates the truth, that we are the creatures of habit. "Long accustomed, however, to a cold bed, on the hard snow or the bare rock, few could sleep, amid the comforts of our new accommodations. I was myself compelled to leave the bed, which had been kindly assigned me, and take my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better with the rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent change, to break through what had become habit, and to inure us, once more, to the usages of our former days." No. CLV. Good, old Sir William Dugdale was certainly the prince of antiquaries. His labors and their products were greater, than could have been anticipated, even from his long and ever busy life. He was born, Sept. 12, 1605, and died, in his eighty-first year, while sitting quietly, in his antiquarian chair, Feb. 6, 1686. It seemed not to have occurred, so impressively, to other men, how very important was the diligent study of ancient wills, not only to the antiquarian, but to the historian, of any age or nation. Dugdale's annotations, upon the royal and noble wills of England, are eminently useful and curious. A collection of "royal wills" was published, by Mr. John Nicholls, the historian of Leicestershire, and the "Testamenta Vetusta," by Mr. Nicolas. These works are in very few hands, and some of them almost as rarely to be met with, as those of Du Cange, Charpentiere, Spelman, or Lacombe. There is no small amount of information and amusement, to be gathered from these ancient declarations of the purposes of men, contemplating death, at a distance, or about to die; though it cannot be denied, that the wills of our immediate ancestors, especially, if they have amassed great wealth, and, after a few unimportant legacies to others, have made us their residuary legatees, furnish a far more interesting species of reading, to the rising generation. There are worthy persons, who entertain a superstitious horror, upon the subject of making a will: they seem to have an actual fear, that the execution of a will is very much in the nature of a dying speech; that it is an expression of their willingness to go; and that the King of Terrors may possibly take them, at their word. There are others, who are so far from being oppressed, by any apprehension, of this nature, that one of their most common amusements consists in the making, and mending of their wills. "Who," says the compiler of the Testamenta Vetusta, "would have the hardihood to stain with those evil passions, which actuate mankind, in this world, that deed, which cannot take effect, until he is before the Supreme Judge, and consequently immediately responsible for his conduct?" To this grave inquiry I, unhesitatingly answer--_thousands_! The secret motives of men, upon such occasions, if fairly brought to light, would present a very curious record. That record would, by no means, sustain the sentiment, implied, in the preceding interrogatory. Malice and caprice, notoriously, have governed the testator's pen, upon numberless occasions. The old phrase--_cutting off with a shilling_--has been reduced to practice, in a multitude of instances, for considerations of mere hatred and revenge, or of pique and displeasure. The malevolent testator, who would be heartily ashamed, to avow what he had done, on this side the grave, is regardless of his reputation, on the other. Goldsmith places in the mouth of one of his characters, a declaration, that he was disinherited, for liking gravy. This, however it may have been intended as a pleasantry, by the author, is, by no means, beyond the region of probability. Considerations, equally absurd and frivolous, have, occasionally, operated upon the minds of passionate and capricious people, especially in the decline of life; and, though they are sensible of the Bible truth, that they can carry nothing with them, they may, yet a little while, enjoy the prospective disappointment of another. The Testamenta Vetusta contain abstracts of numerous wills of the English kings, and of the nobility, and gentry, for several centuries, from the time of Henry second, who began to reign, in 1154. The work, as I have stated, is rare; and I am mistaken, if the general reader, any more than he, who has an antiquarian diathesis, will complain of the exhumation I propose to make of some, among the "reliques of thae antient dayes." It is almost impossible, to glance over one of these venerable testaments of the old English nobility, without perceiving, that the testator's thoughts were pretty equally divided, between beds, masses, and wax tapers. Beds, with the gorgeous trappings, appurtenant thereto, form a common subject of bequest, and of entailment, as heir-looms. Edward, the Black Prince, son of Edward III., died June 8, 1376. In his will, dated the day before his death, he bequeaths "To our son Richard,[6] the bed, which the King our father gave us. To Sir Roger de Clarendon,[7] a silk bed. To Sir Robert de Walsham, our confessor, a large bed of red camora, with our arms embroidered at each corner; also embroidered with the arms of Hereford. To Monsr. Allayne Cheyne our bed of camora, powdered with blue eagles. And we bequeath all our goods and chattels, jewels, &c., for the payment of our funeral and debts; after which we will, that our executors pay certain legacies to our poor servants. All annuities, which we have given to our Knights, Esquires, and other, our followers, we desire to be fully paid. And we charge our son Richard, on our blessing, that he fulfil our bequests to them. And we appoint our very dear and beloved brother of Spain, Duke of Lancaster,[8] &c., &c., executors," &c. Joan, Princess of Wales, was daughter of Edmund Plantagenet. From her extreme beauty, she was styled the "_Fair Maid of Kent_." I find the following record in regard to Joan--"She entered into a contract of marriage with Thomas Montacute, Earl of Salisbury; but Sir Thomas Holland, H. G., on a petition to Pope Clement VI. alleged a precontract, _consensus et concubitus_, but that, he being abroad, the Earl of Salisbury unjustly kept her from him; and his Holiness gave her to Sir Thomas." Joan seems to have been a wilful body, and the reader may like to know what sort of a will she made, four hundred and sixty-six years ago. She finally became the wife of Edward, the Black Prince, and, by him, the mother of Richard II. An abstract of her will runs thus--"In the year of our Lord, 1385, and of the reign of my dear son, Richard, King of England and France, the 9th at my castle of Walyngford, in the Diocese of Salisbury, the 7th of August, I, Joan, Princess of Wales, Duchess of Cornwall, Countess of Chester, and Lady Wake. My body to be buried, in my chapel, at Stanford, near the monument of our late lord and father, the Earl of Kent. To my dear son, the King, my new bed of red velvet, embroidered with ostrich feathers of silver, and heads of leopards of gold, with boughs and leaves issuing out of their mouths. To my dear son, Thomas, Earl of Kent, my bed of red camak, paied with red and rays of gold. To my dear son, John Holland, a bed of red camak." Katherine of Arragon wills, _inter alia_--"I supplicate, that my body be buried in a convent of Observant Friars. Item, that for my soul be said C. masses. Item, that some personage go to our Lady of Walsingham, in pilgrimage, and in going by the way, dole XX nobles. Item, I ordain that the collar of gold, that I brought out of Spain be to my daughter. * * * Item, if it may please the King, my good Lord, that the house ornaments of the church be made of my gowns, which he holdeth, for to serve the convent thereat I shall be buried. And the furs of the same I give for my daughter." William de Longspee, Earl of Salisbury, was a natural son of Henry II., by Fair Rosamond, daughter of Walter de Clifford, and distinguished himself in the Holy Land. He bequeaths to the Monastery of the Carthusians--"A cup of gold, set with emeralds and rubies; also a pix of gold with XLII. s. and two goblets of silver, one of which is gilt; likewise a chesible and cope of red silk; a tunicle and dalmatick of yellow cendal; an alba, amice, and stole; also a favon and towel, and all my reliques; likewise a thousand sheep, three hundred muttons, forty-eight oxen, and fifteen bulls." It was not unusual, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, to dedicate children, at the hour of their baptism, to the _military_ service of _God_, in Palestine. An example of this may be found, in the will of William de Beauchamp, who was the father of the first Earl of Warwick, and died before 1269--"My body to be buried in the Church of Friars Minors at Worcester. I will, that a horse, completely harnessed with all military caparisons, precede my corpse: to a priest to sing mass daily, in my chapel without the city of Worcester, near unto that house of Friars, which I gave for the health of my soul, and for the soul of Isabel my wife, Isabel de Mortimer, and all the faithful deceased, all my rent of the fee of Richard Bruli, in Wiche and Winchester, with supply of what should be short, out of my own proper goods. * * * To William, my oldest son, the cup and horns of St. Hugh. * * * To Isabel, my wife, ten marks[9]: to the Church and nuns of Westwood one mark: to the Church and nuns without Worcester one mark: to every Anchorite in Worcester and the parts adjacent four shillings: to the Church of Salewarp, a house and garden, near the parsonage, to find a lamp to burn continually therein to the honor of God, the blessed Virgins St. Katherine, and St. Margaret." The will of his son, the Earl of Warwick, is full of the spirit of the age. He died in 1298--"My heart to be buried wheresoever the Countess, my dear consort, may, herself, resolve to be interred: to the place, where I may be buried two great horses, viz., those which shall carry my armor at my funeral, for the solemnizing of which, I bequeath two hundred pounds: to the maintenance of two soldiers in the Holy Land one hundred pounds: to Maud, my wife, all my silver vessels, with the cross, wherein is contained part of the wood of the very cross, on which our Saviour died. * * * To my said wife a cup, which the Bishop of Worcester gave me, and all my other cups, with my lesser sort of jewels and rings, to distribute for the health of my soul, where she may think best: to my two daughters, nuns at Shouldham, fifty marks." Elizabeth De Burgh, Lady of Clare, was the daughter of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, by Joan D'Acres, daughter of Edward I. She was thrice married. Her will is a curious affair, and bears date Sept. 25, 1355. She leaves legacies to her "servants" numbering, about one hundred and forty, and among whom are several knights and "peres."--"My body to be buried in the Sisters Minories, beyond Aldgate. I devise c. c. lb. of wax, to burn round my corpse. I will that my body be not buried for fifteen days after my decease. * * * For masses to be sung for the souls of Monsr. John de Bourg, Monsr. Theobaud de Verdon, and Monsr. Roger Dammory, my lords, my soul, and for the souls of all my good and loyal servants, who have died or may die in my service CXL., li.: To find five men for the Holy Land C. marks, to be spent, in the service of God and destruction of his enemies, if any general voyage be made within seven years after my decease: To my daughter Bardoff my bed of green velvet." Elizabeth, Countess of Northampton, wife of William de Bohnn, made her will, in 1356. To the Church of the Friars Preachers, in London, she bequeaths: "C. marks sterling, and also the cross, made of the very wood of our Saviour's cross which I was wont to carry about me, and wherein is contained one of the thorns of his crown; and I bequeath to the said Church two fair altar cloths of one suit, two of cloth of gold, one chalice, one missal, one graille,[10] and one silver bell; likewise thirty-one ells of linen cloth for making of albes, one pulpitory, one portfory,[11] and a holy water pot of silver." She also wills, that "one hundred and fifty marks be distributed to several other convents of Friars Preachers, in such manner as Friar David de Stirrington shall think best, for my soul's health: To the Grey Friars, in London five marks: To the Carmelites five marks: and to the Augustines five marks * * * to Elizabeth my daughter a bed of red worsted embroidered: To my sister, the Countess of Oxford a black horse and a nonche.[12]" Believers in the doctrine of transubstantation must extend their faith to the very cross; for, to comprehend all the wood, in possession of the faithful, it must have consisted of many cords of substantial timber. No. CLVI. The testamentary recognition of bastards, _eo nomine_, was very common, in the olden time. There were some, to whom funereal extravagance and pomp were offensive. Sir Ottro De Grandison says, in his will, dated Sept. 18, 1358--"I entreat, that no armed horse or armed man be allowed to go before my body, on my burial day, nor that my body be covered with any cloth, painted, or gilt, or signed with my arms; but that it be only of white cloth, marked with a red cross; and I give for the charges thereof XX_l._ and X. quarters of wheat: to a priest to celebrate divine service, in the church at Chellesfield for three years after my decease, XV_l._: to Thomas, my son, all my armor, four horses, twelve oxen, and two hundred ewe sheep. * * * * To my bastard son," &c. Henry, Duke of Lancaster, 1360, wills, "that our body be not buried for three weeks after the departure of our soul." Humphrey De Bohun, Earl of Hereford, 1361, bequeaths to his nephew Humphrey--"a nonche[13] of gold, surrounded with large pearls, with a ruby between four pearls, three diamonds, and a pair of gold paternosters of fifty pieces, with ornaments, together with a cross of gold, in which is a piece of the true cross of our Lord: to Elizabeth, our niece of Northampton, a bed with the arms of England. * * * * We will also that a chaplain of good condition be sent to Jerusalem, principally for my Lady my mother, my Lord my father, and for us; and that the chaplain be charged to say masses by the way, at all times that he can conveniently, for the souls." Agnes, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, wills, in 1367, that her body be buried, "within two days after my death, without any other cost than a blue cloth and two tapers of ten pound weight." Robert, Earl of Suffolk, 1368--"I will, that five square tapers and four mortars,[14] besides torches, shall burn about my corpse, at my funeral: To William my oldest son my sword, which the King gave me, in name of the Earldom, also my bed with the eagle, and my summer vestment, powdered with leopards." Roger, Lord de Warre, personally took John, King of France, prisoner, at the battle of Poictiers, and obtained the crampet or chape of his sword, as a memorial of his chivalry. His will bears date 1368--"My body to be buried without pomp, and I will that, on my funeral day, twenty-four torches be placed about my corpse, and two tapers, one at my head and one at my feet, and also that my best horse shall be my principal, without any armour or man armed, according to the custom of mean people." He orders his estate to be divided into three parts--"one to be disposed of for the health of my soul." Joan, Lady Cobham, 1369--"I will that VII. thousand masses be said for my soul by the canons of Tunbrugge and Tanfugge and the four orders of Friars in London, viz. the Friars Preachers, Minors, Augustines, and Carmelites, who, for so doing shall have XXIX_l._ III_s._ IV_d._ Also I will that, on my funeral day, twelve poor persons, clothed in black gowns and hoods, shall carry twelve torches." Sir Walter Manney, 1371--"My body to be buried at God's pleasure * * * but without any great pomp * * * twenty masses to be said for my soul, and that every poor person coming to my funeral shall have a penny to pray for me, and for the remission of my sins. * * * To my two bastard daughters, nuns, viz., Mailosel and Malplesant, the one cc. franks, the other c. franks. * * * To Margaret Mareschall, my dear wife, my plate, which I bought of Robert Francis; also a girdle of gold, and a hook for a mantle, and likewise a garter of gold, with all my girdles and knives, and all my beds and clossers in my wardrobe, excepting my folding bed, paly of blue and red, which I bequeath to my daughter of Pembroke." Thomas, Earl of Oxford, 1371--"For my funeral expenses CXXXIII_l._ To Maud my wife all my reliques now in my own keeping, and a cross made of the very wood of Christ's cross. To Sir Alberic de Vere, my brother, a coat of mail, which Sir William de Wingfield gave me, also a new helmet and a pair of gauntlets." Anne, Lady Maltravers, 1374--"No cloth of gold to be put upon my corpse, nor any more than five tapers, each weighing five pounds, be put about it." Edward, Lord Despencer, 1375--"To the Abbot and Convent of Tewksbury one whole suit of my best vestments, also two gilt chalices, one gilt hanap, likewise a ewer, wherein to put the body of Christ, on Corpus Christi day, which was given to me by the King of France. To Elizabeth, my wife, my great bed of blue camaka with griffins; also another bed of camaka, striped with white and black, with all the furniture, thereto belonging." Mary, Countess of Pembroke, 1376--"To the Abbey of Westminster a cross with a foot of gold and emeralds, which Sir William de Valence, Kt., brought from the Holy Land." Philipa, Countess of March, 1378--"To Edmond, my son, a bed, &c. Also a gold ring, with a piece of the true cross, with this writing, _In nomine Patris, et Filii, el Spiritus Sancti, Amen_. Which I charge him, on my blessing to keep." Sir John Northwood, Knight, 1378--"I will that two Pilgrims be sent to visit the shadow of St. Peter, Paul, and James, in Gallacia." Sir Roger Beauchamp, Kt., 1379--"My body to be buried in the church of the Friars Preachers, near to the grave, where Sybil, my wife resteth. And I desire, that, at my funeral, there be a _placebo_ and _dirige_ with note, and, on the morrow after, two masses, one of our Lady, and another of Requiem. And whereas I am bound to do a service on the Infidels, by devise of my grandsire, Sir Walter Beauchamp, to the expense of two hundred marks, I will, that Roger, son to Roger, my son, shall perform the same, when he comes of age. To my Chauntrey of Bletnesho one hundred pounds, for the maintenance of one priest, to sing there perpetually, for my soul, and also for the soul of Sybil, late my wife, and for all Christian souls." William, Lord Latimer, 1380--"I will that my house in the parish of St. Mary's be sold, to found prayers for King Edward's soul." Guichard, Earl of Huntington, 1380--"I will that my heart be taken out of my body and preserved with spices, and deposited in the said church of Engle. I will that the expenses of my funeral, if celebrated with pomp, be bestowed in masses for my soul." Edmond, Earl of March, was a man of great note. His will is dated May 1, 1380--"To the Abbey of Wigmore a large cross of gold, set with stones with a relique of the cross of our Lord, a bone of St. Richard the Confessor, Bishop of Chicester, and a finger of St. Thomas de Cantelowe, Bishop of Hereford, and the reliques of St. Thomas, Bishop of Canterbury. To Roger, our son and heir, the cup of gold with a cover called _Benesonne_, and our sword, garnished with gold, which belonged to the good King Edward, with God's blessing and ours. * * * Also our large bed of black satin, embroidered with white lions and gold roses." William, Earl of Suffolk, 1381--"I will that, on the eve and day of my funeral, there shall be five square tapers of the height, which my nearest of kin shall think fit, and four morters; also forty-eight torches borne by forty-eight poor men, clothed in white. * * * I will that a picture of a horse and man, armed with my arms, be made in silver, and offered to the altar of our Lady of Walsingham; and another the like be made and offered at Bromeholme." One of the most interesting, among the olden wills, is that of John, Duke of Lancaster--the famous John of Gaunt. He died in February, 1399. His will bears date Feb. 3, 1397--"My body to be buried, in the Cathedral church of St. Paul of London, near the principal altar, beside my most dear wife, Blanch, who is there interred. If I die out of London, I desire that the night my body arrives there, it be carried direct to the Friars Carmelites, in Fleet Street, and the next day taken strait to St. Paul's, and that it be not buried for forty days, during which I charge my executors, that there be no cering or embalming my corpse. * * * I desire that chauntries and obits be founded for the souls of my late dear wives Blanch and Constance, whom God pardon; to the altar of St. Paul's my vestment of satin embroidered, which I bought of Courtnay, embroider of London. * * * To my most dear wife, Katherine, my two best nonches, which I have, excepting that, which I have allowed to my Lord and nephew, the King, and my large cup of gold, which the Earl of Wilts gave to the King, my Lord, upon my going into Guienne, together with all the buckles, rings, diamonds, rubies and other things, that will be found, in a little box of cypress wood, of which I carry the key myself, and all the robes, which I bought of my dear cousin, the Duchess of Norfolk;[15] also my large bed of black velvet, embroidered with a circle of fetter locks[16] and garters, all the beds, made for my body, called trussing beds, my best stay with a good ruby, my best collar, all which my said wife had before her marriage with me, also all the goods and jewels, which I have given her, since my marriage. To my Lord and nephew, the king,[17] the best nonche, which I have, on the day of my death, my best cup of gold, which my dear wife Katherine gave me, on New Year's day last, my gold salt-cellar with a garter, and the piece of arras, which the Duke of Burgoyne gave me, when I was in Calais." This is a mere extract. The will bequeaths numerous legacies of nonches, beds, and cups of gold; and abundantly provides for chauntries, masses, and obits. Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, 1399--"To the Abbess and Convent of the Sisters Minoresses, near London, without Aldgate, VI_l._ XIII_s._ IIII_d._ and a tonel of good wine. * * * To my Lady and mother, the Countess of Hereford, a pair of paternosters of coral." Thomas Mussenden, 1402--"I will, that all my arms, swords, bastard,[18] and dagger be sold, and disposed of, for my soul." William Heron, Lord Say, 1404--"Whereas I have been a soldier, and taken wages from King Richard and the Realm, as well by land as by water, and peradventure received more than my desert, I will that my Executor pay six score marks to the most needful men, unto whom King Richard was debtor, in discharge of his soul." Sir Lewis Clifford, Kt.--"I, Lewis Clifford, false and traitor to my Lord God, and to all the blessed company of Heaven, and unworthy to be called a Christian man, make and ordaine my testament and my last will the 17th of September, 1404. At the beginning, I, most unworthy and God's traitor, recommend my wretched and sinful soul to the grace and to the mercy of the blissful Trinity, and my wretched carrion to be buried in the furthest corner of the churchyard, in which parish my wretched soul departeth from my body. And I pray and charge my executors, as they will answer before God, that on my stinking carrion be neither laid cloth of gold nor of silk, but a black cloth, and a taper at my head and another at my feet; no stone nor other thing, whereby any man may know where my stinking carrion lieth." In the original, this word is written _careyne_. The reader will be amused to know the cause of all this humility. Sir Lewis had joined the Lollards, who rejected the doctrines of the mass, penance for sins, extreme unction, &c.; but was brought back to the church of Rome; and thus records his penitence. No. CLVII. "Tell thou the Earl his divination lies." SHAKSPEARE. An impertinent desire to pry into the future, by unnatural means--to penetrate the hidden purposes of God--is coeval with the earliest development of man's finite powers. It is Titanic insolence--and resembles the audacity of the giants, who piled Pelion upon Ossa, to be upon a level with the gods. Divination, however old it may be, seems not to wear out its welcome with a credulous world, nor to grow bald with time. It has been longer upon the earth, than from the time, when Joseph's silver cup, "whereby he divineth," was deposited, in Benjamin's sack, to the days of Moll Pitcher of Lynn, whose divining cup was of crockery ware. "_Mediums_" are mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles--"_And it came to pass, as we went to prayer, a certain damsel, possessed with a spirit of divination, met us, which brought her masters much gain, by soothsaying_." Paul cast out the evil spirit; an example worthy of consideration, by those, to whom the power is given, in the statute, to commit "_all persons, who use any juggling_," to the house of correction, unless their exhibitions are licensed, according to law. All manner of rogues and roguery has immemorially delighted in _aliases_. So has it been with that species of imposture, which assumes, that man's _finite_ powers are sufficient, for _infinite_ purposes. The black art, magic, fortune telling, sorcery, divination, soothsaying, augury, oracular responses, witchcraft, judicial astrology, palmistry, which is the same thing as chiromancy, or divination, by the lines of the hand or palm, horoscopy, which is a part of judicial astrology, haruspicy, or divination, from an inspection of entrails, aeromancy, the art of divining by the air, pyromancy, by flame or fire, hydromancy, by water, geomancy, by cracks or clefts in the earth, hepatoscopy, by the liver, stareomancy, by the elements, theomancy, by the spirit, demonomancy, by the revelation of genii or devils, idolomancy, by images, psychomancy, by the will or inward movement of the soul, antinopomancy, by the viscera of animals, theriomancy, by beasts, ornithomancy, by birds, icthyomancy, by fishes, botanomancy, by herbs, lithomancy, by stones, cleromancy, by lots, oneiromancy, by dreams, onomancy, by names, arithmancy, by numbers, logarithmancy, by logarithms, sternomancy, by the chest, gastromancy, by abdominal sounds, omphelomancy, by the signs of the navel, pedomancy, by the feet, onychomancy, by the nails, cephaleonomancy, by the marks of the head, tuphramancy, by ashes, capnomancy, by smoke, livanomancy, by the burning of frankincense, carromancy, by the burning of wax, lecanomancy, by basins of water, catoxtromancy, by mirrors, chartomancy, by certain writings on paper, machanomancy, by knives, chrystallomancy, by glasses, dactylomancy, by rings, coseinomancy, by seives, axinomancy, by saws, cattobomancy, by brazen chalices, roadomancy, by stars, spatalamancy, by bones and skins, sciomancy, by shadows, astragalomancy, by dice, oinomancy, by wine, sycomancy, by figs, typomancy, by the coagulation of cheese, alphitomancy, by flour or bran, crithomancy, by grain or corn, alectromancy, by cocks and hens, gyromancy, by rounds and circles, lampadomancy, by candles and lamps, nagomancy, or necromancy, by consulting, or divining with, by, or from the dead. The reader must bear in mind, that this list of absurdities is brief and imperfect. All these _mancies_, and many more may be found in Gaule's Mag-Astro-Mancer, page 165, and many of them are described in the Fabricii Bibliographia Antiquaria. These mischievous follies have prevailed, in a greater or less degree, in every age, and among every people. During the very days of auguries, nevertheless, individuals have appeared, whose rough, common sense tore itself forcibly away, from the prevailing delusions of the age. A pleasant tale is related, by Claude Millot, of an old Roman Admiral. He was in pursuit of the Carthagenian fleet; and, as he gained upon the enemy, and a battle seemed to be unavoidable, the haruspex, or priest, who, as usual, accompanied the expedition, with the birds of omen, and who had probably become alarmed, for his personal safety, came suddenly on deck, exclaiming, that the sacred pullets _would not eat_, and that, under such circumstances, it would be unsafe to engage. The old Roman tar ordered the sacred pullets, then in their cage, to be brought before him, and, kicking them overboard, exclaimed, "_let them drink then_." The etymology of the word necromancy, [Greek: nekros mantis], shows its direct application to the scandalous orgies, which are matters of weekly exhibition, in many of our villages and cities, under the name of _spiritual knockings_. Though Sir Thomas Browne could mark, learn, and inwardly digest a witch, a _necromancer_ was beyond his powers; and in Book I., Chap. X. of his Pseudodoxia, he speaks, with deep contempt, of such as "can believe in the real resurrection of Samuel, or that there is anything but delusion, in the practice of _necromancy_, and popular raising of ghosts." _Necromancers_ are those, who pretend to a power of communing with the dead, that is, conjuring up spirits, and of consulting them, in regard to the affairs of this or the other world. In the strictest sense, the Fishes and the Foxes and their numerous imitators are _necromancers_, of course. This impious and eminently pernicious practice has been condemned, in every age, and by every civilized nation. It was condemned, by the law of Moses--"There shall not be found among you any one, that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard or a necromancer. For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord." Deut. xviii. 10, 11, 12. Conjurers may justly be accounted disturbers of the public peace; and such undoubtedly they are, most effectually, by unsettling the minds of credulous people, murdering sleep, and, occasionally, as in repeated instances, during the progress of the present delusion, by driving their infatuated victims to despair, insanity, and suicide. Severe laws have often been enacted, against these pestilent impostors. Conjuration was made felony by statute 1, James I., 1603. This was repealed by 9 Geo. II., 1763. This repeal was in keeping with the ascendancy of common sense, which decreed, that all conjuration was an absurdity: but, at the same time, all _pretensions_ to exercise this or any similar art was made punishable, as a misdemeanor. All laws, against witchcraft and sorcery, founded on the presumption of their possibility, are now justly accounted cruel and absurd. Laws, for the punishment of such, as disturb the public repose, by pretending to exercise these unnatural agencies, are no less judicious; though they have not always been effectual, against the prejudices of the people. The _Genethliaci_, who erected their horoscopes in Rome, for the purpose of foretelling future events, by judicial astrology, were expelled, by a formal decree of the senate; yet they long retained their hold, upon the affections of a credulous people. This species of divination, by the heavenly bodies, commenced with the Chaldeans, and, from them, passed to the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. Henault informs us, that it was much in vogue, in France, during the days of Catherine de Medicis. Roger Bacon was greatly devoted to the practice of Judicial Astrology. Cecil, Lord Burleigh, is known, gravely and elaborately to have calculated the nativity of Queen Elizabeth, who was feverishly addicted to magic. The judicial astrologers of the middle ages were a formidable body, and their conjuring cups and glasses were in high esteem. In Sweden, judicial astrology was in the greatest favor, with kings and commoners. A particular influence was ascribed to the conjuring cup of Erricus, king of Sweden. The Swedes firmly believed, that Herlicius, their famous astrologer, had truly predicted the death of the monarch, Gustavus Adolphus, in 1632, at the battle of Lutzengen, or Lippstadt. In the reigns of Henry III. and Henry IV. of France, this absurd delusion was in such repute, that judicial astrologers were consulted, upon the most trivial occasions; and their daily predictions were the theme of grave and constant conversation, with every class of society. It was no uncommon thing, even in England, for those, who were desirous of communicating with the dead, to make a previous arrangement with some favorite astrologer, and _bespeak a spirit_, as we bespeak a coach, for some particular hour. In the Autobiography of William Lilly, the famous astrologer, in the time of the Stuarts, a curious account is given of Alexander Hart, an astrologer, living in Houndsditch, about the year 1632. It seems, that Hart had entered into a contract with a countryman, who had paid him twenty or thirty pounds, to arrange a meeting between this countryman and a particular spirit, at an appointed time. But, either Hart's powers of raising the dead were unequal to the task, or the spirit had no inclination to keep up the countryman's acquaintance; certain it is, the spirit was unpunctual; and, the patience of the countryman becoming exhausted, he caused the astrologer to be indicted, for a cheat. He was convicted, and about to be set in the pillory, when John Taylor, the water poet, persuaded Chief Justice Richardson to bail him, and Hart was fairly spirited away. He then fled into Holland, where, a few years after, he gave up the spirit, in reality. Its unintelligible quality is the very essence of delusion. Nothing can be more unreasonable, therefore, than to mistake our inability to explain a mystery, for conclusive evidence of its reality and truth. That it is unintelligible or inexplicable surely affords less evidence of its reality, and truth, than is furnished of its falsehood, by its manifest inconsistency with all known natural laws. Bruce informs us, that the inhabitants of the western coasts of Africa pretend to hold a direct communication with the devil; and the evidence of the thing they assert is so very curious and imposing, that he and other travellers are entirely at fault, in their attempts to explain the mystery. Yet no one, for a moment, supposes, that Bruce had the slightest confidence in these absurdities. And yet, so great, so profound, was the belief of Friar Bacon, in this preposterous delusion, that, in his Opus Majus, page 65, he exclaims--"Oh, how happy had it been for the church of God, and how many mischiefs would it have prevented, if the aspects and qualities of the Heavenly bodies had been predicted, by learned men, and known to the princes and prelates of those times! There would not then have been so great a slaughter of Christians, nor would so many miserable souls have been sent to hell." This eminently learned man, Roger Bacon, refers, in this remarkable passage, to the various calamities, which existed, in England, Spain, and Italy, during the year 1264. The word, mathematician, seems to have been applied, in that age, exclusively to astrologers. Peter de Blois, one of the most learned writers of his time, who died A. D. 1200, says, in the folio edition of his works, by Gussanville, page 596--"Mathematicians are those, who, from the position of the stars, the aspect of the firmament, and the motion of the planets, discover things, that are to come." "These prognosticators," says Henry, in his History of Great Britain, vol. vi. page 109, "were so much admired and credited, that there was hardly a prince, or even an earl, or great baron, in Europe, who did not keep one or more of them, in his family, to cast the horoscopes of his children, discover the success of his designs, and the public events, that were to happen." No. CLVIII. There are sundry precepts, delivered by Heathen poets, some eighteen hundred years ago, which modern philosophy may not disregard with impunity. If it be true, and doubtless it is true, that a certain blindness to the future is given, in mercy, to man, how utterly unwise are all our efforts to rend the veil, and how preposterous withal! The wiser, even among those, who were not confirmed in the belief, that there was absolutely nothing, in the doctrines of auguries, and omens, and judicial astrology, have discountenanced all attempts to pry into the future, by a resort to such mystical agencies. The counsel of Horace to Leuconoe is fresh in the memory of every classical reader:-- "Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi Finem Dì dederint, Leuconoë, neu Babylonios Tentàris numeros. Ut melius, quidquid erit pati! Seu plures hyemes, seu tribuit Jupiter ultimam, Quæ nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare Tyrrhenum"---- The version of Francis, however imperfect, may not be unwelcome to the English reader:-- "Strive not, Leuconoe, to pry Into the secret will of fate; Nor impious magic vainly try To know our live's uncertain date. Whether th' indulgent Power divine Hath many seasons yet in store, Or this the latest winter thine, Which breaks its waves against the shore." This passage from Horace is not required, to establish the fact, that magical arts were practised, among the Babylonians. A certain measure of superstition seems to belong to the nature of man; and to grow greater or less, in proportion to the exercise, or neglect, of his reasoning faculties. From this general rule history has furnished us with eminent exceptions. Cunning, and cupidity, and credulity are destined to be ever present: it is therefore to be expected, that, from age to age, the most egregious absurdities will pass, upon a portion of the community, for sober truths. The fact, that popular absurdities have won the patient, if not the respectful, consideration of certain distinguished individuals, who have spoken, and written, doubtingly, if not precisely, in their favor, goes but a very little way, in their behalf. There was a time, when all the world believed, that the sun revolved around the earth, and that the blood was a stagnant pool, in the human body. There are none, I presume, of all, who give their confidence to any marvel of modern times, who are more learned or more wise, than Sir Matthew Hale, or Sir Thomas Browne. Yet both these wise and learned men were firm believers, in witchcraft; and two miserable people, Cullender and Duny, were given over to be hung, by Sir Matthew, partly upon the testimony of Sir Thomas. Though nobody, whose sense is of the common kind, believes in witchcraft, at the present day, there was formerly no lack of believers, in any rank, or profession, in society. The matter was taken for a fixed and incontrovertible fact. The evidence was clear and conclusive, in the opinion of some, among the most eminent judges. If to doubt was not exactly to be damned, it often brought the audacious unbeliever, in danger of being hanged. Competent witnesses gravely swore, that pins and needles were run into their bodies, by persons, at the distance of a mile or more. For this offence, the witches were sentenced to be hanged; and, upon the gallows, confessed, with tears in their eyes, that they did really stick those identical pins, into the bodies of their accusers, being at the time, at the distance of a mile or more; and were swung off; having thus made their peace with God. Witnesses actually swore, that their houses were rocked, by old women, apparently too feeble to rock an infant's cradle, and that tables and chairs were turned topsy turvy; and the old ladies confessed, that they had actually rocked two-story houses and upset those tables, and seemed to be pleased with the distinction of being hanged, for the achievement. Whoever doubted these miracles was called upon to _explain_, or _believe_; and, if he could not indicate clearly the mode, in which this jugglery was effected, he was required to believe in a thing, which was manifestly not _in rerum natura_. In this dilemma, he might suggest an example of legerdemain, familiar to us all--a juggler puts an egg into an ordinary hat, and, apparently, in an instant, the egg is converted into a pancake. If the beholder cannot demonstrate how this is done, he, of course, must believe in the actual conversion, that is in transubstantiation. I have seen this little miracle performed, and confess I do not understand it; and yet I exceedingly doubt, if an egg can be so instantly converted into a pancake. The witch of Endor pretended to conjure up the dead. The effigy was supposed to be made manifest to the eye. Our modern witches and wizards conjure, up or down, whichever it may be, invisible spirits. These spirits have no power of audible speech; thus far, at least, they seem not to have recovered the use of their tongues. To be sure, spirit without matter cannot be supposed to emit sounds; but such is not the case here, for they convey their responses, audibly, by knockings. This is rather a circuitous mode of conveying intelligence, with their fingers and toes, which might be more easily conveyed by the voice. The difference, between our Blitzes and Samees, and the Fishes and the Foxes, consists in this--the former never, for a moment, pretend, that eggs are in reality pancakes, or that they actually perform the pretty miracles, which they seem to perform--the latter gravely contend, as it was contended, in the days of witchcraft, those days, that tried old women's souls, that their achievements are realities. So long as these matters are merely harmless, even though they consume much valuable time, that might be more worthily employed, and transfer the illy-spared coin of the credulous poor, from their own pockets, to the pockets of unprincipled jugglers and impostors, perhaps it may be well to suffer the evil to correct itself, and die even a lingering death. But, when it is manifestly spreading, broadcast, over the land, and even receiving a dash of something like grave importance from the pen, occasionally, of some professional gentleman, whose very doubt may dignify delusion; the matter seems really to demand some little consideration, at least: not that the doubts, even of a respectable physician, elaborately uttered, in a journal of fair repute, can do more to establish the power of mother Fish or mother Fox, to raise the dead, than was achieved, by the opinion of Lord Chief Justice Hale, in favor of witchcraft. That has fallen, as, in due time, this will fall, into merited contempt. But the expression of doubts, from a respectable quarter, upon an occasion like the present, tends, obviously, to strengthen those hands, which probably deserve to be paralyzed. So long, as a matter, like this, is confined to speculation, it may be suffered to flit by, like the folly of a day. But the pestilent thing, of which I am speaking, has, long ago, assumed an entirely different, and a severer, type. At this very time, individuals, who are strictly entitled to the name of vagabonds, male and female, are getting their bread, by cheating the curious and the credulous, in a great number of our towns and villages, by the performance of these frightful antics. This term is altogether too feeble, to express the meaning, which I would gladly fix, in the public mind. By these infernal agencies, children are imbued with a superstitious fear, which tends to enfeeble their intellects, and has a mischievous influence, upon life and conduct, to the end of their days--upon children of a larger growth, especially upon those of nervous temperament, and feeble health, the pernicious effect is incalculable. The fact is perfectly well known, and thoroughly established, that these diabolical orgies, and mystical teachings have not only inflicted the deepest misery on many minds, but have induced several infatuated persons, to commit self murder; and driven others to despair; deprived them of their reason; and caused them to be placed, in asylums for the insane. It is no longer therefore the part of wisdom to treat this evil, with sheer contempt. The conflagration has advanced too far, for us to hope it will go out, erelong, of its own accord. What is then the part of wisdom? There are individuals, whose opinions are certainly entitled to respect, and who conceive, that these mysteries deserve a full and formal examination, by a committee of wise and learned men, that the world may be guided by their decision. I am fearful, that such a course would result in nothing better than disappointment, if in nothing worse. These mysteries are Protean, in their character-- "Verum, ubi correptum manibus vinclisque tenebis, Turn variæ eludent species atque ora ferarum." If the members of the learned inquisition should furnish an explanation of one, or more, of these _mirabilia_, a new series of perplexing novelties would speedily arise, and demand their attention;--so that the _savans_ would, necessarily, become a standing committee, on modern miracles. The incomparable Blitz, if the process were discovered, by which he appears, instantaneously, to convert an egg into a pancake, would challenge you to explain another, by which he rapidly deduces some thirty yards of ribbon from the nose of a bystander. And, if we cannot explain this mystery, he may as reasonably demand of us to believe it a reality, as goody Fox or goody Fish may require her _customers_--for raising the dead is a trade--to believe in her power, to conjure up spirits, because we may not be able to discover the process, by which the rappings are produced. But, even if an investigation were made, by the most competent physiologists, and the decree should go forth, _ex cathedra_; it would, probably, produce a very slight impression upon the whole community. That same self-conceit, which often fills an old woman to the brim, with the belief, that she is a more skilful leech, than Æsculapius ever was, will continue to stand the credulous instead; and the rappings will go on, in spite of the decree of the _savans_; the spirits of the dead will continue to be raised, as they are, at present, at fifty cents apiece; men, women, and children will insist upon their inalienable right to believe, that eggs are pancakes, and that, in violation of all the established laws of nature, ghosts may be conjured up, at the shortest notice; and examples will continue to occur, of distressing nervous excitement, domestic misery, self-murder, and madness. The question recurs--what shall be done, for the correction of this increasing evil? Some suggestions have been made, sufficiently germain to several of the extraordinary pretensions of the present day. Thus, in respect to _clairvoyance_, a standing offer of several thousand francs has been made, by certain persons, in Paris, to any individual, who will prove his ability to see through a pine plank. In regard also to the assumption of knowledge, obtained, through a pretended communication with spirits, a purse of gold has been offered to any person, who, with the aid of all the spirits he can conjure up to his assistance, will truly declare the amount it contains, with a moderate forfeit, in case of failure. This whole matter of conjuration, and spiritual rapping has become an insufferable evil. It is a crying nuisance, and should be dealt with accordingly. It is, by no means, necessary, before we proceed to abate a nuisance, to inquire, in what manner it is produced. It is not possible to distinguish, between the _chevaliers d'industrie_, who swindle the credulous out of their money, by the exhibition of these highly pernicious orgies, from conjurors and jugglers. If this construction be correct, and I perceive nothing to the contrary, then these mischief-makers come within the fifth section of chapter 143 of the Revised Statutes of Massachusetts. Any police court or justice of the peace, has power to send to the house of correction, "_all persons who use any juggling_." It would be a public service to apply this wholesome law to goody Fox, or goody Fish, or any other goody, of either sex, holding these conjurations within our precinct. Upon a complaint, the question would necessarily arise if the offence charged were "_juggling_" or not; and the rule of evidence, _cuique in sua arte_, would bring out the opinions of men, learned in their profession. I am aware of no other mode, by which those persons are likely to be gratified, who believe these proceedings entitled to serious examination. Let us not drop this interesting subject here. No. CLIX. In the olden time, almanacs were exclusively the work of judicial astrologers. The calendar, in addition to the registration of remarkable events, and times, and tides, and predictions, in relation to the weather, presumed to foretell the affairs of mankind, and the prospective changes, in the condition of the world; not by any processes of reasoning, but by a careful contemplation of the heavenly bodies. On most occasions, these predictions were sufficiently vague, for the soothsayer's security; quite as much so, as our more modern foreshadowings, in relation to the weather, whose admonitions, to _expect a change_, _about these times_, are frequently extended from the beginning to the end of the calendar month. An example of this wariness appears, in a letter of John of Salisbury, written in 1170. "The astrologers," says he, "call this year the wonderful year, from the singular situation of the planets and constellations; and say, that, in the course of it, the councils of kings will be changed, wars will be frequent, and the world will be troubled with seditions; that learned men will be discouraged; but, towards the end of the year, they will be exalted." Emboldened, by the almost universal deference, paid to their predictions, the astrologers soon began to venture, on a measure of precision, which was somewhat hazardous. In the commencement of the year 1186, the most distinguished judicial astrologers, not only in England, but upon the continent, proclaimed, that there existed an unprecedented conjunction of the planets, in the sign Libra. Hence they predicted, that, on Tuesday, the sixteenth day of September, at three o'clock in the morning, a storm would arise, such as the world had never known before. They asserted, with an amazing confidence, that, not only individual structures would be destroyed, by this terrible storm, but that great cities would be swept away, before its fury. This tempest, according to their predictions, would be followed, by a far spreading pestilence, and by wars of unexampled severity. A particular account of these remarkable predictions may be found, on page 356 of the annals of Roger de Hoveden. No more conclusive evidence is necessary of the implicit, and universal confidence, which then prevailed, in the teachings of judicial astrology, than the wide spread dismay and consternation, produced by these bold and positive predictions. It is not possible to calculate the sum of human misery, inflicted upon society, by the terrible anticipations of these coming events. As the fatal day drew near, extraordinary preparations were everywhere made, to secure property, from the devastating effects of the approaching tempest. Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, commanded a solemn fast of three days' continuance, throughout his precinct. On the night of the fifteenth of September, very many persons sat up, in solemn expectation of the coming tempest. It has been cruelly observed of medical men, that, to some of their number, the death of a patient would, on the whole, be rather more agreeable, than that he should falsify their prediction, by the recovery of his health. How powerfully a sentiment, similar to this, must have exercised the spirits of these astrologers, as the appointed hour drew nigh! It came at last--bright and cloudless--followed by a day of unusual serenity. The season was one of extraordinary mildness; the harvest and vintage were abundant; and the general health of the people was a subject of universal observation. Old Gervase, of Tilbury, in his Chronicles, alluding to the Archbishop's fears and fastings, remarks, that there were no storms, during the whole year, other than such, as the Archbishop himself raised in the church, by his own absurdity and violence. The astrologers hung their heads, for very shame, and lost caste, for a time, with the people. Divination was, of old, emphatically, a royal folly; and kings have been its dupes and votaries, from the earliest ages of the world. The secret manner, in which Saul betook himself to the witch of Endor, arose, partly, from his knowledge, that such orgies were a violation of divine and human laws. The evils, resulting from such absurdities, had become so apparent, that Saul, himself, had already banished all the soothsayers and magicians from his kingdom. It is manifest, from the experience of Saul, that it is unwise to consult a witch, upon an empty stomach--"_Then Saul fell straightway all along on the earth, and was sore afraid, because of the words of Samuel: and there was no strength in him; for he had eaten no bread all the day, nor all the night_." Lucan, lib. vi. v. 570, et seq., represents young Pompey, just before the battle of Pharsalia, as paying a nocturnal visit, to a sorceress of Thessaly, of whom he inquires, in relation to the issue of the combat. With the ordinary preliminaries, charms, and incantations, the necromancer conjures up the ghost of a soldier, who had recently fallen in battle. At length, she pronounces a denunciation, between which and the prediction of the witch of Endor, delivered to Saul, the resemblance is certainly remarkable. The laws of France, in the time of Louis XIV., were extremely rigorous, against sorcery and divination, inflicting the severest penalties, upon all, who pretended to exercise their skill, in these worse than unprofitable mysteries. Nevertheless, an extraordinary story is related, in the autobiography of Madame Du Barri, as communicated to her, by Louis XV., of several visits stealthily paid, by Louis XIV., and Madame de Maintenon, to a celebrated judicial astrologer, in Paris. This narrative may be found recorded, at length, in the first volume of Madame Du Barri's Memoirs, commencing on page 286. The age of Louis XIV. was an age of superstition. An Italian priest, a secret professor of the art of necromancy, was induced, upon the King's promise of protection, against the parliament, in the event of a discovery, to satisfy the royal curiosity, and open the book of fate. At the hour appointed, being midnight, Madame de Maintenon and the _Duc de Noailles_ were conveyed to a house in Sevrès, where they met the sorcerer, who had celebrated the mass alone, and consecrated several wafers. After performing a variety of ceremonies, he drew the horoscope of the King, and Madame de Maintenon. He promised the King, that he should succeed, in all his undertakings. He then gave his Majesty a parcel, wrapped in new parchment, and carefully sealed, saying to the King--"the day, in which you form the fatal resolution of acquainting yourself with the contents of this package, will be the last of your prosperity; but, if you desire to carry your good fortune to the highest pitch, be careful, upon every great festival, Easter, Whitsunday, the Assumption, and Christmas, to pierce this talisman with a pin; do this, and be happy." Certain events confirmed the sorcerer's predictions--others gave them the lie direct. The royal confidence was shaken. Upon one occasion, the Bishop of Meaux, the great Bossuet, chanced to be at the apartments of Madame de Maintenon; and the subject of magic and sorcery being introduced, the good Bishop expressed himself, with such abhorrence of the profanation, as effectually to stir up a sentiment of compunction, in the bosom of the King and Madame. At length, they disclosed the secret to their confessors, to whom the most effectual means of breaking the charm appeared to be, to break open the talismanic package; and this was accordingly imposed, as a penance, on the King. His sacred Majesty was thus painfully placed, _inter cornua_, or, as we trivially say, between hawk and buzzard--between the priest and the sorcerer. His good sense, if not his devotion, prevailed. The package was torn open, in the presence of Madame de Maintenon, and father la Chaise. It contained a consecrated wafer, pierced with as many holes, as there had been saints' days in the calendar, since it had been in the King's possession. That consternation fell upon the King, which becomes a good Catholic, when he believes, that he has committed sacrilege. He was long disordered, by the recollection, and all, that masses and starvation could avail, to purge the offence, was cheerfully submitted to, by the King. Louis XV. closes this farcical account, with a grave averment, that his ancestor, after this, lost as many male descendants, in the right line, as he had stuck pins, in the holy wafer. There may, possibly, be some little consolation, in the reflection, that, if the private history of Louis le Grand be entitled to any credit, like Charles the Second of England, he could well afford the sacrifice--of whom Butler pleasantly remarks-- "Go on, brave Charles, and if thy back, As well as purse, but hold thee tack, Most of thy realm, in time, the rather Than call thee king, shall call thee father." The Millennarians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries--and these enthusiasts are, by no means, of modern origin--may be said to have hunted, in company with the judicial astrologers. Herlicius and the Millennarians solemnly predicted the destruction of the Turkish Empire, in 1665, the one relying upon the aspect of the stars, and the other upon their fantastical interpretation of the Scriptures; and both, in all likelihood, chiefly, upon the good sword and stubborn will of the Emperor; who, to their infinite disappointment and mortification, finally made peace with the Ottomans. Yet David Herlicius was no impostor, or if so, there was no greater dupe to his astrological doctrines than himself. He was a learned, pious, and honest man. There is, probably, no more extensively popular error, than that a deceiver must possess, on all occasions, a greater measure of knowledge than the deceived. Herlicius was an eminent physician; and Bayle says of him, vol. vi. page 137--"One can hardly imagine why a man, who had so much business, in the practice of physic, and who never had any children, should fear to want bread in his old age, unless he drew horoscopes." This eminent man had doubtless some little misgivings, as to the infallibility of the art, after the failure of his prediction, in relation to the Ottomans. Bayle recites an extract of a letter, from Herlicius to a friend, in which the writer says: "Oh that fortune would look kindly upon me! that, without meddling with those astrological trifles, I might make provision for old age, which threatens me with blindness; and I would never draw any horoscope. In the mean time, when a great many persons inquire for, and desire to know more things, than are within the compass of our art, or more than it can explain, I choose rather to act with conscience, than to disgrace, and, as it were, to defile, our sacred Astrology, and to cast a blemish upon it. For our art abounds with a great number of Chaldean superstitions, which several of our countrymen are still obstinately fond of. A great many ask me what color of clothes and horses will be lucky for them? Sometimes I laugh heartily, at these and other such absurd questions, but I do also often abhor them. For I am enamored with the virgin state of our art, nor can I suffer that it should be so abominably defiled, as to give the enemies of astrology an opportunity to object to us those abuses, to the contempt of the art itself." At the period, when Herlicius unfortunately predicted the destruction of the Ottoman power, Judicial Astrology was in the highest favor in England. The date of the prediction, 1665, was the sixth year of Charles the Second. Whatever space remained, unoccupied by other follies, during the reign of the Stuarts, and even during the interregnum, was filled by the preposterous doctrines of Judicial Astrology. It is perfectly well established, that Charles the First, when meditating his escape from Carisbrook castle, in 1647, consulted the famous astrologer, Sir William Lilly. No. CLX. Isabel, Countess of Warwick, 1439--"My body is to be buried, in the Abbey of Tewksbury; and I desire, that my great Templys[19] with the Baleys[20] be sold to the utmost, and delivered to the monks of that house, so that they grutched not my burial there. Also I will that my statue be made, all naked, with my hair cast backwards, according to the design and model, which Thomas Porchalion[21] has, for that purpose, with Mary Magdalen laying her hand across, and St. John the Evangelist on the right side, and St. Anthony on the left." The singularity of this provision would lead one to believe that the testatrix made her will, under the influence of St. Anthony's fire. John, Lord Fanhope, 1443--"To John, my bastard son, now at Ampthill, ccc. marks; and, in case he should die, before he attain the age of twenty-one, I will that Thomas, my other bastard son, shall have the said ccc. marks." Henry Beaufort was the second son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by Katherine Swinford, a bastard born, but with his brothers and sister, legitimated by act of Parliament, 20 Rich. II., became Bishop of Lincoln 1397--translated to Winchester, 1404, and made a Cardinal. He was remarkable, for his immense wealth, prudence, and frugality. He was four times Chancellor of England. He is reported to have clung to life with a remarkable tenacity. Rapin says, he died for grief, that wealth could not save him from death. The death bed of this Cardinal is admirably described by Shakspeare, in the second part of King Henry VI., Act III., Scene III.: _K. Henry._ How fares my lord? Speak Beaufort to thy Sovereign. _Cardinal._ If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. * * * * * _Warwick._ See how the pangs of death do make him grin. _Salisbury._ Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. _K. Henry._ Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! Lord Cardinal, if think'st on Heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign; Oh God forgive him! _Warwick._ So bad a death argues a monstrous life. _K. Henry._ Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all-- Close up his eyes, and draw the curtains close. The Cardinal's will, though without date, was made about 1443.--"I will that ten thousand masses be said for my soul, as soon as possible after my decease, three thousand of requiem, three thousand of _de rorate coeli desuper_, three thousand of the Holy Ghost, and one thousand of the Trinity. * * * * Item, I bequeath to my Lord, King Henry, a tablet with reliques, which is called the tablet of Bourbon, and a cup of gold with a ewer, which belonged to the illustrious prince, his father, and offered by him on Easter Eve, and out of which cup he usually drunk, and for the last time drank. * * * * Item, I bequeath to my Lord the King, my dish or plate of gold for spices, and my cup of gold, enamelled with images." In two codicils to this will, Cardinal Beaufort refers to certain crown jewels, and vessels of silver and gold, pledged to him by the King and Parliament, for certain sums lent. When the King went into France and Normandy, and upon other subsequent occasions, the Cardinal had loaned the King £22,306 18_s._ 8_d._ It appears in Rymer, vol. x. page 502, that the King redeemed the sword of Spain and sundry jewels, pledged to the Cardinal, for £493 6_s._ 8_d._ John, Duke of Exeter, 1447--"I will that four honest and cunning priests be provided, to pray perpetually every year, for my soul." He then conveys certain manors to his son Henry, "provided always, that an annuity of XL_l._ be reserved for my two bastard sons, William and Thomas." William Burges, garter King of Arms, 1449, bequeaths to the church of St. George at Staunford--"to the seyd chirch for ther solempne feste dayes to stand upon the high awter 11 grete basque of silver, and 11 high candlesticks of sylver, 1 coupe of sylver, in the whych is one litel box of yvory, to put in the blessid sacrament." He also gives to said church "two greter candelstykkes, and for eiche of these candelstykkes to be ordayned a taper of waxe of 1 pound wight, and so served, to be lighted atte dyvyne servyce at pryncipal fest dayes, and al other solempne festes, as, at matyns, pryme, masse, and the yeven songs." John, Lord Scrope, 1451--"To the altar, in the chapel of St. Mary, at York, a jewel, with a bone of St. Margaret, and XL_s._ for ringing their bells, at my funeral." Ann, Duchess of Exeter, 1457--"I forbid my executors to make any great feast, or to have a solemn hearse, or any costly lights, or largess of liveries according to the glory or vain pomp of the world, at my funeral, but only to the worship of God, after the discretion of Mr. John Pynchebeke, Doctor of Divinity." Edmund Brudenell, 1457--"To Agmondesham Church; to the Provosts of the Church for the maintenance of the great light before the cross XX_s._ To the maintenance of the light before St. Katherine's Cross, III_s._ IV_d._" John Younge, 1458--"To the fabrick of the Church of Herne, viz., to make seats, called puyinge, X. marks." John Sprot, Clerk, 1461--"To each of my parishioners XL_d._" The passion for books, merely because of their antique rarity, and not for their intrinsic value, is not less dangerous, for the pursuer, than that, for collecting rare animals, and forming a private menagerie, at vast expense. Even the entomologist has been known to diminish the comforts of his family, by investing his ready money in rare and valuable bugs. It has been pleasantly said of him, "He leaves his children, when he dies, The richest cabinet of flies." There is no doubt, that, in those superstitious days, the traffic in relics must have been a source of very great profit to the priests; equal, at least, to the traffic in _ancient terra cottas_, in the days of Nollekens. The sleeves of those crafty friars could not have been large enough, to hold their laughter, at the expense of the faithful. The heir apparent, whose grief, for the death of his ancestor, was sufficiently subdued, by his refreshing anticipations of some thousands of marks in ready money, must have been somewhat startled, upon the reading of the will, to find himself residuary legatee, _for life_, of the testator's "reliques, remainder over to the Carthusian Friars!" Such, and similar, things were of actual occurrence. William Haute, Esquire, made his will, May 9, 1462, of course, in the reign of Edward the Fourth. This worthy gentleman ordains--"My body to be buried, in the Church of the Augustine Friars, before the image of St. Catherine, between my wives. * * * * I bequeath one piece of that stone, on which the Archangel Gabriel descended, when he saluted the Blessed Virgin Mary, to the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary of the Church of Bourne, the same to stand under the foot of the said image. I bequeath one piece of the bone of St. Bartholomew to the Church of Waltham. One piece of the hair cloth of St. Catherine, the Virgin, and a piece of the bone of St. Nicholas, to the Church of the Augustine Friars aforesaid. I bequeath all the remainder of my relicks to my son William, _for life_, with remainder to the Augustine Friars forever." Humphrey, Earl of Devon, 1463--"I will, that Mr. Nicholas Goss and Mr. Watts, Warden of the Grey Friars, at Exeter, shall, for the salvation of my soul, go to every Parish Church, in the Counties of Dorset, Somerset, Wilts, Devon, and Cornwall, and say a sermon, in every Church, town, or other; and as I cannot recompense such as I have offended, I desire them to forgive my poor soul, that it be not endangered." William, Earl of Pembroke, 1469--"In nomine Jesu, &c. And wyfe, that ye remember your promise to me, that ye take the ordre of widowhood, as ye may the better mayster your owne * * * * Wyfe pray for me, and take the said ordre, that ye promised me, as ye had, in my lyfe, my hert and love." This lady, who was the daughter of Sir Walter Devereux, observed her vow, and died the widow of the Earl; which is the more remarkable, as these injunctions have often produced an opposite effect, and abbreviated the term of continency. Sir Harry Stafford, Kt., 1471--"To my son-in-law, the Earl of Richmond, a trappur, four new horse harness of velvet; to my brother, John, Earl of Wiltshire, my bay courser; to Reynold Bray, my Receiver General, my grizzled horse." Cecilia Lady Kirriel, 1472--"In my pure widowhood, &c. To John Kirriel, bastard, &c." It is not unusual for the consciences of men, in a dying hour, to clutch, for security, at the veriest straws. It is instructive to consider the evidences, exhibited in these ancient testaments, of superfluous compunction. Sir Walter Moyle, Knt., 1479, directs his feoffees "to make an estate, in two acres of land, more or less, lying in the parish of Estwell, in a field called Calinglond, and deliver the same, in fee simple, to three or four honest men, to the use and behoof of the Church of Estwell aforesaid, in recompense of a certain annual rent of £2 of wax, by me wrested and detained from the said Church, against my conscience." It was not unusual, to appoint overseers, to have an eye upon executors; a provision, which may not be without its advantages, occasionally, even in these days of more perfect morality, and higher law. Sir Ralph Verney, Knt., 1478, appoints four executors, and "my trewe lover, John Browne, Alderman of London, to be one of the _overseers_ of this my present testament, and to have a remembrance upon my soul, one of my cups, covered with silver gilt." Monks and Friars were pleasant fellows in the olden time, and Nuns are not supposed to have been without their holy comforts. Landseer's fine picture of Bolton Abbey is a faithful illustration. The fat of the land, when offered to idols, has commonly been eaten up by deputy. However shadowy and attenuated the souls of their humble and confiding tributaries, the carcasses of abbots are commonly represented as superlatively fat and rubicund. Bequests and devises to Lights and Altars were very common. Eustace Greville, Esquire, 1479, bequeaths "to the Light of the Blessed Mary, in the said Church of Wolton, three pounds of wax in candles and two torches; to the Altar of the Blessed Mary in the said church, one bushel of wheat and as much of barley; and to the Lights of the Holy Cross there one bushel of barley and as much of beans; and the same to the Light of St. Katherine there." FINIS. DUST TO DUST. In utter disregard of all precedent, I have placed this dedication at the end of the volume, deeming it meet and right, that the corpse should go before. How very often the publication of a ponderous tome has been found to resemble the interment of a portly corpse! How truly, ere long, it may be equally affirmed, of both--the places, that knew them, shall know them no more! Mæcenas was the friend and privy counsellor of Augustus Cæsar; and, accordingly, became, in some measure, the dispenser of executive patronage. The name of Mæcenas has been employed, ever since, to signify a patron of letters and the arts. Dedications are said to have been coeval with the days of his power. In almost every case, a dedication is neither more nor less, than an application for convoy, from the literary mariner, who is scarcely willing to venture, with his fragile bark, "_in mare Creticum_" or _criticum_, unaided and alone. He solicits permission to dedicate his work to some distinguished individual--in other words, to place his influential name, upon the very front of the volume, as an amulet--a sort of passover--to keep evil spirits and critics, at a distance. If the permission be granted, of which the public is sure to be informed, the presumption, that the patron has read and approved the work, amounts to a sanction, of course, to the extent of his credit and authority. In some cases, however, I have reason to believe, that the only part of the work, which the patron ever reads, is the dedication itself. That most amiable and excellent man, and high-minded bibliopolist, the late Mr. JAMES BROWN, informed me, that an author once requested permission, to dedicate his work, to a certain professor, in the State of New York, tendering the manuscript, for his perusal; and that the professor declined reading the work, as superfluous; but readily accepted the dedication, observing, that he usually received five dollars, on such occasions. There was one, to whom it would afford me real pleasure to dedicate this volume, were he here, in the flesh; but he has gone to his account. GROSSMAN is numbered with the dead! READER--if you can lay your hand upon your heart, and honestly say, that you have read these pages, or any considerable portion of them, with pleasure--that they have afforded you instruction, or amusement--I dedicate this volume--with your permission, of course--most respectfully, to you; having conceived the most exalted opinion of your taste and judgment. L. M. SARGENT, ROCK HILL, DECEMBER, 1855. GENERAL INDEX. The figures refer to the numbers--not to the pages. A. ABNER, cautioned by his father, as to his behavior to aged people, 1. ADAMS, John, anecdote of, 45: --lines written under his name, in a lady's album, 46. AIRS, national, authorship of, 106. ALMSGIVING, 56. AMBASSADORS, from U. S. A. to G. B. 73. ANCESTRY, pride of, 97. ANTIQUARIES, sometimes malicious, 126. APOTHECARIES, in Boston--some notice of, 112. ARISTOCRACY, of Boston--examples of, 90: --among the dead, 1. ARMS, reversed, at military funerals, of great antiquity, 30. ARNOLD, Benedict, what made him a traitor, 87. ARUNDINES CAMI, 92. ASCLEPIADES, of Prusa, his medical practice, 114. ASTROLOGERS, Judicial, formerly part of a nobleman's household, 157. --False prediction of, in 1186. Ibid. --Consulted by Louis XIV. and Madame de Maintenon, 159. ASTROLOGY, Judicial, Q. Elizabeth addicted to.--Much practised, in the middle ages, 157, 159. AVARICE, 31. AVERY, steals three negroes:--attempts to sell them:--their rescue, 47. AYMAR, James, a famous impostor, 113. AUCTIONS, various modes of:--by inch of candle:--by sand glass:--of fish among the Dutch:--various modes of notifying, and bidding at, 139. AUCTIONEER'S BELL, used at the Hague:--formerly in Boston, 139. B. BABYLONIANS, their mode of obtaining husbands, for homely women, 115. BACHELORS punished by the Lacedemonians for their celibacy:--not trusted with affairs of state at Athens, 115. BARBERS, 140, 141, 142, 143: --their antiquity, 140: --formerly peripatetics, 141: --their shops and poles, 141: --female, 141: --their citternes and "knack with the fingers," 142. BAPTISM, vicarious, 109. BATHS, ancient, 114. BATTEL, wager of, 145. BEARDS, habits of the ancients, respecting, 140: --modern, 142: --dyeing them an ancient practice, 142. BELKNAP, Jeremy, Rev. 47: --his desire for a sudden death, 75: --regard for historical truth, 75: --error, as to Gosnold, 75. BELLS, and bell ringing:--weight of several:--a terror to "evill spirytes," 37. BENEVOLENCE, remarkable example of, 55. BENTHAM, Jeremy, dissected by his own request, 8. "BLEED AND PURGE all Kensington," 111. BODIES, posthumous preservation of, 20. BODKIN, the famous root and herb doctor, 109. BOILING TO DEATH, a mode of punishment, 151. BOODLE, William, his self-conceit, 49. BOORN, Stephen and Jesse, remarkable case of erroneous conviction, on circumstantial evidence, 79 to 85, both inclusive. BORRI, Joseph Francis, a famous impostor, 113. BRADFORD, Sheriff, anecdote of, 5. BROCKLEBANK, Parson, anecdote of, 49. BURIAL, joint stock companies, 58: --their profits enormous, 58: --of weapons, by the slaves, at Charleston, 34. "BRING OUT YOUR DEAD," 27. BUCHANAN, James, his errors, in relation to Major André, corrected, 19. BURKE AND BISHOP, executed, for murder, with intent to sell the bodies, 7. BURYING THE DEAD, manner of, commended, 21: --in cities and under churches, objections to, 10, 11, 60, 61: --manner of, and practices, connected therewith, in different ages and nations, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 21, 30, 38, 96, 101: --premature, 15, 91, 95: --means for preventing, 91, 95. BULL JOHN, and brother Jonathan, 104: --John, the musician, author of "God save the King," 106. BYLES, Mather, anecdotes of, 93, 94. C. CADES, sexton, how he lost his office, 44. CALIFORNIA fever, 31. CAMPBELL, hung for killing Boyd in a duel, 145. CAMPBELL, Captain, steals an heiress, 115. CANDLES, burnt in the day, at a church, in Nantucket, 24: --of wax, at Popish funerals, in old times, 2. --by inch of, ancient mode of selling at auction, 139. CANER, Rev. Dr., some notice of, 78. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT, 50, 51, 53, 54, 57, 89. CAPITAL OFFENCES, in Massachusetts, in 1618, 62. CARTER, sexton, insulted by a chirurgeon, 43. CATACOMBS, 10: --of Paris, 12, 13. CATAFALQUE, its import, 103. CHADWICK, Edwin, his report on interments, to the British Parliament, 58. CHAPEL, King's, some account of, 78. CHARLES I. funeral of, 39: --his body discovered, in 1813, 40: --V. legend of his mock funeral, denied, 99. CHILDREN, female, destruction of, in China, and elsewhere, 29. CHINESE, habits of the, 101. CHUANG-TSZE, story of, 119, 120. CLARENDON, in error, as to the burial place of King Charles I. 40. CLARKE, Barnabas, anecdote of, 90. CLARK, Alvan, his versatility of talent, 46. CLAY, Henry, his frequent leavetakings, 99. COBBETT, William, his letter to Lord Liverpool, on the American triumphs, 104. CONGRESS, American, Lord Chatham's opinion of, 104. COURAGE, personal, externals no sure criterion of--two remarkable examples, 149. CONSCIENCE PARTIES, 29. CORDAY, CHARLOTTE de, an interesting question, connected with her decapitation, 153. CREMATION, cost of--least expensive mode, excepting the urns, 74: --of Henry Laurens, 95: --of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley:--their diet in prison, 74. CRIMINALS, how to dispose of, 89: --bodies of, delivered for dissection, 7: --number waiting to be hung, 51. CROMWELL, Oliver, various estimates of his character:--views and handles the dead body of Charles I.:--his funeral:--his body dug up, and hung, at Tyburn, 39. CRUCIFIXION, 151. D. DADDY OSGOOD, sold at auction, 139. DANFORTH, Dr. Samuel, notice of, 111. DEACONS, their dispute about a tomb, 11. DEAD SEA, some account of, 35, 36. DEATH, certain evidence of, 91: --condition of the soul, after, 96: --imitation of, 137: --by shipwreck, 102. DENTISTS, in Boston, some notice of, 112. DESECRATION, of the dead, 14, 21, 23. DICKSON, provost of Dundee, his epitaph, 9. DIEDRICK VAN PRONK'S widow, anecdote of, 7. DIGBY, Everard, account of his having spoken, after the removal of his heart, 153. DINAH FURBUSH, her corpse insulted, 77. DIOGENES, anecdote of, 4. DISTILLERS, in Boston, number of, 112. DIVINATION, some account of, 157, 158. DIVINING ROD, of James Aymar, 113. "DON'T GO too near that hedge," 91. DREAMS, of Martin Smith and King's Chapel, by the Old Sexton, 76, 77, 78. DRUNKENNESS, at ordinations, 37. DRYDEN, John, disturbance at his funeral, 118. DUELS, between Benjamin Woodbridge and Henry Phillips, on Boston Common, 133 to 136, both inclusive: --various, 144 to 149, both inclusive: --punishment of, 145: --number killed in, 145: --Decatur and Barron, 146: --Lord Bruce and Sir Edward Sackville, 147: --Lords Mohun and Hamilton, 147: --Sheridan and Matthews, 147: --M'keon and Reynolds, 147: --Campbell and Boyd, 147: --Colclough and Alcock, 147: --David and Goliath, 147: --Titus Manlius and the Gaul, 148: --Hector and Ajax, 148: --Turnus and Æneas, 148: --Rauber and a Spanish gentleman, 148: --Cameron, and McLean, 148: --Lord Mark Kerr and a French Colonel, 149: --Joseph Bainbridge and the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, 149: --Rand and Millar, 153. DUGDALE, Sir William, the antiquary, 155. DYONISIUS, to save his throat, taught his daughters to shave, 140. E. EFFIGIES of the dead, made of cinnamon, and carried in the procession, 30. EGYPTIANS, trials of their kings, after death, 5: --every Egyptian a doctor, 107. ELI, the sexton, his hallucinations, 55. ELIOT, Rev. Andrew, gloves and rings, given him at funerals, and the sale of, 28. EMBALMING, process of, 4. EMPIRICS, 109, 110, 111, 113, 114. EPITAPHS, 5, 9. ESTIMATE OF AMERICANS by the English people, in 1775 and 1812, 104. EVIDENCE, circumstantial, remarkable examples of, 79 to 85, both inclusive: --Webster's case, 86. EXECUTION, in Ballyconnel, 54. F. FAKEER, East India, account of his apparent death, and resurrection, 137, 138. FAMINE, Keayne's granary in case of, 112. FANEUIL HALL, origin of:--burnt:--rebuilt and enlarged, 130, 131. FANEUIL PETER, and his relatives, some account of, 122 to 132, both inclusive: --aids Henry Phillips, to escape, after his fatal duel, with Woodbridge, 134. FOOD for ghosts, 25. FORTUNE-HUNTERS, remarkable disappointment of one, 115, 116. FRANKLIN, Benjamin, his account of the resurrection of flies, drowned in wine, 138: --his letter to Thomas Percival, on duelling, 144: --Sir John, probably lost, 154. FREEMAN, Dr., manner of his ordination, 78. FRIENDSHIPS, rarely lifelong:--examples of, 59: --Cicero's first law of, 59. FRIZZELL'S BELL, 37. FUNERALS, invitations to, 8: --baked meats at:--games, and festivals at, 25. G. GIFTS, New Year's, 117. GLOVES and rings, at funerals, 28. GOSNOLD, Bartholomew, his abode, at Cuttyhunk, 75. GOVERNOR of Mass., anecdote of a, 52. GRANNY, anecdote of skinning, 58. GROSSMAN threatened to be shot, 13. GUILLOTIN, Dr. 151: --the instrument that bears his name, 151, 152. H. HAIR, management of the, 143. HALLEY, Thomas, great pomp, and much guzzling, at his funeral, 25. HALIFAX GIBBET and the guillotine identical, 151. HANDEL, rivalry, between him, and Senesino, and Buononeini, 105: --Swift's epigram, on their squabbles, 105. HANGING, sensations produced by, 95: --vicarious, 150: --persons differently moved, in prospect of, 150. HANWAY, Sir Jonas, his account of the practice of giving vales, 28. HAPPINESS, 48. HASTÆ, why auctions were so called, at Rome, 139. HAWES, Dr. William, his work on premature interment, 95. HEIRESS, stealing an, made felony:--remarkable examples of, 115. HENRY VIII. bone stolen from his corpse, 39: --some account of his funeral, 103. HERSE, ancient import of the word, 103. HOOK, Theodore, anecdote of, 24. "HOW could the poor Abbé sustain himself against you all four?" 113. HOWLERS, at funerals, ancient and modern, 32, 38. HUGUENOTS, in Boston:--their early settlement, in Oxford, Mass. 122: --their church in Boston, 122, 123. I. IDLENESS, effects of, 22. INFANTICIDE, 29. INNHOLDERS, in Boston, number of, 112. INTOLERANCE, in Massachusetts, 62. J. JAMES II., his gallantry, when Duke of York, in a sea-fight, 66. JEWS usurious, 15,000 banished, 52. JE vous sauter le tête, 151. L. LACERATION, of the cheeks and hair, at funerals, in Greece, Rome, and elsewhere, 30, 32, 38. LARGESSES at funerals, 25. LAURENS, Henry, his body burnt, after death, by his request, 95. LAWYERS, in Boston, their number at different periods, 112. LE MERCIER, André, minister of the Huguenots, in Boston, 132. LEVI, M. de, his pride of ancestry, 97. LIBERTY TREE, 41, 42. Philip Billes devises his estate, on condition of being buried under that tree, 42. LICINIUS, P., games, &c., at his funeral, 25. LILLY, Sir William, the astrologer, notice of, 157. LIND, Jenny, some account of, 105. LLOYD, Dr. James, his appearance, 111. LOCALITIES, certain interesting, 7. LONGEVITY, some examples of, 45. LOT'S WIFE, pillar of salt, &c., 35, 36: --seen by Irenæuis and others, after she was salted, 36. LOUIS XVI., brutal behaviour of the French people, at his execution, 152. LOVAT, Lord, his repartee, on his way to be hung, 150. LUDII, HISTRIONES, SCURRÆ, 30. LUXURY, ever injurious, and often fatal, to Republics, 87, 88. LYMAN, Theodore, notice of him, and his public and private charities, 56. M. MARCUS FLAVIUS, anecdote of, 25. MARRIAGES, taxed:--first celebration of, in churches:--forbidden during Lent, 115. MARINER bound for Africa, reaches Norway, 48. MARSHALL, Tommy, anecdote of, 90. MARTYRS, cremation of:--cost of burning Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, 24. MASHEE, Tooley, plays corpse, 137. MCPHEE, widow Nelly, anecdote of, 7. MEDICINE, origin of the practice of, 107: --practice of, among the Babylonians, Greeks, Egyptians, Israelites, and Hindoos, 108. MEDIUMS, some notice of, 157. MEXICAN BEGGARS, how employed by Montezuma, 142. MILTON, John, his marriages, 98: --writes in favor of polygamy, 98: --desecration of his remains, 118. MINGLING the ashes of dear friends, in the same urn, practice of, 21. MINISTERS of the Gospel, in Boston, in 1740, 132. MIRTHFULNESS, its advantages, 92. MONEY, George Herbert's address to, 31. MONTGOMERY, Gen. Richard, his exhumation, and reinterment, 18. MONUMENTS, Dryden's, Ben Jonson's, and Cowley's, mutilation of, 118. MOONCURSERS, laws for their punishment:--anecdote of, 102. MOORHEAD, Rev. John, some notice of, 99. MOSES, an apothecary, 107. MOURNERS, their peculiar consolations, 32: --for the year 1848, 33. MOURNING, time allowed for:--color of the vesture, in different countries, 32. Irish, consists in the number of coaches and the quantity of whiskey, 74. MULE, a bad one, 30. N. NAPOLEON'S last words, 31. NEW YEAR'S DAY, when, 117, 123. NEW NORTH CHURCH, uproar there, 37. NORTH CHURCH, peal of bells there, 37. NUISANCE, affecting the air, not necessary to prove it noxious, 60. O. OBSEQUIES, provisions for, by persons, while living, 7. OTIS, James, anecdote of, 90. P. PARKMAN, Dr. George, his murder:--his peculiarities, 72. PENN, William, reply to Macaulay's abuse of:--memoir of, 62 to 71, both inclusive: --death bed of his son, 71. PERCIVAL, Thomas, his work, on duelling, 144. PERE LA CHAISE, 11. PESTILENCE, numbers destroyed by, 27. PHILADELPHIANS, saved from being Welchmen, 68. PHYSICIANS, various schools of, named by Pliny, 110, 114: --number of the old Boston doctors, and their residences, 112. PIPERS, at funerals, 8. PIRATES, hung on Boston Common, 50. PITCAIRN, Major, the honor of killing him, claimed by many:--the remains, under Westminster Abbey, said to have been erroneously selected, from under the North Church, 17. PLAGUE, some account of the, 27. PLINY, in favor of herb doctoring, 114. PLANTER, funeral of an old, in St. Croix, 30. POLHAMUS, the good Samaritan, 83. POMPADOUR, Madame de, her remains transferred to the Catacombs, 13. PONTRACI, the prince of undertakers, 12. PORTLAND VASE, history of the, 20. PRIDE AND POVERTY, excess of, dangerous, 87. PUNISHMENT, various kinds of, 151. PUNSTERS habitual, nuisances, 94. PWAN YAKOO, and other Chinese, their visit to Boston:--description of her golden lilies, 102. Q. QUACKS of great use to sextons, 27. QUAKERS, persecution of, in Massachusetts, 62, 63. R. RAND, Dr. Isaac, brief notice of, 111. RAZORS, their antiquity:--mentioned by Homer, Samuel, Ezekiel:--how sharpened:--of brass, 140: --the best formerly from Palermo, 142. RECHERCHES, Historiques et Physiologiques sur la Guilotine, 152. RELICS, traffic and jugglery in, by the priests, 17. REPUBLICS, extravagance fatal to, 87, 88. REVENGE Church of Christ, 37. REVIVAL, amusing example of, on the way to the grave, 91: --of a child of Henry Laurens, which caused him to order his own corpse to be burnt, 95. ROCHEFOUCAULT, maxim erroneously ascribed to, 59. ROMAN CATHOLICS, persecution of, in Massachusetts, 29. ROSS, Sir John, his residence, in the Arctic regions:--discovery of him and his company, 154. ROTHSCHILD, Nathan Meyer, his funeral solemnities, 3. RUM, mainspring of the slave trade in Massachusetts, 47. RUSH, Dr. Benjamin, alluded to:--anecdote of, 111. S. "SACRED TO THE MEMORY"! 77. SANTA CRUZ, gross extortion there, from surviving friends, 16. SANSONS, the hereditary executioners of Paris, 151, 152. SAYINGS, of eminent men, in articulo, or just before death, 100. SCOTCH WEAVER'S VANITY, 39. SELWYN, George, seldom absent from an execution, 50. SENECA, quotation from, 48. SEXTONS, their office, its origin, and duties, of old:--their extortion, occasionally, in the hour of affliction, 16 --their business much benefited by steam, 2. SCIENCE, some curious mistakes of, 154. SHAYS, his insurrection, 29. SHAVING, suggestions concerning, 140. SHELLEY, the poet, cremation of, 20. SHIPWRECKS, their number, 102. SLAVERY, 34: --in Boston, 43, 47: --early attempts to abolish, in Massachusetts, 44: --how and when abolished there, 47: --Slave trade, in Boston, 47. SLAVES, example of their ingenuity, 34. SMITH, Martin, sexton of King's Chapel, his apparition to the sexton of the old school, 76, 77, 78. SOLDIERS, their sufferings, as statesmen, 100. SONS OF LIBERTY, some account of the, 41. SOUTHERN STATES, liberality to Boston, in 1774, 44. SPARTANS, their mode of selecting wives, 115. SPIDER and chambermaid, 29. SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS, sometimes resulting in madness, and self-murder, 157, 158: --remedy for, 158. STAMP ACT, resolutions in Faneuil Hall, 58. STEAM, of great benefit to sextons, 27. STERNHOLD AND HOPKINS, their version of the Psalms gave place to that of Tate and Brady:--motive of Sternhold little suspected, 100. STONECUTTER, anecdote of a, 6. STYLE, old and new, some account of, 117. SUCCESSION, Apostolic, 78. SUMNER, Governor, funeral of, 39. SUMPTUARY LAWS, some account of, 88. SURGEONS, the earliest:--limited nature of their functions, 107: --among the Israelites, 108. SUTTEES, description of, 74. SWANS, their musical power fabulous, 105. SWEATING SICKNESS, some account of, 27. SWEDENBORG, his notions of Heaven:--of the soul, 96. T. TALLOW CHANDLER, retired from business, anecdote of, 22. TASMAN'S BOWL, used for conjuration, in Tongataboo, 38. TEA, thrown overboard, 44. TEARS, power of shedding at will, 32. TEMPERANCE "has done for funerals," 2. TETOTUM DOCTOR, 111. THATCHER, Rev. Peter, installation of, 37. THREE CHEERS for the elephant, 39. TOMBS, reasons for preferring graves:--outrage upon five, in Salem, Massachusetts, 13, 14. "TOO HEARTILY of nutmegs," 103. TORIES, their faith in the royal cause, 125. TREASURES, buried with the dead, 21. TURENNE, singular fate of his remains, 23. U. URNS, funeral, forms, and materials of, 20: --occasionally large enough to contain the mingled ashes of whole families, 21. USURY, some remarks on, 48, 52. V. VALES, practice of giving, 27. VANITY, illustration of, 49. VIANDS, deposited near the dead, 25. VISCERATION among the ancients, 25. VOLTAIRE, his description of a Frenchman, 152. W. WADE, Sir Claude M. his account of the East India Fakeer, who was restored, after a suspension of consciousness, for six weeks, 137, 138. WAGER OF BATTEL, the law of England, so late, as 1819, 145. WAKES, their origin:--some account of, 91. WARREN, Gen. Joseph, manner of discovering his remains:--the bullet, by which he was killed, in possession of the Montague family, 17. WASHINGTON, George, illustration of the reverence for his memory, in New England:--opinion of, by Lords Erskine and Brougham:--national neglect of his monument:--sale of some of his effects, 26. WATERHOUSE, Dr. Benjamin, anecdote of, 111. "WEEL THEN sing as mony as there be," 99. WEBSTER, Dr. John White, his trial for the murder of Dr. Parkman, 72: --his case stated, at the close of, 89. WEEVER'S funeral monuments, 24. "WHAT that boy says is true," 113. WIDOWS, Numa severe upon:--marrying within ten months accounted infamous, 32: --unjustly censured, 98: --"with the great fan," 119. WIGS, scratches, bobs, and full bottomed:--their antiquity, 142, 143: --periwigs in N. England, 142: --Roman, 143. WILLS, ANCIENT, 155, 156, 160: --superstitious dread of making, 155: --Andrew Faneuil's, 127. WITCHES, their right to travel through the air, decided by Lord Mansfield, 29. WOODBRIDGE, Benjamin, killed in a duel on Boston Common, 133 to 137: both inclusive. WRAXALL'S MEMOIRS, inaccurate, 149. Z. ZISCA, John, anecdote of, 7. INDEX TO PROPER NAMES. The figures refer to the pages--not to the numbers. A. Abbeville, 635. Abbott, 112, 204. Abel, 429. Aberdeen, 364. Abner, 9, 13, 108, 172, 173, 197, 289. Absalom, 591. Achilles, 12, 17, 67, 107. Adam, 70, 429, 605. Adams, 596. Adams, John, 142, 156, 157, 160, 275, 276, 394. Adams, John Q., 156, 394. Adams, Samuel, 142. Addison, 35, 38, 454, 606. Admetus, 12. Adrian, 584. Æneas, 382. Æsculapius, 433, 436, 445, 667. Affslager, 587. Africa, 33, 168, 435, 622, 662. Africans, 632. Africanus, 583. Agamemnon, 17, 430. Agathias, 16. Agrigentum, 373. Agmondesham, 676. Agrippa, 261. Agrippa, Cornelius, 445. Ahaziah, 431. Alaricus, 65. Albany, 38, 415. Alcock, 614. Aldgate, 652. Aldgrave, 634. Aleet Mong, 398. Alexander, 373. Allen, 353, 495, 502, 503, 601, 610. Allwick, 69. Almotanah, 123. Almshouse, 24. Alvanley, 606. America, 265, 416. Ames, 91, 630, 631. Ammianus, 64. Amphytrion, 217, 581. Amoon, 398. Amory, 94. Amsterdam, 456, 622. Anderson, 309. Andover, 561. André, 57 to 62, passim. Andrews, 24, 159. Andros, 298. Anecy, 56. Angouleme, 124. Anio, 617. Annan, 286. Anne Boleyn, 477. Annelly, 423. Anne of Cleves, 78, 81, 410. Anne, Queen, 186, 248, 262, 365, 406. Antijacobin, 612. Antoninus, 67. Antony, 579. Antwerp, 618. Appleton, 450, 506, 538, 630. Apthorp, 297. Arabian Nights, 269. Arabs, 119, 123. Aratus, 12. Archelaus, 102, 591. Archimimus, 98. Arcueil, 39, 42. Argiletum, 587. Aristotle, 186, 217, 218. Arkwright, 420. Arnaud, 419. Arnold, 62, 228, 338, 339, 340. Arundel, 157. Asa, 430, 434. Aselepiades, 358, 373, 443, 460, 461. Ashford, 604. Ashmole Museum, 613. Asiatic Researches, 435. Athenæ Oxonienses, 133, 135, 136, 232, 248, 250, 425, 640, 642. Athens, 11, 88, 343, 373, 420, 442. Atherton, 30, 167. Atossa, 465. Atticus, 51, 474. Attleborough, 31. Auchterpool, 603. Augustines, 652, 654, 677. Augustus, 99, 583. Auld Reekie, 334. Aulus Gellius, 218. Austin, 449. Austria, 321. Austrians, 539. Auxerre, 220. Avery, 166, 167. Aviola, 49, 373. Avis, 92. Aymar, 438, 454, 455. Azotus, 33. B. Bacon, Roger, 360, 361, 362. Bacon, Lord, 185, 188, 375, 376, 445, 641, 642. Babylon, 406, 422, 432, 433. Babylonians, 664. Baiæ, 320. Bahar Loth, 123. Bailey, 246. Bainbridge, 610, 624. Balch, 269, 353. Baldwin, 57, 181, 303, 311. Ball, 624. Ballyconnel, 194. Ballymahon, 195. Ballyshannon, 355. Balmarino, 629. Bancroft, 277. Banians, 377. Banks, 298, 424. Barataria, 123, 265. Barbaroux, 426. Barbary, 88. Barbut, 29. Barcephas, 120. Barclay, 252. Barker, 642. Barlow, 288, 361. Barnes, 451. Barnard, 24. Barra Durree, 570. Barré, 140, 145, 416. Barrington, 606. Barron, 608, 609. Barrow, 398, 400, 402, 403. Barrow's Strait, 645. Barton, 561, 562, 563. Bartholomew, 633. Bartholomew's Eve, 93. Bassorah, 88. Bastile, 84. Bate, 601. Battenkill, 303. Baulny, 639. Baulston, 228. Baxter, 252. Bayard, 393. Bayeaux, 519. Bayle, 56, 358, 380, 388, 391, 455, 672, 673. Bayley, 597. Baynton, 516, 519. Bay State, 163. Beattie, 360. Beauchamp, 529, 651, 655. Beaufort, 607, 674, 675. Beccaria, 207. Beckford, 145. Bedouin, 119. Beecher, 372. Belcher, 298. Belfast, 389. Belknap, 163 to 167, and 283 to 286, passim: 368. Bellamont, 605. Bellingham, 228, 229, 230. Belochus, 465. Belzoni, 33. Bengal, 281. Benin, 33. Bennington, 415. Bentham, 27, 52, 176, 605. Benton, 159. Bergen-op-Zoom, 549, 613. Berlin, 89. Bernon, 496, 508. Berthier, 109. Bertrand, 639. Bethune, 495, 506, 508, 514, 567. Beuoron, 607. Bias, 217, 218. Bichat, 357. Bildad, 217. Billes, 147. Biographia Brittanica, 363. Bishop, 27, 227. Blackburn, 508, 523. Black Prince, 649. Blackstone, 301. Blackwood's Mag., 243. Blaisdell, 182, 183. Blanche, 608. Blin, 562. Blitheman, 426. Blitz, 665. Blundell, 606. Boccacio, 218, 422. Bodkin, 189, 190, 192, 440, 441. Bogle, 195. Boies, 159. Bolton Abbey, 678. Bondet, 497. Bonet, 49. Bonner, 506, 550, 562. Bonrepaux, 239, 240, 242. Boodle, 171, 172, 173. Boorn, 301 to 331, passim. Borri, 456. Borromeo, 220. Bose, 643, 644. Bosius, 437. Bosphorus, 22. Bosson, 597. Bossuet, 671. Boston, 66, 125, 151, 153, 165, 167, 179, 184, 191, 194, 210, 221, 223, 270, 351, 452, 497, 514, 536. Boston Athen'm, 269, 324. Boston Common, 549. Boswell, 601, 602, 603, 606. Bottom, 592, 624. Boudinot, 496. Bourbon, 393, 675. Bourbon, Jeanne of, 74. Bourdeaux, 210. Boutineau, 496, 498, 510, 512, 514, 531, 566. Bouttville, 607. Bowdoin, 284, 496, 498, 508, 538. Bowen, 557. Bowers, 82. Boyd, 606, 614. Boyle, 243, 535, 597. Brachmans, 377. Brackett, 592. Braddock, 394. Bradford, 19, 301, 632. Brady, 31, 55, 597. Brague, 220. Brand, 402, 589. Brandreth, 86. Brandywine, 415. Branodunum, 65. Bray, 81, 677. Braybrooke, 577. Breck, 270, 271. Breckenridge, 605. Breed, 597. Briareus, 56, 91. Briar's Creek, 415. Briggs, 175. Brighton, 508, 525, 527. Bristol, 508. British Critic, 622. Britons, 585. Brocklebank, 174. Brockwell, 297. Bromeholme, 656. Bromfield, 269, 564. Brooks, 352, 353, 553, 554, 609. Brougham, 84, 347. Brouillan, 529. Brown, 580. Browne, 42, 65, 67, 118, 122, 131, 180, 215, 227, 282, 419, 431, 478, 640, 660, 664, 677. Bruce, 549, 551, 662. Bruli, 651. Buchanan, 58, 59, 61, 436. Buckingham, 479. Buckley, 532. Buddikin, 108. Buffon, 420. Buissiere, 455. Bulfinch, 450. Bull, 414, 415, 426, 427. Bullivant, 298. Bulwer, 592. Bungs, 463. Bunker's Hill, 54, 55, 415. Buononcini, 422. Burdett, 606. Bureau, 507, 530. Burgoyne, 353, 617. Burgundy, 614. Burke, 27, 268, 613. Burleigh, 76, 661. Burnett, 33, 76, 233, 262, 551. Burney, 427. Burr, 332, 605. Burritt, 177. Burton, 26, 66. Busching, 119. Bute, 140, 146. Butler, 56, 208, 361, 454, 622. Byles, 143, also 363 to 372, passim: also 546. C. Cades, 152. Cæsar, Augustus, 29, 36, 99, 595, 679. Cæsar, Julius, 29, 474, 579, 585. Cæsars, the twelve, 67. Cæsar, the slave, 31. Caffraria, 103. Cain, 377, 429, 556, 615. Cairo, 241. Caius, 88, 585. Calabria, 87. Calais, 657. Calhoun, 114. Calcraft, 346. California, 101. Calinglond, 677. Callender, 163. Calmet, 119, 120, 187, 436, 582, 615. Callowhill, 267. Calvin, 548, 549. Calypso, 420. Cambridge, 630. Camden, 145, 146, 383, 415. Camerarius, 373. Cameron, 621. Camillus Papers, 277. Campbell, 614. Caner, 289 to 300, passim. Canning, 606. Canso, 567. Canterbury, 520, 656, 669. Cape Anne, 16. Capet, 73, 81, 637. Capulets, 351. Cardigan, 606. Caribs, 130. Carisbroke Castle, 606, 673. Carmelites, 652, 654. Carne, 117, 119. Carroll, 181. Carter, 148. Carthago, 152. Carthusians, 651. Cartwright, 240. Cass, 85, 110. Cassieres, 59. Castalio, 549. Castellan, 358. Castelnau, 384. Castlereagh, 606. Catanea, 33. Catholics, 535. Catlin, 23. Cato, 71, 431, 442, 443, 444. Catti, 585. Caulfield, 382. Cavan, 193. Cecil, 661. Cecrops, 64. Celsus, 429, 462. Cemetery des Innocens, 39, 43, 65. Cephrenes, 384. Chace, 310 to 330, passim. Chadsey, 80. Chadwick, 212, 278, 320, 321, 322, 333, 569. Chaise, Père la, 672. Chaldeans, 661. Chalmers, 49, 238, 248, 249, 268, 363, 427, 480, 516, 612. Chamberlain, 77, 80. Chamouni, 400. Chantilly, 419, 420. Chapel Yard, 225. Chapotin, 568. Chappelle, 612. Chardon, 533, 534, 538, 541. Charles, Archduke, 620. Charles I., 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 157, 177, 248, 436, 477, 673. Charles II., 99, 136, 159, 170, 177, 248, 249, 259, 309, 426, 479, 592, 606, 672, 673. Charles V., 25, 74, 390, 392, 619. Charles IX., 475. Charles XII., 217. Charleston, 112, 405. Charlestown, 608. Charlemagne, 37, 73. Charlotte, Queen, 145. Charlton, 125. Charon, 68. Charpentiere, 648. Chartreuse, 162. Chateaubriand, 117, 118, 119, 122. Chatham, 146, 417. Chaumette, 637. Chauncey, 148, 546. Chazlett, 244. Checkley, 546. Cheever, 450. Chelesfield, 653. Chenoo, 129. Cheops, 384. Chesapeake, 608, 609. Chester, 239, 240, 650. Chesterfield, 108. Chevy Chace, 425. Cheverus, 210, 410. Cheyne, 649. Chicago, 357. Chigwell, 248. Childe, 426. Chilperic, 66, 67. China, 93, 94, 106, 397, 401, 481, 586. Chinese, 67, 632. Chiron, 429. Chitty, 192. Christ Church, 143. Christian Observer, 281. Christianstadt, 97. Christina, 456. Christmas, 124, 671. Christopherson, 228. Chronicles, 122, 430. Chrysippus, 442, 443. Chrysostom, 437. Chuang-tsze, 482 to 494, passim. Cicero, 51, 64, 79, 97, 176, 214, 217, 218, 279, 282, 377, 381, 419, 443, 578, 579, 583. Cimon, 11. Circe, 445. Claflin, 124. Clarendon, 135, 136, 137, 649. Clarissa, 320. Clare, 606, 652. Clarke, 121, 122, 129, 132, 159, 378. Clarkson, 237 to 269, pas. Claudius, 67, 99. Claudius Pulcher, 432. Clemens Alexandrinus, 429. Clement, 121, 650. Cleomenes, 590, 600. Clerimont, 591. Clifford, 271, 651, 657. Clinton, 60, 62. Clytemnestra, 11. Cobbett, 417, 447. Cobham, 20, 654. Coke, 181. Colclough, 614. Colebrooke, 22. Colman, 214, 638. Columbus, 362. Colvin, 301 to 331, passim. Commodus, 67. Concord, 415. Condé, 455. Condy, 516. Coneyball, 299. Confucius, 383. Congo, 129. Conrad, 556, 564. Constantinople, 22, 55, 87, 88. Constantius, 55. Conway, 145, 458, 538. Cook, 129, 561. Cooley, 316. Coolidge, 180. Cooper, 181, 546. Copeland, 227. Copley, 371, 508. Corday, 639, 640, 641. Cornish, 237, 332. Cornwall, 650, 676. "Corpse Hill," 92. Corry, 232. Cortez, 593. Cossart, 507. Cotton, 229, 230. Courland, 227. Courrier Extraordinaire, 639. Courtnay, 656. Coventry, 180. Cow Lane, 596. Cowley, 478. Cowper, 222, 596. Cox, 252. Cranmer, 279. Crawford, 436. Creech, 244. Crequi, 606. Crespigney, 606. Creusa, 382. Crinas, 443. Cripplegate, 477. Crocker, 405. Crockett, 209. Croese, 239, 240, 242, 262. Crofts, 616. Cromartic, 629. Cromwell, 134, 135, 170, 177. Cromwell's Head, 597. Crosby, 598. Croyland Abbey, 124. Cruikshanks, 401. Cullender, 33, 664. Cunningham, 538. Curran, 605. Curwen, 513, 595. Cushing, 537. Cutbeard, 591. Cuthbert, 37, 606. Cutler, 508, 546, 551, 553, 554, 563. Cutter, 509. Cyclops, 430. Cyrus, 332. D. Daddy Osgood, 578. Dagobert, 74. Daillé, 497, 498, 507, 546. Damberger, 622. Dammory, 652. Dana, 142, 190, 191, 276, 337. Danes, 614. Danforth, 448. Darden, 184. Davenport, 299, 509, 510, 512, 531, 535, 546, 547, 566. David, 16, 221, 617, 618, 619, 620. Davis, 397, 399, 400, 402, 586. Dead Sea, 116, 118, 119, 121, 123. D'Acres, 652. D'Arblay, 105. De Blois, 24, 662. De Burgh, 652. Decatur, 609, 610, 611, 624. Dedication, 679. Defoe, 87. De Grandison, 653. De Henricourt, 607. Dehon, 597. De Hoveden, 669. De la Croix, 507. Delancey, 509. Delaware, 252. Delia, 100. Demades, 52. Demarat, 58, 59. De Medicis, 661. Demetrius, 97. Deming, 302, 312, 322. Democritus, 360. Demosthenes, 97. Dentrecolles, 481. Denmark, 52, 53, 88, 640. De Pauw, 400, 402. Deptford, 267. De Ris, 607. Desdemona, 82. Deshon, 538. Despencer, 655. De Thou, 622. Dettingen, 623. De Uzerches, 607. De Valence, 655. De Vassor, 612. De Verdon, 652. Devergie, 357. Devereux, 677. Devon, 677. De Warre, 654. De Worde, 125. Dexter, 25, 450. Didian Law, 342. Dido, 382. Dickens, 568. Dickson, 31. Diemerbroeck, 49. Diemschid, 475. Digby, 640, 641, 642. Diodorus, 18, 342. Diogenes, 16, 17, 18, 217. Diogenes Laertius, 373. Dionysius, 12, 98, 583. Dirk Hatteraick, 238. Dodsley's Annual Register, 578. Domitian, 67, 106, 120. Don Quixote, 591. Doolittle, 330. Dorchester Neck, 575. Dorchester Point, 643. Doring, 564. Dorsett, 66, 613, 622, 677. Douglas, 425, 536. Dover, 319. Doyle, 634. Dowse, 541. Draco, 206, 207, 209, 226. Draper, 91. Drury, 361. Druses, 400, 401. Dryden, 478, 480, 481, 576. Du Barri, 671. Dublin, 89, 249. Dubois, 635. Ducange, 648. Dudley, 181, 298, 497. Duff, 129, 435. Dugdale, 647, 648, 674. Du Halde, 402. Dulany, 601. Dummer, 550, 551, 552, 556. Dumont, 605. Dundee, 31. Dunciad, 480. Dunmow, 124. Duny, 331, 640, 664. Duport, 636. Durandus, 124. Dutch, 578. Dyer, 232. E. Earle, 94. Easter Eve, 675. Eastman, 182, 183. Easton, 158. Eatooa, 378. Ecclesiastes, 111, 267. Ecclesiasticus, 431. Echeloot Indians, 378. Eckley, 597. Eden, 70. Edes, 596. Edessa, 57. Edgeworth, 103. Edinburgh, 89, 241. Edinburgh Review, 178, 209, 346. Edmund I., 124. Edmund Plantagenet, 650. Edom, 116. Edward, I., 26, 187, 589, 652. Edward III., 342, 406, 649. Edward IV., 342, 589, 676. Edward, the Confessor, 595. Egypt, 33, 88, 106, 129, 400, 436. Egyptians, 19, 102, 110, 111, 129, 131, 206, 377, 378, 400, 517, 632, 661. Ekron, 431. Elah, 617. Eldon, 192, 193, 230. El Dorado, 71, 103. Eli, 197, 198. Eliot, 91, 495, 502, 630. Elliot, 610. Eliphaz, 217. Elizabeth, 103, 170, 407, 409, 593, 661. Elizabeth Island, 285. Embomma, 129, 130. Empedocles, 373. Encyclopædia Britannica, 268. Endor, 363, 480, 665, 670, 678. England, 188, 206, 210, 229, 253, 268, 346, 407, 409, 576, 588, 591, 595, 599, 600, 601, 604, 605, 606, 614, 632, 633, 634. English Canaan, 628. English Mark, 651. Enoch, 57. Epicurus, 481. Erasistratus, 442, 443. Erasmus, 152. Erfurth, 125. Erpingham, 638. Erricus, 661. Erskine, 84. Erving, 515. Estwell, 677. Espinasse, 588. Ethiopia, 106. Europe, 106, 131, 576, 622, 663. Eurypus, 443. Eusebius, 465. Eustis, 450. Eutaw Springs, 415. Evans, 610. Eve, 429. Evelyn, 134. Everett, 55, 204, 277. Ewins, 159. Exeter, 20, 204, 211, 675, 677. Ezekiel, 582, 583, 587. F. Fabius Maximus, 631. Fabrieii Bibliographia Antiquaria, 659. Fagan, 193. Fairbanks, 190, 191, 337. Fakeer, 570, 571, 573, 576. Fales, 190, 337. Falmouth, 243. Falstaff, 624. Faneuil, 476:--495 to 563, passim. Faneuil Hall, 211, 199, 500, 501, 535. Fanhope, 674. Farmer, 496. Farnham, 597. Farnsworth, 314, 327, 328. Farquhar, 480. Farraday, 103. Farrar, 159. Farrago, 189, 347. Fasti, 426. Faulconbridge, 321. Favor, 98. Feild, 228. Fenelon, 472. Fenner, 228. Ferrari, 27. Fielding, 272. Fillebrown, 493. Fire Island, 406. Fish, 665, 666, 667. Flaccus, 106, 337. Flanders, 88. Florence, 125, 596. Fleet, 147. Fleet Prison, 268. Fleet Street, 656. Fleta, 614. Flagg, 431. Flaherty, 196. Flechier, 215. Flucker, 514. Folsom, 189. Fontenelle, 357. Fonnereau, 521. Foote, 367, 371. Ford, 25, 268, 391. Fordyce, 27. Forresters, 286. Forest Hills, 68, 225. Forster, 629. Fosbroke, 591. Fothergill, 642. Fox, 597, 665, 666, 667. Foxcroft, 298. France, 68, 88, 188, 426, 438, 595, 606, 607, 633, 634, 637, 638, 661, 670, 675. Francis I., 73, 97, 619, 654. Francis, 598, 663. Frankfort, 15. Franklin, 20, 142, 574, 599, 603, 604, 644, 645, 646. Franks, 614. Freand, 56. Frederick I., 28. Freedly, 181. Freeman, 165. French Church, 521. Frescati, 64. Frizzell, 126. Frizzles, 189. Fuller, 66, 265, 466. Fullerton, 605. G. Gabriel, 57, 119. Galen, 459. Galilee, 57. Gannett, 92, 286. Gardner, 299, 601. Garth, 480. Gates, 77, 81. Gath, 617. Gato, 33. Gaul, 617, 618, 619. Gaule, 659. Gauls, 618. Gaunt, 237, 656, 674. Gavett, 596. Gawler, 606. Gellia, 107. Genesis, 122, 429. Genethliaci, 661. Genevieve, 73, 75. Genoa, 89. Gentleman's Magazine, 376, 594. George I., 28, 248, 406. George II., 406, 407, 551, 623, 660. George III., 59, 90, 103, 144, 145, 147, 275, 604. George IV., 207, 209. Gerard, 469. Germanicus, 29. Germans, 614. Germantown, 415. Germany, 88, 426, 620. Gervais, 475, 670. Ghizeh, 33. Gibraltar, 88. Gideon, 597. Gill, 61. Gillies, 514. Gilpin, 74. Girondists, 68, 74. Glossin, 388. Gloucester, 349, 404, 652, 657. Goethe, 287. Golgotha, 35. Goliath, 437, 617, 618, 619. Gold, 227. Goldsmith, 24, 123, 362, 481, 584, 587, 649. Gomorrah, 117, 119, 221. Good, 49. Goode, 181, 184, 338. Gooseberry, 70. Gordon, 62, 147, 153, 416, 417. Gore, 277. Gorton, 480. Gosnold, 283. Goss, 677. Gould, 598. Gracchus, 431. Grady, 601. Grammont, 623. Granger, 260. Granary, 24, 46, 48, 148, 197, 428, 525, 543. Grant, 401, 606. Grattan, 606. Gratz, 620. Graunt, 103. Gray, 161, 162, 269, 546, 556. Great Britain, 186, 207, 277, 347, 416, 474, 580, 663. Great Tom, 125. Greece, 105, 128, 204, 355, 373, 430, 595. Greeks, 68, 106, 131, 632, 661. Green, 596. Greene, 62, 159, 474. Greenlanders, 35. Greenleaf, 192, 329, 330. Green Mount, 38. Greenwood, 300, 451, 534. Gregory, Pope, 474. Grey, 347. Grey Friars, 652. Greville, 678. Gridley, 142. Griswold, 160, 360. Grossman, 7, 8, 18, 24, 25, 44, 50, 115, 132, 288, 680. Grotius, 437. Grouchy, 132. Grozier, 397. Grubb, 596. Guardian, 613. Guerriere, 417. Guiana, 130. Guideu, 637. Guienne, 656. Guilford, 415. Guillotin, 634, 635. Guillotine, 634, 635, 638. Guinneau, 519. Gundebald, 614, 615. Gussanville, 663. Gustavus Adolphus, 661. H. Hades, 345. Hague, 445. Hakin, 400. Hale, 62, 124, 177, 188, 189, 190, 209, 220, 301, 310, 315, 324, 331, 332, 334, 640, 664, 666. Halford, 134, 135, 136, 139. Halifax, 223, 479, 480, 634. Hall, 130. Hallam, 361. Haller, 157. Halley, 81. Hamilton, 277, 298, 605, 613. Hammond, 180. Hancock, 142, 143, 166, 299, 417, 498, 589. Handel, 297, 422, 427. Handy, 561. Hanan, 585. Hannibal, 45. Hanover Square, 140. Hanway, 90. Harleian Miscellany, 217, 445, 642. Harper, 227. Harris, 555. Harrison, 265, 395, 396. Hart, 661, 662. Hartop, 158. Harvey, 157, 436. Haslett, 597. Hatch, 555, 564, 565. Haute, 676. Hawes, 375. Hawkins, 426. Hawles, 332. Hawtrey, 361. Haydn, 346, 407, 577, 579, 580. Hayes, 301. Hayley, 477. Haynes, 302, 307, 310, 316, 317, 321, 322. Hayward, 450, 561, 597. Hazael, 431. Hazzard, 226, 545. Heath, 172, 610, 611. Heber, 360. Hebrews, 33, 431. Hebrides, 643. Hector, 619. Heemskerck, 588. Helen, 619. Henault, 661. Henderson, 304. Henry II., 649, 651. Henry III., 187, 241, 661. Henry IV., 73, 74, 342, 352, 409, 606, 661. Henry VI., 349, 674. Henry VII., 87, 88, 134, 185. Henry VIII., 78, 133, 136, 138, 139, 170, 185, 188, 342, 346, 385, 409, 411, 413, 477, 589, 631. Henry, 639, 663. Hephestion, 373. Herbert, 104, 133, 138, 607. Hercules, 436. Hereford, 649, 656, 657. Herlicius, 661, 672, 673. Hermes, 428. Herne, 676. Herod, 93. Herodotus, 18, 21, 436. Heron, 657. Herophylus, 443, 459. Herr Driesbach, 613. Herschell, 622, 643. Hertford, 133, 135. Highgate, 37. Hildanus, 49, 373. Hill, 298, 307, 308, 310, 368, 369, 597. Hiller, 553. Hindoos, 22, 436. Hindostan, 93, 100. Hippocrates, 436, 442, 459. Hirst, 508. Hobart, 134, 605. Hobkirk's Hill, 415. Hoboken, 615, 643. Hodgson, 361. Hodson, 601. Hog Alley, 562. Hogarth, 271. Holborn, 134. Holbrook, 408. Holden, 124, 227. Holinshed, 87, 424. Holland, 88, 506, 650, 662. Holme, 591. Holmes, 365, 499, 546. Holy Land, 651, 652. Homans, 450. Homer, 15, 17, 143, 429, 430, 585, 586. Hone, 591. Hook, 76, 367. Hooper, 309, 546. Hopkins, 221, 422, 424. Horace, 36, 51, 97, 168, 360, 367, 404, 568, 587, 592, 663, 664. Horatio, 599, 600. Horne, 178. Horstius, 373. Hossack, 605. Hottentots, 34. Hough, 245, 246. Houndsditch, 661. Howe, 55, 597. Hubbard, 627. Hudibras, 260, 454, 627, 628. Huger, 496. Huguenots, 496 to 500, passim: also, 506, 507, 523, 545, 546. Hull, 66, 274, 646. Hume, 186, 241. Humphreys, 646, 647. Hungary, 632. Hungerford, 233. Hunt, 506. Huntington, 655. Hutchinson, 226, 228, 229, 230, 515, 538, 586, 592, 640. Hydriotaphia, 42, 65, 131, 281. Hydrophobia, 193. Hyperion, 582. I. Idumea, 116. Inman, 513. Innocent III., 466. Ireland, 87, 93. Irenæus, 171. Ireton, 134. Irish, 193. Irving, 557. Isabella, 646. Israel, 431. Israelites, 102. Isis, 428. Islip, 406. Istampol, 186. J. Jabbok, 118. Jackson, 55, 500, 605. Jacobs, 312. Jahn, 33, 432, 433, 434, 435. Jamaica Pond, 69. James I., 170, 612, 660. James II., 232, 243, 248, 253, 259. Jardin des Plantes, 75. Jasper, 256. Jay, 276. Jefferson, 85, 163, 344, 392. Jeffrey, 603. Jeffreys, 235. Jeffries, 450, 479, 480, 537. Jekyll, 532, 555. Jenkins, 157. Jenks, 117, 118. Jenyns, 42. Jepson, 597. Jeremiah, 105. Jerusalem, 119. Jesse, 615, 620, 628. Jew, 620. Jews, 106, 131, 170, 186, 188, 632. Job, 217, 225, 430. Jonathan, 116, 167, 414, 417. Jones, 159, 181, 435, 510, 513, 531, 541, 551, 566. Johnson Samuel, 31, 90, 107, 108, 183, 277, 409, 421, 477, 480, 481, 601, 602, 603, 604. Johnson, 55, 305, 308, 475. Johonnot, 493. Jonny Armstrong, 425. Jonson Ben, 59, 479, 591. Jordan, 117, 118. Joseph, 57, 429. Josephus, 118, 120. Josselyn, 283. Judah, 116. Judæus Apella, 642. Judd, 77. Judea, 105, 116, 128, 355. Judicial Astrology, 661, 673. Judson, 616. Julia, 67. Junius, 525, 578. Juno, 421. Juvenal, 79, 585. K. Kaimes, 367. Kamschatka, 35. Kast, 450. Katherine of Arragon, 650. Keatinge, 128. Keayne, 454. Keith, 239. Kensall Green, 37. Kent, 650. Kerr, 623. Kidd, 285. Kidder, 86. Kilby, 567. Kilmarnock, 629, 630. King, 276. Kings, 431. King's Chapel, 48, 55, 288, 297, 510, 534. Kingsmill, 227. Kingstreet, 509. Kingstown, 507. Kircherus, 434. Kirchmaun, 106. Kirriel, 677. Kishon, 118. Kitchen, 231, 232. Kittal-al-Machaid, 401. Knox, 369. Koran, 21. L. Lacedemonians, 12, 13, 17. La Cheze, 636. Lacombe, 648. Lafayette, 62, 84, 636. Lahore, 570. Lally, 636. Lamartine, 68. Lambert, 555. Lamia, 49, 373. Lancashire, 420. Lancaster, 650. Landgrave of Hesse, 387. Landseer, 678. Lane, 598. Langdon, 92, 427. Langstaff, 92. Lansdowne, 365. Laou-Keun, 481. Larassy, 179. Lares, 64. Larkin, 101 Larrey, 607. Larvæ, 64. Lathrop, 595. Latimer, 75, 279, 655. Laurel Hill, 38. Laurens, 374, 496. Lavater, 625. Lavinia, 619. Lazarus, 56. Leadenhall Market, 213, 220. Le Cat, 643. Lechemere, 554. Lectouse, 37. Ledea, 228. Lee, 126, 276. L'Etombe, 166. Le Gros, 639. Leibnitz, 438. Leicestershire, 68, 648. Le Mercier, 497, 498, 546, 547, 548, 549. Lemures, 64. Lenoie, 40. Lenox, 605. Leopard, 608. Lepidus, 52. Leuconoe, 663. Levi, 382. Leviticus, 230. Lewis, 378. Lewyn, 81. Lexington, 415. Liancourt, 636. Libo, 99. Licinius, 80. Lilly, 591, 661, 673. Lincoln, 94, 312, 674. Lincoln's Inn, 593. Lind, 420. Lindsey, 133, 135. Linnæus, 399. Linnington, 533. Lippstadt, 661. Lithered, 560. Little Belt, 417. Liverpool, 417. Livingston, 276. Livy, 52, 80, 617, 619. Lizard, 407. Lloyd, 35, 265, 367, 448, 449. Lloyd's Lists, 404. Locke, 266. Locrian Law, 342. Loe, 248, 249. Lollards, 658. Lombards, 186. London, 37, 56, 67, 76, 87, 88, 89, 94, 118, 211, 213, 220, 237, 346, 421, 588, 589, 591, 624, 632, 652, 676. London Quarterly Review, 212, 356, 357, 391, 622, 634, 641. London Times, 358. Long, 513. Long Branch, 320. Long Island, 62. Longshanks, 187, 583. Longspee, 651. Lot's Wife, 116, 119, 120, 121, 122. Loudon, 213, 214. Louis, 636. Louis XI., 74. Louis XII., 73. Louis XIII., 74, 352, 607. Louis XIV., 38, 74, 75, 351, 607, 612, 670, 671. Louis XV., 671, 672. Louis XVI., 635, 637, 638. Louison, 636, 637. Lovat, 628. Lovell, 159:--496 to 530, passim. Lowell, 83. Lucan, 670. Lucilius, 106, 107, 168, 377, 443. Ludlow, 226. Lum Akum, 398. Luther, 388. Lutton, 123, 132. Lutzengen, 661. Lycurgus, 17. Lyman, 202, 203. Lynn, 658. Lyon, 324. Lyons, 438. M. Mabillon, 124. Macabe, 195. McAndrew, 181. Macartney, 402, 605. Macaulay, 231 to 269, passim:--also 361. McDonough, 418. McGammon, 196. McGill, 332. Machaon, 430. Machiavelli, 95, 115, 220, 234. Machyl, 82. McKeon, 614. Mackenzie, 606, 610, 611, 624. Mackintosh, 207, 316. McLean, 621. McNamara, 197. McNaughten, 573. Machpelah, 299. Mæcenas, 36, 679. Mag-Astro-Mancer, 659. Magdalen College, 243, 244, 246. Magdalene, 56. Magee, 195. Magnalia, 582. Mahomet, 171. Mahoney, 195. Maillard, 73. Mailosel, 654. Maintenon, 671, 672. Majoribanks, 401. Mahnsbury, 87. Malone, 481. Malplesant, 654. Malta, 33, 624. Maltravers, 655. Mammon, 170. Mamre, 299. Manchester, 303 to 325, passim. Mandans, 23, 51. Mandeville, 118, 344, 345, 599. Manlius, 617, 618, 619, 634. Manes, 64. Manigault, 496. Mann, 382, 629. Mannering, 360. Manney, 654. Mansfield, 95, 115, 220, 234. Mantua, 422. Marat, 217. Marbeuf, 639. Marc Antony, 387. Marcellinus, 64. March, 653, 655, 666. Marco Polo, 400. Marcus Antoninus, 584. Mareschall, 654. Maret, 37. Mariner, 129. Marion, 496. Mariti, 88. Marius, 63. Marseillais, 426, 637. Marseilles, 88. Marshall, 55, 83, 355. Martel, 73. Martial, 107, 419, 586, 587, 595. Martin, 189. Martinico, 166. Martinique, 29. Mary, Bloody, 75, 82, 93, 405. Maryland, 153, 154. Mashee, 596. Mason, 101, 102. Massachusetts, 84, 94, 114, 155, 156, 164, 165, 166, 176, 187, 231, 276, 632. Mather, 94, 280, 327, 364, 367, 546, 582, 668. Matthews, 180, 367, 613. Matooara, 378. Maury, 636. Maverick, 163. Maximilian II., 620, 621. Maynard, 81. Mazarin, 135. Mazzei, 163. Mead, 588. Mears, 497, 563. Meaux, 671. Mediterranean, 118. Megret, 217. Melancthon, 388. Melli Melli, 568. Mena, 130, 583, 587, 592. Menalcas, 90. Menander, 217. Menu, 130. Merrick, 221. Merrill, 313 to 325, passim. Mewins, 464. Mexico, 101, 638. Michaelis, 119. Midsummer Night's Dream, 592. Milan, 220, 456. Mildmay, 133. Miletum, 342. Milford Haven, 88. Millar, 643. Millenarians, 672. Millengen, 36, 49. Millens, 92. Miller, 555. Millot, 659. Mills, 435. Miltiades, 11. Milton, 159, 386, 387, 477. Minzies, 555. Minoresses, 657. Minors, 654. Minshull, 386. Mirepoix, 382. Mirfield, 380. Misson, 56. Missouri, 23. Mitford, 477. Moab, 116. Mock, 597. Mohawk Indian, 647. Mohun, 605, 613. Momus, 368. Monmouth, 235. Montacute, 650. Montaigne, 27, 104, 343, 443. Montague, 55. Montefiore, 15. Monte Notte, 381. Montesquieu, 342. Montezuma, 63, 593. Montmorenci, 607. Moody, 30, 189, 471. Moore, 472. Moorhead, 150, 286, 389, 531, 532, 546. Moors, 138. Moravians, 379. More, 359, 361. Morin, 419, 420. Morland, 466 to 470, passim. Morose, 591. Morris, 420, 609, 611. Mortimer, 651, 653. Morton, 628, 634. Moses, 429, 660. Mount Auburn, 38, 46, 68, 225. Mounts Bay, 407. Mount Hope, 33. Moyle, 677. Mudge, 608. Mullowny, 194. Mun Chung, 398. Murphy, 101, 102, 107, 193. Murray, 477. Murullus, 106. Muses, 421. Muskerry, 243. Mussenden, 657. Mydas, 591. Mysore, 436. Mytelene, 12. N. Naaman, 431. Nain, 320. Nantasket, 408. Nantes, 37. Nantucket, 77. Naples, 33, 88. Napoleon, 105, 381, 393. Narcissa, 22. Nares, 580, 591, 593. Narragansett Bay, 283, 284. Naseby, 134, 386. Natchez, 587. Nau, 122. Negoose, 189, 190, 191, 347. Nemours, 607. New, 581. Newcastle, 90. New England, 177, 221, 283, 408, 476, 607, 627. Newgate, 179, 183, 259, 622, 632. New London, 363. New North Church, 125, 126. New Orleans, 604. New Rochelle, 523, 530. Newton, 66. New York, 576. New York Evening Post, 330, 331. New Zealand, 23, 94. Nicholls, 193, 422, 648. Nicolas, 648. Ninkempaup, 456. Niobe, 121. Nipmug, 496. Noah, 176. Noailles, 623, 671. Noble, 262. Noddle's Island, 163. Nollekens, 676. Norfolk, 677. Norman, 453. Normandy, 635, 675. Norris, 232. North American Review, 330. Norway, 88, 168. Norwich, 346. Notre Dame, 124. Nova Scotia, 568. Noyes, 506. Numa, 69, 105, 106. Numbers, 122. Nunhead, 37. O. Oak Hall, 133. O'Brien, 355. O'Connell, 606. Odyssey, 11. Ogilvie, 606. Oglethorpe, 601, 603, 604. Ogygia, 420. Olam Fodla, 93. Old Brick, 123, 132, 128, 567. Oldmixon, 268. Oliver, 140, 141, 142, 513, 538. Omnibus, 191, 347. Oporto, 55. Orde, 188. Orfila, 219. Origen, 436. Orinoco, 130. Orleans, 135. Orrery, 250. Osborne, 573. Osiris, 428. O'Shane, 194. Ossa, 658. Ossoli, 406. Otis, Harrison Gray, 159. Otis, James, 211, 354. Ottomans, 672, 673. Outhier, 51. Ovid, 64, 98, 105, 106, 223, 248, 392, 413, 558. Oxford, 87, 125, 244, 245, 248, 249, 360, 497, 498, 499, 653, 654. Oxnard, 513. P. Packinett, 498. Page, 566. Paine, 598. Palestine, 34, 121, 204, 651. Palermo, 591. Palinurus, 168. Pallas, 99. Palmer, 536, 537, 597. Pantagathus, 586. Parant Duchatelet, 219. Paré, 589. Pareicus, 588. Parian Marbles, 382. Paris, 37, 39, 73, 89, 249, 438, 634, 635, 637, 667, 671. Parker, 246, 506. Parkman, 270 to 273, passim:--also 278, 335, 336. Parr, 157. Parsees, 130. Parsons, 276, 451. Passy, 599. Patchogue, 406. Patroclus, 15, 67, 107. Pauketpeeker, 457. Paulding, 62. Paul, 658. Paull, 606. Pausanias, 421. Pavice, 565. Paxton, 513. Paybody, 175. Peake, 192. Pearson, 175, 189. Peck, 498. Pecker, 449. Peel, 207, 346. Pekin, 481. Pelion, 658. Pelletier, 637. Pemberton, 536, 563, 566. Pembroke, 653, 654, 655, 677. Penn, 231 to 269 passim:--also 339. Pennant, 634. Pennsylvania, 94. Pendleton, 605. Pepin, 73. Pepperell, 508. Pepusch, 427. Pepys, 466, 468, 577. Percival, 599, 603. Percy, 425. Perry, 418, 610, 611. Persepolis, 475. Persia, 475. Persians, 632. Persius, 592. Peters, 450. Petre, 281. Petronel, 620, 621. Pew, 49. Peyret, 508. Pharamond, 72. Pharsalia, 670. Phelps, 227. Philadelphia, 36, 38, 268, 339, 614. Philip Augustus, 39. Philip the Bold, 73. Philippus, 588. Phillips, 408, 421, 495, 505, 531, 541, 542:--also 550 to 566 passim:--also 568. Philistines, 617, 618, 619. Philomela, 42. Picardy, 635. Pickering, 165, 221, 439. Pickett, 189. Pickworth, 283. Pierce, 597. Pierre de Nemours, 39. Pierson, 226. Pigot, 555. Pinchbeke, 675. Pinckney, 277. Pindar, 96. Pineau, 49. Pinohe, 81. Pitcairn, 54, 223. Pitcher, 363, 658. Pitt, 145, 146, 606. Pittacus, 12. Place de Grève, 73, 636, 637. Place de la Revolution, 638. Place St. Antoine, 638. Plaine de Mont Louis, 40. Plaisant, 639. Plaistowe, 230. Plato, 20, 49, 373, 377, 429. Plautus, 577, 587. Pleydell, 360. Plimouth, 283, 628. Pliny, 79, 99, 117, 121, 419, 430, 442, 443, 450, 459, 461, 462, 582, 583, 588. Plutarch, 105, 106, 217, 400, 591. Pococke, 111, 118. Podalirius, 430. Poeon, 430. Poictiers, 654. Poictou, 358. Polack, 23. Pole, 75. Polhamus, 319, 320, 323. Pollard, 29. Pompadour, 41, 43. Pompey, 443, 444, 670. Ponthia, 373. Pontraçi, 39, 40, 54, 89. Popayan, 130. Pope, 111, 334, 364, 453, 480. Popple, 263. Porchalion, 674. Portland, 64, 65. Port Mahon, 42. Potter, 12. Powell, 386. Pratt, 314, 327. Pretender, 629. Prevot, 49. Priam, 322. Price, 520, 541. Priest, 612. Primrose, 111. Prince of Orange, 233. Pringle, 496. Prioleau, 496. Prior, 54, 233. Pritchard, 550. Proctor, 632. Prudhomme, 637. Psamatticus, 33. Pseudodoxia, 431, 660. Puddifant, 131, 133. Pudding Lane, 596. Purchase Street, 597. Puzzlepot, 189. Pwan Yekoo, 398. Pyramus, 592. Pythagoras, 377. Q. Quakers, 445. Quincy, 43, 156, 404, 416, 605. Quintilius Varus, 614. Quintus, 578. R. Rachel, 569. Radziville, 121. Rand, 449, 643. Randall, 228. Randolph, 85, 605. Ranelagh, 266. Rapin, 87, 185, 186, 241, 349, 612, 674. Rauber, 620, 621. Ravaillac, 73. Ravenscroft, 298. Raymond, 309, 315, 326, 327. Read, 520. Reason, 562. Receuil Periodique, 643. Reese, 357. Regent's Inlet, 645. Religio Medici, 640. Remus, 64. Reuben, 116. Revallion, 532. Richard II., 649, 650, 657. Richardson, 662. Richelieu, 612. Richmond, 133, 135, 677. Ridley, 279, 571. Riley, 181. Rivet, 20. Robertson, 241, 299, 391, 392, 393. Robespierre, 638. Robinson, 232, 260, 261, 514. Robin Hood, 517. Rochelle, 495, 506, 507, 551. Rochester, 216, 266, 424, 480, 587, 631. Rochefoucault, 217, 218, 338. Rockingham, 145. Rockport, 16. Roebuck, 606. Roederer, 636, 637. Rogers, 279, 417. Rogerson, 450. Roma, 617. Roman, 618, 619. Romans, 68, 106, 131, 475, 592, 594, 595, 617, 632, 661. Roman Catholics, 600. Rome, 87, 89, 263, 343, 442, 460, 475, 614, 658, 661. Romilly, 207, 346. Romulus, 105, 474, 591, 595. Rosamond, 651. Roscius, 215. Rose Cullender, 640. Rose in Bloom, 405. Ross, 641, 645, 646, 647. Rothschild, 15, 54. Rous, 227. Rouse, 631. Rousseau, 476. Rowlett, 82. Roxbury, 220, 221, 227, 566. Royal Society, 622, 644. Rue d'Enfer, 39, 42. Rufus, 320. Runjeet Singh, 570, 571, 572, 573. Russell, 29. Rush, 447. Rushworth, 424. Russia, 276. Russians, 129, 474. Ruthven, 606. Rutland Herald, 318, 331. Rymer's Foedera, 349, 675. S. St. Andrew, 55. St. Anne, 56. St. Augustine, 51. St. Clara, 52. St. Christophers, 533. St. Croix, 11, 52, 98, 422. St. Denis, 73, 75. St. Edmunds Bury, 640. St. James, 424. St. Katherine, 651. St. Luke, 55. St. Margaret, 651, 675. St. Martins, 124. St. Mary, 655, 675. St. Matthew, 217. St. Michael, 57, 124. St. Omers, 263, 426. St. Paul, 437. St. Paul's, 225, 642, 656. St. Peter, 56. St. Pierre, 476. St. Richard, 656. St. Saba, 122. St. Saturnin, 37. St. Thomas, 56, 321, 656. Sabine, 510. Saburra, 587. Sackville, 145, 549, 551, 613. Salem, 54. Salewarp, 651. Salisbury, 307, 650, 651, 669, 674. Sallust, 381. Salmon, 87. Salter, 550. Saltonstall, 533. Samee, 665. Samson, 437. Samuel, 111, 363, 434, 585, 620, 660, 670. Samuels, 15. Sancho Panza, 192, 265. Sanderson, 131. Sanson, 633, 635, 636, 637, 638. Sardinia, 88. Sargent, 180, 538. Sarsaparilla, 133. Sarum, 363. Saul, 16, 67, 434, 617, 618, 670. Saulien, 37. Saunders, 176. Sauvages, 101. Savage, 55. Savoy, 606. Scaliger, 437. Scharsegin, 620, 621. Schmidt, 381. Schridieder, 356. Scipio Africanus, 22, 216. Scott, 49, 227, 269, 360, 375, 376, 422, 426, 606. Scrope, 675. Scutari, 22. Segor, 117. Seignelay, 239. Seltridge, 449. Selkirk, 171. Selwyn, 179, 237, 615, 628, 642. Seneca, 106, 107, 168, 169, 377, 443, 585. Senisino, 421. Serampore, 281. Sergius Orator, 461. Servius, 97, 279. Sevrès, 671. Sewall, 142, 165, 513, 546, 553, 558, 561, 630. Seymour, 133, 136, 608. Shades, 587. Shakspeare, 83, 409, 419, 658. Shandois, 77, 82. Sharp, 93. Shattuck, 222, 439, 440. Shaw, 112, 221, 459. Shays, 94. Shea, 54. Sheerness, 558, 564. Shelburne, 605. Shelden, 261. Sheldon, 314, 327. Shelson, 299. Sheridan, 613. Shirley, 291, 297, 530. Shochoh, 615. Shouldham, 652. Shrewsbury, 320. Shute, 298. Shylock, 171. Siberia, 35. Sicily, 33, 591. Sicilies, the Two, 89. Siddim, 117. Sidney, 425. Sigal, 515. Sigourney, 496, 498. Simmons, 130. Skinner, 309, 331. Smallpiece, 598. Smith, Sidney, 367. Smith, 24, 27, 71, 152, 164, 227, 289, 509, 591. Smink, 101. Smollett, 241, 243. Snow, 537. Socrates, 592. Sodom, 117, 119, 120, 123, 215, 221. Sodoma, 122. Solomon, 192. Solon, 209. Somersett, 677. Somnium Scipionis, 373. Soo Chune, 398. Soong, 482. Sophia Charlotte, 28. Sorbiere, 437, 457. Sosigenes, 474. Southampton, 135. Southwick, 227. Spain, 650, 662, 675. Spaniards, 130. Sparks, 62, 561. Speed, 76, 424, 677. Spelman, 648. Spitalfields, 67, 256. Spooner, 450. Spring, 512. Springett, 252. Sprott, 676. Stafford, 632. Stair, 623. Stanford, 650. Stanhope, 593. Starkie, 192. Staunford, 675. Steele, 555. Stephanus, 105. Stephens, 117, 118, 121, 122, 123. Sterne, 37. Sternhold, 231, 424, 425. Steuben, 62. Stevens, 554. Stevenson, 232. Stewart, 609. Stillman, 631. Stirling Castle, 95. Stirrington, 652. Stockholm, 52. Stone Chapel, 296. Story, 268. Stow, 20, 67, 346, 349, 424. Stowell, 632. Strabo, 592. Streatfield, 105. Strype, 77, 81, 82, 88, 139, 279, 280, 281, 409, 410, 424, 631, 632. Stuart, 603, 605, 606. Stuarts, 661. Stubbe, 594. Sue, 639, 640. Suetonius, 29, 67, 79, 98, 99, 107, 462. Suffolk, 654. Sully, 352, 606. Sulmo, 390. Sumner, 19, 132. Sunderland, 89, 233. Surinam, 351. Sweden, 661. Swedenborg, 378, 379. Swedes, 661. Swift, 32, 193, 367, 422. Swingford, 674. Switzerland, 394. Sykes, 244. Sylla, 63, 97. Sylvester, 596. Syracuse, 33. Syrens, 421. Syria, 34, 88. Syrians, 632. T. Tacitus, 29, 99, 107. Taheite, 378, 380. Tailor, 554. Tappan, 58, 60. Tarpeian Rock, 618. Tasman, 129. Tate, 31, 596. Taylor, 84, 110, 157, 215, 394, 395, 396, 397, 638, 662. Taunton, 235. Tees, 379. Templeman, 451. Terence, 587. Tertullian, 122. Testamenta Vetusta, 648, 649. Tewksbury, 655, 673. Thacher, 31, 58, 61, 126, 127, 568, 605. Thebes, 16, 32. Theodolphus, 37. Theodosius, 36. Theophrastus, 587. Thessalus, 443. Thessaly, 670. Thevet, 118. Thiermeyer, 642. Thomas, 346, 480. Thomas of Canterbury, 281. Thompson, 86. Thornton, 477, 604. Thurlow, 589. Tiberius, 98. Tibullus, 100, 160. Tierney, 606. Tilbury, 670. Tillotson, 178, 238, 240, 262, 266. Timoleon, 12. Tinville, 638. Tonga Islands, 129. Tongataboo, 129. Tonstrina, 588. Tortugas, 407. Touchet, 380. Tournay, 67. Tower Hill, 631, 632. Townshend, 145. Trajan, 476. Trenchard, 265. Trent, 606. Tresham, 77. Treviso, 381. Troughton, 644. Troutbeck, 297. Troy, 322, 430. Trunnion, 221. Truro, 406. Tanfugge, 654. Tubero, 373. Tuck, 564, 566. Tuckett, 606. Tuckey, 129, 130. Tudor, 76. Tunbrugge, 654. Turkey, 106. Turkish Empire, 672. Turks, 123. Turenne, 73, 75. Turner, 155, 157, 231, 570, 575. Twiss, 230. Tyburn, 340, 632. Tyler, 500. U. Ucalegon, 143. Ula-Deguisi, 123. Ulysses, 106, 109, 420. United States, 347, 407, 434, 610. Usher, 561. Uxbridge, 16. V. Val de Grace, 68. Valentia, 606. Valerius Maximus, 374. Vallemont, 455. Valois, 622. Valvasor, 620. Van Buren, 85, 95, 96. Van Butchell, 445, 447. Vandyke, 137. Van Gelder, 59. Van Pronk, 25. Vans, 184. Van Wart, 63. Varden, 401. Vardy, 564. Varro, 583. Vassal, 296. Vaughan, 361. Velleius Paterculus, 614. Vere, 654. Verney, 677. Vermont, 114. Veronica, 57. Verulam, 258. Vespasian, 29, 67, 98. Vesuvius, 121. Vexius Valens, 443. Victoria, 208. Victory, 646. Vieq d'Azyr, 37. Vienna, 433. Villars, 607. Vincent, 256, 257, 258. Virgil, 76, 79, 97, 99, 419, 422. Virginia, 153, 154. Volney, 117, 119, 121. Voltaire, 217, 637. W. Wade, 570, 572, 573, 575. Wakefield, 359, 466. Waldo, 90, 302. Walpole, 382, 431, 629, 674. Waltham, 676. Walsingham, 65, 83, 84, 650, 656. Ward, 281, 282, 528, 529, 595. Ward's Curwen, 510. Warre, 235, 236. Warren, 55, 66, 222, 446, 450, 597. Warwick, 651. Washington, 62, 277, 394, 511. Waterhouse, 448. Waterloo, 132. Watts, 366, 677. Webb, 91, 126, 546. Webster, 159, 160, 271, 280, 335, 336, 337. Wedgewood, 64. Weever, 76, 124. Wellesley, 606. Wellington, 606. Wells, 273. Welsh, 450. Wendell, 538. Wentworth, 554. Westminster, 37, 134. Westminster Abbey, 34, 78, 136, 290, 478. Weston, 628. Westwood, 651. Wharton, 227. Whelpley, 322. Whipple, 450, 596. Whiston, 120. White, 82. Whitehall, 134. Whitehead, 256, 257, 258. Whitehurst, 158. White Plains, 351, 415. Wiche, 651. Wigmore, 656. Wilkes, 145, 605. Willard, 520, 566. William the Conqueror, 614. William and Mary, 248. William III., 232, 233, 248, 253. William IV., 37, 207, 208. Williams, 27, 29, 63, 164, 204. Williamson, 630. Willis, 88, 181. Wilts, 656. Wiltshire, 677. Winchelsea, 606. Winchester, 220, 400, 651. Windsor, 133, 135, 136. Winkle, 281. Winslow, 555, 564, 565, 595. Winterbottom, 435. Winthrop, 535, 538. Wisigoths, 407. Wisket, 628. Wode, 632. Wolton, 678. Wood, 133, 181, 232, 248, 249, 424, 425, 426, 613, 642. Woodbridge, 550 to 564, passim. Woodcock, 386. Woods, 127. Worcester, 124, 651, 652. Woronzow, 622. Wraxall, 622, 623. Wyatt, 631. Y. Yale, 580. York, 675. York, Duke of, 252, 256. Yorktown, 415. Younge, 676. Z. Zaire, 129. Zeleucus, 342. Zeno, 49. Zeres, 56. Zimmerman, 347. Zion, 423. Zisca, 26. Zoar, 121. Zophar, 217. FOOTNOTES: [1] Hist, of Charles V., vol. v. page 139, Oxford ed. 1825. [2] Lond. Quart. Rev., vol. lxxvi. page 161. [3] Nearly opposite the residence of Dr. Lemuel Hayward, deceased, where Hayward Place now is. [4] Woodbridge, I suppose, belonged to some military company, whose arms and accoutrements were probably kept at the White Horse tavern, under the charge of Robert Handy. [5] _Hog Alley._ See Bonner's plan, of 1722. [6] Afterwards Richard II. [7] His natural son. [8] John of Gaunt. [9] An English mark was two-thirds of a pound sterling, or 13s. 4d. [10] A church book. [11] Breviary. [12] A button of gold. [13] A button. [14] Round funeral tapers. [15] Margaret Plantagenet, grand-daughter of King Edward I. [16] The badge of the house of Lancaster. [17] Richard II. [18] A culverin. [19] Dugdale says these were jewels, hanging over the forehead, on bodkins, thrust through the hair. [20] Pale or peach-colored rubies. [21] This effigy is referred to by Walpole, in his Anecdotes of Painting, vol. i. p. 37. Transcriber's Notes: Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version these letters have been replaced with transliterations. No. CXIX. ends with the phrase "The symptoms" as is printed in the original text. 
38588	----	file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) Dealings with the Dead. [Illustration] [Illustration: DEALINGS with the DEAD, by a SEXTON of the OLD SCHOOL. DUTTON & WENTWORTH. BOSTON, 1856.] DEALINGS WITH THE DEAD. BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL. VOLUME I. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY DUTTON AND WENTWORTH, 33 AND 35 CONGRESS STREET: AND TICKNOR AND FIELDS, CORNER OF WASHINGTON AND SCHOOL STREETS. MDCCCLVI. "THE BURIAL SERVICE." This is a very solemn service, when it is properly performed. When I was a youngster, Grossman was Sexton of Trinity Church, and Parker was Bishop. Never were two men better calculated to give the true effect to this service. The Bishop was a very tall, erect person, with a deep, sonorous voice; and, in the earth-to-earth part, Grossman had no rival. I used to think, then, it would be the height of my ambition to fill Grossman's place, if I should live to be a man. When I was eight years old, I sometimes, though it frightened me half to death, dropped in, as an amateur, when there was a funeral at Trinity. I am not, on common occasions, in favor of reviving the old way of performing a considerable part of the service, under the church, among the vaults. The women, and feeble, and nervous people will go down, of course; and getting to be buried becomes contagious. It does them no good, if they don't catch their deaths. But, as things are now managed, the most solemn part of the service is made quite ridiculous. In 1796, I was at a funeral, under Trinity Church. I went below with the mourners. The body was carried into a dimly-lighted vault. I was so small and short, that I could see scarcely anything. But the deep, sepulchral voice of Mr. Parker--he was not Bishop then--filled me with a most delightful horror. I listened and shivered. At length he uttered the words, "earth to earth," and Grossman, who did his duty, marvellously well, when he was sober, rattled on the coffin a whole shovelful of coarse gravel--"ashes to ashes"--another shovelful of gravel--"dust to dust"--another: it seemed as if shovel and all were cast upon the coffin lid. I never forgot it. My way home from school was through Summer Street. Returning often, in short days, after dusk, I have run, at the top of my speed, till I had gotten as far beyond Trinity, as Tommy Russell's, opposite what now is Kingston Street. A great change has taken place, since I became a sexton. I suppose that part of the service is the most solemn, where the body is committed to the ground; and it is clearly a pity, that anything should occur, to lessen the solemnity. As soon as the minister utters the words, "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God," &c., the coffin being in the broad aisle, the sexton, now-a-days, steps up to the right of it, and makes ready by stooping down, and picking up a little sand, out of a box or saucer--a few more words, and he takes aim--"earth to earth," and he fires an insignificant portion of it on to the coffin--"ashes to ashes," and he fires another volley--"dust to dust," and he throws the balance, commonly wiping his hand on his sleeve. There is something, insufferably awkward, in the performance. I heard a young sexton say, last week, he had rather bury half the congregation, than go through this comic part. There is some grace, in the action of a farmer, sowing barley; but there is a feeling of embarrassment, in this miserable illustration of casting in the clods upon the dead, which characterizes the performance. The sexton commonly tosses the sand on the coffin, turning his head the other way, and rather downward, as if he were sensible, that he was performing an awkward ceremony. For myself, I am about retiring, and it is of little moment to me. But I hope something better will be thought of. What would poor old Grossman say! A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL. Dealings with the Dead. BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL. No. I. Throw aside whatever I send you, if you do not like it, as we throw aside the old bones, when making a new grave; and preserve only what you think of any value--with a slight difference--you will publish it, and we shouldn't. I was so fond of using the thing, which I have now in my hand, when a boy, that my father thought I should never succeed with the mattock and spade--he often shook his head, and said I should never make a sexton. He was mistaken. He was a shrewd old man, and I got many a valuable hint from him. "Abner," said he to me one day, when he saw me bowing, very obsequiously, to a very old lady, "don't do so, Abner; old folks are never pleased with such attentions, from people of your profession. They consider all personal approaches, from one of your fraternity, as wholly premature. It brings up unpleasant anticipations." Father was right; and, when I meet a very old, or feeble, or nervous gentleman, or lady, I always walk fast, and look the other way. Sextons have greatly improved within the last half century. In old times, they kept up too close an intimacy with young surgeons; and, to keep up their spirits, in cold vaults, they formed too close an alliance with certain evil spirits, such as gin, rum, and brandy. We have greatly improved, as a class, and are destined, I trust, to still greater elevation. A few of us are thinking of getting incorporated. I have read--I read a great deal--I have carried a book, of some sort, in my pocket for fifty years--no profession loses so much time, in mere waiting, as ours--I have read, that the barbers and surgeons of London were incorporated, as one company, in the time of Henry VIII. There is certainly a much closer relation, between the surgeons and sextons, than between the barbers and surgeons, since we put the finishing hand to their work. And as every body is getting incorporated now-a-days, I see no good reason against our being incorporated, as a society of sextons and surgeons. And then our toils and vexations would, in some measure, be solaced, by pleasant meetings and convivial suppers, at which the surgeons would cut up roast turkeys, and the sextons might bury their sorrows. When sextons have no particular digging to do, out of doors, it seems well enough for them to dig in their closets. There is a great amount of information to be gained from books, particularly adapted to their profession, some of which is practical, and some of which, though not of that description, is of a much more profitable character than police reports of rapes and murders, or the histories of family quarrels, or interminable rumors of battles and bloodshed. There is a learned blacksmith; who knows but there may spring up a learned sexton, some of these days. The dealings with the dead, since the world began, furnish matter for curious speculation. What has seemed meet and right, in one age or nation, has appeared absurd and even monstrous in another. It is also interesting to contemplate the many strange dispositions, which certain individuals have directed to be made, in regard to their poor remains. Men, who seem not to have paid much attention to their souls, have provided, in the most careful and curious manner, for the preservation of their miserable carcasses. It may also furnish matter for legitimate inquiry, how far it may be wise, and prudent, and in good taste, to carry our love of finery into the place, appropriated for all living. Aristocracy among the dead! What a thought. Sumptuary considerations are here involved. The rivalry of the tomb! The pride--not of life--but of death! How frequently have I seen, especially among the Irish, the practice of a species of pious fraud upon the baker and the milk man, whose bills were never to be paid, while all the scrapings of the defunct were bestowed upon the "birril!" The principle is one and the same, when men, in higher walks, put costly monuments over the ashes of their dead, and their effects into the hands of assignees. And then the pageantry and grandiloquence of the epitaph! In the course of fifty years, what outrageous lies I have seen, done in marble! Perhaps I may say something of these matters--perhaps not. No. II. Closing the eyes of the dead and composing the mouth were deemed of so much importance, of old, that Agamemnon's ghost made a terrible fuss, because his wife, Clytemnestra, had neglected these matters, as you will see, in your Odyssey, L. V. v. 419. It was usual for the last offices to be performed by the nearest relatives. After washing and anointing the body, the guests covered it with the _pallium_, or common cloak--the Romans used the _toga_--the Hebrews wrapped the body in linen. Virgil tells us, that Misenus was buried, in the clothes he commonly wore. Membra toro deffeta reponunt, Purpureasque super vestes velamina nota Conjiciunt. This would seem very strange with us; yet it is usual in some other countries, at this day. I have often seen the dead, thus laid out, in Santa Cruz--coat, neckcloth, waistcoat, pantaloons, boots, and gloves. I was never a sexton there, but noted these matters as an amateur. Chaplets and flowers were cast upon the dead, by the Greeks and Romans. The body was exhibited, or laid in state, near the entrance of the house, that all might see there had been no foul play. While thus lying, it was carefully watched. The body of every man, who died in debt, at Athens, was liable to be seized by creditors. Miltiades died in jail. His son, Cimon, could not pay his father's debts; he therefore assumed his debts and fetters, that his father might have funeral rites. Some time before interment, a piece of money, an _obolus_, was put in the mouth of the corpse, as Charon's fee. In the mouth was also placed a cake, made of flour and honey, to appease Cerberus. Instead of crape upon the knocker, some of the hair of the deceased was placed upon the door, to indicate a house of mourning. A vessel of water was placed before the door, until the corpse was removed, that all who touched the dead might wash therein. This is in accordance with the Jewish usage. Achilles was burnt on the eighteenth day after his death. The upper ten thousand were generally burnt on the eighth, and buried on the ninth. Common folks were dealt with more summarily. When ready for the pile, the body was borne forth on a bier. The Lacedemonians bore it on shields. The Athenians celebrated their obsequies before sunrise. Funerals, in some of our cities, are celebrated in the morning. The Greeks and Romans were very extravagant, like the Irish. If baked meats and Chian and Falernian cost less than in more modern times--still sumptuary laws were found necessary. Pittacus made such, at Mytelene. The women crowded so abominably, at the funerals in Athens, that Solon excluded all women, under threescore years, from gadding after such ceremonies. Robes of mourning were sometimes worn; not always. Thousands followed the bodies of Timoleon and Aratus, in white garments, bedecked with garlands, with songs of triumph and dances, rejoicing, that they were received into Elysium. After the funeral, they abstained from banquets and entertainments. Admetus says they avoided whatever bore an air of mirth or pleasure, for some time. They sequestered themselves from company. It is particularly stated, by Archbishop Potter, that "_wine was too great a friend of cheerfulness to gain admission into so melancholy a society_." If Old Hundred had been known to the Jews, it would, I dare say, have been considered highly appropriate--but their good taste was such, that I much doubt, if, in the short space of eight and forty hours, they would have mingled _sacra profanis_, so very comically, as to bring champagne and Old Hundred together. The Greek mourners often cut off their hair, and cast it upon the funeral pile. This custom was also followed by the Romans. They sometimes threw themselves upon the ground, to express their sorrow. Like some of the Eastern nations, they put ashes upon their heads. They beat their breasts, tore their flesh, and scratched their faces, with their nails. For this, Dionysius says, the women were more remarkable, than the men. Burning and embalming, the latter of which was a costly business, were practised among the Greeks and Romans; the latter much more frequently, among the Eastern nations. We talk of getting these matters thoroughly discussed, ere long, before the Sextons' board, to see if it may not be well, to bring them into use again. I will send you the result. In regard to the use of wine and other intoxicating drinks, at funerals, we much more closely resemble the Lacedemonians now, than we did some thirty years ago. When I was a boy, and was at an academy in the country, everybody went to everybody's funeral, in the village. The population was small--funerals rare--the preceptor's absence would have excited remark, and the boys were dismissed, for the funeral. A table with liquors was always provided. Every one, as he entered, took off his hat, with his left hand, smoothed down his hair, with his right, walked up to the coffin, gazed upon the corpse, made a crooked face, passed on to the table, took a glass of his favorite liquor, went forth upon the plat, before the house, and talked politics, or of the new road, or compared crops, or swapped heifers or horses, until it was time to lift. Twelve years ago, a clergyman of Newburyport told me, that, when settled in Concord, N. H., some years before, he officiated at the funeral of a little boy. The body was borne, as is quite common, in a chaise, and six little nominal pall-bearers, the oldest not thirteen, walked by the side of the vehicle. Before they left the house, a sort of master of ceremonies took them to the table, and mixed a tumbler of gin, water and sugar, for each. There is in this city a worthy man--I shall not name him--the doctor's and the lawyer's callings are not more confidential than ours. He used to attend every funeral, as an amateur. He took his glass invariably, and always had some good thing to say of the defunct. "A great loss," he would say, with a sad shake of his head, as he turned off the heel-tap. I have not seen him at a funeral, for several years. We met about five months ago. "Ah, Mr. Abner," said he, "temperance has done for funerals." No. III. The board of sextons have met, and we have concluded not to recommend a revival of the ancient custom of burning the dead. It would be very troublesome to do it, out of town, and inconvenient in the city. I have always thought it wrong to bury in the city; and it would be much worse to burn there. The first law of the tenth table of the Romans is in these words--"Let no dead body be interred or burnt within the city." Something may be got to help pay for a church, by selling tombs below. When a church was built here, some years ago, an eminent physician, one of the proprietors, was consulted and gave his sanction. Yet more than one of our board is very sure, that, on a warm, close Sunday, in the spring, he has snuffed up something that wasn't particularly orthodox, in that church. The old Romans were very careful of the rights of their fellows, in this respect: the twelfth law of the tenth table runs thus--"Let no sepulchre be built, or funeral pile raised within sixty feet of any house, without the consent of the owner of that house." They certainly conducted matters with great propriety, avoiding extravagance and intemperance, as appears by the seventh law of the same table--"Let no slaves be embalmed; let there be no drinking round a dead body; nor any perfumed liquors be poured upon it." So also the second law--"Let all costliness and excessive waitings be banished from funerals." The women were so very troublesome upon these occasions, that a special law, the fifth, was made for their government--"Let not the women tear their faces, or disfigure themselves, or make hideous outcries." It was not unusual for one person to have several funerals: to prevent this, however agreeable to the Roman undertakers, the tenth law of the tenth table was made--"Let no man have more than one funeral, or more than one bed put under him." There was also a very strange practice during the first Decemvirate; the friends often abstracted a finger of the deceased, or some part of the body, and performed fresh obsequies, in some other place; erecting there a _cenotaph_ or _empty_ sepulchre, in which they fancied the ghost of the departed took occasional refuge, when wandering about--in case of a sudden shower, perhaps; or being caught out too near daylight. For the correction of this folly, the Decemvirs passed the sixth law of the tenth table--"Let not any part of a dead body be carried away, in order to perform other obsequies for the deceased, unless he died in war, or out of his own country." It was upon such occasions as these, in which an empty form was observed, and no actual inhumation took place, that the practice of throwing three handsful of earth originated. This usage was practised also by the Jews, and has come down to modern times. Baron Rothschild (Nathan Meyer) who died in Frankfort, July 28, 1836, was buried in the ground of the Synagogue, in Duke's Place, London. His sons, Lionel, Anthony, Nathaniel, and Meyer, his brother-in-law, Mr. Montefiore, and his ancient friend, Mr. Samuels, at the age of ninety-six, commenced the service of filling up the grave,--by casting in, each one of them, three handsful of earth. Not satisfied with carrying a bottle of sal volatile to funerals, the women, and even the men, were in the habit of carrying pots of essences, which occasioned the enactment of the eighth law--"Let no crowns, festoons, perfuming pots, or any kind of perfume be carried to funerals." Burning or interring was adopted, by the ancients, at the will of the relatives. This is manifest from the eleventh law, which prohibits the use of gold in all obsequies, with a single exception--"Let no gold be used in any obsequies, unless the jaw of the deceased has been tied up with a gold thread. In that case the corpse may be _interred_ or _burnt_, with the gold thread." A large quantity of silver is annually buried with the dead. It finds its way up again, however, in the course of time. Common as burning was, among the ancients, it was looked upon, by some, with great abhorrence. The body to be burned was placed upon a pile--if the body of a person of quality, one or more slaves or captives were burned with it. When not forbidden, all sorts of precious ointments and perfumes were poured upon the corpse. The favorite dogs and horses of the defunct were cast upon the pile. Homer tells us, that four horses, two dogs, and twelve Trojan captives were burnt upon the pile, with the dead body of Patroclus. The corpses, that they might consume the sooner, were covered with the fat of beasts. Some near relative lighted the pile, uttering prayers to Boreas and Zephyrus to increase the flame. The relatives stood around, calling on the deceased, and pouring on libations of wine, with which they finally extinguished the flames, when the pile was well burnt down. They then collected the bones and ashes. How they were ever able to discriminate between men, dogs, and horses, it is hard to say. Probably the whole was sanctified, in their opinion, by juxtaposition. The bones might be distinguished, but not the dust. Such bones as could be identified, were washed and anointed _by the nearest relatives_. What an office! How custom changes the complexion of such matters! These relics were then placed in urns of wood, stone, earth, silver, or gold, according to the quality of the parties. Where are these memorials now! these myriads of urns! They were deposited in tombs--of which a very perfect account may be found in the description of the street of tombs, at Pompeii. No. IV. The Greeks, when interment was preferred to burning, placed the body in the coffin, as is done at present, deeming it safer for the defunct to look upwards. To ridicule this superstition, Diogenes requested, that his body might be placed face downward, "for the world, erelong," said he, "will be turned upside down, and then I shall come right." The feet were placed towards the East. Those, who were closely allied, were buried together. The epitaph of Agathias, on the twin brothers, is still preserved-- "Two brothers lie interred within this urn, They died together, as together born." "They were lovely and pleasant in their lives," said David, of Saul and Jonathan, "and, in death, they were not divided." Plato says, that the early Greeks buried their dead, in their own houses. There was a law in Thebes, that no person should build a house, without providing a repository for the dead therein. An inconvenient fashion this. In after-times they buried out of the city, and generally by the way-side. Hence, doubtless, arose the very common appeal, on their tablets--_Siste Viator!_ On the road from Cape Ann Harbor to Sandy Bay, now Rockport, are a solitary grave and a monument--the grave of one, who chanced there to die. Our graveyards are usually on the roadside. Sometimes a common _cart-path_ is laid out, through an ancient burying-ground. Such is the case in Uxbridge, in this Commonwealth. This is Vandalism. Sextons, who have had long experience, are of opinion, that the rights of the living and the decencies of life are less apt to be maintained, wherever the ashes of the dead are treated with disrespect. Burying, by the road-side, has been said to have been adopted, for the purpose of inspiring travellers with thoughts of mortality--travellers in railway cars, perhaps! The first time I visited St. Peter's, in Philadelphia, I was much impressed with the tablets and their inscriptions, lying level with the floor of the church, and vertical, I supposed, to the relics below--but I soon became familiar, and forgetful. Every family, among the Greeks, who could afford it, had its own proper burying-ground--as is the case, at the present day, in our own country, among the planters and others, living far apart from any common point. This might be well enough, where the feudal system prevailed, and estates, by the law of descent, continued long in families. If the old usage were now in vogue, in New York, for instance, what a carting about of family urns there would be, on May day! Estates will pass from man to man, and strangers become the custodiers of the dead friends and relatives of the alienors. It is not unusual to find, on such occasions, a special clause, in the conveyance, for their protection, and for the perpetual _tabooing_ of the place of sepulture. The first graves of the Greeks were mere caverns or holes; but, in later times, they were capacious rooms, vaulted and paved--so large, indeed, that in some instances, the mourners assembled and remained in them, for days and nights together. Monuments of some sort were of very early date; so were inscriptions, containing the names, ages, virtues, and actions of the deceased, and the emblems of their calling. Diogenes had the figure of a snarling cur engraved upon his tablet. Lycurgus put an end to what he called "talkative gravestones." He even forbade the inscription of the names, unless of men who died in battle, or women in childbed. Extravagance was, at one time, so notorious, in these matters, that Leon forbade the erection of any mausoleum, which could not be erected by ten men, in three days. In Greece and Rome, panegyrics were often pronounced at the grave. Games were sometimes instituted in honor of the eminent dead. Homer tells us that Agamemnon's ghost and the ghost of Achilles had a long talk upon this subject, telling over the number they had attended. After the funeral was over, the company met at the house of some near relative, to divert their sorrow; and, notwithstanding the abstemiousness of the Lacedemonians, they had, I am compelled to believe, what is commonly called a good time. The word, used to designate this kind of gathering, _perideipnon_, indicates a very social meeting--Cicero translates this word _circumpotatio_. Embalming was most in use with the Egyptians, and the process is described by Herodotus and Diodorus. The brain was drawn through the nostrils with an iron scoop, and the void filled with spices. The entrails were removed, and the abdomen filled with myrrh and cassia. The body was next pickled in nitre, for seventy days, and then enveloped in bandages of fine linen and gums. Among the repositories of the curious, are bodies embalmed some thousands of years ago. According to Herodotus, the place for the first incision having been indicated, by the priest, the operator was looked upon, with as much disgust, as we exhibit towards the common hangman,--for, no sooner had he hastily made the incision, than he fled from the house, and was immediately attacked with stones, by the bystanders, as one, who had violated the dead. Rather an undesirable office. After being embalmed, the body was placed in a box of sycamore wood, carved to resemble the human form. The story of Diogenes, who desired to be buried face downward, reminds me of one, related by old Grossman, as we were coming, many years ago, from the funeral of an old lady, who had been a terrible termagant. She resembled, old Grossman said, a perfect fury of a woman, whose husband insisted upon burying her, face downward; and, being asked the reason, for this strange procedure, replied--"the more she scratches the deeper she goes." No. V. Nil de mortuis nisi bonum. You will wonder where I got my Latin. If my profession consisted of nothing but digging and filling up--dust to dust, and ashes to ashes--I would not give a fig for it. To a sexton of any sentiment it is a very different affair. I have sometimes doubted, if it might not be ranked among the fine arts. To be sure, it is rather a melancholy craft; and for this very reason I have tried to solace myself, with the literary part of it. There is a great amount, of curious and interesting reading upon these marble pages, which the finger of time is ever turning over. I soon found, that a large part of it was in the Latin tongue, and I resolved to master so much of it, as impeded my progress. I have found, that many superb things are said of the defunct, in Latin, which no person, however partial, would venture to say, in plain English. The Latin proverb, at the head of this article, I saw, on the gravestone of a poor fellow, who was killed, by a sort of devil incarnate, in the shape of a rumseller, though some persons thought he was worried to death, by moral suasion. _Nothing of the dead but what is good_: Well, I very much doubt the wisdom of this rule. The Egyptians doubted it; and their kings were kept in order, through a fear of the sentence to be passed upon their character and conduct, by an assembly of notables, summoned immediately after their decease. Montaigne says it is an excellent custom, and to be desired by all good princes, who have reason to be offended, that the memories of the wicked should be treated with the same respect, as their own. In England and our own Commonwealth, we have, legislatively, repudiated this rule, in one instance, at least, until within a few years. I refer to the case of suicide. Instead of considering the account balanced by death, and treating the defunct with particular tenderness, because he was dead, the sheriff was ordered to bury the body of every person, _felo de se_, at the central point where four roads met, and to run a stake through his body. This, to say nothing of its cheating our brotherhood out of burial fees, seems a very awkward proceeding. There is a pleasant tale, related of Sheriff Bradford, which I may repeat, without marring the course of these remarks. Mr. Bradford was the politest sheriff, that we ever had in Suffolk, not excepting Sheriff Sumner. Sheriff Bradford was a real gentleman, dyed in the wool. It did one's heart good to see him serve an attachment, or levy an execution. Instead of knocking one down, and arresting him afterwards, Mr. Bradford made a pleasant affair of it. It actually seemed, as if he employed a sort of official ether, which took away the pain--he used, while placing his bailiff in a lady's drawing-room, to bow and smile, so respectfully and sympathizingly; and, in a sotto voice, to talk so very clerically, of the instability of human affairs. An individual, within the sheriff's precinct, cut his own throat. An officious neighbor, who was rather curious to see the stake part performed, brought tidings to Mr. Bradford, while at breakfast. The informant ventured to inquire, at what time the performances would commence. At five o'clock precisely, this afternoon, the sheriff replied. He instantly dispatched a deputy to the son of the defunct, with a note, full of the most respectful expressions of condolence, and informing him, that the law required the sheriff to run a stake through his father's body, _if to be found within his precinct_, and adding that he should call with the stake, at 5 P. M. The body was, of course, speedily removed, and _non est inventus_ was the end of the whole matter. Civilization advanced--several of the upper ten thousand cut their throats, or blew their brains out; and it would have been troublesome to carry out the provisions of the law, and cost something for stakes. The law was repealed. Some sort of ignominious sepulture, for self-murderers, was in vogue, long ago. Plato speaks of it, de legibus lib. ix., p. 660. The attempt to shelter mankind from deserved reproach, by putting complimentary epitaphs upon their gravestones, is very foolish. It commonly produces an opposite effect. One would think these names were intended as a hint, for the Devil, when he comes for his own--a sort of _passover_. I am inclined to think, if a grand inquest of any county were employed, to discover the last resting places of their neighbors and fellow-citizens, having no other guide, but their respective epitaphs, the names and dates having been previously removed or covered up, that inquest would be very much at a loss, in the midst of such exalted virtues, and supereminent talents, and extraordinary charities, and unbroken friendships, and great public services. Some inscriptions are, perhaps, too simple. In the burying-ground at the corner of Arch and Sixth streets, Philadelphia, and very near that corner, lies a large flat slab, with these words: "Benjamin and Deborah Franklin, 1790." In Exeter, N. H., I once read an epitaph in the graveyard, near the Railroad Depot, in these words: "Henry's grave." Pope's epitaph, in the garden of Lord Cobham, at Stow, on his Lordship's Italian friend, was, doubtless, well-deserved, though savoring of panegyric: To the memory of SIGNOR FIDO, an Italian of good extraction, who came into England not to bite us, like most of his countrymen, but to gain an honest livelihood. He hunted not after fame, yet acquired it. Regardless of the praise of his friends, But most sensible of their love, Though he lived among the great, He neither learned nor flattered any vice. He was no bigot, Though he doubted not the 39 articles. And, if to follow nature, And to respect the laws of society Be philosophy, He was a perfect philosopher, A faithful friend, An agreeable companion, A loving husband, Distinguished by a numerous offspring, All which he lived to see take good courses. In his old age he retired To the house of a clergyman, in the country, Where he finished his earthly race, And died an honor and an example to the whole species. Reader This stone is guiltless of flattery; For he, to whom it is inscribed, Was not a man but a GREYHOUND. No. VI. It could not have been particularly desirable to be the cook, or the concubine, or the cup-bearer, or the master of the horse, or the chamberlain, or the gentleman usher of a Scythian king, for Herodotus tells us, book 4, page 280, that every one of these functionaries was strangled, upon the body of the dead monarch. Castellan, in his account of the Turkish Empire, says, that a dying Turk is laid on his back, with his right side towards Mecca, and is thus interred. A chafing-dish is placed in the chamber of death, and perfumes burnt thereon. The Imam reads the thirty-sixth chapter of the Koran. When death has closed the scene, a sabre is laid upon the abdomen, and the next of kin ties up the jaw. The corpse is washed with camphor, wrapped in a white sheet, and laid upon a bier. The burial is brief and rapid. The body is never carried to the mosque. Unlike the solemn pace of our own age and nation, four bearers, who are frequently relieved, carry the defunct, almost on a run, to the place of interment. Over the bier is thrown a pall; and, at the head, the turban of the deceased. Women never attend. Mourning, as it is called, is never worn. Christians are not permitted to be present, at the funeral of a Mussulman. It is not lawful to walk over, or sit upon, a grave. A post mortem examination is never allowed, unless the deceased is so near confinement, that there may be danger of burying the living with the dead. The corpse is laid naked in the ground. The Imam kneels in prayer, and calls the name of the deceased, and the name of his mother, thrice. The cemeteries of the Turks are without the city, and thickly planted with trees, chiefly cypress and evergreens. Near Constantinople there are several cemeteries--the most extensive are at Scutari, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. There, as here, marble columns designate the graves of the eminent and wealthy, but are surmounted with sculptured turbans. The inscriptions are brief and simple. This is quite common: "_This world is transient and perishable--today mine--tomorrow thine_." The funeral ceremonies of the Hindoos are minute, trivial, and ridiculous, in the extreme. A curious account may be found, in the Asiatic Researches, vol. 7, page 264. Formal, or nominal obsequies are performed, says Mr. Colebrooke, not less than ninety-six times, in every year, among the Hindoos. We do, for the dead, that, which we would have done for ourselves. The desire of making a respectable corpse is quite universal. It has been so, from the days of Greece and Rome, to the present. Such was the sentiment, which caused the Romans to veil those, whose features were distorted in death, as in the case of Scipio Africanus: such obsequies were called _larvata funera_. Such has ever been the feeling, among the civilized and the savage. Such was the opinion of Pope's Narcissa, when she exclaimed-- One need not sure be ugly, though one's dead; And Betty, give this cheek a little red. The Roman female corpses were painted. So are the corpses of the inhabitants of the Polynesian Islands, and of New Zealand. When a New Zealand chieftain dies, says Mr. Polack, the relatives and friends cut themselves with muscle shells, and let blood profusely, because they believe that ghosts, and especially royal ghosts, are exceedingly partial to this beverage. The body is laid out by the priests. The head is adorned with the most valued feathers of the albatross. The hair is anointed with shark oil, and tied, at the crown, with a riband of _tapa_. The lobes of the ears are ornamented with bunches of white, down, from the sea-fowl's breast, and the cheeks are embellished with red ochre. The brow is encircled with a garland of pink and white flowers of the _kaikatoa_. Mats, wove of the silken flax, are thrown around the body, which is placed upright. Skulls of enemies, slain in battle, are ranged at its feet. The relics of ancestors, dug up for the occasion, are placed on platforms at its head. A number of slaves are slaughtered, to keep the chieftain company. His wives and concubines hang and drown themselves, that they also may be of the party. The body lies in state, three or four days. The priests flourish round it, with wisps of flax, to keep off the devil and all his angels. The _pihe_, or funeral song, is then chanted, which I take to be the Old Hundred of the New Zealanders, very much resembling the _noenia_, or funereal songs of the Romans. At last, the body is buried, with the favorite mats, muskets, trinkets, &c., of the deceased. The Mandans, of the Upper Missouri, never inhume or bury their dead, but place their bodies, according to Mr. Catlin, on light scaffolds, out of the reach of the wolves and foxes. There they decay. This place of deposit is without the village. When a Mandan dies, he is painted, oiled, feasted, supplied with bow, arrows, shield, pipe and tobacco, knife, flint, steel, and food, for a few days, and wrapped tightly, in a raw buffalo hide. The corpse is then placed upon the scaffold, with its feet to the rising sun. An additional piece of scarlet cloth is thrown over the remains of a chief or medicine man. This cemetery is called, by the Mandans, the village of the dead. Here the Mandans, especially the women, give daily evidence of their parental, filial, and conjugal devotion. When the scaffold falls, and the bones have generally decayed, the skulls are placed in circles, facing inwards. The women, says Mr. Catlin, are able to recognize the skulls of their respective husbands, by some particular mark; and daily visit them with the best cooked dishes from their wigwams. What a lesson of constancy is here! It is a pity, that so much good victuals should be wasted; but what an example is this, for the imitation of Christian widows, too many of whom, it is feared, resemble Goldsmith's widow with the great fan, who, by the laws of her country, was forbidden to marry again, till the grave of her husband was thoroughly dry; and who was engaged, day and night, in fanning the clods. Some thirty years ago, my business led me frequently to pass a stonecutter's door, a few miles from the city; and, in a very conspicuous position, I noticed a gravestone, sacred to the memory of the most affectionate husband, erected by his devoted and inconsolable widow. It continued thus, before the stonecutter's shop, for several years. I asked the reason. "Why," said the stonecutter, "the inconsolable got married, in four months after, and I have never got my pay. They pass this way, now and then, the inconsolable and her new husband, and, when I see them, I always run out, and brush the dust off." No. VII. I told that anecdote of the inconsolable widow, related in my last, to old Grossman. He and Smith were helping me at a grave, in the Granary ground. Bless my heart, how things have changed! We were digging near the Park Street side--the old Almshouse fronted on Park Street then--and the Granary stood where Park Street Church now stands, until 1809, and the long building, called the Massachusetts Bank, covered a part of Hamilton Place, and the house, once occupied by Sir Francis Barnard and afterwards by Mr. Andrews, with its fine garden, stood at the corner of Winter Street, on the site of the present granite block; and--but I am burying myself, sexton like, in the grave of my own recollections--I say, I told Grossman that story--the old man, when not translated by liquor, was delightful company, in a graveyard--we were digging the grave of a young widow's third husband. Grossman said she poisoned them. Smith was quite shocked, and told him Mr. Deblois was looking over the Almshouse wall. Grossman said he didn't mean, that she really gave all three of them ratsbane; but it was clear enough, she was the end of them all; and he had no doubt the widow would be a good customer, and give us two or three jobs yet, before she left off. This led me to tell that story. Smith said there was nothing half so restless, as an Irish widow. He said, that a young Tipperary widow, Nelly McPhee, I think he called her, was courted, and actually had an offer from Tooley O'Shane, on the way to her husband's funeral. "She accepted, of course," said Grossman. "No, she didn't," said Smith--"Tooley, dear," said she, "y'are too late: foor waaks ago it was, I shook hands wi Patty Sweeney upon it, that I would have him, in a dacent time, arter poor McPhee went anunderbood." "Well," said Grossman, "widows of all nations are much alike. There was a Dutch woman, whose husband, Diedrick Van Pronk, kicked the bucket, and left her inconsolable. He was buried on Copp's Hill. Folks said grief would kill that widow. She had a figure of wood carved, that looked very like her late husband, and placed it in her bed, and constantly kept it there, for several months. In about half a year, she became interested in a young shoemaker, who got the length of her foot, and finally married her. He had visited the widow, not more than a fortnight, when the servants told her they were out of kindling stuff, and asked what should be done. After a pause, the widow replied, in a very quiet way--"Maype it ish vell enough now, to sphlit up old Van Pronk, vat ish up shtair." Some persons have busied themselves, in a singular way, about their own obsequies, and have left strange provisions, touching their remains. Charles V., according to Robertson and other writers, ordered a rehearsal of his own obsequies--his domestics marched with black tapers--Charles followed in his shroud--he was laid in his coffin--the service for the dead was chanted. This farce was, in a few days, followed by the real tragedy; for the fatigue or exposure brought on fever, which terminated fatally. Yet this story, which has long been believed, is distinctly denied, by Mr. Richard Ford, in his admirable handbook for Spain; and this denial is repeated, in No. 151 of the London Quarterly Review. Several gentlemen, of the fancy, of the present age, and in this vicinity, have provided their coffins, in their life time. The late Timothy Dexter, commonly called Lord Dexter, of Newburyport; there was also an eminent merchant, of this city. This is truly a Blue Beard business; and, beyond its influence, in frightening children and domestics, it is difficult to imagine the utility of such an arrangement. After a few visitations, these coffins would probably excite just about as much of the _memento mori_ sensation, as the same number of meal chests. Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, states that John Zisca, the general of the Hussites, ordered a drum to be made of his skin, after he was dead, persuaded, that the sound of it would terrify his foes. When Edward I., of England, was dying, he bound his son, by an oath, to boil his body, and, separating the bones, to carry them always before him in battle, against the Scots; as though he believed victory to be chained to his joints. The bodies of persons, executed for crime, have, in different ages, and among different nations, been delivered to surgeons, for dissection. It seems meet and right, that those, who have been worse than useless, in their lives, should contribute, in some small degree, to the common weal, by such an appropriation of their carcasses. In some cases, these miserable creatures have been permitted to make their own bargains, with particular surgeons, beforehand; who have, occasionally, been taken in, by paying a guinea to an unscrupulous fellow, who knew, though the surgeons did not, that he was sentenced to be hung in chains, or, as it is commonly called, gibbeted. The difficulty of obtaining subjects, for anatomical purposes, has led to outrages upon the dead. Various remedies have been proposed--none effectual. Surgical students, will not be deterred, by the "Requiescat in pace," and the judges, between the demands of science and of sympathy, have been in the predicament of asses, between two bundles of straw. A poor vagabond, _nullius filius vel ignoti_, was snatched, by some of these young medical dogs, some years ago, and Judge Parsons, who tried the indictment, with a leaning to science, imposed a fine of five dollars. Not many years after, a worthy judge, a reverencer of Parsons, and a devotee to precedent, imposed a fine of five dollars, upon a young sloven, who but half completed his job, and left a respectable citizen of Maine, half drawn out from his grave, with a rope about his neck. It seems scarcely conceivable, that a pittance should tempt a man to take his fellow's life, that he might sell the body to a surgeon. In 1809, Burke was executed in Edinburgh, for this species of murder. It was his trade. Victims were lured, by this vampyre, to "the chambers of death," strangled or suffocated, without any visible mark of murder, and then sold to the surgeons. This trade has been attempted in London, at a much later day. Dec. 5, 1831, a wretch, named Bishop, and his accomplice, Williams, were hung, for the murder of an Italian boy, Carlo Ferrari, poor and friendless, whose body they sold to the surgeons. They confessed the murder of Ferrari and several others, whose bodies were disposed of, in a similar manner. From a desire to promote the cause of science, individuals have, now and then, bequeathed their bodies to particular surgeons. These bequests have been rarely insisted upon, by the legatees, and the intentions of the testator have seldom been carried out, by the executors; a remarkable exception, however, occurred, in the case of the celebrated Jeremy Bentham, an account of which I must defer for the present, for funerals are not the only things, which may be of unreasonable length. No. VIII. That eminent friend of science and of man, Jeremy Bentham, held the prejudice against dissection, in profound contempt, and bequeathed his body, for that object, to Dr. Fordyce, in 1769. Dr. Fordyce died, in 1792, and Mr. Bentham, who survived him, and seems to have set his heart upon being dissected, aware of the difficulties, that might obstruct his purpose, chose three friends, from whom he exacted a solemn promise, to fulfil his wishes. Accordingly, Mr. Bentham's body was carried to the Webb Street School of Anatomy and Surgery, and publicly dissected, June 9, 1832, by Dr. Southwood Smith, who delivered an admirable lecture, upon that occasion. I wholly object to such a practice, not, upon my honor, from selfish motives, though it would spoil our business; but because the moral injury, which would result, from such a disposition of mortal remains, would be so much greater, than the surgical good. Mr. Bentham's example is not likely to be commonly adopted. A great amount of needless care is sometimes taken, by the living, in regard to their relics, and their obsequies, which care belongs, manifestly, to survivors. Akin to the preparation of one's coffin, and storing it in one's domicil, for years perhaps, is the preparation of one's shroud, and death cap, and all the et cætera of laying out. In ninety and nine cases, in every one hundred, these things are done, for the gratification of personal vanity, to attract attention, and to procure a small sample of that lamentation, which the desolate widower and orphans will pour forth, _one of these days_. It is observed, by one of the daughters, that the mother is engaged in some mysterious piece of needle work. "What is it, dear mother?" "Ah, my child, you should not inquire. We all must die--it is your poor mother's winding sheet." The daughter is convulsed, and pours forth a profluvium of tears. The judicious parent soothes, and moralizes, and is delighted. The daughter flies to her sisters; and, gathering in some private chamber, their tears are poured forth, as the fact is announced. The husband returns--the eyes of his household are like beet roots. They gather round their miserable meal. The husband has been informed. The sweet-breads go down, untasted. How grateful these evidences of sympathy to the wife and mother! A case occurred in my practice, of this very description, where the lady survived, married again, and the shroud, sallowed by thirty years' _non user_, was given, in an hour of need, to a poor family. Montaigne, vol. 1, page 17, Lond., 1811, says, "I was by no means pleased with a story, told me of a relation of mine, that, being arrived at a very old age and tormented with the stone, he spent the last hours of his life in an extraordinary solicitude, about ordering the pomp and ceremony of his funeral, pressing all the men of condition, who came to see him, to promise their attendance at his grave." Sophia Charlotte, the sister of George I., of England, a woman of excellent understanding, was the wife of Frederic I. of Prussia. When dying, one of her attendants observed how sadly the king would be afflicted by her death. "With respect to him," she replied, "I am perfectly at ease. His mind will be completely occupied in arranging the ceremonial of my funeral; and, if nothing goes wrong in the procession, he will be quite consoled for my loss." Man goeth to his long home, as of yore, but the mourners do not go about the streets, as they did, when I was young. The afternoons were given to the tolling of bells, and funeral processions. This was about the period, when the citizens began to feel their privations, as cow-yards grew scarce; and, when our old friend, Ben Russell, told the public, in his Centinel, that it was no wonder they were abominably crowded, and pinched for gardens, for Boston actually contained seventeen thousand inhabitants. I have seen a funeral procession, of great length, going south, by the Old South Church, passing another, of equal length, going north, and delaying the progress of a third, coming down School Street. The dead were not left to bury the dead, in those days. Invitations to funerals were sent round, as they are at present, to balls and parties. Othello Pollard and Domingo Williams had full employment then. I have heard it stated of Othello, that, having in hand two bundles of invitations, one for a fandango, of some sort, and the other for a funeral, and being in an evil condition, he made sad work in the delivery. Printed invitations are quite common, in some countries. I have seen one, in handbill form, for the funeral of a Madame Barbut, an old widow, in Martinique, closing with these words, "_un de profundis, si vous_," etc. Roman funerals were distinguished as _indictiva_ and _tacita_: to the former, persons were invited, by a crier; the others were private. The calling out, according to a prearranged list, which always gave offence to somebody, was of old the common practice here. Such was the usage in Rome, where the director was styled _dominus funeris_ or _designator_. I doubt, if martinets are more tenacious of their rank, in the army, than mourners, at a funeral. There was a practice, in Rome, which would appear very grotesque, at the present time. Pipers, _tibicines_, preceded the corpse, with players and buffoons, who danced and sang, some of whom imitated the voice, manner and gestures of the defunct. Of these, Suetonius gives some account, in his lives of Tiberius, Vespasian, and Cæsar. The practice of watching a corpse, until the time of burying or burning, was very ancient, and in use with the Greeks and Romans. The bodies of eminent men were borne to the grave, by the most distinguished citizens, not acting merely as pall bearers, but sustaining the body on their shoulders. Suetonius states, that Julius Cæsar was borne by the magistrates; Augustus by the senators. Tacitus, Ann. iii. 2, informs us, that Germanicus was supported, on the shoulders of the tribunes and centurions. Children, who died, before they were weaned, were carried to the pile by their mothers. This must have been a painful office. No. IX. When I first undertook, there was scarcely any variety, either in the inscriptions, or devices, upon gravestones: death's heads and crossbones; scythes and hour glasses; angels, with rather a diabolical expression; all-seeing eyes, with an ominous squint; squares and compasses; such were the common devices; and every third or fourth tablet was inscribed: Thou traveller that passest by, As thou art now, so once was I; As I am now, thou soon shalt be, Prepare for death and follow me. No wonder people were wearied to death, or within an inch of it, by reading this lugubrious quatrain, for the hundredth time. We had not then learned, from that vivacious people, who have neither taste nor talent for being sad, to convert our graveyards into pleasure grounds. To be sure, even in my early days, and long before, an audacious spirit, now and then, would burst the bonds of this mortuary sameness, and take a bolder flight. We have an example of this, on the tablet of the Rev. Joseph Moody, in the graveyard at York, Maine. Although this stone may moulder into dust, Yet Joseph Moody's name continue must. And another in Dorchester: Here lies our Captain and Mayor of Suffolk, Was withall, A godly magistrate was he, and major general. Two troops of hors with him here came, such Worth his love did crave. Ten companyes also mourning marcht To his grave. Let all that read be sure to keep the faith as He has don; With Christ he lives now crowned, his name Was HUMPHREY ATHERTON, He dyed the 16 of September, 1661. The following, also, in the graveyard at Attleborough, upon the tablet of the Rev. Peter Thacher, who died in 1785, is no common effort, and in the style of Tate and Brady: Whom Papists not With superstitious fire, Would dare to adore, We justly may admire. And another, in the same graveyard, upon the slave, Cæsar, is very clever. The two last lines seem by another hand: Here lies the best of slaves, Now turning into dust, Cæsar, the Ethiopian, craves A place, among the just. His faithful soul is fled To realms of Heavenly light, And by the blood that Jesus shed, Is changed from black to white. January 15, he quitted the stage, In the 77 year of his age. An erratum, ever to be regretted, is certainly quite unexpected, on a gravestone. In the graveyard at Norfolk, Va., there is a handsome marble monument, sacred to the memory of Mrs. Margaret, &c., wife of, &c., who died, &c.: "_Erratum, for Margaret read Martha_." In olden time, there was a provost of bonny Dundee, and his name was Dickson. He was a right jolly provost, and seemed resolved to have one good joke beyond the grave. He bequeathed ten pounds, apiece, to three men, remarkable above their fellows, for avarice, and dulness, on condition, that they should join in the composition of his epitaph, in rhyme and metre. They met--the task was terrible--but, Dr. Johnson would have said, what will not a Scotchman undertake, for ten pounds! It need not be long, said one--a line apiece, said the second--shall I begin? said the third. This was objected to, of course; for whoever commenced was relieved from the onus of the rhyme. They drew lots for this vantage ground, and he, who won, after a copious perspiration, produced the following line-- Here lies Dickson, Provost of Dundee. This was very much admired--brief and sententious--his name, his official station, his death, and the place of his burial were happily compressed in a single line. After severe exertion, the second line was produced: Here lies Dickson, here lies he. It was objected, that this was tautological; and that it did not even go so far as the first, which set forth the official character of the deceased. It was said, in reply, by one of the executors, who happened to be present, and who acted as _amicus poetæ_, that the second line would have been tautological, if it _had_ set forth the official station, which it did not; and that as there had once been a female provost, the last word effectually established the sex of Dickson, which was very important. The third legatee, though he had leave of absence for an hour, and refreshed his spirit, by a ramble on the Frith of Tay, was utterly unable to complete the epitaph. At an adjourned meeting, however, he produced the following line, Hallelujah! Hallelujee! There are some beautiful epitaphs in our language--there are half a dozen, perhaps, which are exquisitely so, and I believe there are not many more. I dare not present them here, in juxtaposition with such light matter. Swift's clever epitaph, on a miser, may more appropriately close this article: Beneath this verdant hillock lies Demer, the wealthy and the wise. His heirs, that he might safely rest, Have put his carcass in a chest-- The very chest, in which, they say, His other self, his money, lay. And if his heirs continue kind To that dear self he left behind, I dare believe that four in five Will think his better half alive. No. X. Catacombs, hollows or cavities, according to the etymological import of the word, are, as every one knows, receptacles for the dead. They are found in many countries; the most ancient are those of Egypt and Thebes, which were visited in 1813 and 1818, by Belzoni. Psamatticus was a famous fellow, in his time: he was the founder of the kingdom of Egypt; and, after a siege of nearly three times the length of that at Troy, he captured the city of Azotus. The flight of the house of our lady of Loretto from Jerusalem, in a single night, would have seemed less miraculous to the Egyptians, than the transportation of the sarcophagus of Psamatticus, by a travelling gentleman, from Egypt to London. So it fell out, nevertheless. Belzoni penetrated into one of the pyramids of Ghizeh; he obtained free access to the tombs of the Egyptian kings, at Beban-el-Malook; and brought to England the sarcophagus of Psamatticus, exquisitely wrought of the finest Oriental alabaster. Verily kings have a slender chance, between the worms and the lovers of _vertu_. "Here lie the remains of G. Belzoni"--these brief words mark the grave of Belzoni himself, at Gato, near Benin in Africa, where he died, in December, 1823, safer in his traveller's robes, than if surrounded with aught to tempt the hand of avarice or curiosity. The best account of the Egyptian catacombs may be found in Belzoni's narrative, published in 1820. The catacombs of Italy are vast caverns, in the via Appia, about three miles from Rome. They were supposed to be the sepulchres of martyrs, and have furnished more capital to priestcraft, for the traffic in relics, than would have accrued, for the purposes of agriculture, to the fortunate discoverer of a whole island of guano. The common opinion is, that they were heathen sepulchres--the _puticuli_ of the ancients. The catacombs of Naples, according to Bishop Burnet, are more magnificent than those of Rome. Catacombs have been found in Syracuse and Catanea, in Sicily, and in Malta. Jahn, in his Archæologia, sec. 206, speaks of extensive sepulchres, among the Hebrews, otherwise called the _everlasting houses_; a term of peculiar inapplicability, if we may judge from Maundrell's account of the shattered and untenantable state, in which they are found. They are all located beyond the cities and villages, to which they belong, that is, beyond their more inhabited parts. The sepulchres of the Hebrew kings were upon Mount Zion. Extensive caverns, natural or artificial, were the common burying-places or catacombs. Gardens and the shade of spreading trees were preferred, by some; these are objectionable, on the ground, suggested in a former number: to alienate the estate and leave the dead, without the right of removal, reserved, is, virtually, a transfer of one's ancestors--and to remove them may be unpleasant. For this contingency the Greeks and Romans provided, by reducing them to such a portable compass, that a man might carry his grandfather in a quart bottle, and ten generations, in the right line, in a wheelbarrow. Numerous catacombs are to be found in Syria and Palestine. The most beautiful are on the north part of Jerusalem. The entrance into these was down many steps. Some of them consisted of seven apartments, with niches in the walls, for the reception of the dead. Maundrell, in his travels, page 76, writing of the "grots," as they were styled, which have been considered the sepulchres of kings, denies that any of the kings of Israel or Judah were buried there. He describes these catacombs, as having necessarily cost an immense amount of money and labor. The approach is through the solid rock, into an area forty paces wide, cut down square, with exquisite precision, out of the solid mass. On the south is a portico, nine paces long, and four broad, also cut from the solid rock. This has an architrave, sculptured in the stone, of fruits and flowers, running along its front. At the end of the portico, on the left, you descend into the passage to the sepulchres. After creeping through stones and rubbish, Maundrell arrived at a large room, seven or eight yards square, cut also from the natural rock. His words are these:--"Its sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and its angles so just, that no architect, with levels and plummets, could build a room more regular." From this room you pass into six more, of the same fabric; the two innermost being deepest. All these apartments, excepting the first, are filled around with stone coffins. They had been covered with handsome lids, and carved with garlands; but, at the period of this visit, the covers were mostly broken to pieces, by sacrilegious hands. Here is a specimen of the "everlasting houses," and a solemn satire upon the best of all human efforts--impotent and vain--to perpetuate that, which God Almighty has destined to perish. But of this I shall have more to say, when I come to sum up; and endeavor, from these dry bones, to extract such wisdom as I can, touching the best mode, in which the living may dispose of the dead, whose _memories_ they are bound to embalm, and whose _bodies_ are entitled to a decent burial. The catacombs of the Hottentots are the wildest clefts and caverns of their mountains. The Greenlanders, after wrapping the dead, in the skins of wild animals, bear them to some far distant Golgotha. In Siberia and Kamtschatka, they are deposited in remote caverns, with mantles of snow, for their winding sheets. It is the valued privilege of the civilized and refined to snuff up corruption, and swear it is a rose--to bury their dead, in the very midst of the living--in the very tenements, in which they breathe, the larger part of every seventh day--in the vaults of churches, into which the mourners are expected to descend, and poke their noses into the tombs, to prove the full measure of their respect for the defunct. But the tombs are faithfully sealed; and, when again opened, after several months, perhaps, the olfactory nerves are not absolutely staggered--possibly a dull smeller may honestly aver, that he perceives nothing--what then? The work of corruption has gone forward--the gases have escaped--how and whither? Subtle as the lightning, they have percolated, through the meshes of brick and mortar; and the passages or gashes, purposely left open in the walls, have given them free egress to the outward air. Very probably neither the eye nor the nose gave notice of their escape. Doubtless, it was gradual. The yellow fever, I believe, has never been seen nor smelt, during its most terrible ravages. I do remember--not an apothecary--but a greenhorn, who, in 1795, heard old Dr. Lloyd say the yellow fever was in the air, and who went upon the house top, next morning early, to look for it--but he saw it not; and, ever after, said he did not think much of Dr. Lloyd. I have something more to say of burials under churches, and in the midst of a dense population. No. XI. A few more words on the subject of burying the dead under churches, and in the midst of a dense population. If men would adopt the language of the prologue to Addison's Cato--"_dare to have sense yourselves_"--the folly and madness of this practice would be sufficiently apparent. Upon some simple subjects, one grain of common sense is better, than any quantity of the uncommon kind. But it is hard to make men think so. They prefer walking by faith--they must consult the savans--the doctors. Now I think very well of a good, old-fashioned doctor--one doctor I mean--but, when they get to be gregarious, my observation tells me, no good can possibly come of it. At post mortems, and upon other occasions, I have, in my vocation, seen them assembled, by half dozens and dozens, and I have come to the conclusion, that no body of men ever look half so wise, or feel half so foolish. Some of the faculty were consulted, in this city, about thirty years ago, upon the question of burying under churches; and, on the strength of the opinion given, a large church, not then finished, was provided with tombs, and the dead have been buried therein, ever since. Now I think the public good would have been advanced, had those doctors set their faces against the selfish proposition. That it is a nuisance, I entertain not the slightest doubt. The practice of burying in their own houses, among the ancients, gave place to burying without the city, or to cremation. The unhealthiness, consequent upon such congregations of the dead, was experienced at Rome. The inconvenience was so severely felt, in a certain quarter, that Augustus gave a large part of one of the cemeteries to Mæcenas, who so completely purified it, and changed its character, that it became one of the healthiest sites in Rome, and there he built a splendid villa, to which Augustus frequently resorted, for fresh air and repose. Horace alludes to this transformation, Sat. 8, lib. 1, v. 10, and the passage reminds one of the change, which occurred in Philadelphia, when the Potter's field was beautifully planted, and transformed into Washington Square. Hoc miseræ plebi stabat commune sepulchrum, Pantolabo scurræ; Nomentanoque nepoti. Mille pedes in fronte, trecentos cippus in agrum Hic dabat, heredes monumentum ne sequeretur. Nunc licet Esquiliis habitare salubribus, atque Aggere in apprico spatiari, quâ modo tristes Albis informem spectabant ossibus agrum. Millingen, in his work on Medical jurisprudence, page 54, remarks--"From time immemorial medical men have pointed out to municipal authorities the dangers, that arise from burying the dead, within the precincts of cities, or populous towns." The early Christians buried their martyrs, and afterwards eminent citizens, in their temples. Theodosius, in his celebrated code, forbade the practice, because of the infectious diseases. Theodolphus, the Bishop of Orleans, complained to Charlemagne, that vanity and the love of lucre had turned churches into charnel houses, disgraceful to the church, and dangerous to man. Cuthbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, first sanctioned the use of churches, for charnel houses, in 758--though Augustine had previously forbidden the practice. As Sterne said, in another connection, "they manage these matters much better, in France;" there Maret, in 1773, and Vicq d'Azyr, in 1778, pointed out the terrible consequences, so effectually, that none, but dignitaries, were suffered to be buried in churches. In 1804, inhumation, in the cities of France, was wholly forbidden, without any exception. The arguments produced, at that time, are not uninteresting, at this, or any other. In Saulien, about 140 miles from Paris, in the year 1773, the corpse of a corpulent person was buried, March 3, under the church of St Saturnin. April 20, following, a woman was buried near it. Both had died of a prevailing fever, which had nearly passed away. At the last interment a foul odor filled the church, and out of 170 persons present, 149 were attacked with the disease. In 1774 at Nantes, several coffins were removed, to make room for a person of note; and fifteen of the bystanders died of the emanation, shortly after. In the same year, one third of the inhabitants of Lectouse died of malignant fever, which appeared, immediately after the removal of the dead from a burial-ground, to give place to a public structure. The public mind is getting to be deeply impressed, upon this subject. Cities, and the larger towns are, in many instances, building homes for the dead, beyond the busy haunts of the living. The city of London has, until within a few years, been backward, in this sanatory movement. At present, however, there are six public cemeteries, in the suburbs of that city, of no inconsiderable area: the Kensall Green Cemetery, established by act 2 and 3 of William IV., in 1832, containing 53 acres--the South Metropolitan, by act 6 and 7 William IV., 1836, containing 40 acres--the Highgate and Kentish Town, by act 7 and 8 William IV., containing 22 acres--the Abney Park, at Stoke Newington, containing 30 acres, 1840--the Westminster, at Earlscourt, Kensington road, 1840--and the Nunhead, containing 40 acres, 1840. Paris has its beautiful Père La Chaise, covering the site of the house and extensive grounds, once belonging to the Jesuit of that name, the confessor of Louis XIV., who died in 1709. New York has its Greenwood; Philadelphia its Laurel Hill; Albany its Rural Cemetery; Baltimore its Green Mount; Rochester its Mount Hope; we our Mount Auburn; and our neighboring city of Roxbury has already selected--and well selected--a local habitation for the dead, and wants nothing but a name, which will not long be wanting, nor a graceful arrangement of the grounds, from the hands of one, to whom Mount Auburn is indebted, for so much of all that is admirable there. I shall rejoice, if the governors of this cemetery should decree, that no _tomb_ should ever be erected therein--but that the dead should be laid in their _graves_. My experience has supplied me with good and sufficient reasons--one thousand and one--against the employment of tombs, some of which reasons I may hereafter produce, though the honor of our craft may constrain me to keep silence, in regard to others. Some very bitter family squabbles have arisen, about tombs. Two deacons, who were half brothers, had a serious and lasting dispute, respecting a family tomb. They became almost furious; one of them solemnly protesting, that he would never consent to be buried there, while he had his reason, and the other declaring, that he would never be put into that tomb, while God spared his life. This, however, is not one of those one thousand and one reasons, against tombs. No. XII. The origin of the catacombs of Paris is very interesting, and not known to many. The stone, of which the ancient buildings of Paris were constructed, was procured from quarries, on the banks of the river Bièore. No system had been adopted in the excavation; and, for hundreds of years, the material had been withdrawn, until the danger became manifest. There was a vague impression, that these quarries extended under a large part of the city. In 1774 the notice of the authorities was called to some accidents, connected with the subject. The quarries were then carefully examined, by skilful engineers; and the startling fact clearly established, that the southern parts of Paris were actually undermined, and in danger of destruction. In 1777 a special commission was appointed, to direct such works, as might be necessary. On the very day of its appointment, the necessity became manifest--a house, in the Rue d'Enfer, sunk ninety-two feet. The alarm--the fear of a sudden engulphment--was terrible. Operatives were set at work, to prop the streets, roads, palaces, and churches. The supports, left by the quarriers, without any method or judgment, were insufficient--in some instances, they had given way, and the roof had settled. Great fear was felt for the aqueduct of Arcueil, which supplied the fountains of Paris, and which passed over this ground, for it had already suffered some severe shocks; and it was apprehended, not simply that the fountains would be cut off, but that the torrent would pour itself into these immense caverns. And now the reader will inquire, what relation has this statement to the catacombs? Let us reply. For hundreds of years, Paris had but one place of interment, the Cemetery des Innocens. This was once a part of the royal domains; it lay without the walls of Paris; and was given, by one of the earlier kings, to the citizens, for a burying-place. It is well known, that this gift to the people was intended to prevent the continuance of the practice, then common in Paris, of burying the dead, in cellars, courts, gardens, streets, and public fields, within the city proper. In 1186 this cemetery was surrounded with a high wall, by Philip Augustus, the forty second king of France. It was soon found insufficient for its purpose; and, in 1218, it was enlarged, by Pierre de Nemours, Bishop of Paris. Generation after generation was deposited there, stratum super stratum, until the surrounding parishes, in the fifteenth century, began to complain of the evil, as an insufferable nuisance. Such a colossal mass of putrescence produced discomfort and disease. Hichnesse speaks of several holes about Paris, of great size and depth, in which dead bodies were deposited, and left uncovered, till one tier was filled, and then covered with a layer of earth, and so on, to the top. He says these holes were cleared, once in thirty or forty years, and the bones deposited, in what was called "_le grand charnier des Innocens_;" this was an arched gallery, surrounding the great cemetery. With what affectionate respect we cherish the venerated name of François Pontraci! _Magnum et venerabile nomen!_ He was the last--the last of the grave-diggers of _le grand charnier des Innocens_! In the days of my novitiate, I believed in the mathematical dictum, which teaches, that two things cannot occupy the same place, at the same time. But that dictum appears incredible, while contemplating the operations of Pontraci. He was a most accomplished stevedore in his department--the Napoleon of the charnel house, the very king of spades. All difficulties vanished, before his magic power. Nothing roused his indignation so much, as the suggestion, that a cemetery was _full_--_c'est impossible!_ was his eternal reply. To use the terms of another of the fine arts, the touch of Pontraci was irresistible--his _handling_ masterly--his _grouping_ unsurpassed--and his _fore-shortening_ altogether his own. _Condense!_ that word alone explained the mystery of his great success. Knapsacks are often thrown aside, _en route_, in the execution of rapid movements. In the grand march of death, Pontraci considered coffins an encumbrance. Those wooden surtouts he thought well enough for parade, but worse than useless, on a march. He had a poor opinion of an artist, who could not find room, for twenty citizens, heads and heels, in one common grave. Madame Pontraci now and then complained, that the fuel communicated a problematical flavor to the meat, while roasting--"_c'est odeur, qui a rapport à une profession particulière, madame_," was the reply of Pontraci. The register, kept by this eminent man, shows, that, in thirty years, he had deposited, in this cemetery, ninety thousand bodies. It was calculated, that twelve hundred thousand had been buried there, since the time of Philip Augustus. In 1805, the Archbishop of Paris, under a resolve of the Council of State, issued a decree, that the great cemetery should be suppressed and evacuated. It was resolved to convert it into a market place. The happy thought of converting the quarries into catacombs fortunately occurred, at that period, to M. Lenoie, lieutenant general of police. Thus a receptacle was, at once, provided for the immense mass of human remains, to be removed from the Cemetery des Innocens. A portion of the quarries, lying under the _Plaine de Mont Souris_, was assigned, for this purpose. A house was purchased with the ground adjoining, on the old road to Orleans. It had, at one time, belonged to Isouard, a robber, who had infested that neighborhood. A flight of seventy-seven steps was made, from the house down into the quarries; and a well sunk to the bottom, down which the bones were to be thrown. Workmen were employed, in constructing pillars to sustain the roof, and in walling round the part, designed for _le charnier_. The catacombs were then consecrated, with all imaginable pomp. In the meantime, the vast work of removing the remains went forward, night and day, suspended, only, when the hot weather rendered it unsafe to proceed. The nocturnal scenes were very impressive. A strange resurrection, to be sure! Bonfires burnt brightly amid the gloom. Torches threw an unearthly glare around, and illuminated these dealings with the dead. The operatives, moving about in silence, bearing broken crosses, and coffins, and the bones of the long buried, resembled the agents of an infernal master. All concerned had been publicly admonished, to reclaim the crosses, tombstones, and monuments of their respective dead. Such, as were not reclaimed, were placed in the field, belonging to the house of Isouard. Many leaden coffins were buried there, one containing the remains of Madame de Pompadour. During _the_ revolution, the house and grounds of Isouard were sold as national domain, the coffins melted, and the monuments destroyed. The catacombs received the dead from other cemeteries; and those, who fell, in periods of commotion, were cast there. When convents were suppressed, the dead, found therein, were transferred to this vast omnibus. During the revolution, the works were neglected--the soil fell in; water found its way to the interior; the roof began to crumble; and the bones lay, in immense heaps, mixed with the rubbish, and impeding the way. And there, for the present, we shall leave them, intending to resume this account of the catacombs of Paris, in a future number. No. XIII. In 1810, the disgusting confusion, in the catacombs of Paris, was so much a subject of indignant remark, that orders were issued to put things in better condition. A plan was adopted, for piling up the bones. In some places, these bones were thirty yards in thickness; and it became necessary to cut galleries through the masses, to effect the object proposed. There were two entrances to the catacombs--one near the barrier d'Enfer, for visitors--the other, near the old road to Orleans, for the workmen. The staircase consisted of ninety steps, which, after several windings, conducted to the western gallery, from which others branched off, in different directions. A long gallery, extending beneath the aqueduct of Arcueil, leads to the gallery of Port Mahon, as it is called. About a hundred yards from this gallery, the visitor comes again to the passage to the catacombs; and, after walking one hundred yards further, he arrives at the vestibule, which is of an octagonal form. This vestibule opens into a long gallery, lined with bones, from top to bottom. The arm, leg, and thigh bones are in front, compactly and regularly piled together. The monotony of all this is tastefully relieved, by three rows of skulls, at equal distances, and the smaller bones are stowed behind. How very French! This gallery leads to other apartments, lined with bones, variously and fancifully arranged. In these rooms are imitation vases and altars, constructed of bones, and surmounted with skulls, fantastically arranged. This really seems to be the work of some hybrid animal--a cross, perhaps, between the Frenchman and the monkey. These crypts, as they are called, are designated by names, strangely dissimilar. There is the Crypte de Job, and the Crypte d'Anacreon--the Crypte de La Fontaine, and the Crypte d'Ezekiel--the Crypte d'Hervey, and the Crypte de Rousseau. An album, kept here, is filled with mawkish sentimentality, impertinent witticism, religious fervor, and infidel bravado. The calculations vary, as to the number of bodies, whose bones are collected here. At the lowest estimate, the catacombs are admitted to contain the remains of three millions of human beings. While contemplating the fantastical disposition of these human relics, one recalls the words of Sir Thomas Browne, in his Hydriotaphia--"Antiquity held too light thoughts from objects of mortality, while some drew provocatives of mirth from anatomies, and jugglers showed tricks with skeletons." Here then, like "_broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show_," are the broken skeletons of more than three millions of human beings, paraded for public exhibition! Most of them, doubtless, received Christian burial, and were followed to their graves, and interred, with more or less of the forms and ceremonies of the Catholic church, and deposited in the earth, there to repose in peace, till the resurrection! How applicable here the language of the learned man, whom we just quoted--"When the funeral pyre was out, and the last valediction over, men took a lasting adieu of their interred friends, little expecting the curiosity of future ages should comment upon their ashes; and having no old experience of the duration of their relics, held no opinion of such after-considerations. But who knows the fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried! Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" How little did the gay and guilty Jeane Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour, imagine this rude handling of her mortal remains! She was buried in the Cemetery des Innocens, in 1764--and shared the common exhumation and removal in 1805. It seems to have been the desire of mankind, in every age and nation, to repose in peace, after death. In conformity with this desire, the cemeteries of civilized nations, the morais of the Polynesian isles, and the cities of the dead, throughout the world, have been, from time immemorial, consecrated and tabooed. So deep and profound has been the sentiment of respect, for the feelings of individuals, upon this subject, that great public improvements have been abandoned, rather than give offence to a single citizen. Near forty years ago, a meeting was held in Faneuil Hall, to consider a proposition for some change, in the Granary burying-ground, which proposition, was rejected, by acclamation. During the Mayoralty, of the elder Mr. Quincy, it was the wish of very many to continue the mall, through the burial-ground, in the Common. The consent of all, but two or three, was obtained. They were offered new tombs, and the removal of their deceased relatives, under their own supervision, at the charge of the city. These two or three still objected, and this great public improvement was abandoned; and with manifest propriety. The basis of this sentiment is a deep laid and tender respect for the ashes of the dead, and an earnest desire, that they may rest, undisturbed, till the resurrection; and this is the very last thing, which is likely to befall the tenant of a TOMB; for the owner--and tombs, like other tenements, will change owners--in the common phraseology of leases, has a right to enter, "to view, and expel the lessee"--if no survivor is at hand to prevent, and the new proprietor has other tenants, whom he prefers for the dark and gloomy mansion. And they, in process of time, shall be served, in a similar manner, by another generation. This is no exception; it is the general rule, the common course of dealing with the dead. A tomb, containing the remains of several generations, may become, by marriage, the property of a stranger. His wife dies. He marries anew. New connections beget new interests. The tomb is _useless_, to him, because it is _full_. A general clearance is decreed. A hole is dug in the bottom of the tomb; the coffins, with an honorable exception, in respect to his late beloved, are broken to pieces; and the remains cast into the pit, and covered up. The tablet, overhead, perpetuates the lie--"Sacred to the memory," &c. However, the tomb is white-washed, and swept out, and a nice place he has made of it! All this, have I seen, again and again. When a tomb is opened, for a new interment, dilapidated coffins are often found lying about, and bones, mud, and water, on the bottom. We always make the best of it, and stow matters away, as decently as we can. We are often blamed for time's slovenly work. Grossman said, that a young spendthrift, who really cared for nothing but his pleasures, was, upon such an occasion, seized with a sudden fit of reverence for his great grandfather, and threatened to shoot Grossman, unless he produced him, immediately. He was finally pacified by a plain statement, and an exhibition of the old gentleman's bones behind the other coffins. We could not be looked upon, more suspiciously, by certain inconsiderate persons, if we were the very worms that did the mischief. As a class, we are as honorable as any other. There are bad men, in every calling. There is no crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, which has not been committed, by some apostle, in holy orders. Doctors and even apothecaries are, occasionally, scoundrels. And, in a very old book, now entirely out of print, I have read, that there was, in the olden time, a lawyer, _rara avis_, who was suspected of not adhering, upon all occasions, to the precise truth. Tombs are nuisances. I will tell you why. No. XIV. Tombs are obviously more liable to invasion, with and without assistance, from the undertaker and his subalterns, than graves. There may be a few exceptions, where the sexton does not cooperate. If a grave be dug, in a suitable soil, of a proper depth, which is some feet lower than the usual measure, the body will, in all probability, remain undisturbed, for ages, and until corruption and the worm shall have done their work, upon flesh and blood, and decomposition is complete. An intelligent sexton, who keeps an accurate chart of his diggings, will eschew that spot. On the other hand, every coffin is exposed to view, when a tomb is opened for a new comer. On such occasions, we have, sometimes, full employment, in driving away idlers, who gather to the spot, to gratify a sickly curiosity, or to steal whatever may be available, however "sacred to the memory," &c. The tomb is left open, for many hours, and, not unfrequently, over night, the mouth perhaps slightly closed, but not secured against intruders. During such intervals, the dead are far less protected from insult, and the espionage of idle curiosity, than the contents of an ordinary toy-shop, by day or night. Fifty years ago, curiosity led me to walk down into a vault, thus left exposed. No person was near. I lifted the lid of a coffin--the bones had nearly all crumbled to pieces--the skull remained entire--I took it out, and, covering it with my handkerchief, carried it home. I have, at this moment, a clear recollection of the horror, produced in the mind of our old family nurse, by the exhibition of the skull, and my account of the manner, in which I obtained it. "What an awful thing it would be," the dear, good soul exclaimed, "if the resurrection should come this very night, and the poor man should find his skull gone!" My mother was informed; and I was ordered to take it back immediately: it was then dark; and when I arrived at the tomb, in company with our old negro, Hannibal, to whom the office was in no wise agreeable, the vault was closed. I deposited the skull on the tomb, and walked home in double quick time, with my head over my shoulder, the whole way. I relate this occurrence, to show how motiveless such trespasses may be. There is a morbid desire, especially in women, which is rather difficult of analysis, to descend into the damp and dreary tomb--to lift the coffin lid--and look upon the changing, softening, corrupting features of a parent or child--to gaze upon the mouldering bones; and thus to gather materials, for fearful thoughts, and painful conversations, and frightful dreams! A lady lost her child. It died of a disease, not perfectly intelligible to the doctor, who desired a post mortem examination, which the mother declined. He urged. She peremptorily refused. The child was buried in the Granary ground. A few months after, another member of the same family was buried in the same vault. The mother, notwithstanding the remonstrances of her husband, descended, to look upon the remains of her only daughter; and, after a careful search, returned, in the condition of Rachel, who would not be comforted, because it was not. In a twofold sense, it was _not_. The coffin and its contents had been removed. The inference was irresistible. The distress was very great, and fresh, upon the slightest allusion, to the end of life. Cases of premature sepulture are, doubtless, extremely rare. That such, however, have sometimes occurred, no doubt has been left upon the mind, upon the opening of tombs. These are a few only of many matters, which are destined, from time to time, to be brought to light, upon the opening of _tombs_, and which are not likely to disturb the feelings of those whose deceased relatives and friends are committed to well-made _graves_. On all these occasions, ignorance is bliss. Tombs, not only such as are constructed under churches, but in common cemeteries, are frequently highly offensive, on the score of emanation. They are liable to be opened, for the admission of the dead, at all times; and, of course, when the worms are riotous, and corruption is rankest, and the pungent gases are eminently dangerous, and disgusting. Even when closed, the intelligible odor, arising from the dissolving processes, which are going on within, is more than living flesh and blood can well endure. Again and again, visitors at Mount Auburn have been annoyed, by this effluvium from the tombs. By the universal adoption of well-made graves, this also may be entirely avoided. When a family becomes, or is supposed to be, extinct, or has quitted the country, their dead kindred are usually permitted to lie in peace, in their _graves_. It is not always thus, if they have had the misfortune to be buried in _tombs_. To cast forth a dead tenant, from a solitary _grave_, that room might be found for a new comer, would scarcely be thought of; but the temptation to seize five or six _tombs_, at once, for town's account, on the pretext, that they were the tombs of extinct families, has, once, at least, proved irresistible, and led to an outrage, so gross and revolting, in this Commonwealth, that the whole history of cemeteries in our country cannot produce a parallel. In April, 1835, the board of health, in a town of this Commonwealth, gave notice, in a _single_ paper, that certain tombs were dilapidated; that no representative of former owners could be found; and that, if not claimed and repaired, within sixty days, those tombs would be sold, to pay expenses, &c. In fulfilment of this notice, in September following, the entire contents of five tombs were broken to pieces, and shovelled out. In one of these tombs there were thirty coffins, the greater part of which were so sound, as to be split with an axe. A portion of the silver plate, stolen by the operatives employed by the board of health, was afterwards recovered, bearing date, as recently as 1819. The board of health then advertised these tombs for sale, in _two_ newspapers. Nothing of these brutal proceedings was known to the relatives, until the deed of barbarity was done. Now it can scarcely be credited, that, in that very town, a few miles from it, and in this city, there were then living numerous descendants, and relatives of those, whose tombs had thus been violated. Some of the dead, thus insulted, had been the greatest benefactors of that town, so much so, that a narrative of their donations has been published, in pamphlet form. Among the direct descendants were some of the oldest and most distinguished families of this city, whose feelings were severely tried by this outrage. The ashes of the dead are common property. The whole community bestirs itself in their defence. The public indignation brought those stupid and ignorant officials to confession and atonement, if not to repentance. They passed votes of regret; replaced the ashes in proper receptacles within the tombs; and put them in order, at the public charge. A meagre and miserable atonement, for an injury of this peculiar nature; and, though gracelessly accorded,--extorted by the stringency of public sentiment, and the fear of legal process,--yet, on the whole, the only satisfaction, for a wrong of this revolting and peculiar character. The insecurity of tombs is sufficiently apparent. An empty tomb may be attached by creditors; but, by statute of Mass., 1822, chap. 93, sec. 8, it cannot be, while in use, as a cemetery. But no law, of man or nature, can prevent the disgusting effects, and mortifying casualties, and misconstructions of power, which have arisen, and will forever continue to arise, from the miserable practice of burying the dead, in _tombs_. No. XV. There is, doubtless, something not altogether agreeable, in the thought of being buried alive. Testamentary injunctions are not uncommon, for the prevention of such a calamity. As far, as my long experience goes, the percentage is exceedingly small. About twenty-five years ago, some old woman was certain, that a person, lately buried, was not exactly dead. She gave utterance to this certainty--there was no _evidence_, and ample room therefore for _faith_. The defunct had a little property--it was a clear case, of course--his relatives had buried him alive, to get possession! A mob gathered, in King's Chapel yard; and, to appease their righteous indignation, the grave was opened, the body exposed, doctors examined, and the mob was respectfully assured, that the man was dead--dead as a door nail. A proposition to bury the old woman, in revenge, was rejected immediately. But she did not give up the point--they never do. She admitted, that the party was dead, but persisted, that his death was caused, by being buried alive. Some are, doubtless, still living, who remember the affair in the Granary yard. Groans had been heard there, at night. Some person had been buried alive, beyond all doubt. A committee was appointed to visit the spot. Upon drawing near, subdued laughter and the sounds of vulgar merriment arose, from one of the tombs--a light was seen glimmering from below--the strong odor, not of corruption, but of mutton chops, filled the air. Some vagabonds had cleared the tomb, and taken possession, and, with broken coffins for fuel, had found an appetite, among the dead. The occupation of tombs, by the outcasts of society, was common, long before the Christian era. That the living have been buried, unintentionally, now and then, is undoubtedly true. Such has probably been the case, sometimes, under catalepsy or trance, the common duration of which is from a few hours, to two or three days; but of which Bonet, _Medic., Septentrion, lib. 1, sec. 16, chap. 6_, gives an example, which lasted twenty days. Bodies have been found, says Millingen, in his Curiosities of Medical Experience, page 63, where the miserable victims have devoured the flesh of their arms; and he cites John Scott and the Emperor Zeno, as examples. Plato recites the case of a warrior, who was left ten days, as dead, upon the field of battle, and came to life, on his way to the sepulchre. In Chalmers' Memoir of the Abbe Prevôt, it is related, that he was found, by a peasant, having fallen in an apoplectic fit. The body was cold, and carried to a surgeon, who proceeded to open it. During the process, the Abbe revived, only, however, to die of the wound, inflicted by the operator. The danger of burying alive has been noticed by Pineau, _Sur le danger des Inhumations precipitées, Paris, 1776_. Dr. John Mason Good, vol. 4, page 613, remarks, that catalepsy has been mistaken for real death; and, in countries where burial takes place speedily, it is much to be feared, that, in a few instances, the patient has been buried alive. A case of asphyxy, of a singular kind, is stated, by Mr. Pew, and recited by Dr. Good, of a female, whose interment was postponed, for a post mortem examination--most fortunately--for the first touch of the scalpel brought her to life. Diemerbroeck, _Tractat de Peste_, _Lib. 4, Hist. 8_, relates the case of a rustic, who was laid out for interment. Three days passed before the funeral. He was supposed to have died of the plague. When in the act of being buried, he showed signs of life, recovered, and lived many years. Dr. Good observes, that a critical examination of the region of the heart, and a clear mirror, applied to the mouth and nostrils, will commonly settle the question of life or death; but that even these signs will sometimes fail. What then shall be done? Matthæus Hildanus and others, who give many stories of this kind, say--wait for the infallible signs of putrefaction. It may be absurd to wait too long; it is indecorous to inhume too soon. The case, recited by Mr. Pew, reminds me of Pliny's account of persons who came to life, on the funeral pile. "Aviola in rogo revixit: et, quoniam subveniri non potuerat, prævalente flamma, vivus crematus est. Similis causa in L. Lamia, prætorio viro, traditur."--Lib. 7, sec. 53. Old Grossman's stories, in this connection, were curious enough. He gave a remarkable account of a good old deacon, who had a scolding wife. She fell sick and died, as was supposed, and was put in her coffin, and screwed down, and lifted. Everything, as Grossman said, went on very pleasantly, till they began to descend into the tomb, when the sexton, at the foot, slipped, and the coffin went by the run, and struck violently against the wall of the tomb. One instant of awful silence was followed, by a shrill shriek from the corpse--"_Let me out--let me out!_" The poor old deacon wrung his hands, and looked, as Grossman expressed it, "real melancholy." The lid was unscrewed, as soon as possible, and the lady, less in sorrow, than in anger, insisted on immediate emancipation. All attempts to persuade her to be still, and go home as she came, for the decency of the thing, were unavailing. The top of the coffin was removed. The deacon offered to help her out. She refused his proffered hand; and, doubling her fist in his face, told him he was a monster, and should pay for it, and insisted on walking back, in her death clothes. About six months after, she died, in good earnest. "The poor deacon," said Grossman, "called us into a private room, and reminding us of the sad turn things took, last time, begged us to be careful; and told us, if all things went right, he would treat us at his store, the next day. He retailed spirit, as all the deacons did, being the very persons, pointed at, by the finger of the law, as men of sober lives and conversations." Grossman told another story. We could scarcely credit it. He offered to swear to it; but we begged he wouldn't. It was of a woman, who was a cider sot. Her husband had tried all sorts of preventive experiments, in vain. His patience was exhausted. He tapped a barrel, and let her drink her fill. She and the barrel gave out together. She was buried. The coldness of the tomb brought her to life. She felt around the narrow domicil, in which she lay. Her consciousness, that she was in her coffin, and that she had been buried, was clear enough; but her other impressions were rather cloudy. It never occurred to her, that she had been buried alive. She imagined herself, in another world, and, knocking, as hard as possible, against the lid and sides of her coffin, she exclaimed, "Good people of the upper world, if ye have got any good cider, do let us have a mug of it." Luckily, the mouth of the tomb had not been closed, and, when the sexton came to close it, he was scandalized, of course, to hear a thirsty corpse, crying for cider; but the woman was soon relieved from her predicament. The Mandans, whose custom of never burying their dead, I have alluded to, may possibly be influenced, by a consideration of this very contingency. In some places, bodies have been placed in a lighted room, near the charnel house, there to remain, till the signs of corruption could no longer be mistaken. The tops of the coffins being loose; and a bell so connected with the body, as to ring on the slightest movement. No. XVI. My profession is very dear to me; and nothing would gratify me more, than to see my brother artists restored to their original dignity. It is quite common to look upon a sexton, as a mere grave-digger, and upon his calling, as a cold, underground employment, divested of everything like sentiment or solemnity. In the olden time, the sexton bore the title of sacristan. He had charge of the sacristy, or vestry, and all the sacred vessels and vestments of the church. At funerals, his office corresponded with that of the Roman _dominus funeris_ or _designator_, referred to by Horace, Ep. i., 7, 6--and by Cicero to Atticus, iv., 2. He was, in point of law, considered as having a freehold, in his office, and therefore he could not be deprived, by ecclesiastical censure. It was his duty to attend upon the rector, and to take no unimportant part, in all those inestimable forms, and ceremonies, and circumgyrations, and genuflections, which render the worship of the high church so exceedingly picturesque. The sexton of the Pope's chapel was selected, from the order of the hermits of St. Augustine, and was commonly a bishop. His title was _prefect of the Pope's sacristy_. When the Pope said mass, the sexton always tasted the bread and wine first. And, when the Pope was desperately sick, the sexton gave him extreme unction. I recite these facts, that the original dignity of our office may be understood. The employment of sextons has been rather singular, in some countries. M. Outhier states, that, when he visited the church of St. Clara, at Stockholm, he observed the sexton, during the sermon, with a long rod, waking those, who had fallen asleep. I fully believe, that the sextons of this city are all honorable men; and yet it cannot be denied, that the solemn occasion, upon which their services are required, is one, upon which, pride and sensibility forbid all higgling, on the part of the customer. However oppressively the charge of consigning a relative to the ground may bear, upon one of slender means, the tongue of complaint is effectually tied. The consciousness of this furnishes a strong temptation to imposition. The same desire to promote the public good, which induced Mr. Bentham to give his body for dissection, has led distinguished individuals, now and then, to prescribe simple and inexpensive obsequies, for themselves. Livy says, book 48, sec. 10, that Marcus Emilius Lepidus directed his sons to bury him without parade, and at a very small charge. As he was the Pontifex Maximus, possessed of wealth, and of a generous spirit, the promotion of the public good was the only motive. Cheating at funerals was as common at Athens, as at Rome. Demades, as Seneca relates, book 6, ch. 33, _de beneficiis_, condemned an unprincipled Athenian sexton, for extortion, in furnishing out funerals. The friends and relatives are so busy with their sorrow, that they have neither time nor taste, for the examination of accounts, and, least of all, such as concern the obsequies of near friends. I was never more forcibly impressed with the truth, that, where the carcass is, there the vultures will be gathered together, than in the little island of St. Croix, during the winter of 1840. I was there with a friend, a clergyman, who visited that island, for the restoration of his wife's health. She died. Her remains were never buried there, but brought to this city, and here interred. In that island there is a tribunal, called the _Dealing Court_, analogous to the court of probate, or orphan's court, in this country. In less than forty-eight hours, a bill was presented, from this court, for "_dealing_" with the estate of the deceased. She had no estate; no act had been done. "True, but such is the custom of our island--such is the law of Denmark." After taking counsel, the bill was paid. The Danish Lutheran is the established religion of the island. The Episcopal lives, by sufferance. A few days after this lady's decease, a bill was presented, from the officers of the _Danish Lutheran_ church, for granting permission to dig her grave, in the _Episcopal_ ground. It was objected, that no permission had been asked, that no burial had been intended, that the body had been placed in spirits, for its removal to the United States. It was replied, "Such is the usage of the island; the permission is granted, and may be used or not; such is the law of Denmark." Shortly after this, a bill was presented, for digging the grave. It was in vain to protest, as before, and to assert, that no grave had been dug. The answer was the same; "the grave must be paid for; it will be dug or not, as you wish; such is the usage of the island; such is the law of Denmark." In due time, another demand was made, for carrying round invitations, and attendance upon the funeral. It was useless to say, that no invitations were sent--no funeral was had. "Such is the custom of the island; such is the law of Denmark." The reader, by this time, will be satisfied, that something is rotten in Denmark; this narrative appears so very improbable, that I deem it right to assure the reader the circumstances are stated faithfully, and that the clergyman referred to, is still living. In commending a respectable frugality, in our dealings with the dead, not only with regard to their obsequies, but in relation to sepulchral and monumental expenditure, I oppose the interest of our profession, and cannot be accused of any selfish motive. A chaste simplicity is due to the occasion; for surely no more illy chosen hour can be given to the gratification of pride, than that, in which the very pride of man is humbled in the dust. How often have my thoughts descended from the costly, sculptured obelisk, to the carnival of worms below! A well-set example of comely modesty, in these matters, would be productive of much advantage to the community. The man of common means, if he happen to be also a man of common sense, will not imitate the man of opulence, in the splendor of his equipage or furniture. But he will too readily enter into what he deems a righteous rivalry of funereal parade, and leave his debts unpaid, rather than abate one cubit, in the height of his monument, or obelisk. It is not now the custom to bury with the dead, or deposit with their ashes, as in urn burial, articles of use and value to the living. We have been taught, that those graves are the least likely to be violated, in which are deposited little else than mortal remains. But, in a certain sense, the dead can no longer be said to carry nothing with them. The silver and its workmanship alone, which are annually buried, furnish no inconsiderable item. The outer coffin of Nathan Meyer Rothschild "was of fine oak, and so handsomely carved and decorated with massive silver handles, at both sides and ends, that it appeared more like a cabinet, or splendid piece of furniture, than a receptacle of the dead. A raised tablet of oak, on the breast, was carved with the arms of the deceased." The arms of the deceased! Very edifying to the worms, those cunning operatives, who work so skilfully, in silence and darkness! The arms of the deceased! Matthew Prior had some shrewd notions of heraldry. He wrote his own epitaph-- Heralds and nobles, by your leave, Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior; The son of Adam and of Eve; Let Bourbon and Nassau go higher. No. XVII. My attention has been called, by a young disciple of the great Pontraci, "a sexton of the new school," to an interesting anecdote, which I have heard related, in days by-gone, and which has, more than once, appeared in print. It is, by many, believed, that the remains of Major Pitcairn, which were supposed to have been sent home to England, are still in this country, and that those of Lieutenant Shea were transmitted, by mistake. Whether _he_ or _Shea_ will ever remain doubtful. Major Pitcairn was killed, as is well known, at the battle of Bunker's Hill. Shea died of inflammation on the brain. They were alike in size. On the top of the head of the body, selected by the sexton of Christ Church, as the remains of Major Pitcairn, it is stated, there was a blistering plaster; and, from this circumstance, the impression has arisen, that the monument in Westminster Abbey, however sacred to the memory of Pitcairn, stands over the remains of Lieutenant Shea. There is not more uncertainty, in relation to the remains of Major Pitcairn, than has existed, in regard to the individual, by whose hands he fell; though it is now agreed, that he was shot by a black soldier, named Salem. Fifty men, at the lowest estimate, have died in the faith, that they killed Pitcairn. He was a man of large stature, fearless, and ever in the van, as he is represented by Marshall, at the battle of Lexington. He was a palpable mark, for the muskets and rifles of the sharp-shooters. It is not improbable, that fifty barrels were levelled at his person, when he fell; and hence fifty claimants, for the merit of Pitcairn's destruction. Upon precisely similar grounds, rest the claims of Col. Johnson, for the killing of Tecumseh. When the flesh has gone and nothing but the bones remain, it is almost impossible, to recognize the remains of any particular individual, buried hastily, as the fallen commonly are, after a battle, in one common grave; unless we are directed, by certain external indicia. In April, 1815, I officiated at the funeral of Dr. John Warren, brother of the patriot and soldier, who fell so gloriously, at Bunker's Hill, and whose death was said, by the British General, Howe, to be an offset, for five hundred men. Dr. James Jackson delivered the eulogy, on Dr. John Warren, in King's Chapel. General Warren was buried in the trenches, where he so bravely fell; and, when disinterred, in 1776, for removal to Boston, the remains were identified, by an inspection of the teeth, upon which an operation had been performed, the evidence of which remained. This testimony was doubtless corroborated, by the mark of the bullet on his forehead; for he was not a man to be wounded in the back. "The bullet which terminated his life," says Mr. A. H. Everett in his memoir, "was taken from the body, by Mr. Savage, an officer in the Custom House, and was carried by him to England. Several years afterwards, it was given by him at London, to the Rev. Mr. Montague of Dedham, Massachusetts, and is now in possession of his family." These translations of the dead, from place to place, are full of uncertainty; and hence has arisen a marvellous and successful system of jugglery and priestcraft. The first translation of this kind, stated by Brady, in his Clavis, is that of Edward, king of the West Saxons. He was removed with great pomp from Wareham to the minster of Salisbury. Three years only had passed since his burial, and no error is imputed, in the relation. In the year 359, the Emperor Constantius was moved, by the spirit, to do something in this line; and he caused the remains of St. Andrew and St. Luke to be translated, from their original resting-places, to the temple of the twelve apostles, at Constantinople. Some little doubt might be supposed to hang over the question of identity, after such a lapse of years, in this latter case. From this eminent example, arose that eager search for the remains of saints, martyrs, and relics of various descriptions, which, for many centuries, filled the pockets of imposters, with gold, and the world, with idolatry. So great was the success of those, engaged in this lucrative employment, that John the Baptist became a perfect hydra. Heads of this great pioneer were discovered, in every direction. Some of the apostles were found, upon careful search, to be centipedes; and others to have had as many hands as Briareus. These monstrosities were too vast to be swallowed, without a miracle. Father John Freand, of Anecy, assured the faithful, that God was pleased to multiply these remains for their devotion. Consecration has been refused to churches, unprovided with relics. Their production therefore became indispensable. All the wines, produced in _Oporto_ and _Zeres de la Frontera_, furnish not a fourth part of the liquor, drunken, in London alone, under the names of Port and Sherry; and the bones of all the martyrs, were it possible to collect them, would not supply the occasions of the numerous churches, in Catholic countries. Misson says eleven holy lances are shown, in different places, for the true lance, that pierced the side of Christ. Many egregious sinners have undoubtedly been dug up, and their bones worshipped, as the relics of genuine saints. Though not precisely to our purpose, it may not be uninteresting to the reader, to contemplate a catalogue of some few of the relics, exhibited to the faithful, as they are enumerated, by Bayle, Butler, Misson, Brady and others;--the lance--a piece of the cross--one of Christ's nails--five thorns of the crown--St. Peter's chain--a piece of the manger--a tooth of John the Baptist--one of St. Anne's arms--the towel, with which Christ wiped the feet of the apostles--one of his teeth--his seamless coat--the hem of his garment, which cured the diseased woman--a tear, which he shed over Lazarus, preserved by an angel, who gave it, in a vial, to Mary Magdalene--a piece of St. John the Evangelist's gown--a piece of the table cloth, used at the last supper--a finger of St. Andrew--a finger of John the Baptist--a rib of our Lord--the thumb of St. Thomas--a lock of Mary Magdalene's hair--two handkerchiefs, bearing impressions of Christ's face; one sent by our Lord, as a present to Aquarus, prince of Edessa; and the other given by him, at the foot of the cross, to a holy woman, named Veronica--the hem of Joseph's garment--a feather of the Holy Ghost--a finger of the Holy Ghost--a feather of the angel Gabriel--the waterpots, used at the marriage in Galilee--Enoch's slippers--a vial of the sweat of St. Michael, at the time of his set-to with the Devil. This short list furnishes a meagre show-box of that immense mass of merchandise, which formed the staple of priestcraft. These pretended relics were not only procured, at vast expense, but were occasionally given, and received, as collateral security for debts. Baldwin II. sent the point of the holy lance to Venice, as a pledge for a loan. It was redeemed by St. Lewis, King of France, who caused it to be placed in the holy chapel at Paris. The importation of this species of trumpery, into England, was forbidden, by many statutes; and, by 3. Jac. i., cap. 26, justices were empowered to search houses for such things, and to burn them. It is pleasant to turn from these shadowy records to matters of reality and truth. There was an exhumation, some years ago, of the remains of a highly honorable and truly gallant man, for the purpose of returning them to his native land. Suspicions of a painful nature arose, in connection with that exhumation. Those suspicions were cleared away, most happily, by a venerable friend of mine, with whom I have conversed upon that interesting topic. I will give some account of the removal of Major André's remains, in my next. No. XVIII. Major John André, aid-de-camp to General Clinton, and adjutant general of the British army, was, as every well-read school-boy knows, hanged as a spy, October 2, 1780, at Tappan, a town of New York, about five miles from the north bank of the Hudson. In June, 1818, by a vote of the Legislature of New York, the remains of that gallant Irishman, Major General Richard Montgomery, were removed from Quebec. Col. L. Livingston, his nephew, superintended the exhumation and removal. An old soldier, who had attended the funeral, forty-two years before, pointed out the grave. These relics were committed to the ground, once more, in St. Paul's church-yard in New York; and, by direction of the Congress of the United States, a costly marble monument was erected there, executed by M. Cassieres, at Paris. Nothing was omitted of pomp and pageantry, in honor of the gallant dead. Still the remains of André, whose fate was deeply deplored, however just the punishment--still they continued, in that resting place, humble and obscure, to which they had been consigned, when taken from the gallows. The lofty honors, bestowed upon Montgomery, operated as a stimulus and a rebuke. Mr. James Buchanan, the British consul, admits their influence, in his memorable letter. He addressed a communication to the Duke of York, then commander-in-chief of the British army, suggesting the propriety of exhumating the remains of André, and returning them to England. The necessary orders were promptly issued, and Mr. Buchanan made his arrangements for the exhumation. Mr. Demarat, a Baptist clergyman, at Tappan, was the proprietor of the little field, where the remains of André had been buried, and where they had reposed, for forty-one years, when, in the autumn of 1821, Mr. Buchanan requested permission to remove them. His intentions had become known--some human brute--some Christian dog, had sought to purchase, or to rent, the field of Mr. Demarat, for the purpose of extorting money, for permission to remove these relics. But the good man and true rejected the base proposal, and afforded every facility in his power. A narrow pathway led to the eminence, where André had suffered--the grave was there, covered with a few loose stones and briars. There was nothing beside, to mark the spot--I am wrong--woman, who was last at the cross, and first at the tomb, had been there--there was a peach tree, which a lady had planted at the head, and whose roots had penetrated to the very bottom of the shallow grave, and entered the frail shell, and enveloped the skull with its fibres. Dr. Thacher, in a note to page 225 of his military journal, says, that the roots of two cedar trees "had wrapped themselves round the skull bone, like a fine netting." This is an error. Two cedars grew near the grave, which were sent to England, with the remains. The point, where these relics lay, commanded a view of the surrounding country, and of the head-quarters of Washington, about a mile and a half distant. The field, which contained about ten acres, was cultivated--a small part only, around the consecrated spot, remained untilled. Upon the day of the exhumation, a multitude had gathered to the spot. After digging three feet from the surface, the operative paused, and announced, that his spade had touched the top of the coffin. The excitement was so great, at this moment, that it became necessary to form a cordon, around the grave. Mr. Buchanan proceeded carefully to remove the remaining earth, with his hands--a portion of the cover had been decomposed. When, at last, the entire top had been removed, the remains of this brave and unfortunate young man were exposed to view. The skeleton was in perfect order. "There," says Mr. Buchanan, "for the first time, I discovered that he had been a small man." One by one, the assembled crowd passed round, and gazed upon the remains of André, whose fate had excited such intense and universal sensibility. These relics were then carefully transferred to a sarcophagus, prepared for their reception, and conveyed to England. They now repose beneath the sixth window, in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey. The monument near which they lie, was designed by Robert Adam, and executed by Van Gelder. Britannia reclines on a sarcophagus, and upon the pedestal is inscribed--"Sacred to the memory of Major André, who, raised by his merit, at an early period of life, to the rank of Adjutant General of the British forces in America, and, employed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his king and country, on 2d of October, 1780, aged twenty-nine, universally beloved and esteemed by the army, in which he served, and lamented even by his foes. His generous sovereign, King George III., has caused this monument to be erected." Nothing could have been prepared, in better taste. Here is not the slightest allusion to that great question, which posterity, having attained full age, has already, definitively, settled--the justice of his fate. A box, wrought from one of the cedar trees, and lined with gold, was transmitted to Mr. Demarat, by the Duke of York; and a silver inkstand was presented to Mr. James Buchanan, by the surviving sisters of Major André. Thus far, all things were in admirable keeping. It was, therefore, a matter of deep regret, that Mr. James Buchanan should have thought proper to disturb their harmony, by suggestions, painfully offensive to every American heart. Those suggestions, it is true, have been acknowledged to be entirely groundless. But that gentleman's original letter, extensively circulated here, and transmitted to England, has, undoubtedly, conveyed these offensive insinuations, where the subsequent admission of his error is not likely to follow. Mr. Buchanan, on the strength of some loose suggestions, at Tappan, and elsewhere, corroborated by an examination of the contents of the coffin, had assumed it to be true, or highly probable, that the body of André had been stripped, after the execution, from mercenary, or other equally unworthy, motives. This impression he hastily conveyed to the world. I will endeavor to present this matter, in its true light, in my next communication. No. XIX. After having removed the entire cover of André's coffin, "I descended," says Mr. Buchanan, "and, with my own hands, raked the dust together, to ascertain whether he had been buried in his regimentals, or not, as it was rumored, among the assemblage, that he was stripped: for, if buried in his regimentals, I expected to find the buttons of his clothes, which would have disproved the rumor; but I did not find a single button, nor any article, save a string of leather, that had tied his hair." Mr. Buchanan had evidently arrived at the conclusion, that André had been stripped. In this conclusion he was perfectly right. He had also inferred, that this act had been done, with base motives. In this inference, he was perfectly wrong. "Those," continues he, "who permitted the outrage, or who knew of it, had no idea, that the unfeeling act they then performed would be blazoned to the world, near half a century, after the event." All this is entirely gratuitous and something worse. General Washington's head-quarters were near at hand. Every circumstance was sure to be reported, for the excitement was intense; and the knowledge of such an act, committed for any unworthy purpose, would have been instantly conveyed to Sir Henry Clinton, and blazoned to the world, some forty years before the period of Mr. Buchanan's discovery. Dr. James Thacher, in his military journal, states, that André was executed "in his royal regimentals, and buried in the same." Dr. Thacher was mistaken, and when he saw the letter of Mr. Buchanan, and the offensive imputation it contained, he investigated the subject anew, and addressed a letter to that gentleman, which was received by him, in a becoming spirit, and which entirely dissipated his former impressions. In that letter, Dr. Thacher stated, that he was within a few yards of André, at the time of his execution, and that he suffered in his regimentals. Supposing, as a matter of course, that André would be buried in them, Dr. Thacher had stated that, also, as a fact, though he did not remain, to witness the interment. He then refers to a letter, which he has discovered in the Continental Journal and Weekly Advertiser, of October 26, 1780, printed in Boston, by John Gill. This letter bears date, Tappan, October 2, the day of the execution, and details all the particulars, and in it are these words--"_He was dressed in full uniform; and, after the execution, his servant demanded the uniform, which he received. His body was buried near the gallows_." "This," says Dr. Thacher, "confirms the correctness of my assertion, that he suffered in his regimentals, but not that they were buried with the body. I had retired from the scene, before the body was placed in the coffin; but I have a perfect recollection of seeing him hand his hat to the weeping servant, while standing in the cart." Mr. Buchanan observes, that an aged widow, who kept the toll-gate, on hearing the object stated, was so much gratified, that she suffered all carriages to pass free. "It marks strongly," he continues, "the sentiments of the American people at large, as to a transaction, which a great part of the British public have forgotten." This passage is susceptible of a twofold construction. It may mean, that this aged widow and the American people at large were unanimous, in lamenting the fate of Major André--that they most truly believed him to have been brave and unfortunate. It may also mean, that they considered the fate of André to have been unwarranted. Posterity has adjusted this matter very differently. Nearly sixty-eight years have passed. All excitement has long been buried, in a deeper grave than André's. A silent admission has gone forth, far and wide, of the perfect justice of André's execution. A board of general officers was appointed, to prepare a statement of his case. Greene, Steuben, and Lafayette were of that board. They were perfectly unanimous in their opinion. Prodigious efforts were made on his behalf. He himself addressed several letters to Washington, and one, the day before his death, in which he says: "Sympathy towards a soldier will surely induce your excellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honor." The board of officers, as Gordon states, were induced to gratify this wish, with the exception of Greene. He contended, that the laws of war required, that a spy should be hung; the adoption of any less rigorous mode of punishment would excite the belief, that palliatory circumstances existed in the case of André, and that the decision might thereby be brought into question. His arguments were sound, and they prevailed. Major André received every attention, which his condition permitted. He wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, Sept. 29, 1780, three days before his execution--"I receive the greatest attention from his excellency, General Washington, and from every person, under whose charge I happen to be placed." Captain Hale, like Major André, was young, brave, amiable, and accomplished. He entered upon the same perilous service, that conducted André to his melancholy fate. Hale was hanged, as a spy, at Long Island. Thank God, the brutal treatment he received was not retaliated upon André. "The provost martial," says Mr. Sparks, "was a refugee, to whose charge he was consigned, and treated him, in the most unfeeling manner, refusing the attendance of a clergyman, and the use of a bible; and destroying the letters he had written, to his mother and friends." The execution of Major André was in perfect conformity with the laws of war. Had Sir Henry Clinton considered his fate unwarranted, under any just construction of those laws, he would undoubtedly have expressed that opinion, in the general orders, to the British army, announcing Major André's death. These orders, bearing date Oct. 8, 1780, refer only to his _unfortunate fate_. They contain not the slightest allusion to any supposed injustice, or unaccustomed severity, in the execution, or the manner of it. The fate of André might have been averted, in two ways--by a steady resistance of Arnold's senseless importunity, to bring him within the American lines--and by a frank and immediate presentation of Arnold's pass, when stopped by Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart. His loss of self-possession, at that critical moment, is remarkable, for, as Americans, they would, in all human probability, have suffered him to pass, without further examination; and, had they been of the opposite party, they would certainly have conducted him to some British post--the very haven where he would be. No. XX. How shall _we_ deal with the dead? We have considered the usages of many nations, in different ages of the world. Some of these usages appear sufficiently revolting; especially such as relate to secondary burial, or the transfer of the dead, from their primary resting-places, to vast, miscellaneous receptacles. The desire is almost universal, that, when summoned to lie down in the grave, the dead may never be disturbed, by the hand of man--that our remains may return quietly to dust--unobserved by mortal eye. There is no part of this humiliating process, that is not painful and revolting to the beholder. Of this the ancients had the same impression. Cremation and embalming set corruption and the worm at defiance. Other motives, I am aware, have been assigned for the former. The execution of popular vengeance upon the poor remains of those, whose memory has become odious, during a revolution, is not uncommon. A ludicrous example of this occurred, when Santa Anna became unpopular, and the furious mob seized his leg, which had been amputated, embalmed, and deposited among the public treasures, and cooled their savage anger, by kicking the miserable member all over the city of Montezuma. In the time of Sylla, cremation was not so common as interment; but Sylla, remembering the indignity he had offered to the body of Marius, enjoined, that his own body should be burnt. There was, doubtless, another motive for this practice among the ancients. The custom prevailed extensively, at one time, of burying the dead, in the cellars of houses. I have already referred to the Theban law, which required the construction of a suitable receptacle for the dead, in every house. Interment certainly preceded cremation. Cicero De Legibus, lib. 2, asserts, that interment prevailed among the Athenians, in the time of Cecrops, their first king. In the earlier days of Rome, both were employed. Numa was _buried_ in conformity with a special clause in his will. Remus, as Ovid, Fast. iv. 356, asserts, was _burnt_. The accumulation of dead bodies in cellars, or subcellars, must have become intolerable. This practice undoubtedly gave rise to the whole system of household gods, Lares, Lemures, Larvæ, and Manes. Such an accumulation of ancestors, it may well be supposed, left precious little room for the amphoræ of Chian, Lesbian, and Falernian. Young aspirants sometimes inwardly opine, that their living ancestors take up too much room. Such was very naturally the opinion of the ancients, in relation to the dead. Like François Pontraci, they began to feel the necessity of condensation; and cremation came to be more commonly adopted. The bones of a human being, reduced to ashes, require but little room; and not much more, though the decomposition by fire be not quite perfect. Let me say to those, who think I prefer cremation, as a substitute for interment, that I do not. It has found little favor for many centuries. It seems to have been employed, in the case of Shelley, the poet. However desirable, when the remains of the dead were to be deposited in the dwelling-houses of the living, cremation and urn burial are quite unnecessary, wherever there is no want of ground for cemeteries, in proper locations. The funereal urns of the ancients were of different sizes and forms, and of materials, more or less costly, according to the ability and taste of the surviving friends. Ammianus Marcellinus relates, that Gumbrates, king of Chionia, near Persia, burnt the body of his son, and placed the ashes in a _silver_ urn. Mr. Wedgewood had the celebrated Portland vase in his possession, for a year, and made casts of it. This was the vase, which had been in possession of the Barberini family, for nearly two centuries, and for which the Duke of Portland gave Mr. Hamilton one thousand guineas. In the minds of very many, the idea of considerable size has been associated with this vase. Yet, in fact, it is about ten inches high, and six broad. The Wedgewood casts may be seen, in many of our glass and china shops. This vase was discovered, about the middle of the sixteenth century, two and a half miles from Rome, on the Frescati road, in a marble sarcophagus, within a sepulchral chamber. This, doubtless, was a funereal urn. The urns, dug up, in Old Walsingham, in 1658, were quite similar, in form, to the Portland vase, excepting that they were without ears. Some fifty were found in a sandy soil, about three feet deep, a short distance from an old Roman garrison, and only five miles from Brancaster, the ancient Branodunum. Four of these vases are figured, in Browne's Hydriotaphia; some of them contained about two pounds of bones; several were of the capacity of a gallon, and some of half that size. It may seem surprising, that a human body can be reduced to such a compass. "How the bulk of a man should sink into so few pounds of bones and ashes may seem strange unto any, who consider not its constitution, and how slender a mass will remain upon an open and urging fire, of the carnal composition. Even bones themselves, reduced into ashes, do abate a notable proportion." Such are the words of good old Sir Thomas. It was an adage of old, "He that lies in a golden urn, will find no quiet for his bones." If the costliness of the material offered no temptation to the avarice of man, still, after centuries have given them the stamp of antiquity, these urns and their contents become precious, in the eyes of the lovers of _vertu_. There is no security from impertinent meddling with our remains, so certain, as a speedy conversion into undistinguishable dust. Sir Thomas Browne manifestly inclined to cremation. "To be gnawed," says he, "out of our graves, to have our skulls made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes, to delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations, escaped in burning burials." Such anticipations are certainly unpleasant. An ingenious device was adopted by Alaricus--he appointed the spot for his grave, and directed, that the course of a river should be so changed, as to flow over it. It has been said, that certain soils possess a preserving quality. I am inclined to think the secret commonly lies, in some peculiar, constitutional quality, in the dead subject; for, wherever cases of remarkable preservation have occurred, corruption has been found generally to have done its full day's work, on all around. If such quality really exist in the soil, it is certainly undesirable. Those who were opposed to the evacuation of the Cemetery des Innocens, in the sixteenth century, attempted to set up in its favor the improbable pretension, that it consumed bodies in nine days. Burton, in his description of Leicestershire, states, that the body of Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, "was found perfect, and nothing corrupted, the flesh not hardened, but in color, proportion and softness, like an ordinary corpse, newly to be interred," after seventy-eight years' burial. A remarkable case of posthumous preservation occurred, in a village near Boston. The very exalted character of the professional gentleman, who examined the corpse, after it had been entombed, for forty years, gives the interest of authenticity to the statement. Justice Fuller, the father-in-law of that political victim, General William Hull, _who was neither a coward nor a traitor_, was buried in a family tomb, in Newton Centre. It was ascertained, and, from time to time, reported, that the body remained uncorrupted and entire. Mr. Fuller was about 80, when he died, and very corpulent. About forty years after his burial, Dr. John C. Warren, by permission of the family, with the physician of the village, and other gentlemen, examined the body of Mr. Fuller. The coffin was somewhat decomposed. So were the burial clothes. The body presented, everywhere, a natural skin, excepting on one leg, on which there had been an ulcer. There decomposition had taken place. The skin was generally of a dark brown color, and hard like dried leather; and so well preserved, about the face, that persons, present with Dr. Warren, said they should have recognized the features of Justice Fuller. My business lies not with the physiology, however curious the speculation may be. Were it possible, by any means, to perpetuate the dead, in a similar manner, it would be wholly undesirable. Dust we are, and unto dust must we return. The question is still before us,--How shall _we_ deal with the dead? No. XXI. It is commonly supposed, that the burial of articles of value with the dead, is a practice confined to the Indian tribes, and the inhabitants of unenlightened regions; who fancied, that the defunct were gone upon some far journey, during which such accompaniments would be useful. Such is not the fact. Chilperic, the fourth king of France, came to the throne A. D. 456. In 1655 the tomb of Chilperic was accidentally discovered, in Tournay, "restoring unto the world," saith Sir Thomas Browne, vol. 3, p. 466, "much gold adorning his sword, two hundred rubies, many hundred imperial coins, three hundred golden bees, the bones and horse-shoes of his horse, interred with him, according to the barbarous magnificence of those days, in their sepulchral obsequies." Stow relates, in his survey of London, that, in many of the funeral urns, found in Spitalfields, there were, mingled with the relics, coins of Claudius, Vespasian, Commodus, and Antoninus, with lachrymatories, lamps, bottles of liquor, &c. As an old sexton, I have a right to give my advice; and the public have a right to reject it. If I were the owner of a lot, in some well-governed cemetery, I would place around it a neat, substantial, iron fence, and paint it black. In the centre I would have a simple monument, of white marble, and of liberal dimensions; not pyramidal, but with four rectangular faces, to receive a goodly number of memoranda, not one of which should exceed a single line. I would have no other monument, slab, or tablet, to indicate particular graves. I would have a plan of this lot, and preserve it, as carefully, as I preserved my title papers. Probably I should keep a duplicate, in some safe place. When a body came to be buried, in that lot, I would indicate the precise location, on my plan, and engrave the name and the date of birth, and death, and nothing more, upon the monument. If the dryness and elevation of the soil allowed, I would dig the graves so deep, that the remains of three persons could repose in one grave, the uppermost, five or six feet below the surface. After the burial of the first, the grave would be filled up, and an even, sodded surface presented, as before, until re-opened. Thus, of course, those, who had been lovely and pleasant, in their lives, like Jonathan and Saul, would, in death, be not divided. This, so far from being objectionable, is a delightful idea, embalmed in the classical precedents of antiquity. It is a well-known fact, that urns of a very large size were, occasionally, in use, in Greece and Rome, for the reception and commingling of the ashes of whole families. The ashes of Achilles were mingled with those of his friend, Patroclus. The ashes of Domitian, the last, and almost the worst, of the twelve Cæsars, were inurned, as Suetonius reports, ch. 17, with those of Julia. With the Chinese, it is very common to bury a comb, a pair of scissors to pare the nails, and four little purses, containing the nail parings of the defunct. Jewels and coins of gold are sometimes inserted in the mouths of the wealthy. This resembles the practice of the Greeks and Romans, of placing an obolus, Charon's fee, in the mouth of the deceased. This arrangement, in regard to the nail parings, seems well enough, as they are clearly part and parcel, of the defunct. Rings, coins, and costly chalices have been found, with the ashes of the dead. Avarice, curiosity, and revenge, personal or political, have prompted mankind, in every age, to desecrate the receptacles of the dead. The latter motive has operated more fiercely, upon the people of France, than upon almost any other. No nation has ever surpassed them, in that intense ardor, nor in the parade and magnificence, with which they _canonize_--no people upon earth can rival the bitterness and fury, with which they _curse_. Lamartine, in his history of the Girondists, states, that "dragoons of the Republic spread themselves over the public places, brandishing their swords, and singing national airs. Thence they went to the church of Val de Grace, where, enclosed in silver urns, were the hearts of several kings and queens of France. These funeral vases they broke, trampling under foot those relics of royalty, and then flung them into the common sewer." And how shall _we_ deal with the dead? With a reasonable economy of space, a lot of the common area, at Mount Auburn, or Forest Hills, will suffice, for the occasion of a family of ordinary size, for several generations. In re-opening one of these graves, for a second or third interment, the operative should never approach nearer than one foot to the coffin beneath. The careless manner, in which bones are sometimes spaded up, by grave-diggers, results from their want of precise knowledge of previous inhumations. Common sense indicates the propriety of keeping a regular, topographical account of every interment. But it is quite time to bring these lucubrations to a close. To some they may have proved interesting, and, doubtless, wearisome to others. The account is therefore balanced. Most heartily do I wish for every one of my readers a decent funeral, and a peaceful grave. I have tolled my last knell, turned down my last sod, and am no longer a Sexton of the Old School. No. XXII. Some commendatory passages, in your own and other journals, my dear Mr. Transcript, seem very much to me like a theatrical _encore_--they half persuade me to reappear. There are other considerations, which I cannot resist. Twenty devils, saith the Spanish proverb, employ that man, who employeth not himself. I am quite sensible of my error, in quitting an old vocation prematurely. You have no conception of the severe depression of spirits, produced in the mind of an old sexton, who, in an evil hour, has cast his spade aside, and set up for a man of leisure. It may answer for a short time--a very short time. I can honestly declare, that I have led a wearisome life, since I gave up undertaking. Many have been the expedients I have adopted, to relieve the oppressive tedium of my miserable days. The funeral bell has aroused me, as the trumpet rouses an old war horse. How many processions I have followed, as an amateur! One or two young men of the craft have been exceedingly kind to me, and have given me notice, whenever they have been employed upon a new grave, and have permitted me to amuse myself, by performing a portion of the work. My own condition, since I left off business, and tried the terrible experiment of living on my income, and doing nothing, has frequently and forcibly reminded me of a similar passage, in the history of my excellent old friend, Simon Allwick, the tallow-chandler, with whom I had the happiness of living, in the closest intimacy, and whom I had the pleasure of burying, about twenty years ago. Mr. Allwick was a thrifty man; and, having acquired a handsome property, his ambitious partner persuaded him to abandon his greasy occupation, and set up for a gentleman. This was by no means, the work of a day. Mr. Allwick loved his wife--she was an affectionate creature; and, next to the small matter of having her own way in everything, she certainly loved Allwick, as her prime minister, in bringing that matter about. She was what is commonly called a devoted wife. Man is, marvellously, the creature of habit. So completely had Allwick become that creature, that, when his partner, upon the occasion of an excursion, as far as Jamaica Pond, for which Allwick literally tore himself away from the chandlery, could not restrain her admiration of that pretty, pet lake, he candidly confessed, that he felt nothing of the sort. And, when Mrs. Allwick exclaimed, with uplifted hands and tears in her eyes, that, in a cottage, on the borders of such a lake, she should be the happiest of the happy--"So should I, my dear," said her husband, with a sigh, so heavily drawn, that it seemed four to the pound--"so should I, my dear, if the lake were a vat of clear melted tallow, and I had a plenty of sticks and wicks." Suffice it to say, Mrs. Allwick had set her heart upon the measure. She had a confidential friend or two, to whom she had communicated the _projét_: her pride had therefore become enlisted; for she had given them to understand, that she meant to have her own way. She commenced an uncompromising crusade, against grease, in every form. She complained, that grease spots were upon everything. She engaged the services of a young physician, who gave it, as his deliberate opinion, that Mr. Allwick's headaches arose from the deleterious influence of the fumes of hot grease, acting through the olfactory nerves, upon the pineal gland. He even expressed a fear, that insanity might supervene, and he furnished an account of an eminent tallow-chandler in London, who went raving mad, and leaping into his own vat of boiling grease, was drawn out, no better than a great candle. It was a perfect _coup de grace_, when Mrs. Allwick drove candles from her dwelling, and substituted oil. The chandlery adjoined their residence, in Scrap Court; and it must be admitted, that, with the wind at south, the odor was not particularly savory. Mrs. Allwick was what the world would style a smart woman, and she was in the habit of calling her husband a very _wicked_ man and their mansion the most unclassical villa, though in the very midst of _grease_! It is quite superfluous to say, the point was finally carried--the chandlery was sold--a country house was purchased, not on the lake, but in a sweet spot. There was some little embarrassment about the name, but two wild gooseberry bushes having been discovered, within half a mile, it was resolved, in council, to call it Mount Gooseberry. Since the going forth of Adam from Eden, in misery and shame, never was there such an exodus, as that of poor Allwick from the chandlery. I have not time to describe it. I am glad I have not. It was too much. Even Mrs. Allwick began to doubt the perfect wisdom of her plan. But the die was cast. On they went to their El Dorado. It was a pleasant spot. It was "a bonnie day in June." The birds were in ecstacies--so was Mrs. Allwick--so were the children--the sun shone--the stream ran beautifully by--the leaves still glistened in the morning dew--there was a sprinkling of lambs on the hills--old Cato was at the door, to welcome them, and Carlo most affectionately covered the white frocks of the children with mud. "Was there ever anything like this?" exclaimed the delighted wife. "Isn't it a perfect pink, papa?" cried the children. In answer to all this, the _jecur ulcerosum_ of poor Allwick sent forth a deep groan, that shook the very walls of his tabernacle. The mind of man is a mill, and will grind chaff if nothing more substantial be supplied; and, peradventure, the upper will grind the nether millstone to destruction. For a brief space, Mr. Allwick found employment. Fences were to be completed--trees and bushes were to be set out--the furniture was to be arranged--but all this was soon over, and there was my good old friend, Simon Allwick, the busiest man alive, with nothing to do! Never was there a heart, in the bosom of a tallow-chandler, so perfectly "untravelled." Poor fellow, he went "up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber," but all to no other purpose, than to confirm him, in a sentiment of profound respect, for that homely proverb, _it is hard for an old dog to learn new tricks_. "Where is your father?" said Mrs. Allwick to the children, after breakfast, one awful hot morning, near the end of June. The children went in pursuit--there he was--he had sought to occupy his thoughts, by watching the gambols of some half a dozen Byfield cokies--there he was--he had rested his arms upon the rail of the fence, and had been looking into the sty--his chin had dropped upon his hands--he had fallen asleep! He was mortified and nettled, at being found thus, and continued in a moody condition, through the day. On the following morning, he went to the city, and remained till night. His spirits were greatly improved, on his return; and to some felicitations from his wife and family, he replied--"My dear, I feel better, certainly; and I have made an arrangement, which, I think, will enable me to get along pretty comfortably--I have seen Mr. Smith, to whom I sold the chandlery, and have extended the term of payment. He still dips on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and has agreed to set a kettle of fat and some sticks for me, in the little closet, near the back door, that I may slip in, and amuse myself, on dipping days." I ought to have been warned, by this example; but I had quite forgotten it. It is very agreeable to be thus welcomed back to the performance of my former duties. No one, but he, who is deprived of some long-cherished occupation, can truly comprehend the pleasure of occasionally handling a corpse. No. XXIII. Few things can be imagined, more thoroughly revolting and absurd, than the vengeance of the living, rioting among the ashes of the dead--rudely rolling the stone away from the door of the sepulchre--entering the narrow houses of the unresisting, _vi et armis_, with the pickaxe and the crowbar--and scattering to the winds the poor senseless remains of those, who were consigned to their resting-places, with all the honors of a former age. This, were it not awful, would be eminently ridiculous. For the execution of such posthumous revenge the French nation has the precedence of every other, civilized and savage. Frenchmen, if not, through all time, from the days of Pharamond to the present, remarkably zealous of good works, are clearly a peculiar people. The history of the world furnishes no parallel to that preposterous crusade, carried on by that people, in 1794, against the dead bodies of kings and princes, saints and martyrs. This war, upon dead men's bones, was not projected and executed, by the rabble, on the impulse of the moment. A formal, deliberate decree of the Convention commanded, that the tombs should be destroyed, and they were destroyed, and their contents scattered to the winds, accordingly. Talk not of all that is furious and fantastical, in the conduct of monkeys and maniacs--a nation of chimpanzees would have acted with more dignity and discretion. A colony of grinning baboons, as Shakspeare calls them, bent upon liberty, equality, and fraternity, might have dethroned some tyrannical ourang outang, who had carried matters with too high a hand, and extorted too many cocoa nuts, for the support of his civil list; but, after having cut off his head, it is not to be believed, that they would have gone about, scratching up the ashes of his ancestors, and wreaking their vengeance upon those unoffending relics. This miserable onslaught upon the dead began, immediately after December 20, 1794. The new worship commenced on that day, and the goddess of reason then, for the first time, presented herself to the people, in the person of the celebrated actress, Mademoiselle Maillard. St. Genevieve, the patroness of the city of Paris, died in 512, and her remains were subsequently transferred to the church, which bears her name, and which was erected, by Clovis, in 517. The executive agents of the National Convention commenced their legalized fooleries, upon the ashes of this poor old saint. These French gentlemen--the politest nation upon earth--without the slightest regard for decency, or sanctification, or common sense, dug up Madame Genevieve's coffin, and, to aggravate the indignity, dragged the old lady's remains to the place of public execution, the _Place de Grève_; and, having burnt them there, scattered the ashes to the winds. The gates of bronze, presented by Charlemagne to the church of St. Denis, were broken to pieces. Pepin, the sire of Charlemagne and son of Charles Martel, was buried there, in 768. Nothing remained of Pepin but a handful of dust, which was served in a similar manner. It is stated by Lamartine, that the heads of Marshal Turenne, Duguesclin, Louis XII., and Francis I., were rolled about the pavement; sceptres, crowns, and crosiers were trampled under foot; and the shouts of the operatives were heard, when the blows of the axe broke through some regal coffin, and the royal bones were thrown out, to be treated with senseless insult. Hugh Capet, Philip the bold, and Philip, the handsome, were buried beneath the choir. The ruthless hands of these modern vandals tore from the corpses those garments of the grave, in which they had reposed for centuries, and threw the relics upon beds of quicklime. Henry IV. fell by the hands of Ravaillac, the assassin, May 14, 1610. His body, was carefully embalmed, by Italians. When taken from the coffin, the lineaments of the face fully corresponded with the numerous representations, transmitted by the hands of painters and statuaries. That cherished and perfumed beard expanded, as if it had just then received the last manipulation of the friseur. The marks were perfectly visible, upon the breast, indicating the first and second thrust of Ravaillac's stilletto. The popularity of this monarch protected his remains, though for a brief space. He was frank, brave, and humane. For two days, all that remained of this idol of the people--was exhibited to public view. The exhumed king was placed at the foot of the altar, and a countless multitude passed, in mute procession, around these favored relics. This gave umbrage to Javogues, a member of the Convention. He denounced this partiality, and railed against the memory of Henri le Grand. The multitude, impressible by the slightest impulse, hurled the dead monarch into the common fosse of quicklime and corruption; execrating, under the influence of a few feverish words, from the lips of a republican savage, the memory and the remains of one, cherished by their predecessors, for nearly three hundred years. A similar fate awaited his son and grandson, Louis XIII. and XIV. The vault of the Bourbons was thoroughly ransacked, in the same spirit of desolation. Queens, dauphinesses, and princesses, says the historian of the Girondists, were carried away, in armsful, by the laborers, to be cast into the trench, and consumed by quicklime. In the vault of Charles V., surnamed the wise, besides the corpse were found, a hand of justice and a golden crown. In the coffin of his wife, Jeanne of Bourbon, were her spindles and marriage rings. These relics were thrown into the ditch--the corpses--not the articles of gold, however debased by their juxtaposition. Of the French gentlemen it may be affirmed, as of Madame Gilpin-- "Though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind." An economy, perfectly grotesque, mingled with an unmanly desecration. Even the lead was scraped together from these coffins, and converted into balls. In the vault of the Valois no bodies were discovered. The people were very desirous of showing some tokens of their wrath, upon the poor carcass of Louis XI., but it could not be found. Abbés, heroes, ministers of state were indiscriminately cast into the fosse. Upon the exhumation of Dagobert I., and his queen, Matilde, who had been buried twelve hundred years, her skeleton was found without a head. Such is said to have been the case with several other skeletons of the queens of France. In one of the upper lofts of the cabinet of Natural History of the Jardin des Plantes, among stuffed beasts and birds, surrounded by mixed and manifold rubbish, and covered with dust, there lay a case or package, unexamined and unnoticed, for nine long years. This envelope contained the mortal remains of a Marechal of France, the hero of an hundred battles,--of no other than Henry de la Tour, Viscount de Turenne. He was killed by a cannon ball, July 27, 1675, at the age of 64. All France lamented the death of this great man. The admiration of all Europe followed him to the grave. Courage, modesty, generosity, science have embalmed his memory. The king, Louis le Grand, ordered a solemn service to be performed, for the Marechal de Turenne, in the Cathedral church at Paris, as for the first prince of the blood, and that his remains should be interred in the abbey of St. Denis, the burial-place of the royal personages of France, where the cardinal, his nephew, raised a splendid mausoleum to his memory. So much for glory--and what then? In 1794, the remains of this great man were upon the point of being cast into the common fosse, by the agents of the Convention, when some, less rabid than the rest, smuggled them away; and, for security, conveyed them to the lumber room of the cabinet of Natural History of the Jardin des Plantes. Having reposed, nine years in state, peradventure between a dilapidated kangaroo and a cast-off opossum--these remains of the great Turenne were, at length, committed, in a quiet way, to the military tomb of the Invalids. No. XXIV. Burning dead saints, is a more pardonable matter, than burning living martyrs--the combustion of St. Genevieve's dry bones, than the fiery trial of Latimer and Ridley--the fantastical decree of the French Convention, than the cruel discipline of bloody Mary. Dark days were they, and full of evil, those years of bitterness and blood, from 1553 to Nov. 17, 1558, when, by a strange coincidence, this hybrid queen, whose sire was a British tyrant, and whose dam a Spanish bigot, expired on the same day with the Cardinal, Reginald Pole. From the remarkable proximity of the events arose a suspicion of poison, of which the public mind has long since been disabused. In this age of greater intelligence and religious freedom, the outrages, perpetrated, in the very city of London, within five brief years, are credible, only on the strength of well authenticated history. According to Bishop Burnet, two hundred and eighty-four persons were burnt at the stake, during four years of this merciless and miserable reign. Lord Burleigh makes the number of those, who died, in that reign, by imprisonment, torments, famine, and fire, to be near four hundred. Weever, in his Funeral Monuments, page 116, quotes the historian Speed, as saying, "In the heat of those flames, were burnt to ashes five bishops, one-and-twenty divines, eight gentlemen, eighty-four artificers, an hundred husbandmen, servants, and laborers, twenty-six wives, twenty widows, nine virgins, two boys, and two infants; one of them whipped to death by Bonner, and the other, springing out of the mother's womb from the stake, as she burned, thrown again into the fire." Here, in passing, suffer me to express my deep reverence for John Weever. I know of no book, so interesting to the craft, as his Funeral Monuments, a work of infinite labor and research. Weever died in 1632, and lies in St. James, Clerkenwell. His epitaph may be found in Strype's Survey: Lancashire gave me birth, And Cambridge education; Middlesex gave me death, And this church my humation; And Christ to me hath given A place with him in heaven. The structure of these lines will remind the classical reader of Virgil's epitaph: Mantua me genuit: Calabri rapuere; tenet nunc Parthenope; cecini pascua, rura, duces. The short and sharp reign of Mary Tudor was remarkable for burning Protestant Christians and wax candles. That fountain of fun, pure and undefiled, that prince of wags, Theodore Hook, was offered, very young, for admission at the University; and, when the chancellor opened the book, and gravely inquired if he was ready to sign the thirty-nine articles, "Yes, sir," replied the young puppy, "forty, if you please." Now, in contemplation of the enormous consumption of wax, especially upon the occasion of funeral obsequies, during Mary's reign, it would seem that a belief, in its vital importance, might have formed an additional article, in the Romish creed. I have never thought well of grafting religion upon the selfishness of man's nature. Nominal converts, it is true, are readily made, in that way. In Catholic countries, wax chandlers are Romanists, to a man. I always considered the attempt, a few years since, to convert the inhabitants of Nantucket to Puseyism, by a practical appeal to their self interest, however ingeniously contrived, a very wicked thing. And I greatly lauded the good old bishop of this diocese, for rebuking those very silly priests, who promoted a senseless and extravagant consumption of one of the great staples of that island, by burning candles in the day time. He made good use of his mitre as an extinguisher. On a somewhat similar principle, I have always objected to every attempt to augment the revenues of a state by taxing corpses--not upon the acknowledged principle, that taxation without representation is inadmissible--but because the whole system is a most miserable mingling of _sacra profanis_. I may not be understood by all, in this remark: I refer to those acts of Parliament, which, for the purposes of levying a tax, or promoting some particular branch of industry, have attempted to regulate a man's apparel, and the fitting up of his narrow house, after he is dead. The compulsory employment of flannel, by British statute, is an example of this legislative interference. Nothing is more common, in Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials, than entries, such as these: "1557, May 3. The Lord Shandois was buried with heralds, an herse of wax, four banners of images, and other appendages of funeral honor." "On the 5th, the Lady Chamberlain was buried with a fair herse of wax." "May 28, in the forenoon, was buried Mrs. Gates, widow, late wife, as it seems, to Sir John Gates, executed the first year of this queen's reign. She gave seventeen fine black gowns, and fourteen of broad russet for poor men. There were carried two white branches, ten staff torches, and four great tapers." "July 10th the Lady Tresham was buried at Peterborough, with four banners, and an herse of wax, and torches." "1558, September 14th, was buried Sir Andrew Judd, skinner, merchant of Muscovy, and late Mayor of London, with ten dozen of escutcheons, garnished with angels, and an herse of wax." What is an herse of wax? This will be quite unintelligible to those, who have supposed that word to import nothing else than the vehicle, in which the dead are carried to the grave. Herse also signifies a temporary monument, erected upon, or near, the place of sepulture, and on which the corpse was laid, for a time, in state; and a herse of wax was a structure of this kind, surrounded with wax tapers. This will be made manifest, by some additional extracts from the same author: "1557. The 16th day of July, died the lady Anne, of Cleves, at Chelsey, sometime wife and queen unto King Henry VIII., but never crowned. Her corpse was cered the night following." "On the 29th began the herse at Westminster, for the Lady Anne of Cleves, consisting of carpenters' work of seven principals, being as goodly an herse as had been seen." "On the 3d of August the body of the Lady Anne of Cleves was brought from Chelsey, where her house was, unto Westminster, to be buried--men bore her, under a canopy of black velvet, with four black staves, and so brought her into the herse, and there tarried _Dirge_, remaining there all night, with lights burning." "On the 16th day of August the herse of the King of Denmark was begun to be set up, in a four-square house. August 18, was the King of Denmark's herse in St. Paul's finished with wax, the like to which was never seen in England, in regard to the fashion of square tapers." And on the 23d, also was the King of Denmark's herse, at St. Paul's, "taken down by the wax chandlers and carpenters, to whom this work pertained, by order of Mr. Garter, and certain of the Lord Treasurer's servants." These herses were, doubtless, very attractive in their way. "Aug. 31, 1557. The young Dutchess of Norfolk being lately deceased, her herse began to be set up on the 28th, in St. Clements, without Temple bar, and was this day finished with banners, pensils, wax, and escutcheons." The office of an undertaker, in those days, was no sinecure. He was an _arbiter elegantiarum_. A funeral was a festival then. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die, was the common phylactery. "The funeral baked meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables." Baked meats shall be the subject of my next. No. XXV. Pliny, xviii. 30, refers to a practice among the Romans, very similar to that, in use among certain unenlightened nations, of depositing articles of diet upon tombs and graves, such as beans, lettuces, eggs, bread, and the like, for the use of ghosts. The stomachs of Roman ghosts were not supposed to be strong enough for flesh meat. Hence the lines of Juvenal, v. 85: Sed tibi dimidio constrictus cammarus ovo Ponitur, exigua feralis cæna patella. The _silicernium_ or _cæna funebris_ was a very different, and more solid affair. At first blush--to use a common and sensible expression--there seems no respectable keeping, between the art of burying the dead, and that of feasting the living. Depositing those, whom we love, in their graves, is certainly the very last relish for an appetite. Something of this was undoubtedly done, of old, under the promptings of Epicurean philosophy--upon the _dum vivimus vivamus_ principle--and, in that spirit which teaches the soldier, when he turns from the grave, to change the mournful, for the merry strain. The desire of equalling or excelling others, in the magnificence of funereal parade, has ever been a powerful motive. The eyes of others destroy us, said Franklin, and not our own. Grief for the departed, and sympathy with the bereaved, were not deemed sufficient, to insure an imposing parade. Games and festivals were therefore provided, for the people. Among other attractions, masses of uncooked meat were bestowed upon all comers. This was the _visceratio_ of the Romans. This word seems to have a different import; _viscera_, however, signifies all beneath the skin, as may be seen by consulting Serv. in Virg., �n. i., 211. Suetonius Cæs. 39, and Cicero de Officiis ii. 16, refer to this practice. It was by no means very common, but frequently adopted by those, who could afford the expense, and were desirous of the display. Marcus Flavius had committed an infamous crime. He was popular, and the ædiles of the people had fixed a day for his absolution. Under pretence of celebrating his mother's funeral, he gave a _visceratio_ to the people: Populo visceratio data, a M. Flavio, in funere matris. Erant, qui, per speciem honorandæ parentis, meritam mercedem populo solutam interpretarentur; quod eum, die dicta ab ædilibus, crimine stupratæ matris familæ absolvisset. Liv. viii. 22. A note upon this passage, in Lemaire's edition, fully explains the nature of this practice. This was a very different affair from the _silicernium_, or feast for the friends, after the funeral. Upon such occasions, the Falernian flowed, and boars were roasted whole. The reader, by opening his Livy, xxxix. 46, will find an account of the funeral of P. Licinius: a _visceratio_ was given to the people; one hundred and twenty gladiators fought in the arena; the funeral games lasted three days; and then followed a splendid entertainment. On that occasion, a tempest drove the company into the forum; this occurred, in the year U. C. 569. Through all time, the practice has prevailed, more or less, of providing entertainments, for those, who gather on such occasions. In villages, especially, and within my own recollection, the funeral has been delayed, to enable distant friends to arrive in season; and the interval has been employed, in the preparation of creature comforts, not only for such as attended, and observed the ceremonial of an hour, but for such, as came to the bereaved, like the comforters of the man of Uz, "every one from his place, and sat down with him, seven days and seven nights." Animal provision must surely be required, to sustain such protracted lamentation. In the age, when Shakspeare wrote, and for several ages before and after, "baked meats," at funerals, were very common. So far, from contenting themselves with the preparation of some simple aliment, for such as were an hungered, the appetites of all were solicited, by a parade of the rarest liquors and the choicest viands. Tables were spread, in the most ample manner, and the transition was immediate from the tomb to the festal board. The _requiescat in pace_ was scarcely uttered, before the blessing was craved, on the baked meats. It matters little, from what period of history we select our illustrations of this truth. Suppose we take our examples from the reign, preceding that, in which Shakspeare was born; comprehend some other incidents in our collection; and rely, for our authority, on good old John Strype, who was himself born in 1643. There is no higher authority. I will present a few specimens from his Ecclesiastical Memorials: "1557, May 5. Was the Lady Chamberlain buried. At the mass preached Dr. Chadsey. A great dole of money given at the church, and after, a great dinner. May 29, was buried Mrs. Gates; after mass a great dinner. June 7, began a stage play at the Grey Friars of the passion of Christ. June 10.--This day Sir John, a chantry priest, hung himself with his own girdle. The same day was the storehouse in Portsmouth burnt, much beer and victual destroyed. A judgment, perhaps, for burning so many innocent persons. June 29.--This same day was the second year's mind (i. e. yearly _obit_) of good master Lewyn, ironmonger; at his dirge were all the livery. After, they retired to the widow's place, where they had a cake and wine; and besides the parish, all comers treated." Aug. 3.--After giving a long account of the funeral of Ann of Cleves, Strype adds, "and so they went in order to dinner." After reciting the particulars of the King of Denmark's funeral, in London, Aug. 18, 1557, he adds: "After the dirge, all the heralds and all the Lords went into the Bishop of London's place, and drank. The next day was the morrow-mass, and a goodly sermon preached, and after, to my Lord of London's to dinner." The account of the funeral of Thomas Halley is entitled to be presented entire: "On the 24th of this month, August, Mr. Thomas Halley, clarentieux, king-at-arms, was buried, in St. Giles's parish, without Cripplegate, with coat, armor, and pennon of arms, and scutcheons of his arms, and two white branches, twelve staff torches, and four great tapers, and a crown. And, after dirge, the heralds repaired unto Greenhill, the waxchandler, a man of note (being waxchandler to Cardinal Pole) living hard by; where they had spice-bread and cheese, and wine, great plenty. The morrow-mass was also celebrated, and sermon preached; and after followed a great dinner, whereat were all the heralds, together with the parishioners. There was a supper also, as well as a dinner." After a long account of the funeral of the Countess of Arundel, Oct. 5, 1557, follow the customary words--"and, after, all departed to my Lord's place to dinner." "Nov. 12, Mr. Maynard, merchant, was buried; and after, the company departed to his house, at Poplar, to a great dinner." "Oct. 19, died the Lord Bray; and so he went by water to Chelsea to be buried, &c. &c. Many priests and clerks attended. They all came back to this Lord's place, at Blackfriars, to dinner." At the funeral of Richard Capet, Feb. 1, "All return to dinner." "On the 16th, Mr. Pynohe, fishmonger, and a brother of Jesus, was buried. All being performed at the church, the company retired to his house to drink." On the 24th, "a great dinner," after the funeral of Sir George Bowers. This testimony is inexhaustible. After the funeral of Lady White, March 2, Strype says "there was as great a dinner as had been seen." I will close with two examples. "Aug. 3, 1588. The Lady Rowlet was buried; and after mass, the company retreated to the place to dinner, which was plentifully furnished with venison, fresh salmon, fresh sturgeon, and many other fine dishes. On the 12th, died Mr. Machyl, alderman and clothesworker." After a sermon by a grey friar, "the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, and all the mourners and ladies went to dinner, which was very splendid, lacking no good meat, both flesh and fish, and an hundred marchpanes." It is certain, that all this appears to us now to have been in very bad taste; and it is not easy to comprehend the principle, which conducted to the perpetration of such sensual absurdities; unless we suppose it to have been the design of all concerned, to felicitate the heir, upon his coming to possession; the widow, upon the fruition of an ample dower and abundant leisure; or the widower, upon the recovery of his liberty. This is not the only occasion, upon which man's features are required, from the extreme suddenness of the change, to undergo a process of moral distortion, amounting to grimace. Thus, grief, for the death of one monarch, is rudely expressed, by turbulent joy at the succession of another. Suffer me to conclude, in the words of father Strype--"The same day queen Mary deceased, in the morning between 11 and 12, the Lady Elizabeth was proclaimed queen: in the afternoon all the churches in London rang their bells; and at night were bonfires made, and tables set in the streets, and the people did eat, and drink, and make merry." No. XXVI. Among the dead--the mighty dead--there is one, in regard to whom, our national dealings may be fairly set forth, in the words of Desdemona-- In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it. Forty-nine years have passed, since the interment of George Washington. Forty-nine years ago, "the joint committee," says Chief Justice Marshall, "which had been appointed to devise the mode, by which the nation should express its feelings, on this melancholy occasion, reported" a series of resolutions, among which was the following: "That a marble monument be erected, by the United States, at the city of Washington, and that the family of General Washington be requested to permit his body to be deposited under it; and that the monument be so designed, as to commemorate the great events of his military and political life." To the letter, transmitting the resolutions to Mrs. Washington, she replied, as follows: "Taught by the great example, which I have so long had before me, never to oppose my private wishes to the public will, I must consent to the request made by Congress, which you have had the goodness to transmit to me; and, in doing this, I need not, I cannot, say what a sacrifice of individual feeling I make, to a sense of public duty." All this is very fine. The nation requested permission to remove the remains--Mrs. Washington consented--but that monument! The remains have slumbered quietly, where they first were interred, for nine and forty years--and the monument is like Rachel's first born--it is not! There is something better in prospect. Such, however, is the record thus far. It is very true he needs no monument. No immortal can say more justly, from his elevated sphere, to every inhabitant of this vast empire, _si monumentum quæris, circumspice_! This fact, however, so far from taking the tithe of a hair from the balance of this account, illustrates the national delinquency. It may be matter of amusing speculation, to contrast the zeal, which prevails, especially in England, in relation to the most trifling memorials of Shakspeare, and the popular indifference, in regard to certain relics, known to have been the property of Washington, and to have been personally used by him. All are familiar with the recent excitement, on the subject of Shakspeare's house--that mulberry tree--a hair of him, for memory. Washington's library has lately been sold, for just about the price of four shares in one of the cotton mills at Lowell. A few years since, the cabinet of medals, struck at different times, in honor of the Father of his country, and which had become the property of one of his representatives, was sold by him, for five hundred dollars, and purchased by an individual citizen of Massachusetts. There are some things, seemingly so vast--so very--very national--that one can scarcely believe it possible for any private cabinet to contain them gracefully. Soon after the destruction of the Bastile, July 14, 1789, La Fayette sent its massive key to Washington--his political father--as the first fruits of those principles of liberty, which were then supposed to be bourgeoning forth, in a _free_ French soil. This colossal key was suspended, in the front entry, at Mount Vernon. A short time ago, an aged friend, residing in a neighboring town, and once intimate in the family of Washington, told me he had often seen that famous key, in its well known position. This also became the property of Washington's representatives. A few years since, I saw it stated, in the public journals, that, among other effects, this key of the Bastile was sold at auction, and purchased for seventy-five cents, by a gentleman, who had the good taste to return it to some member of the family. Eminent men, as they arise, are occasionally compared to Washington. Points of resemblance, now and then, may assuredly be found; but there never breathed a man, whose mental and moral properties combined, could endure a rigid comparison with his. Whoever attempts to run this parallel, between him and any other, will readily acknowledge the truth of the proverb, _nullum simile quatuor pedibus currit_. Select the example from the present, or the past, from our own or from other lands, and inquire, to which of them all would Erskine, so chary of his praise, so slow of faith in his fellow, have applied those memorable words, inscribed, in the presentation copy of his work, transmitted to Washington--_You, sir, are the only individual, for whom I ever felt an awful reverence_. Of whom else would Lord Brougham have pronounced this remarkable passage--"It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating this illustrious man; and, until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress, which our race has made in wisdom and virtue, be derived, from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington." I have not yet met with any gentleman of our calling, who is not decidedly in favor of the election of General Taylor, or who would not gratuitously attend, in a professional way, upon Messieurs Cass and Van Buren. We perceive a resemblance between the first president and the present candidate, in their willingness to draw long bills on posterity for fame, in preference to numerous drafts, at sight, without grace, for daily applause. But we behold, in Washington, the image and superscription, not of Cæsar, but of a peerless mortal--of one, created, verily, a little lower than the angels-- "A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man." No men have done more to bedim the reputation of Washington, than Jefferson and Randolph. Verily they have their reward. In no portion of our country has the memory of that great man been more universally cherished and beloved, than in New England. A sentiment, not only of reverence for his character, but of affection for his person, was very general, in this quarter; and manifested itself, in a remarkable manner, upon the occasion of his death. Nothing could have been more unexpected, than the announcement of that event, in Boston. I will close this article, with a simple illustration of the popular feeling, when the sad tidings arrived. At the close of that year, 1799--I was a small boy then--I was returning from a ride on horseback, to Dorchester Point--there was no bridge, and it was quite a journey. As I approached the town, I was very much surprised, at the tolling of the bells. Upon reaching home, I saw my old father, at an unusual hour for him, the busiest man alive, to be at home, sitting alone in our parlor, with his bandanna before his eyes. I ran towards him, with the thoughtless gayety of youth, and asked what the bells were tolling for. He withdrew the handkerchief from his face--the tears were rolling down his fine old features--"Go away child," said he, "don't disturb me; do you not know, that Washington is dead?" The reader has surmised, that the worthy old man had sipped at the fountain of executive patronage. Not at all. He had never seen Washington, and never held an office civil or military, saving under Hancock's commission, as justice of the peace, which was accounted a very pretty compliment, in those days. No. He was nothing but an American, and he shed those American tears, upon the death of one, whose character and conduct had filled his heart with sentiments of pride, and love, and "awful reverence." No. XXVII. I am rather inclined to suspect, that man is a selfish animal. A few days ago, I administered a merited rebuke to a group of young sextons, who had gathered together, after a funeral, and were seated upon a barrow bier, before an unclosed tomb. They had been discussing the subject of capital punishment, and were opposed to it unanimously. They frankly admitted, that they were not influenced, by any consideration of humanity, but looked simply to the fact, that, as the bodies of executed criminals went, commonly, to the surgeons, every execution deprived us of a job. One observed, that Boston was dreadfully healthy--another remarked, that homoeopathy had proved a considerable help to us. Several compliments were paid to Thompson, Brandreth, and Mrs. Kidder. But they appeared to anticipate emolument from no source, so certainly, as from the approaching cholera. I was greatly shocked, and expressed my opinion very freely. I reminded them of the primitive dignity of the sacristan's office. I should deeply regret, to see our calling reduced to the level of a mere trade, with its tariff--shrouds all rising--coffins looking up! We have a fair share of funerals, and the members of our profession have no just cause for complaint. Steam has helped us prodigiously. It has been said, that, comparing the amount of steam travel with the amount of ante-steam travel, i. e., the present with the past, the relative amount of deaths, from accident, is about the same. Suppose it to be so; the cheapness and facility of locomotion, at present, stimulate a much larger number to move--there is a vast increase of frivolous and pleasure travel--cars are filled with women, crates with bandboxes, and death is to be averaged over the integer--I therefore repeat, that steam has helped our profession. If steam had been known, in ancient Rome, it would have been reckoned a deity, whose diet, like the sacrifice of Juggernaut, would have been flesh and blood. There is a very natural sensibility, on the part of steamboat and railroad proprietors, to the announcement of disasters, by steam. There is a wonderful eagerness to persuade the public to contemplate these catastrophes, with the larger end of the telescope toward the eye. This also is a great help to our profession. There is really no lack of business, and it is quite abominable, for thoughtless young sextons to pray for the advent of the cholera. We dwell in a region of the earth, seldom touched by this besom of destruction. Pestilence and famine have rarely come nigh unto us. It would be impious to envy the denizens of milder climes. "With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow, If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise; There plague and poison, lust and rapine grow, Here peaceful are the vales and pure the skies." I thank heaven, I was not an undertaker, in London, in 1665, when there were scarcely enough of the living to bury the dead. When I used to wrap myself up, in the pages of Robinson Crusoe, how little I suspected, that Daniel Defoe was the writer of some twenty volumes beside. His inimitable history of the plague, of 1665, is admirable reading, for the members of our craft. At irregular periods, plague, yellow fever, sweating sickness, and cholera have visited the earth, with terrible effect. Let us take a cursory view of these awful visitations. A. D. 78, 10,000 perished daily at Rome. The plague returned there A. D. 167. Terrible plague in Britain A. D. 430. A dreadful plague spread over Europe, Asia and Africa, A. D. 558, and continued, for several years. 200,000 died of the plague in Constantinople, A. D. 746. This plague raged for three years, and extended to Calabria, Sicily and Greece. William of Malmsbury states, that A. D. 772, an epidemic disease carried off 34,000 in Chichester, England. 40,000 died of pestilence in Scotland, A. D. 954. Hollingshed gives an account of a terrible plague among cattle, A. D. 1111, and in Ireland A. D. 1204. In this year a general plague raged in Europe. In London 200 persons were buried daily, in the Charterhouse yard. A dreadful mortality prevailed in London and Paris, A. D. 1362 and '7. Great pestilence in Ireland A. D. 1383. Endemic destroyed 30,000 in London A. D. 1407. Great numbers died of plague in Ireland, following famine, A. D. 1466. Dublin was severely visited with plague A. D. 1470. Rapin and Salmon give an account of the plague at Oxford, A. D. 1471, and throughout England A. D. 1478. The sweating sickness, _sudor Anglicus_, first appeared, in England, in 1483, in the army of Henry VII., on his landing at Milfordhaven. A year or two after, it travelled to London, and remained there, with intermissions, for forty years. It then passed over to the continent, and overran Holland, Germany, Flanders, France, Denmark, and Norway. It continued in those countries, from 1525 to 1530; it then returned to England; and was last known there, in 1551. It was a malignant fever, accompanied with very great thirst, delirium, and excessive sweat. Dr. Caius called it "a contagious, pestilential fever of one day, prevailing with a mighty slaughter, as tremendous as the plague of Athens." Dr. Willis says, "Its malignity was so extreme, that as soon as it entered a city, it made a daily attack, on five or six hundred persons, of whom scarcely one in a hundred recovered." Strype says, "The plague of sweat this summer, 1551, was very severe, and carried away multitudes of people, rich and poor, especially in London, where, in one day, July 10th, died an hundred people, and the next, one hundred and twenty. From the 8th of this month to the 19th, there died in London, of this sweat, 872." Stowe says that, in the 9th year of Henry VII., 1517, half the population, in the capital towns of England, died of the sweating sickness: and that it proved fatal, in three hours. In the year 1500, Stowe also says, that the plague was so terrible in London, that Henry VII. and his court went over to Calais. The plague prevailed in England and Ireland, in 1603, and in London 30,000 persons died. In 1611, 200,000 died of pestilence, in Constantinople; 35,000 persons died of an epidemic in London, in 1625. In 1632 a general mortality prevailed in France; 60,000 died in Lyons. The plague was brought from Sardinia to Naples, in 1656, and 400,000 of the Neapolitans died, in six months. In the great plague of London, of 1665, described by De Foe, 68,596 persons died. In 1720, 60,000 perished of the plague at Marseilles. An account is given, by the Abbe Mariti, of one of the most awful plagues ever known, which prevailed in Syria, in 1760. In Persia, 80,000 inhabitants of Bassorah, died of the plague, in 1773. In 1792, the plague destroyed 800,000 persons in Egypt. In 1799, 247,000 died of the plague at Fez; and in Barbary, 3000 daily, for several days. In 1804 and '5, an immense number were destroyed, by the plague, in Gibraltar. At the same place, in 1828, many were swept away, by an epidemic fever, scarce distinguishable from the plague. Verily the vocation of an undertaker is anything but a sinecure! But, in such terrible emergencies, as were hourly occurring, during the prevalence of the great plague of London, such an operator as Pontraci would have cast aside all thoughts of shrouds and coffins. In one single night 4000 died. The hearses were common dead carts; and the continued cry, _bring out your dead_, rang through every heart. Defoe rates the victims of the plague of 1665, at 100,000. At present, we have a deeper interest in the pestilence of modern times, though by some accounted of great antiquity. The Indian or Asiatic cholera traversed the north, east and south of Europe, and the countries of Asia, and, in two years, prostrated 900,000 victims. It subsequently appeared in England, at Sunderland, Oct. 26, 1831; in Scotland, at Edinburgh, Feb. 6, 1832; in Ireland, at Dublin, March 3, 1832. The mortality was great, but much less than upon the continent. Between March and August, 1832, 18,000 died of cholera, in Paris. In July and August, 1837, it reappeared in Rome, the Two Sicilies, Genoa, Berlin, and some other cities. Its ravages, in this country, were far less notable, than in many others. It is very wise to cast about us, and determine what we will do, if it should come again, and it is very likely to take us in its progress. But let us not forget, that it will most easily approach us, through our fears; and probably, in no disease, are fear and grief more fatal _avant couriers_, than in affections of the abdominal viscera. I am half inclined to the opinion of a charming old lady of my acquaintance, who, after listening to a learned discussion, as to the seat of the soul--the fountain of sensibility,--and whether or not it was seated in the conarion--the pineal gland--gave her decided opinion, that it was seated in the bowels. No. XXVIII. The dead speak from their coffins--from their very graves--and verily the heart of the true mourner hath ears to hear. Gloves and rings are the valedictories of the dead--their _vales_, or parting tokens, received by the mourners, at the hand of some surviving friend. This appropriated word, _vale_, as almost every one knows, is the leave-taking expression of the mourners; and, when anglicised, and used in the plural number, as one syllable, signifies those _vales_ or vails, tokens, in various forms, from shillings to crown pieces, bestowed by parting visitors, on domestics, from the head waiter to the scullion. They are intended as leave tokens. Every servant, in the families of the nobility, from the highest to the lowest, expects a _vale_, not in the classical sense of Menalcas--_Longum, formose, vale, vale_, but in lawful money, intelligible coin. This practice had become so oppressive to visitors, in the early part of the reign of George III., that Sir Jonas Hanway, remarkable, among other things, for his controversy with Dr. Johnson, on the subject of tea drinking, wrote and published eight letters to the Duke of Newcastle, against the custom of giving vails, in which he relates some very amusing anecdotes. Mr. Hanway, being quietly reproached, by a friend, in high station, for not accepting his invitations to dinner, more frequently, frankly replied, "Indeed, my Lord, I cannot afford it." He recites the manner of leaving a gentleman's house, where he had dined; the servants, as usual, flocked around him--"your great coat, Sir Jonas"--a shilling--"your hat, sir:" a shilling--"stick, sir:" a shilling--"umbrella, sir:" a shilling--"sir, your gloves"--"well, keep the gloves, they are not worth the shilling." A remarkable example of the insolence of a pampered menial was related to Mr. Hanway, by Sir Timothy Waldo. He had dined with the Duke of Newcastle: as he was departing, and handing over his coin to the train of servants, that lined the hall, he put a crown into the hand of the chief cook, who returned it, saying, "I never take silver, sir." "Indeed"--Sir Timothy replied, returning the piece to his pocket, "I never give gold." Sir Jonas was an excellent man; and, whatever objections he may have had to the practice of giving extravagant vails to servants, I think he would have little or nothing to say, against the practice of giving such vails, as the dead may be supposed, vicariously, to bestow upon the living, in the form of rings and gloves. The dead, it must be conceded, seem not so much disposed to give vails, at present, as they were, one hundred years ago. In such dispensations, in the olden time, the good man, the clergyman, was seldom forgotten. Gloves and rings were showered down, upon the Lord's anointed, at weddings, christenings, and funerals. When a child, I was very much puzzled, upon two points; first, what became of all the old moons, and, secondly, what the minister did with his gloves and rings. If he had had the hands of Briareus, he could not have worn them all. An interesting little volume is now lying upon my table, which explains the mystery, not at all, in relation to the moons, but most happily, in respect to rings and gloves. It is the Astronomical Diary or Almanac of Nathaniel Ames, Boston, New England, printed by J. Draper, for the booksellers, 1748. This little book is interleaved; and the blank leaves are written over, in the hand-writing of good old Andrew Eliot, who, April 14, 1742, was ordained pastor of the new North Church, in Boston, as colleague with Mr. Webb, where, possessing very little of the locomotive or migratory spirit of the moderns, this excellent man remained, till his death, Sept. 13, 1778. If gall and wormwood are essential to the perfection of Christian theology, Dr. Eliot was singularly deficient, as a teacher of religion. His sermons were very full of practical godliness, and singularly free from brimstone and fire. He was elected President of Harvard University, but his attachment to his people caused him to decline the appointment. After this passing tribute, let us return to the little Almanac of 1748. On the inside of the marble cover the first entry commences thus: "Gloves, 1748, January." The gloves, received by Dr. Eliot, are set against particular names, and under every month, in the year. Certain names are marked with asterisks, doubtless denoting, that the parties were dead, or _stelligeri_, after the fashion of the College catalogue; and thus the good doctor discriminated, between funerals, and weddings and christenings. Although a goodly number of rings are enrolled, together with the gloves, yet a page is devoted to rings, exclusively, in the middle of the book. This is not arranged, under months, but years; and commences, in 1741, the year before he was ordained, as colleague with Mr. Webb. At the bottom of the record, the good man states how many pairs were kid; how many were lambswool; and how many were long or women's gloves, intended, of course, for the parson's lady. These rings and gloves were sold, by the worthy doctor, with the exception of such, as were distributed, in his own household, not a small one, for he left eleven children. A prejudice might have prevailed, an hundred years ago, against dead men's gloves, similar to that, recorded in the proverb, against dead men's shoes; certain it is, these gloves did not meet with a very ready market. It appears by the record, in the doctor's own hand, that Mrs. Avis was entrusted with fifteen pairs of women's and three dozen of men's; and returned, unsold, eight pairs of women's, and one dozen and ten pairs of men's. A dozen pairs of men's were committed to Mrs. Langstaff; half a dozen women's to Mr. Langdon, and seventeen pairs to Captain Millens. What a glove and ring market the dear Doctor's study must have been. In thirty-two years, he appears to have received two thousand nine hundred and forty pairs of gloves, at funerals, weddings, and baptisms. Of these he sold to the amount of fourteen hundred and forty one pounds, eighteen shillings, and one penny, old tenor, equal to about six hundred and forty dollars. He also sold a goodly number of his rings. From all this, the conclusion is irresistible, that this truly good man and faithful minister must have been, if I may use the common expression, hand and glove with his parishioners. The little volume before me contains the record of other matters, highly interesting, doubtless, in their day but of precious little moment, at the present hour. Of what importance can it be, I beg leave to inquire, for any one to know, on what precise day, one hundred years ago, the worthy pastor borrowed a box of candles of Deacon Langdon, or a loaf of sugar of his own father, or ten shillings, old tenor, of Deacon Grant! Who, of the present generation, cares, on what day, one hundred years ago, he repaid those three pounds to Deacon Barrett! Of what consequence to any living mortal can it be, that, on the thirteenth day of April, one hundred years ago, Betty Bouvè came to live at the manse, as a maid! It is past. The last of that box of candles has burnt down into the socket, long ago. That sugar has dissolved, and lost its sweetness. And Betty Bouvè! The places that knew her know her no more. Her sweeping days are over; for time, with its irresistible broom, hath swept her from the face of the earth, and given her the grave for a dustpan. The good old man himself has been called to the account of his stewardship. "It was a pleasant day," saith Father Gannett, on the fly-leaf of his almanac, "Sept. 15, 1778, when near four hundred couples and thirty-two carriages followed the remains of Dr. Andrew Eliot from his house, before the south side of his meeting-house, into Fore Street, up Cross Street, through Black Horse Lane, to Corpse Hill." I adopt Mr. Gannett's orthography, though rather less accurate than applicable. No. XXIX. The true value of an enlightened conscience may be duly estimated by him, who has enjoyed the luxury of travelling in the dark, with the assistance of a lantern, without a candle. A man, who has a very strong sense of duty, and very little common sense, is apt to be a very troublesome fellow; for he is likely to unite the stupidity of an ass with the obstinacy of a mule. Yet such there are; and, however inconvenient, individually, the evil is immeasurably increased, when they become gregarious, and form a party, for any purpose whatever. Such conscience parties have existed, in every age and nation. A few individuals, of higher intelligence, dissatisfied with their civil, political, military, religious, or literary importance, and fatally bent upon distinction, are necessary to elevate some enormous green cheese high in the firmament, and persuade their followers, that it is neither more nor less than the moon, at full. Herod was the great director of that conscience party, that believed it to be their bounden duty, to murder all the little children in Judea, under a certain age. The terrible sacrifice, on St. Bartholomew's eve, was conducted by a conscience party. The burnings and starvings, in bloody Mary's reign, were planned and executed, by a conscience party. In no country has conscience been so very rampant, as in Ireland, from the days of Heremon and King Olam Fodla, to the present hour. Almost every reader is aware how conscientiously Archbishop Sharp was murdered, in presence of his daughter, in Scotland. The widows of Hindostan, when they attempt to escape from the funeral pile, on which their late husbands are burning, are driven back into the flames, by a conscience party. It is well known, that certain inhabitants of India deposit their aged and decrepit parents, upon the very margin of the river, that the rising waters may bear them away. This is not the act of a few individuals; but the common practice, clearly indicating the existence of a conscience party, who undoubtedly believe they are acting, in a most filial and dutiful manner, and doing the very best thing in the world, for all parties. Infanticide is tolerated in China. Very little account is made of female babies there. This has been doubted and denied. Doubt and denial are of no use. There is a conscience party there, who believe it to be their duty to their male babies, to drown the females, unless they are pretty, and then they have a chance for life, in being sold for concubines. Among the numerous and best modern authorities, on this point, is Gutzlaff, whose voyages, along the coast of China, were published, in London, 1834. "At the beach of Amoy," says he, "we were shocked, at the spectacle of a pretty, new-born babe, which, shortly before, had been killed. We asked some of the bystanders what this meant; they answered with indifference, 'it is only a girl.'" On page 174, Gutzlaff remarks, "It is a general custom among them to drown a large proportion of their new-born female children. This unnatural crime is so common, that it is perpetrated, without any feeling, and even in a laughing mood; and, to ask a man of distinction, whether he has daughters, is a mark of great rudeness." Earle, in his narrative of New Zealand, London, 1832, states that the practice existed there. The insurrection of Shays, in this Commonwealth, in 1787, was a matter of conscience, beyond all doubt. He and many of his associates believed themselves a conscience party. After General Lincoln had suppressed the rebellion, great lenity was shown to the prisoners--not an individual was executed--and Shays, who died in 1825, at the age of 85, was even pensioned, in his old age, for his prior services in the revolution. The revolt of the Pennsylvania line, in 1781, was, I admit, less an affair of the conscience, than of the stomach and bowels; for the poor fellows were nearly starved to death. The insurrection under Fries, commonly called the whiskey rebellion, in Western Pennsylvania, in 1792, was a different affair. A conscience party resolved to drink nothing but untaxed whiskey--they conscientiously believed the flavor to be utterly ruined, by the excise. It is certain, that, when General Washington moved against the rebels, there was conscience enough, among them, to make cowards of them all, for they scattered, in all directions. A conscience party existed, in the early settlement of our country, when our pious ancestors, having fled to the howling wilderness, that they might enjoy liberty of thought, on religious subjects, began to hang the poor Quakers, for the glory of God. Never before had there been such a conscience party in Massachusetts, as from 1689 to 1693. It was then Cotton Mather exclaimed from the pulpit, that witchcraft was the "most nefandous high treason against the Majesty on high." It was then, that he satisfied himself, by repeated trials, that devils were skilled in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. It was then, that they hanged old women, for riding on broomsticks through the air; a mode of conveyance, which Lord Mansfield declared, long after, to be perfectly lawful, for all who preferred that mode of equitation. A conscience party has recently appeared, in this country, which it is not easy to describe. Every other party seems to have contributed to its formation. It is a sort of political mosaic, made up of tag, rag, and bobtail. Some of the prominent members of this party were whigs, but yesterday; and yet they have put forth all their energies, to elect, as president, a man, whom they and all other whigs have hitherto opposed, and denounced, and who, it was manifest, from the beginning, could not possibly be elected. This man has been accounted, by the whigs, a political charlatan; and all that he has done, to obtain the support of this conscience party, such of them at least, as were once whigs, is to avow certain sentiments, on the subject of slavery, the very contrary of those, which he has hitherto maintained, most openly and zealously. No grave and reflecting whig puts any more confidence, in the promises of this political spin-button, than he would put, in the words of Nicholas Machiavelli. Nor could this candidate do more to check the progress of slavery, than every honest whig believes will be done, by the candidate of their party, who certainly resembles Washington, in three particulars; he is himself a slaveholder--he is an honest man--and he wears the same political phylactery, "_I will be the president of the people, not of a party_." In consideration of the limit of power, neither of these candidates can do more than the other, for the object in view, if they were equally honest, which nobody dreams of, unless he dreams in Sleepy Hollow. If there had been an anti-cholera party, Van Buren might have commanded suffrages, as sensibly, by pledging himself to do all in his power, to prevent its extension. The remaining candidate, it is agreed, would, if elected, have turned the hopes, one and all, of both whig and conscience parties topsy-turvy. His election, it is clear, was made more probable, by every vote, given by a whig to that candidate, whose election was clearly impossible. These irregular whigs, have, therefore, spent their ammunition, as profitably, as the old covenanter spent his, who fired a horse pistol against the walls of Sterling Castle. Such is the conscience party. When I refer to the universal consent of the whigs, during the former canvass for Martin Van Buren, that he was, politically, the very devil incarnate; and, in making a selection of those, who were the loudest, and longest, and the most vehement of his antagonists, find them to be the very leaders of the present movement, in his favor; I am reminded of Peter Pindar's pleasant story of the chambermaid and the spider; and, not having my copy of Peter at hand, I will endeavor to relate the tale in prose, as well as I am able. A chambermaid, in going her rounds, observed an enormous spider, black and bloated, so far from his hole of refuge, that, lifting her broom, she exclaimed, "Now, you ugly brute, I have you! You are such a sly, cunning knave, and have such a happy non-committal way with you, that I never have been able to catch you before; for, the moment I raised my broom, you were out of sight, forsooth, and perfectly safe, in that Kinderhook of a hole of yours--but, now prepare yourself, for your hour has come." The spider turned every one of his eight eyes down upon the chambermaid, and, extending his two forelegs in a beseeching manner, calmly replied, "Strike, peerless maid, but hear me! I have given you infinite trouble, and have been a very bad fellow, I admit. Crafty and cruel, I have been an unmitigated oppressor of flies, and all inferior insects. I have sucked their blood, and lived upon their marrow. But now my conscience has awakened, and I am in favor of letting flies go free. It is not in quest of flies, that I am here, sweet maid; (and then he seemed perfectly convulsed;) I am changed at heart, and become a new spider. Pardon me for speaking the truth; my only object, in being here, is, from this elevated spot, to survey your incomparable charms." The chambermaid lowered her broom; and gently said, as she walked away, "Well, a spider is not such a horrid creature, after all." I may be thought, in these remarks, to have offended against the dictum--_ne sutor ultra crepidam_. Surely I am not guilty--my dealings are with _the dead_. Perhaps I am mistaken. The conscience party may not be dead, but cataleptic--destined to rise again--to fall more feebly than before. No. XXX. Funerals, in the earlier days of Rome, must have been very showy affairs. They were torch-light processions, by night. You will gather some information, on this subject, by consulting a note of Servius, on Virg. �n. xi. 143. Cicero, de legibus, ii. 26, says, that Demetrius ordered nocturnal funerals, to check the taste for extravagance, in these matters: "Iste igitur sumptum minuit, non solum poena, sed etiam tempore; ante lucem enim jussit efferri." A more ancient law, of similar import, will be found recited, in the oration of Demosthenes, against Macartatus, viii., 82, Dove's London ed. Orat. Attici. _Funes_ or _funiculi_ were small ropes or cords, covered with wax or tallow; such were the torches, used on such occasions; hence the word _funus_ or funeral. A confirmation of this may be found in the note of Servius, �n. i. 727. In a later age, funerals were celebrated in the forenoon. There were some things done, at ancient funerals, which would be accounted very extraordinary at the present day. What should we say to a stuffed effigy of the defunct, composed entirely of cinnamon, and paraded in the procession! Plutarch says; "Such was the quantity of spices brought in by the women, at Sylla's funeral, that, exclusive of those carried in two hundred and ten great baskets, a figure of Sylla at full length, and of a lictor besides, was made entirely of cinnamon, and the choicest frankincense." At the head of Roman funerals, came the _tibicines_, pipers, and trumpeters, immediately following the _designator_, or undertaker, and the lictors, dressed in black. Next came the "præficæ, quæ dabant cæteris modum plangendi." These were women hired to mourn, and sing the funeral song, who are popularly termed _howlers_. To this practice Horace alludes, in his Art of Poetry: Ut, qui conducti plorant in funere, dicunt, Et faciunt prope plura dolentibus ex animo-- which Francis well translates: As hirelings, paid for the funereal tear, Outweep the sorrows of a friend sincere. I once witnessed an exhibition of this kind, in one of the West India Islands. A planter's funeral occurred, at Christianstadt, the west end of Santa Cruz. After the corpse had been lowered into the grave, a wild ululation arose, from the mouths of some hundred slaves, who had followed from the plantation--"Oh, what good massa he was--good, dear, old massa gone--no poor slave eber hab such kind massa--no more any such good, kind massa come agin." I noticed one hard-favored fellow, who made a terrible noise, and upon whose features, as he turned the whites of his big eyes up toward heaven, there was a sinister, and, now and then, rather a comical expression, and who, when called to assist in filling up, appeared to throw on the earth, as if he did it from the heart. After the work was done, I called him aside. "You have lost an excellent master," said I. The fellow looked warily round, and, perceiving that he was not overheard, replied, in an undertone--"No massa, he bad mule--big old villain--me glad the debble got him." Having thus relieved himself of his feelings, he hastened to join the gang, and I soon saw him, as they filed off, on their way back to the plantation, throwing his brawny arms aloft, and joining in the cry--"Oh, what kind, good massa he was!" Upon inquiry, I learned, that this planter was a very bad mule indeed, a merciless old taskmaster. Not more than ten flute players were allowed, at a funeral, by the Twelve Tables. The flutes and trumpets were large and of lugubrious tones; thus Ovid, Fast. vi. 660: Cantabat moestis tibia funeribus; and Am. ii. 66: Pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba. Nothing appears more incomprehensible, in connection with this subject, than the employment of players and buffoons, by the ancients, at their funerals. This practice is referred to, by Suetonius, in his Life of Tiberius, sec. 57. We are told by Dyonisius, vii. 72, that these Ludii, Histriones, and Scurræ danced and sang. One of this class of performers was a professed mimic, and was styled _Archimimus_. Strange as such a proceeding may appear to us, it was his business, to imitate the voice, manner, and gestures of the defunct; he supported the dead man's character, and repeated his words and sayings. In the Life of Vespasian, sec. 19, Suetonius thus describes the proceeding: In funere, Favor, archimimus, personam ejus ferens, imitansque, ut est mos, facta ac dicta vivi, etc. This Favor must have been a comical fellow, and is as free with the dead, as Killigrew, Charles the Second's jester, was, with the living; as the reader will perceive, if he will refer to the passage in Suetonius: for the fellow openly cracks his jokes, on the absurd expense of the funeral. This, we should suppose, was no subject for joking, if we may believe the statement of Pliny, xxxiii. 47, that one C. Cæcillius Claudius, a private citizen, left rather more than nine thousand pounds sterling, by his will, for his funeral expenses. After the archimimus, came the freemen of the deceased, _pileati_; that is, wearing their caps of liberty. Men, not unfrequently, as a last act, to swell their funeral train, freed their slaves. Before the corpse, were carried the images of the defunct and of his ancestors, but not of such, as had been found guilty of any heinous crime. Thus Tacitus, ii. 32, relates, that the image of Libo was not permitted to accompany the obsequies of any of his posterity. The origin of the common practice of marching at military funerals, with arms reversed, is of high antiquity. Thus Virgil xi. 93, at the funeral of Pallas--_versis Arcades armis_: and upon another occasion, _versi fasces_ occur in Tacitus iii. 2, referring to the lictors. In our cities and large towns, the corpse is commonly borne to the grave, in a hearse, or on the shoulders of paid bearers. Originally it was otherwise. The office of supporting the body to the grave was supposed to belong, of right, and duty, to relatives and friends; or, in the case of eminent persons, to public functionaries. Thus, in Tacitus, iii. 2, we find the expression, _tribunorum centurionumque humeris cineres portabantur_: and, upon the death of Augustus, Tac. i. 8, it was carried by acclamation, as we moderns say, _corpus ad rogum humeris senatorum ferendum_. The conduct of both sexes, at funerals, was, in some respects, rather ridiculous, in those days. Virgil says of King Latinus, when he lost his wife, --------it, scissa veste, Latinus, Canitiem immundo perfusam pulvere turpans; which means, in plain English, that the old monarch went about, with his coat torn, defiling his white hair with filthy dust. Cicero, in his Tusculan Questions, iii. 26, is entirely of this opinion: detestabilia genera lugendi, pædores, muliebres lacerationes genarum, pectoris, feminum, capitis percussiones--detestable kinds of mourning, covering the body with filth, women tearing their cheeks, bosoms, and limbs, and knocking their heads. Tibullus, in the concluding lines of his charming elegy to Delia, the first of his first book, though he evidently derives much happiness, from the conviction, that she will mourn for him, and weep over his funeral pile, implores her to spare her lovely cheeks and flowing hair. No classical reader will censure me, for transcribing this very fine passage: Te spectem, suprema mihi quum venerit hora, Te teneam moriens, deficiente manu. Flebis et arsuro positum me, Delia, lecto. Tristibus et lacrymis oscula mixta dabis. Flebis; non tua sunt duro præcordia ferro, Vincta, nec in tenero stat tibi corde silex. Illo non juvenis poterit de funere quisquam Lumina, non virgo, sicca referre domum. Tu manes ne læde meos: sed parce solutis Crinibus, et teneris, Delia, parce genis. The _suttee_, or sacrifice of the widows of Hindostan, on the funeral pile of their husbands, was not more a matter of course, than the laceration of the hair and cheeks, among Roman women. It was undoubtedly accounted disreputable, for a widow to appear in public, after the recent funeral of her husband, with locks unpulled and cheeks unscratched. To such extremity had this absurd practice proceeded, that the fifth law of the tenth of the Twelve Tables, to which reference has been made, in a former number, was enacted to prevent it--_mulieres genas ne radunto_. No discreet matron perpetrates any such absurdity, in modern times. The hair and cheeks of the departed have, occasionally, given evidence of considerable laceration, from some cause unknown; but neither the law of the Tables, nor the pathos of a Tibullus is commonly required, to prevent a Christian widow, from laying violent hands, upon her cheeks or her hair. No. XXXI. The cholera seems to be forgotten--but without reason--for the yellowest and most malignant of all yellow fevers is down upon us, proving fatal to the peace of many families, and sweeping away our citizens, by hundreds. The distemper appears to have originated in California, and to have been brought hither, in letters from Governor Mason and others. It is deeply to be deplored, that these letters, which are producing all this mischief, had not been subjected to the process of smoking and sprinkling with vinegar; for the disease is highly contagious. This fever differs entirely from the _febris flava_--the _typhus icteroides_ of _Sauvages_. The symptoms are somewhat peculiar. The pulse is quick and fluttering--the head hot--the patient neglects his business, bolts his food, and wanders about--sometimes apparently delirious, and, during the paroxysms, calls furiously for a pickaxe and a tin pan. But the most certain indication, that the disease has entered into the system, is, not that the patient himself becomes yellow, but that everything, upon which he turns his eyes, assumes the yellow appearance of gold. The nature of this distemper will, however, be much better understood, by the presentation of a few cases of actual occurrence. I. Jeduthan Smink--a carpenter, having a wife and two children, residing at No. 9 Loafer's Lane. This is a strongly marked case. Mr. Smink, who is about five and twenty years of age, has always entertained the opinion, that work did him harm, and that drink did him good--labors--the only way in which he will labor--under the delusion, that all is gold that glistens--packed up his warming pan and brass kettle, to send them to the mint. II. Laban Larkin, a farmer--caught the fever of a barber, while being shaved--persuaded that the unusual yellowness of his squashes and carrots can only be accounted for, by the presence of gold dust--turned a field of winter rye topsy turvy, in search of it--believes finally, in the sliding qualities of subterraneous treasure--thinks his gold has slipped over into his neighbor's field of winter rye--offers to dig it all up, at the halves--excited and abusive, because his neighbor declines the offer--told him he was a superannuated ass, and behind the times. III. Molly Murphy resides, when at home, which is seldom, in Shelaly Court, near the corner, easily found by any one, who will follow his nose; has a husband and one child, a dutiful boy, who vends matches and penny papers, on week days, and steals, on Sundays, for the support of the family. Molly can read; has read what Gov. Mason writes about pigs rooting up gold, by mistake, for groundnuts--her brain much disturbed--has an impression, that gold may be found almost anywhere--with a tin pan, and no other assistance but her son, Tooley Murphy, she has actually dug over and washed a pile of filth, in front of her dwelling, which the city scavengers have never been able materially to diminish--urges her husband to be "aff wid the family for Killyfarny, where the very wheelbarries is made out of goold." Dreams of nothing but gold dust, and firmly believes it to be the very dust we shall all return to--while asleep, seized her husband by the ears, and could scarcely be sufficiently awakened, to comprehend that she had not captured the golden calf. Let us be grave. I shall not inquire, if Bishop Archelaus was right in the opinion, that the original golden calf was made, not by the Israelites, but by Egyptians, who were the companions of their flight; nor if the modern idol be a descendant in the right line. It is somewhat likely, that the golden calf of 1848, will grow up to be a terrible bull, for some of the adventurers. That there is gold in California, no one doubts. Governor Mason's standard of quantity is rather alarming--there is gold enough, says he, in the country, drained by the Sacramento and Joaquin rivers, and more than enough, "_to pay the cost of the present war with Mexico, a hundred times over_." This is encouraging, and may lead us to look upon the prospect of another, with more complacency; though the whole of this treasure will not buy back a single slaughtered victim--not one husband to the widow--nor one parent to an orphan child--nor one stay and staff, the joy and the pride of her life, to the lone mother. _N'importe_--we have gold and glory! "The people," says Mr. Mason, "before engaged in cultivating their small patches of ground, and guarding their herds of cattle and horses, have all gone to the mines. Laborers of every trade have left their work benches, and tradesmen their shops. Sailors desert their ships, as fast as they arrive on the coast." There is a marvellous fascination in all this, no doubt; and as fast and as far as the knowledge radiates, thousands upon thousands will be rushing to the spot. The shilling here, however, which procures a given amount of meat, fire and clothes, is equal to the sum, whatever it may be, which, there procures the same amount and quality. Loafers and the lovers of ease and indolence, who are tobacco chewers, to a man, are desirous of flying to this El Dorado. Let them have a care: an ounce of gold dust, valued at $12 there, though worth $18 here, is said to have been paid, for a plug of tobacco. A traveller in Caffraria, having paid five cowries, (shells, the money of the country) for some article, complained, that forty were demanded, for a like article, in a village, not far off; and inquired if the article was scarce; "no," was the reply, "but cowries are very plenty." Our adventurers intend to remain, perhaps, only till they obtain a competency. Even that is not the work of a day; and will be longer, or shorter, in the ratio of the consumption of means, for daily support, during the operation. There will, doubtless, be some difference also, as to the meaning of the word competency. An intelligent merchant, of this city, once defined it to mean a little more, in every individual's opinion, than he hath. Like the lock of hay, which Miss Edgeworth says is attached to the extremity of the pole, and which is ever just so far in advance of the hungry horses, in an Irish jaunting car, so competency seems to be forever leading us onward, yet is never fairly within our grasp. John Graunt, of whom a good account may be found in Bayle, says, that, if the art of making gold were known, and put extensively in practice, it would raise the value of silver. Of course it would, and of everything else, so far as the quantity of gold, given in exchange for any article, is the representative of value. As gold becomes plenty, it will be employed for other uses, sauce-pans perhaps, as well as for the increase of the circulating medium. The amount of gold, which has passed through the British mint, from the accession of Elizabeth, 1558, to 1840, is, according to Professor Farraday, 3,353,561 pounds weight troy; and nearly one half of this was coined during the reign of George III. Gold is a good thing, in charitable fingers; but it too frequently constructs for itself a chancel in our hearts. It then becomes the golden calf, and man an idolater. How dearly we get to love the chink and the glitter of our gold! How much like death it does seem, to go off 'change, before the last watch! Three score years and ten, devoted to the turning of pennies! How many of us, after we have had our three warnings, still hobble up and down, day after day, infinitely more anxious about pennies, than we were, fifty years ago, about pounds! An angel, the spirit, for example, of Michael de Montaigne, perched upon the City Hall--the eastern end of the ridge pole--must be tempted to laugh heartily. Without any angelic pretensions, I have done so myself, when, upon certain emergencies, the kegs, boxes, and bags of gold and silver, hand-carted and hand borne, have gone from bank to bank, backward and forward, often, in a morning, like the slipper, in the _jeu de pantoufle_! What an interest is upon the faces of the crowd, who gaze upon the very kegs and boxes; feasting upon the bald idea--the unprofitable consciousness--that gold and silver are within; and reminding one of old George Herbert's lines,-- "Wise men with pity do behold Fools worship mules, that carry gold." "Verily," saith an ancient writer, "traffickers and the getters of gain, upon the mart, are like unto pismires, each struggling to bear off the largest mouthful." I am glad to see that the moderns are collecting the remains of good old George Herbert, and giving them an elegant _surtout_. His address to money is a jewel, and none the worse for its antique setting: "Money! Thou bane of bliss, and source of wo! Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh and fine? I know thy parentage is base and low; Man found thee, poor and dirty, in a mine. "Surely thou didst so little contribute To this great kingdom, which thou now hast got, That he was fain, when thou wert destitute, To dig thee out of thy dark cave and grot. "Then, forcing thee by fire, he made thee bright; Nay, thou hast got the face of man, for we Have, with our stamp and seal, transferred our right; Thou art the man, and we but dross to thee! "Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich, And, while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch." The mere selfish getters of gain, who dispense it not, are, _civiliter et humaniter mortui_--dead as a door nail--dead dogs in the manger! I come not to bury them, at present; but, if possible, to awaken some of them with my penny trumpet; otherwise they may die in good earnest in their sins; their last breath giving evidence of their ruling passion--muttering not the _tête d'armée_ of Napoleon, but the last words of that accomplished Israelite, who caused his gold to be counted out, before his failing eyes--_per shent_. No. XXXII. _Making mourning_, as an abstract phrase, is about as intelligible, as _making fish_. These arbitrary modes of expression have ever been well enough understood, nevertheless, by those employed in the respective operations. _Making mourning_, in ancient times, was assigned to that class of hired women, termed _præficæ_, to whom I have had occasion to refer. They are thus described, by Stephans--adhiberi solebant funeri, mercede conductæ, ut flerent, et fortia facta laudarent--they were called to funerals, and paid, to shed tears, and relate the famous actions of the defunct. Doubtless, by practice, and continual exercise of the will over the lachrymary organs, they acquired the power of forcing mechanical tears. We have a specimen of this power, in the case of Miss Sophy Streatfield, so often referred to, by Madame D'Arblay, in her account of those happy days at Mrs. Thrale's. _Making mourning_, in modern times, is, with a few touching exceptions, confined to that important class, the dress-makers. The time allowed, for mourning, was determined, by the laws of Numa. Plutarch informs us, that no mourning was allowed, for a child, that died under three years, and for all others, a month, for every year it had lived, but never to exceed ten, which was the longest term, allowed for any mourning. We often meet with the term, _luctus annus_, the year of mourning; but the year of Romulus contained but ten months; and, though Numa added two, to the calendar, the term of mourning remained unchanged. The howlers, or wailing women, were employed also in Greece, and in Judea. Thus in Jeremiah ix. 17, _call for the mourning women, &c., and let them make haste and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with tears, &c._ By the laws of Numa, widows were required to mourn ten months or during the year of Romulus. Thus Ovid, Fast. i. 35: Per totidem menses a funere conjugis uxor Sustinet in vidua tristia signa domo. Numa was rather severe upon widows. The _tristia signa_, spoken of by Ovid, were sufficiently mournful. According to Kirchmaun de Fun. iv. 11, they were not to stir abroad in public--to abstain entirely from all entertainments--to lay aside every kind of ornament--to dress in black--and not even to kindle a fire, in their houses. Not content with stinting and freezing these poor, lone creatures, to death, Numa forbade them to repeat the matrimonial experiment, for ten months. Indeed, it was accounted infamous, for a widow to marry, within that period. As though he were resolved to add insult to injury, he, according to Plutarch, permitted those to violate this law, who would make up their minds, to sacrifice a cow with calf. This unnatural sacrifice was intended, by Numa, to frighten the widows. Doubtless, in many instances, the legislative bugbear was effectual; but it is quite probable there were some courageous women, in those days, as there are, at present, who would have slaughtered a whole drove, rather than yield the tender point. The Jews expressed their grief, for the death of their near friends, by weeping, and crying aloud, beating their breasts, rending their clothes, tearing their flesh, pulling their hair, and starving themselves. They neither dressed, nor made their beds, nor washed, nor saw visitors, nor shaved, nor cut their nails, and made their toilets with sackcloth and ashes. The mourning of the Jews lasted commonly seven days, and never more than thirty--quite long enough, we should think, for such an exhibition of filth and folly. The Greeks also did much of all this--they covered themselves with dust and dirt, and rolled in the mire, and beat their breasts, and tore their faces. The color of the mourning garb, among the Romans, was originally black--from the time of Domitian, white. At present, the color of the mourning dress, in Europe is black--in China white--in Turkey blue or violet--in Egypt yellow--in Ethiopia brown. There have come down to us two admirable letters from Seneca, 63, and 99, on the subject of lamentation for the dead; the first to Lucilius, after the death of his friend, Flaccus--the second to Lucilius, communicating the letter Seneca had written to Murullus, on the death of his son. These letters must be read, _cum grano salis_, on account of the stoical philosophy of the writer. He admits the propriety of decent sorrow, but is opposed to violent and unmeasured lamentations--_nec sicci sint occuli, amisso amico, nec fluant_--shed tears, if you have lost your friend, but do not cry your eyes out--_lacrimandum est, non plorandum_--let there be weeping, but not wailing. He cites, for the advantage of Lucilius, the counsel of Ulysses to Achilles, whose grief, for the death of Patroclus, had become inordinate, to give one whole day to his sorrow, and have done with it. He considers it not honorable, for men, to exhibit their grief, beyond the term of two or three days. Such, upon the authority of Tacitus De Mor. Germ. 27, was the practice of the ancient Germans. Funerum nulla ambitio: ... struem rogi nec vestibus, nec odoribus, cumulant: ... lamenta ac lacrimas cito, dolorem et tristitiam tarde, ponunt; feminis lugere honestum est; viris meminisse: there was no pride of funereal parade; they heaped no garments, no odors, upon the pile; they speedily laid aside their tears and laments; not so their grief and sorrow. It was becoming, for _women_ to mourn; for _men_ to cherish in their memories. In his letter to Lucilius, Seneca enters upon an investigation, as to the real origin of all this apparent sorrow, so freely and generally manifested, for the dead; and his sober conviction breaks forth, in the words--Nemo tristis sibi est. O infelicem stultitiam! est aliqua et doloris ambitio! No one mourns for himself alone. Oh miserable folly! There is ambition, even in our sorrow! This passage recalls Martial's epigram, 34, De Gellia: Amissum non flet, quum sola est Gellia, patrem; Si quis adest, jussæ prosiliunt lacrymæ. Non dolet hic, quisquis landari, Gellia, quærit; Ille dolet vere, qui sine teste dolet. Arthur Murphy, in his edition of Dr. Johnson's works, ascribes to that great man the following extraordinary lines: If the man, who turnips cries, Cry not, when his father dies, 'Tis a proof, that he had rather Have a turnip than his father. Under the doctor's sanction, for a bagatelle, I may offer a translation of Martial's epigram: When no living soul is nigh, Gellia's filial grief is dry; Call, some morning, and I'll warrant Gellia'l shed a perfect torrent. Tears unforc'd true sorrow draws: Gellia weeps for mere applause. It is our fortune to witness not a little of this, in our line. We are compelled to drop in, at odd, disjointed moments, when the not altogether disagreeable occupations of the survivors contrast, rather oddly, to be sure, with the graver duties to the dead. A rich widow, like Dr. Johnson's _protègè_, in his letter to Chesterfield, is commonly overburdened with help. It is quite surprising, to observe the solicitude about her health, and how very fervent the hope of her neighbors becomes, that she may not have taken cold. The most prominent personages, after the widow and the next of kin, are the coffin-maker and the dress-maker--both are solicitous of making an excellent fit. Those, who, like myself, have had long practice in families, are often admitted to familiar interviews with the chief mourners, which are likely to take place, in the midst of dress-makers and artists of all sorts. How many acres of black crape I have witnessed, in half a century! "Mr. Abner--good Mr. Abner," said Mrs. ----, "dear Mr. Abner," said she, "I shall not forget your kindness--how pleasant it is, on these occasions, to see a face one knows. You buried my first husband--I thought there was nothing like that: and you buried my second husband--and, oh dear me, I thought there was nothing like that--and now, oh dear, dear me, you are going to bury my third! How I am supported, it is hard to tell--but the widow's God will carry me through this, and other trials, for aught I know--Miss Buddikin, don't you think that dress should be fuller behind?" "Oh dear ma'am, your fine shape, you know," said Miss Buddikin. "There now, Miss Buddikin, at any other time I dare say I should be pleased with your flattery, but grief has brought down my flesh and spirits terribly. Good morning, dear Mr. Abner--remember there will be no postponement, on account of the weather." No. XXXIII. I am sad. It is my duty to record an event of deep and universal interest. On Sunday night, precisely as the clock of the Old South Church struck the very first stroke of twelve, departed this life, of no particular malady, but from a sort of constitutional decay, to which the family has ever been periodically liable, and at the same age, at which his ancestors have died, for many generations, A. Millesimus Octingentesimus Quadragesimus Octavus. It has been a custom in France, and in other countries, to send printed invitations to friends and relatives, inviting them to funerals. I have heard of a thriving widow--_la veuve Berthier_--who added a short postscript--_Madame Berthier will be happy to furnish soap and candles, at the old stand, as heretofore_. I trust I shall not be deemed guilty of a like indiscretion, if I add, for general information, that the business will be conducted hereafter, in the name of A. M. O. Q. Nonus. I did intend to be facetious, but, for the soul of me, I cannot. It is enough for me to know that the old year is dead and gone, and that the hopes and fears of millions are now lying in its capacious grave. Between the old year and the new, the space is so incalculably narrow, that, if those ancient philosophers were in the right, who contended, that an angel could not live in a vacuum, no angel, in the flesh, or out of it, could possibly get between the two: the partition is thin as tissue paper--thin as that between wit and madness, which is so exceedingly thin, as to be often undistinguishable, leaving us in doubt, on which side our neighbors may be found,--when at home. I see, clearly, in the close of another year, another milestone, upon Time's highway, from chaos to eternity. Is it not wise, and natural, and profitable, for the pilgrim to pause, and mark his lessening way? He cannot possibly know the precise number of milestones, that lie between the present and his journey's end; but he may sometimes shrewdly guess from the number he has passed already. There is precious little certainty, however, in the very best of man's arithmetic, on a subject like this: for, at every milestone, from the very first, and at countless intermediate points, he will observe innumerable tablets, recording the fact, that myriads of travellers have stopped here and there, not for the want of willingness to go forward, but for the want of breath--not for the night, to be awakened at the morning watch, by the attentive host, or the railway whistle,--but for a long, long while, to be summoned, at last, by the piercing notes of a clarion, loud and clear, which, as the bow of Ulysses could be bent only by the master's hand, can be raised, only by the lips and the lungs of an archangel. Well, Quadragesimus Octavus hath gone to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets--a motley group it is, that band of melancholy followers! Upon this, as upon all other occasions of the same sort, true tears, from the very well-spring of the heart, fall, together with showers of hypocritical salt water. Little children, who must ever refer their orphanage to the year that is past, are in the van; and with them, a few widowers and widows, who have not been married quite long enough, to be reconciled to their bereavement. There are others, who also have been divorced from their partners by death, and who submit, with admirable grace; and wear their weeds--of the very best make and fashion, by the way--with infinite propriety. It is quite amazing to see the great number of mourners, who, though, doubtless, natives, have a very Israelitish expression, and wear phylacteries, upon which are written three or four words whose import is intelligible, only to the initiated, but which, being interpreted, signify--_three per cent. a month_. None seem to wear an expression of more heartfelt sorrow, for the departure of Quadragesimus Octavus, during whose existence, being less greedy of honors than of gain, they were singularly favored, converting the necessities of other men into an abundance of bread and butter, for themselves. In the melancholy train, we behold a goodly number of maiden ladies, dressed in yellow, which is the mourning color of the Egyptians, and some of these disconsolate damsels are really beginning to acquire the mummy complexion: it happened that, as the old year expired, they were just turned of thirty. There are others, who have sufficient reason to mourn, and whose numerous writings have brought them into serious trouble. Their works, commencing with a favorite expression--_for value received I promise to pay_, owing to something rather pointed in the phraseology, were liable to be severely criticised, so soon as the old year expired. The lovers of parade, and show, and water celebrations, and torch-light processions, trumpeting and piping merrymakings, and huzzaings, the brayings of stump orators, and the intolerable noise and farrago of electioneering; the laudings and vituperatings of Taylor, Cass, and Van Buren; the ferocious lyings and vilifyings of partisans, politically drunk or crazy--the lovers of all or any of these things are one and all, attendants at the funeral of Quadragesimus Octavus. The good old year is gone--and, in the words of a celebrated clergyman, to a bereaved mother, who would not be comforted, but wailed the louder, the more he pressed upon her the duty of submission--"_what do you propose to do about it?_" I cannot answer for you, my gentle reader, but I am ready to answer for myself. As an old sexton, I believe it to be my duty to pay immediate attention to the very significant command--whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest. If good old Samuel had been an undertaker, he could not have said, more confidently than I do, at this moment, whose corpse have I taken, or whose shroud have I taken, or whom have I defrauded, or whom have I buried east for west, or wrong end foremost? Of what surgeon have I received a fee, for a skeleton, to blind mine eyes withal? I have neither the head nor the heart for mystical theology. I believe in the doctrine of election, as established by the constitution and laws of the United States, and of the States respectively, so far as regards the President, Vice President, and all town, county and state officers: and I respect the Egyptians, for one trait, recorded of them, by an eminent historian, who states, that those, who worship an ape, never quarrel with those, who worship an ox. A very fine verse, the thirteenth of the last chapter of Ecclesiastes--"Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man." Let us try, during the year, upon whose threshold we are now standing, to do as much good, and as little harm, as possible. I respectfully recommend to all old men and women, who are as grey and grizzly as I am, to make themselves as agreeable as they can; and remember, that old age is proverbially peevish and exacting. In the presence of children, do not forget the wise sayings of Parson Primrose, who candidly confessed, when solicited to join in some childish pastime, that he complied, for he was tired of being always wise. Pray allow all you can for the vivacity and waywardness of youth. Nine young ladies, in ten, may find a clever fit, in Pope's shrewd line-- "Brisk as a flea, and ignorant as dirt." All, that can be said about it, lies in a filbert shell, _ita lex scripta est, ita rerum natura_. You will not mend the matter, by scowling and growling, from morning to night. Can you not remember, that you yourself, when a boy, were saluted now and then, with the title of "proper plague"--"devil's bird"--or "little Pickle?" I can. Some years ago, my very worthy friend, the Rev. John S. C. Abbott, did me the kindness to give me one of his excellent works, the Path of Peace. The preface contains a very short and clever incident, of whose applicability, you can judge for yourself. "Mother," said a little boy, "I do not wish to go to Heaven." "And why not, my son?" "Why, grandfather will be there, will he not?" "Yes, my son, I hope he will." "Well, as soon as he sees us, he will come, scolding along, and say, 'Whew, whew, whew! what are these boys here for?' I am sure I do not wish to go to Heaven, if grandfather is to be there." This is a short tale of a grandfather, but it is a very significant story, for its length; and calculated, I fear, for many meridians. Well, here we are, in the very midst of bells and bonfires, screaming for joy, in honor of the new year, with our spandy new weepers on, for the old one. No. XXXIV. Viewed in every possible relation, the most melancholy and distressing funerals, of which I have any knowledge, were a series of interments, which occurred in Charleston, South Carolina, not very many years ago, and of which, in 1840, I received, while sojourning there, a particular account, from an inhabitant of that hospitable city. These funerals were among the blacks; and, as there was no epidemic at the time, their frequency, at length, attracted observation. Every day or two, the colored population were seen, bearing, apparently, one of their number to the place, appointed for all living. Suspicion was, at last, awakened--a post mortem examination was resolved on--the graves, which proved to be uncommonly shallow, were opened--the coffins lifted out, and examined--and found to be filled, not with corpses, but with muskets, swords, pistols, pikes, knives, hatchets, and such other weapons, as might be necessary, for the perfection of a deadly work, which had been long projected, and was then not far from its consummation. These, I say, were the most melancholy funerals, of which I have any knowledge. This was burying the hatchet, in a novel sense. In 1840, the tumult of mind, resulting from immediate apprehension, had, in a great degree, subsided; yet a rigorous system of espionage continued, in full operation--the spirit of vigilance was still on tiptoe--the arsenal was in excellent working order, and capable, at any moment, of turning its iron shower, in every direction--the separate gathering of the blacks, for religious worship, had been, and still was, prohibited; for it was believed, that the little tabernacle, in which, before this alarming discovery, the colored people were in the habit of assembling, had been used, in some sort, for the purpose of holding insurrectionary conclaves; perhaps for the purpose also of muttering prayers, between their teeth, to the bondman's God, to give him strength to break his fetters. At the time, to which I refer, the slaves, who attended religious services, on the Sabbath, entered the same temples with their masters, who paid their vows, on cushions, while many of the slaves worshipped, squatting in the aisles. At this time, slaves, _ex cautela_, were forbidden, under penalty of imprisonment and the lash, from being present at any conflagration. Under a like penalty, they were commanded to retire instantly, upon the very first stroke of the curfew bell, to their homes and cabins. At every quarter of an hour, through the whole night, the cry of _all's well_ was sent forth by the armed sentinel, from the top of St. Michael's tower. Such was the state of things, in 1840, in the city of Charleston. Melancholy as were these funerals, the undertakers were quite as ingenious, as those cunning Greeks, who contrived the Trojan horse, _divinâ Palladis arte_. Melancholy and ominous funerals were they--for they were incidents of slavery, the CURSE COLOSSAL--that huge, unsightly cicatrice, upon the very face of our heritage. Well may we say to the most favored nation of the earth, in Paul's proud words,--_would to God ye were not only almost, but altogether such as we are, saving these bonds_. After taking a mental and moral _coup d'oeil_ of these matters, I remember that I lay long, upon my pillow, not consigning my Southern friends and brethren, votively, to the devil; but thanking God, for that blessed suggestion, which led good, old Massachusetts, and the other states of the North, to abolish slavery, within their own domains. Slavery is a curse, not only to the long-suffering slave, but to the mortified master. This chivalry of the South--what is it? Every man of the South, or the North, who comes to the blessed conclusion, that, while others own _jackasses_, _horses_, _and horned cattle_, he actually _owns men_--what a thought!--will soon become filled with this very chivalry. It is the lordly consciousness of dominion over one's fellow-man--a sort of Satrap-like feeling of power--a sentiment extremely oriental, which begets that important and consequential air of superiority, that marks the Southern man and the Southern boy,--Mr. Calhoun, diving, like one of Pope's heroes, after first principles, and fetching up, for a fact, the pleasant fancy, that _man is not born of a woman_--or the young, travelling gentleman, full of "Suth Cralina," who comes hither, to sojourn awhile, and carries in every look, that almost incomprehensible mixture of pride and sensitiveness, which is equally repulsive and ridiculous. The bitterness of sectional feeling is a necessary incident of slavery. Civil and servile wars are among its terrible contingencies. Slavery cannot endure in our land, though the end be not yet. I had rather the cholera should spread, than this moral scourge, over our new domains--not, upon my honor, because the former would be a help to our profession, but because a dead is more bearable, than a living curse. Of all the sciolists, who have offered their services, to remedy this evil, the conscience party is the most remarkable. A self-consecrated party, with their phlogistic system, would deal with the whole South, which, on this topic, is a perfect hornet's nest already, precisely as an intelligent farmer, in Vermont, dealt with a hornet's nest, under the eaves of his dwelling--he applied the actual cautery; his practice was successful--he destroyed the nest, and with it his entire mansion. There are men, of this party, to whom the constitution and laws of the Union are objects of infinite contempt; who despise the Bible; who would overthrow the civil magistrate; and unfrock the clergy. But there are many others, who abjure such doctrines--a species of conscience comeouters--who intend, after they have unkennelled the whirlwind, to appoint a committee of three, from every county, to hold it by the tail, _ne quid detrimenti respublica caperet_. These are to be selected from the most careful and judicious, who, when the firebrand is thrown into the barrel of gunpowder, will have a care, that not more than a moderate quantity shall be ignited. The constitution is a contract, made by our fathers, and binding on their children. Who shall presume to say that contract is void, for want of consideration, or because the subject is _malum in se_? Who shall decide the question of _nudum pactum_ or not? Not one of the parties, nor two, nor any number, short of the whole, can annul this solemn contract; nor can a decision of the question of constitutionality come from any other tribunal, than the Supreme Judicial Court of the United States. Lord Mansfield's celebrated dictum--_fiat justitia, ruat Cælum_, has been often absurdly applied, and in connection with this very question of slavery and its removal. _Justitia_ is a broad word, and refers not solely to the rights of the slave, but to those of the freeman. The proposition of the full-bottomed abolitionist--immediate emancipation, or dissolution of the Union, and civil and servile war to boot, if it must be so--is fit to be taught, only to the tenants of a madhouse. But there is a spirit abroad, whose tendency cannot be mistaken. Slavery is becoming daily more and more odious, in the east, in the west, in the north, ay, and in the south. Individually, many slaveholders are becoming less attached to their _property_. There may be too much even of _this good thing_. Slavery would continue longer, in the present slave states, if it were extended to the new territories; for it would be rendered more bearable in the former, by the power of sloughing off the redundancy, on profitable terms. The spirit of emancipation is striding over the main land, walking upon the waters, and planting its foot, upon one dark island after another. _Let us hope_--better to do that, than mischief. Let us rejoice, that, as the Scotch say, _there is a God aboon a'_--better to do that, than spit upon our Bibles, and scoff at law and order. It is always better to stand still, than move rudely and rashly, in the dark. Such was the decided opinion of my old friend and fellow-sexton, Grossman, when he fell, head first, into an unclosed tomb, and broke his enormous nose. No. XXXV. In looking up a topic, for my dealings with the dead, this afternoon, I can think of nothing more interesting, at the present time, than _Lot's wife and the Dead Sea_. I consider Lieutenant Lynch the most fortunate of modern discoverers. He has discovered the long lost lady of Lot--the veritable pillar of salt! There are some incredulous persons, I am aware, who are of opinion, that the account of this discovery should be received, _cum grano salis_; but my own mind is entirely made up. I should have been better pleased, I admit, if he had verified the suggestion, which led to the discovery, by bringing home a leg, or an arm. Possibly, it may be thought proper to send a Government vessel, for the entire pillar, to ornament the Rotunda at Washington. The identification of Lot's wife is rendered exceedingly simple, by the fact, that seventeen of her fingers, and not less than fourteen of her toes, broken off from time to time, by the faithful, as relics, are exhibited in various churches and monasteries. Models of these, in plaster, could readily be obtained, I presume; and an application of their fractured parts to the salt corpse, discovered by Lieutenant Lynch, would settle the question, in the manner, employed to test the authenticity of ancient indentures. Besides, every one knows, that salt is a self preserver, and lasting in its character, especially the Attic. The very elements of preservation abound in the Dead Sea, and the region round about. Its very name establishes the fact--_Asphaltites_--so called from the immense quantity of _asphaltum_ or bitumen, with which it abounds. This is called _Jews' Pitch_, and was used of old, for embalming; and the corpse of Mrs. Lot, after the salt had thoroughly penetrated, rolled up, as it probably was found by Lieutenant Lynch, in a winding sheet of bitumen, which readily envelopes everything it touches, would last forever. This pitch is often sold by the druggists, under the name of mummy. In Judea, with the territory of Moab, on the East, and the wilderness of Judah, on the West, and having the lands of Reuben and Edom, or Idumea, on the North and South, lies that sheet of mysterious and unfrequented water, which has been called the East Sea--the Salt Sea--the Sea of the Desert--the Sea of the Plain--the Sea of Sodom--and, more commonly, the Dead Sea. To this I beg leave to add another title, the Legendary lake, or Humbug water. More marvel has been marked, learned, and inwardly digested, by Christians, on the subject of this sheet of water, than the broad ocean has ever supplied, to stir the landman's heart. Its dimensions, in the first place, have been set down, with remarkable discrepancy. Pliny, lib. v. 15, says, Longitudine excedit centum M. passuum, latitudine maxima xxv., implet, minima sex, making the length one hundred miles, and the breadth, from twenty-five miles, to six. Josephus estimates its length at five hundred and eighty furlongs, from the mouth of the Jordan, to the town of Segor, at the opposite end; and its greatest breadth one hundred and fifty furlongs. The Rev. Dr. William Jenks, of whose learning and labors a sexton of the old school may be permitted to speak, with great respect, sets down the length, in his New Gazetteer of the Bible, appended to his Explanatory Bible Atlas, of 1847, at thirty-nine miles, and its greatest breadth at nine. Carne, in his Letters from the East, says the length is sixty miles, and the breadth from eight to ten. Stephens states the length to be thirty miles, in his Incidents of Travel. The origin of this lake was ascribed to the submersion of the valley of Siddim, where the cities stood, which were destroyed, in the conflagration of Sodom and Gomorrah. This tremendous gallimaufry or hotch potch, produced, as some suppose, an intolerable stench, and impregnated the waters with salt, sulphur, and bitumen. Pliny, in the passage quoted above,--observes--Nullum corpus animalium recipit--no animal can live in it. Speaking of these waters, Dr. Jenks remarks--"no animals exist in them." On the other hand, Dr. Pococke, on the authority of a monk, tells us, that fish have been caught in the Dead Sea. _Per contra_ again, Mr. Volney affirms, that it contains neither animal nor vegetable life. M. Chateaubriand, on the other hand, who visited the Dead Sea, in 1807, remarks--"About midnight, I heard a noise upon the lake, and was told by the Bethlehemites, who accompanied me, that it proceeded from legions of small fish, which come out, and leap upon the shore." The monks of St. Saba assured Dr. Shaw, as he states in his travels, that they had seen fish caught there. In the passage quoted from Pliny, he says--Tauri camelique fluitant. Inde fama nihil in eo mergi--bulls and camels float upon this lake: hence the notion, that nothing will sink in it. It is true, that the water of the Dead Sea is specifically heavier than any other, owing to the great quantity of salt, sulphur, and bitumen; but Dr. Pococke found not the slightest difficulty, in swimming and diving in the lake. Sir Thomas Browne, treating of this, in his Pseudodoxia, vol. iii., p. 341, London, 1835, observes--"As for the story, men deliver it variously. Some, I fear too largely, as Pliny, who affirmeth that bricks will swim therein. Mandevil goeth further, that iron swimmeth and feathers sink." "But," continueth Sir Thomas, "Andrew Thevet, in his Cosmography, doth ocularly overthrow it, for he affirmeth he saw an ass with his saddle cast therein and drowned." Another legend is equally absurd, that birds, attempting to fly over the lake, fall, stifled by its horrible vapors. "It is very common," says Volney, "to see swallows skimming its surface, and dipping for the water, necessary to build their nests." Mr. Stephens, in his Incidents of Travel, vol. ii. chap. 15, gives an interesting account of the Dead Sea, and says--"I saw a flock of gulls floating quietly on its bosom." It has been roundly asserted, that, in very clear weather, the ruins of the cities, destroyed by the conflagration, are visible beneath the waters. Josephus soberly avers, that a smoke constantly arose from the lake, whose waters changed their color three times daily. The waters of Jordan and of the brooks Kishon, Jabbok, and Arnon, flow into the Dead Sea, yet produce no perceptible rise of its surface. The influx from these mountain streams is considerable. Hence another legend, to account for this mystery--a subterraneous communication with the Mediterranean--which would surely make the matter worse, for Dr. Jenks and other writers state, that "the waters lie in a deep caldron, many hundred feet _below_ the Mediterranean." Evaporation, which is said to be very great, explains the mystery entirely. At the rising of the sun, dense fogs cover the lake. Chateaubriand says--"The first thing I did, on alighting, was to walk into the lake, up to my knees, and taste the water. I found it impossible to keep it in my mouth. It far exceeds that of the sea, in saltness, and produces, upon the lips, the effect of a strong solution of alum. Before my boots were completely dry, they were covered with salt; our clothes, our hats, our hands were, in less than three hours, impregnated with this mineral." "The origin of this mineral," says Volney, "is easy to be discovered, for, on the southwest shore, are mines of fossil salt. They are situated, in the sides of the mountains, which extend along the border; and, for time immemorial, have supplied the neighboring Arabs, and even the city of Jerusalem." "Whoever," says Mr. Carne, in his Letters from the East, "has seen the Dead Sea, will have its aspect impressed upon his memory. It is, in truth, a gloomy and fearful spectacle. The precipices, in general, descend abruptly to the lake, and, on account of their height, it is seldom agitated by the winds. Its shores are not visited, by any footstep, save that of the wild Arab, and he holds it in superstitious dread. On some parts of the rocks, there is a thick, sulphureous incrustation, and, in their steep descents, there are several deep caverns, where the benighted Bedouin sometimes finds a home. The sadness of the grave was on it and around it, and the silence also. However vivid the feelings are, on arriving on its shores, they subside, after a time, into languor and uneasiness; and you long, if it were possible, to see a tempest wake on its bosom, to give sound and life to the scene." "If we adopt," says Chateaubriand, "the idea of Professor Michaelis, and the learned Busching, in his memoir on the Dead Sea, physics may be admitted, to explain the catastrophe of the guilty cities, without offence to religion. Sodom was built upon a mine of bitumen, as we know from the testimony of Moses and Josephus, who speak concerning wells of bitumen, in the valley of Siddim. Lightning kindled the combustible mass, and the cities sank in the subterranean conflagration." In Calmet's Dictionary of the Bible, vol. iii., article Lot, it is stated, that the Mahometans have added many circumstances to his history. They assert, that the angel Gabriel pried up the devoted cities so near to Heaven, that the angels actually heard the sound of the trumpets and horns, and even the yelping of puppies, in Sodom and Gomorrah: and that Gabriel then let the whole concern go with a terrible crash. Upon this, Calmet remarks,--"Romantic as this account appears, it preserves traces of an earthquake and a volcano, which were, in all probability, the _natural secondary cause_ of the overthrow of Sodom, and of the formation of the Dead Sea." Lot's wife in my next. No. XXXVI. The conversion of Lot's wife into a pillar of salt has given rise to as much learned discussion, as the question, so zealously agitated, between Barcephas and others, whether the forbidden fruit were an _apple_ or a _fig_. _But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt._ Gen. xix. 26. Very little account seems to have been made of this matter, at the time. The whole story, and without note or comment, is told in these fifteen words. It would have seemed friendly, and natural, and proper, for Abraham to have said a few words of comfort to Lot, on this sudden and singular bereavement; but, instead of this, we are told, in the following verse, that Abraham got up, next morning, and looked, very philosophically, at the smoke, which went up from the cities of the plain, like the smoke of a furnace. This neglect of Lot's wife is, too frequently, a wife's lot. Some of the learned have been sorely perplexed, to understand, why this unfortunate lady has not long since melted away, under the influence of the rains; for a considerable quantity of water has fallen, since the destruction of Sodom. But they seem to forget, that there is no measure of limitation, for a miracle; and that the salt might have been purposely designed, like _caoutchouc_, to resist the action of water. The departure from Sodom was sudden, to be sure; but the lady was clothed, in some sort, doubtless; yet nothing has been said, by travellers, about her drapery, and whether that also was converted into salt, or cast off, by the mere energy of the miracle, is unknown. This pillar of salt Josephus says he has seen; and, though he does not name the time, it is of little consequence, as, in such a matter, we can well afford to throw in a century or two; but it must have been between A. D. 37, and a point, not long after the 13th year of Domitian. Such being the term of the existence of Josephus, as nearly as can be ascertained. The cities of the plain were destroyed, according to Calmet's reckoning, 1893 years before Christ; therefore, _the pillar_, which Josephus saw, must have then been standing more than nineteen centuries. These are the words of Josephus: "_But Lot's wife, continually turning back, to view the city, as she went from it, and being too nicely inquisitive what would become of it, although God had forbidden her so to do, was changed into a pillar of salt, for I have seen it, and it remains at this day_." Antiq., vol. i. p. 32, Whiston's translation, Lond. 1825. The editor, in a note states, that Clement of Rome, a cotemporary of Josephus, also saw it, and that Irenæus saw it, in the next century. Mr. Whiston prudently declines being responsible for the statements of modern travellers, who say they have seen it. And what did they see?--a pillar of salt. This is quite probable. Volney remarks, "At intervals we met with misshapen blocks, which prejudiced eyes mistake for mutilated statues, and which pass, with ignorant and superstitious pilgrims, for monuments of the adventure of Lot's wife; though it is nowhere said that she was metamorphosed into stone, like Niobe, but into salt, which must have melted the ensuing winter." Volney forgets, that the salt itself was miraculous, and, doubtless, water proof. Mr. Stephens, in his Incidents of Travel, though he gives a description of the Dead Sea, in whose waters he bathed, says not a syllable of Lot's wife, or the pillar of salt. Some of the learned have opined, that Lot's wife, like Pliny, during the eruption of Vesuvius, was overwhelmed, by the burning and flying masses of sulphur and bitumen; this is suggested, under the article, Lot's Wife, in Calmet. "Some travellers in Palestine," says he, "relate that Lot's wife was shown to them, i. e. the rock, into which she was metamorphosed. But what renders their testimony very suspicious is, that they do not agree, about the place, where it stands; some saying westward, others eastward, some northward, others southward of the Dead Sea; others in the midst of the waters; others in Zoar; others at a great distance from the city." In 1582, Prince Nicholas Radziville took a vast deal of pains to discover this remarkable pillar of salt, but all his inquiries were fruitless. Dr. Adam Clarke suggests, that Lot's wife, by lingering in the plain, may have been struck dead with lightning, and enveloped in the bituminous and sulphureous matter, that descended. He refers to a number of stories, that have been told, and among them, that this pillar possessed a miraculous, reproductive energy, whereby the fingers and toes of the unfortunate lady were regenerated, instanter, as fast as they were broken off, by the hands of pilgrims. Irenæus, one of the fathers, asserts, that this pillar of salt was _actually alive in his time_! Some of those fathers, I am grieved to say it, were insufferable story-tellers. This tale is also told, by the author of a poem, _De Sodoma_, appended to the life of Tertullian. Some learned men understand the Hebrew to mean simply, that "_she became fixed in the salsuginous soil_"--anglice, _stuck in the mud_. If this be the real meaning of the passage, it must have been some other lady, that was seen by Josephus, Clement, Irenæus, and Lieut. Lynch. Sir Thomas Browne, credulous though he was, had, probably, no great confidence in the _literal_ construction of the passage in Genesis. In vol. iii. page 327, of his works, London, 1835, he says--"We will not question the metamorphosis of Lot's wife, or whether she were transformed into a real statue of salt; though some conceive that expression metaphorical, and no more thereby than a lasting and durable column, according to the nature of salt, which admitteth no corruption." This is evidently the opinion of Dr. Adam Clarke. In other words, God, by her destruction, while her husband and daughters were saved, made her a _pillar or lasting memorial_ to the disobedient. In this sense a pillar of _salt_ means neither more nor less than an _everlasting memorial_. Salt is the symbol of perpetuity; thus Numbers xviii. 19. _It is a covenant of salt forever_: and 2 Chron. xvii. 5, the kingdom is given to David and his sons forever, _by a covenant of salt_. If this be the true construction, those four gentlemen, to whom I have referred, have been entirely misled, in supposing that any one of those masses of salt, which Volney says may be mistaken, for the remains of mutilated statues, has ever, at any period of the world, been the object of Lot's devotion, or the partner of his joys and sorrows. In vol. ii. page 212, of his Incidents of Travel, New York, 1848, Mr. Stephens, referring to an account, received by him, respecting what he supposed to be an island in the Dead Sea, writes thus--"_It comes from one who ought to know, from the only man, who ever made the tour of that sea, and lived to tell of it_." If Mr. Stephens will look at Chateaubriand's Travels, and his fine description of the Dead Sea, he will find there the following passage: "_No person has yet made the tour of it but Daniel, abbot of St. Saba. Nau has preserved in his travels the narrative of that recluse. From his account we learn_," &c. "The celebrated lake," says Chateaubriand, "which occupies the site of Sodom, is called in Scripture the Dead or Salt Sea." Not so: it is no where called the Dead Sea, in the sacred writings. By the Turks, it is called Ula Deguisi, and by the Arabs, Bahar Loth and Almotanah. It is quite desirable for travellers to be well apprized of all, that is previously known, in regard to the field of their peregrination. Goldsmith once projected a plan of visiting the East, for the purpose of bringing to England such inventions and models, as might be useful. Johnson laughed at the idea, and denounced Goldsmith, as entirely incompetent, from his ignorance of what already existed--"he will bring home a wheelbarrow," said Johnson, "and think he had made a great addition to our stock." Mr. Stephens has preserved a respectable silence, on the subject of Lot's wife. The island, which is above referred to, turned out, like Sancho's in Barrataria, to be an optical illusion. The Maltese sailor, who said he had rowed about the lake with his employer, a Mr. Costigan, who died on its shores, was disposed, after fingering his fee, to enlarge and improve his former narrative. Mr. Stephens does not give the date of Costigan's visit to the Dead Sea. He, however, furnishes a linear map of its form. This also is drawn by the Maltese sailor, from memory. All that can be said of it is, that it corresponds with other plans, in one particular,--the Jordan enters the sea, at its northern extremity. Probably, no very accurate plan is to be found, such have been the impediments in the way of any deliberate examination--unless Lieutenant Lynch has succeeded in the work. The figure of the Dead Sea, in the Atlas of Lucas, has no resemblance to the figure, in the late Bible Atlas by Dr. Jenks. No. XXXVII. Dr. Johnson said, if an atheist came into his house, he would lock up his spoons. I have always distrusted a sexton, who did not cherish a sentiment of profound and cordial affection, for his bell. It did my heart good, when a boy, to mark the proud satisfaction, with which Lutton, the sexton of the Old Brick, used to ring for fire. I have no confidence in a fellow, who can toll his bell, for a funeral, and listen to its deep, and solemn vibrations, without a gentle subduing of the spirit. I never had a great affection for Clafflin, the sexton of Berry Street Church; but I always respected the deep feeling of indignation he manifested, if anybody meddled with his bellrope. Bells were treated more honorably in the olden time, and ringing was an art--an accomplishment--then. Holden tells us some fine stories of the societies of ringers. In his youth, Sir Matthew Hale was a member of one of those societies. In 1687, Nell Gwinne--and it may be lawful to take the devil's water, as Dr. Worcester said, to turn the Lord's mill--Nell Gwinne left the ringers of the church bells of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, where there is a peal of twelve, a sum of money, for a weekly entertainment. I never shall get the chime of the North Church bells out of my ears--I hope I never shall--more than half an hundred years ago, my mother used to open the window, of a Christmas eve, that we might hear their music! In the olden time, bells were baptized--_rantized_ I presume--and wore _posies_ on their collars. They were first cast in England, in the reign of Edmund I., and the first tunable set, or peal, for Croyland Abbey, was cast A. D. 960. Weever tells us, in his Funeral Monuments, that, in 1501, the bells of the Priory of Little Dunmow, in Essex, were baptized, by the names of St. Michael, St. John, Virgin Mary, &c. As late as 1816, the great bell of Notre Dame, in Paris, was baptized, by the name of the Duke of Angouleme. Bells were supposed to be invested with extraordinary powers. They were employed, not only to call the congregation together, to give notice of conflagrations, civil commotions, and the approach of an enemy, and to ring forth the merry holiday peal--but to quell tempests, pacify the restless dead, and arrest the very lightning. Bells often bore inscriptions like these: Laudo Deum verum, plebem voco, conjugo clerum, Defunctos ploro, pestem fugo, festa decoro. Funera plango; Fulgura frango; Sabbata pango; Excito lentos; Dissipo ventos; Paco cruentos. The _passing bell_ was the bell, which announced to the people, according to Mabillon, that a spirit was taking its flight, or _passing away_, and demanding their prayers. Bells were also used to frighten away evil spirits, that were supposed to be on the watch, for their customers. The learned Durandus affirms, that all sorts of devils have a terror of bells. This, of course, can only be true of bells, that have been received into the flock, that is, baptized. Such was the Popish belief, and that the very devil, himself, cared not a fig, for an unbaptized bell. De Worde, in his Golden Legend, sayeth "it is said the evill spirytes that ben in the regyon of the ayre doubte moche, when they here the belles rongen, and this is the cause why the belles ben rongen, whan it thondreth, and when grate tempests and outrages of wether happen, to the ende that the feinds and wycked spirytes should be abashed and flee, and cease of the movinge of tempests." Compared with the big bells of the earth--ours--the very largest--are cowbells, at best. The great bell of St. Paul's weighs 8400 pounds--a small affair; Great Tom of Lincoln, 9894--Great Tom of Oxford, 17,000. This is precisely the weight of the bell of the Palazzo, at Florence;--St. Peter's at Rome, 18,607--the great bell at Erfurth, 28,224--St. Joan's bell, at Moscow, 127,836--the bell of the Kremlin, 443,772. The last is the marvel of travellers, and its metal, at a low estimate, is valued at £66,565. During the fusion of this bell, considerable quantities of gold and silver were cast in, the pious contribution of the people. This enormous mass has never been suspended. There was a bell--_parvis componere magna_--a very little bell indeed--very--a perfect _tintinabulum_. It made a most ridiculous noise. An account of this bell may be found, in a pamphlet, entitled Historical Notices, &c., of the New North Religious Society, in the town of Boston, 1822. It weighed, says the writer, "_between three and four hundred_." Twelve or thirteen hundred such bells, therefore, would just about counterpoise the bell of the Kremlin. "Its tone," says the writer, "_was unpleasant_." The preposterous clatter of this bell was, nevertheless, the gathering cry of the worshippers, at the New North Church, for the term of eighty-three years, from 1719 to 1802, when it was purchased by the town of Charlton, in the county of Worcester; probably to frighten the _evyll spirytes_, in the shape of wolves and foxes, abounding there, that would be likely to _doubte moche_, when this bell was _ben rongen_. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth is a proverb--not to criticise the tone of a gift bell may be another. This bell, which a stout South Down wether might almost have carried off, was the gift of _Mr. John Frizzell_, a merchant of Boston, to the New North Church, _on the island of North Boston_, as all that portion of the town was then called, lying North of Mill Creek. On the principle which gave the title of Bell the Cat to the famous Archibald, Frizzell should have borne the name of Bell the Church. Let it pass: Frizzell and his little bell are both translated. The tongue of the former is still; that of the latter still waggeth, I believe, in the town of Charlton. The authenticity of the statements in the pamphlet to which I have referred, admits not of a doubt. The name of its highly respectable author, though not upon the title-page, appears in the certificate of copyright; and, in the range of my limited reading, I have met with nothing, more curious and grotesque, than his account of the installation of the Rev. Peter Thacher, over the New North Church, Jan. 27, 1720. Upon no less respectable evidence, would I have believed, that our amiable ancestors could have acted so much like _evil spirytes_, upon such an occasion. I have not elbow room for the farce entire--one or two touches must suffice. After agreeing upon a mode of choosing a colleague, for the Rev. Mr. Webb, and pitching upon Mr. Thacher, a quarrel arose, among the people. The council met, on the day of installation, at the house of the Rev. Mr. Webb, at the corner of North Bennet and Salem Streets. The aggrieved assembled, at the house of Thomas Lee, in Bennet Street, next to the Universal meeting-house. A knowledge of these points is necessary, for a correct understanding of the subsequent strategy. If the Council attempted to go to the New North Church, through the street, in the usual way, they must necessarily pass Lee's house. The aggrieved waited on the Council, by a committee, requesting them not to proceed with the installation of Mr. Thacher; and assuring them, that, if they persisted, force would be used, to prevent their occupation of the church. Instead, therefore, of proceeding through the street, the Rev. Mr. Webb led the Council, by his back gate, through Love Lane, and a little alley, leading to the meeting-house, and thus got possession of the pulpit. Thus, by a knowledge of by-ways, so important in the _petite guerre_, the worthy clergyman outwitted the malcontents. A mob, to whom an installation, in such sort, was highly acceptable, had already gathered. The party at Lee's house, being apprised of the ruse, and perceiving they were _in danger of the council_, flew to the rescue. They rushed into the church; vociferously forbade the proceedings, and were "_indecent_," says the writer, "_almost beyond credibility_." "However incredible," continues the narrator, "it is a fact, that some of the most unruly did sprinkle a liquor, which shall be nameless, from the galleries, upon the people below." The wife of Josiah Langdon used to tell, with great asperity, of her being a sufferer by it. This good lady retained her resentment to old age--the filthy creatures entirely spoiled a new velvet hood, which she had made for the occasion, and she could not wear it again. In the midst of this uproar, Mr. Thacher was installed. "The malcontents," says the writer, "went off in a bad humor. They proceeded to the gathering of another church. In the plenitude of their zeal, they first thought of denominating it the _Revenge_ Church of Christ; but they thought better of it, and called it the New Brick Church. However, the first name was retained, for many years, among the common people. Their zeal was great, indeed, and descended to puerility. They placed the figure of a cock, as a vane, upon the steeple, out of derision of Mr. Thacher, whose Christian name was Peter. Taking advantage of a wind, which turned the head of the cock towards the New North Meeting-house, when it was placed upon the spindle, a merry fellow straddled over it, and crowed three times, to complete the ceremony." The solemn, if not the sublime, and the ridiculous, seem, not unfrequently, to have met together at ordinations, in the olden time. "I could mention an ordination," says the Rev. Leonard Woods, of Andover, in a letter, written and published, a few years since, "that took place about twenty years ago, at which I, myself, was ashamed and grieved, to see two aged ministers literally drunk; and a third indecently excited with strong drink. These disgusting and appalling facts I should wish might be concealed. But they were made public, by the guilty persons; and I have thought it just and proper to mention them, in order to show how much we owe to a compassionate God, for the great deliverance he has wrought." Legitimate occasion for a Te Deum this, most certainly. No. XXXVIII. The _præficæ_, or mourning women, were not confined to Greece, Rome, and Judea. In 1810, Colonel Keatinge published the history of his travels. His account of Moorish funerals, is, probably, the best on record. The dead are dressed in their best attire. The ears, nostrils, and eyelids are filled with costly spices. Virgins are ornamented with bracelets, on their wrists and ankles. The body is enfolded in sanctified linen. If a male, a turban is placed at the head of the coffin; if a female, a large bouquet. Before a virgin is buried, the _loo loo loo_ is sung, by hired women, that she may have the benefit of the wedding song. "When a person," says Mr. Keatinge, "is thought to be dying, he is immediately surrounded by his friends, who begin to scream, in the most hideous manner, to convince him that there is no more hope, and that he is already reckoned among the dead." Premature burial is said to be very common, among the Moors. For this, Mr. Keatinge accounts, in this manner: "As, according to their religion, they cannot think the departed happy, till they are under ground, they are washed instantly, while yet warm; and the greatest consolation the sick man's friends can have, is to see him smile, while this operation is performing; not supposing such an appearance to be a convulsion, occasioned by washing and exposing the unfortunate person to the cold air, before life has taken its final departure." When a death occurs, the relations immediately set up the _wooliah woo_; or death scream. This cry is caught up, from house to house, and hundreds of women are instantly gathered to the spot. They come to scream and mourn with the bereaved. This species of condolence is very happily described by Colonel Keatinge, page 92. "They," the howlers, "take her," the mother, widow or daughter, "in their arms, lay her head on their shoulders, and scream without intermission for several minutes, till the afflicted object, stunned with the constant howling and a repetition of her misfortune, sinks senseless on the floor. They likewise hire a number of women, who make this horrid noise round the bier, over which they scratch their faces, to such a degree, that they appear to have been bled with a lancet. These women are hired at burials, weddings and feasts. Their voices are heard at the distance of half a mile. It is the custom of those, who can afford it, to give, on the evening of the day the corpse is buried, a quantity of hot-dressed victuals to the poor. This, they call "the supper of the grave." Dr. E. D. Clarke observes, in his Travels in Egypt, Lond., 1817, that he recognized, among the Egyptians, the same notes, and the repetition of the same syllables, in their funeral cries, that had become familiar to his ear, on like occasions, among the Russians and the Irish. Dr. Martin, in his account of the Tonga Islands, in the South Pacific, compiled from Mariner's papers, in his narrative of the funeral of a chief, states, that the women mourned over the corpse, through the whole night, sitting as near as possible, singing their dismal death song, and beating their breasts and faces. The desire, to magnify one's apostleship, is, doubtless, at the bottom of all extravagant demonstrations of sorrow, at funerals, in the form of screaming, howling, yelling, personal laceration, and disfigurement. In the highly interesting account of the missionary enterprise, upon which the Duff was employed, in 1796, it was stated, that, at the funeral of a chief of Tongataboo, the people of both sexes continued, during two days, to mangle and hack themselves, in a shocking manner;--some thrust spears, through their thighs, arms, and cheeks; others beat their heads, till the blood gushed forth in streams; one man, having oiled his hair, set it on fire, and ran about the area, with his head in a blaze. This was a burning shame, beyond all doubt. I never forget old Tasman's bowl, when I think of this island. Tasman discovered Tongataboo, in 1643. At parting, he gave the chief a wooden bowl. Cook found this bowl, on the island, one hundred and thirty years afterwards. It had been used as a divining bowl, to ascertain the guilt or innocence of persons, charged with crimes. When the chief was absent, at some other of the Friendly Islands, the bowl was considered as his representative, and honored accordingly. Captain Cook presented the reigning chief with a pewter platter, and the bowl became immediately _functus officio_, the platter taking its place, for the purposes of divination. In 1818, Captain Tuckey published the account of his expedition, to explore the Zaire, or Congo river. He describes a funeral, at Embomma, the chief mart, on that river. In returning to their vessel, after a visit to the chief, Chenoo, the party observed a hut, in which the corpse of a female was deposited, dressed as when alive. On the inside were four women howling lustily, to whom two men, outside, responded; the concert closely resembling the yell, at an Irish funeral. Captain Tuckey should not have spoken so thoughtlessly of the _keena_, the funeral cry of the wild Irish, the most unearthly sound, that ever came from the agonized lungs of mortal. For the most perfect description of this peculiar scream, this inimitable hella-baloo, the reader may turn to Mrs. Hall's incomparable account of an Irish funeral. In close connection with this incident, Captain Tuckey, p. 115, remarks, that, in passing through the burying ground, at Embomma, they saw two graves, recently prepared, of monstrous size, being not less than nine feet by five. This he explains as follows:--"Simmons (a native, returned from England to his native country) requested a piece of cloth to envelop his aunt, who had been dead seven years, and was to be buried in two months. The manner of preserving corpses, for so long a time, is by enveloping them in the cloth of the country, or in European cotton. The wrappers are successively multiplied, as they can be procured by the relations of the deceased, or according to the rank of the person; in the case of a rich and very great man, the bulk being only limited, by the power of conveyance to the grave." When the Spaniards entered the Province of Popayan, they found a similar practice there, with this difference, that the corpse was partially roasted, before it was enveloped. When a chief dies, among the Caribs of Guyana, his wives, the whole flock of them, watch the corpse for thirty days, to keep off the flies,--a task which becomes daily more burdensome, as the attraction becomes greater. At the expiration of thirty days, it is buried, and one of the ladies, probably the best beloved, with it. Some of the Orinoco tribes were in the practice of tying a rope to the corpse, and sinking it in the river; in twenty-four hours, it was picked clean to the bones, by the fishes, and the skeleton became a very convenient and tidy memorial. This is decidedly preferable to the mode, adopted by the Parsees. Their sacred books enjoin them not to pollute _earth_, _water_, or _fire_, with their dead. They therefore feel authorized to pollute the air. They bury not; but place the corpses at a distance, and leave them to their fate. It was the opinion of Menu, that the body was a tenement, scarcely worth inhabiting; "a mansion," says he, "with bones for beams and rafters,--nerves and tendons for cords; muscles and blood for mortar; skin for its outward covering; a mansion, infested by age and sorrow, the seat of many maladies, harassed with pains, haunted with darkness, and utterly incapable of standing long--such a mansion let the vital soul, its tenant, always quit cheerfully." This contempt for the tabernacle--the carcass--the outer man--strangely contrasts with that deep regard for it, evinced by the Egyptians, and such of the Jews, Greeks, and Romans, as were in the practice of embalming. When that extraordinary man, Sir Thomas Browne, exclaimed, in his Hydriotaphia, "who knows the fate of his bones or how oft he shall be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" he, doubtless, was thinking of Egyptian mummies, transported to Europe, forming a part of the materia medica, and being actually swallowed as physic. A writer, in the London Quarterly, vol. 21, p. 363, states, that, when the old traveller, John Sanderson, returned to England, six hundred pounds of mummies were brought home, for the Turkey Company. I am aware, that it has been denied, by some, that the Egyptian mummies were broken up, and sent to Europe, for medicinal uses. By them it is asserted, that what the druggists have been supplied with is the flesh of executed criminals, or such others, as the Jews can obtain, filled with bitumen, aloes and other things, and baked, till the juices are exhaled, and the embalming matter has fitted the body for transportation. The Lord deliver us from such "_doctors' stuff_" as this. No. XXXIX. _Non sumito, nisi vocatus_: let no man presume to be an undertaker, unless he have a _vocation_--unless he be _called_. If these are not the words of Puddifant, to whom I shall presently refer, I have no other conjecture to offer. Though, when a boy, I had a sort of hankering after dead men's bones, as I have already related, I never felt myself truly called to be a sexton, until June, 1799. It was in that month and year, that Governor Sumner was buried. The parade was very great, not only because he had been a Governor, but because he had been a very good man. All the sextons were on duty, but Lutton, as we called him--his real name was Lemuel Ludden. He was the sexton of the Old Brick, where my parents had worshipped, under dear parson Clarke, who died, the year before. He had the cleverest way, that man ever had, of winning little boys' hearts--he really seemed to have the key to their little souls. Lutton was sick--he was not able to officiate, on that memorable day; and no recently appointed ensign ever felt such a privation more keenly, on the very day of battle. He was a whole-souled sexton, that Lutton. He, most obligingly, took me into the Old Brick Church, where Joy's buildings now stand, to see the show. There was a half-crazy simpleton, whom it was difficult to prevent from capering before the corpse--a perfect Davie Gelatly. An awkward boy, whose name was Reuben Rankin, came from Salem, with a small cart-load of pies, which his mother had baked, and sent to Boston, hoping for a ready sale, upon the occasion of such an assemblage there. Like Grouchy, at Waterloo, he lost his _tète_; followed the procession, through every street; and returned to Salem, with all his wares. It was, while contemplating the high satisfaction, beaming forth, upon the features of the chief undertaker, that I first felt my _vocation_. I ventured, timidly, to ask old Lutton, if he thought I had talents for the office. He said, he thought I might succeed, clapped me on the shoulder, and gave me a smile of encouragement, which I never shall forget, till my poor old arm can wield a spade no more, and the sod, which I have so frequently turned upon others, shall be turned upon me. Old Grossman said, in my hearing, the following morning, that it had been the proudest day of his life. It is very pardonable, for an undertaker, on such occasions, to imagine himself the observed of all observers. This fancy is, by no means, confined to undertakers. Chief mourners of both sexes are very liable to the same impression. An over-estimate of one's own importance is pretty universal, especially in a republic. I never did go the length of believing the tale, related, by Peter, in his letter to his kinsfolk, who says he knew a Scotch weaver, who sat upon his stoop, and read the Edinburgh Review, till he actually thought he wrote it. I see nothing to smile at, in any man's belief, that he is the object of public attention, on occasions of parade and pageantry. It rather indicates the deep interest of the individual--a solemn sense of responsibility. At the late water celebration, I noticed many examples of this species of personal enthusiasm. The drivers of the Oak Hall and Sarsaparilla expresses were no mean illustrations; and when three cheers were given to the elephant, near the Museum, in Tremont Street, I was pleased to see several of the officials, and one, at least, of the water commissioners, touch their hats, and smile most graciously, in return. Puddifant, to whom I have alluded, officiated as sexton, at the funeral of Charles I. What a broad field, for painful contemplation, lies here! It is a curious fact, that, while preparations were being made, for depositing the body of King Charles in St. George's Chapel, at Windsor, a common foot soldier is supposed to have stolen a bone from the coffin of Henry VIII., for the purpose of making a knife-handle. This account is so curious, that I give it entire from Wood's Athenæ Oxonienses, folio edit. vol. ii., p. 703. "Those gentlemen, therefore, Herbert and Mildmay, thinking fit to submit, and leave the choice of the place of burial to those great persons, (the Duke of Richmond, Marquis of Hertford, and Earl of Lindsey) they, in like manner, viewed the tomb house and the choir; and one of the Lords, beating gently upon the pavement with his staff, perceived a hollow sound; and, thereupon ordering the stones to be removed, they discovered a descent into a vault, where two coffins were laid, near one another, the one very large, of an antique form, and the other little. These they supposed to be the bodies of Henry VIII., and his third wife, Queen Jane Seymour, as indeed they were. The velvet palls, that covered their coffins, seemed fresh, though they had lain there, above one hundred years. The Lords agreeing, that the King's body should be in the same vault interred, being about the middle of the choir, over against the eleventh stall, upon the sovereign's side, they gave orders to have the King's name, and year he died, cut in lead; which, whilst the workmen were about, the Lords went out, and gave Puddifant, the sexton, order to lock the chapel door, and not suffer any to stay therein, till further notice." "The sexton did his best to clear the chapel; nevertheless, Isaac, the sexton's man, said that a foot soldier had hid himself so as he was not discovered; and, being greedy of prey, crept into the vault, and cut so much of the velvet pall, that covered the great body, as he judged would hardly be missed, and wimbled a hole through the said coffin that was largest, probably fancying that there was something well worth his adventure. The sexton, at his opening the door, espied the sacrilegious person; who, being searched, a bone was found about him, with which he said he would haft a knife. The girdle or circumscription of capital letters of lead put upon the King's coffin had only these words--King Charles, 1648." This statement perfectly agrees with Sir Henry Halford's account of the examination, April 1, 1813, in presence of the Prince Regent. Cromwell had a splendid funeral: good old John Evelyn saw it all, and describes it in his diary--the waxen effigy, lying in royal robes, upon a velvet bed of state, with crown, sceptre and globe--in less than two years suspended with a rope round the neck, from a window at Whitehall. Evelyn says, the "funeral was the joyfullest ever seen: none cried but the dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets as they went." Some have said that Cromwell's body was privately buried, by his own request, in the field of Naseby: others, that it was sunk in the Thames, to prevent insult. It was not so. When, upon the restoration, it was decided, to reverse the popular sentiment, Oliver's body was sought, in the middle aisle of Henry VII's chapel, and there it was found. A thin case of lead lay upon the breast, containing a copper plate, finely gilt, and thus inscribed--Oliverius, Protector reipublicæ Angliæ, Scotiæ, et Hiberniæ, natus 25 April, 1599--inauguratus 16 Decembris 1653--mortuus 3 Septembris ann--1658. Hic situs est. This plate, in 1773, was in possession of the Hon George Hobart of Nocton in Lincolnshire. By a vote of the House of Commons, Cromwell's and Ireton's bodies were taken up, Jan. 26, 1660--and, on the Monday night following, they were drawn, on two carts, to the Red Lion Inn, Holborn, where they remained all night; and, with Bradshaw's, which was not exhumed, till the day after, conveyed, on sledges, to Tyburn, and hanged on the gallows, till sunset. They were then beheaded--the trunks were buried in a hole, near the gallows, and their heads set on poles, on the top of Westminster Hall, where Cromwell's long remained. The treatment of Oliver's character has been in perfect keeping, with the treatment of his carcass. The extremes of censure and of praise have been showered upon his name. He has been canonized, and cursed. The most judicious writers have expressed their views of his character, in well-balanced phrases. Cardinal Mazarin styled him _a fortunate mad-man_; and, by Father Orleans, he was called a _judicious villain_. The opinion of impartial men will probably vary very little from that of Clarendon, through all time: he says of Cromwell--"he was one of those men, _quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent_;" and again, vol. vii. 301, Oxford ed. 1826: "In a word, as he was guilty of many crimes, against which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he had some good qualities, which have caused the memory of some men, in all ages, to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as _a brave wicked man_." Oliver had the nerve to do what most men could not: he went to look upon the corpse of the beheaded king--opened the coffin with his own hand--and put his finger to the neck, where it had been severed. _He could not then doubt that Charles was dead._ At the same time, when the authorized absurdities were perpetrated upon Oliver's body, every effort was ineffectually made to discover that of King Charles, for the purpose of paying to it the highest honors. This occurred at the time of the restoration, or about ten years after the death of Charles I. In 1813, i. e. one hundred and sixty-five years after that event, the body was accidentally discovered. To this fact, and to the examination by Sir Henry Halford, President of the Royal College of Physicians, I shall refer in my next. No. XL. The passage, quoted in my last, from the Athenæ Oxonienses, shows plainly, that Charles I. was buried in 1648, in the same vault with the bodies of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour; and this statement is perfectly sustained, by the remarkable discovery in 1813, which proves Lord Clarendon to have been mistaken in his account, Hist. Reb., Oxford ed., vol. vi. p. 243. The Duke of Richmond, the Marquis of Hertford, and the Earls of Southampton and Lindsey, who had been of the bed chamber, and had obtained leave, to perform the last duty to the decollated king, went into the church, at Windsor, to seek a place for the interment, and were greatly perplexed, by the mutilations and changes there--"At last," says Clarendon, "there was a fellow of the town, who undertook to tell them the place, where he said there was a vault, in which King Harry, the Eighth, and Queen Jane Seymour were interred. As near that place, as could conveniently be, they caused the grave to be made. There the king's body was laid, without any words, or other ceremonies, than the tears and sighs of the few beholders. Upon the coffin was a plate of silver fixed with these words only: 'King Charles, 1648.' When the coffin was put in, the black velvet pall, that had covered it, was thrown over it, and then the earth thrown in." _Such, clearly, could not have been the facts._ Lord Clarendon then proceeds to speak of the impossibility of finding the body ten years after, when it was the wish of Charles II. to place it, with all honor, in the chapel of Henry VII., in Westminster Abbey. For this he accounts, by stating, that most of those present, at the _interment_, were dead or dispersed, at the restoration; and the memories of the remaining few had become so confused, that they could not designate the spot; and, after opening the ground, in several places, without success, they gave the matter up. Now there can be no doubt, that the body was placed in the vault, where it was found, in 1813, and that no _interment_ took place, in the proper sense of that word. Had Richmond, Hertford, Southampton, or Lindsey been alive, or at hand, the _vault itself_, and not a spot _near the vault_, would, doubtless, have been indicated, as the resting place of King Charles. Wood, in the Athenæ Oxonienses, states, that the royal corpse was "well coffined, and all afterwards wrapped up in lead and covered with a new velvet pall." All this perfectly agrees with the account, given by Sir Henry Halford, and certified by the Prince Regent, in 1813. Sir Henry Halford states, that George the Fourth had built a mausoleum, at Windsor; and, while constructing a passage, under the choir of St. George's Chapel, an opening was unintentionally made into the vault of Henry VIII., through which, the workmen saw, not only those two coffins, which were supposed to contain the bodies of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour, but a third, covered with a black pall. Mr. Herbert's account, quoted in my last number, from the Athenæ, left little doubt, that this was the coffin of Charles I.; notwithstanding the statements of Lord Clarendon, that the body was interred _near_ the vault. An examination was made, April 1, 1813, in the presence of George IV., then Prince Regent, the Duke of Cumberland, Count Munster, the Dean of Windsor, Benjamin Charles Stevenson, Esq., and Sir Henry Halford; of which the latter published an account. London, 1831. This account is exceedingly interesting. "On removing the pall, a plain leaden coffin, with no appearance of ever having been enclosed in wood, and bearing an inscription, KING CHARLES, 1648, in large legible characters, on a scroll of lead encircling it, immediately presented itself to view. "A square opening was then made, in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions, as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped up in cere-cloth, into the folds of which a quantity of unctuous or greasy matter, mixed with resin, as it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude, as effectually as possible, the external air. The coffin was completely full; and from the tenacity of the cere-cloth, great difficulty was experienced, in detaching it successfully from the parts, which it enveloped. Wherever the unctuous matter had insinuated itself, the separation of the cere-cloth was easy; and when it came off, a correct impression of the features, to which it had been applied, was observed in the unctuous substance. At length the whole face was disengaged from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance; the cartilage of the nose was gone; but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished, almost immediately; and the pointed beard, so characteristic of the period of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval; many of the teeth remained; and the left ear, in consequence of the interposition of the unctuous matter, between it and the cere-cloth, was found entire. "It was difficult, at this moment, to withhold a declaration, that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, and especially to the pictures of King Charles I., by Vandyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is true, that the minds of the spectators of this interesting sight were well prepared to receive this impression; but it is also certain, that such a facility of belief had been occasioned, by the simplicity and truth of Mr. Herbert's narrative, every part of which had been confirmed by the investigation, so far as it had advanced; and it will not be denied, that the shape of the face, the forehead, an eye, and the beard, are the most important features, by which resemblance is determined. "When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments, which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view. It was quite wet, and gave a greenish and red tinge to paper and to linen, which touched it. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, and had a remarkably fresh appearance; the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are, when soaked in moisture; and the tendons and ligaments of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. The hair was thick, at the back part of the head, and in appearance, nearly black. A portion of it, which has since been cleansed and dried, is of a beautiful dark brown color. That of the beard was of a redder brown. On the back part of the head it was not more than an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short, for the convenience of the executioner, or perhaps, by the piety of friends, soon after death, in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy king." "On holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably; and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions perfectly smooth and even, an appearance, which could have been produced only by a heavy blow, inflicted with a very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof wanting to identify King Charles, the First. After this examination of the head, which served every purpose in view, and without examining the body below the neck, it was immediately restored to its situation, the coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed." "Neither of the other coffins had any inscription upon them. The larger one, supposed, on good grounds, to contain the remains of Henry VIII., measured six feet ten inches in length, and had been enclosed in an elm one, of two inches in thickness; but this was decayed, and lay in small fragments. The leaden coffin appeared to have been beaten in by violence about the middle, and a considerable opening in that part of it, exposed a mere skeleton of the king. Some beard remained upon the chin, but there was nothing to discriminate the personage contained in it." This is, certainly, a very interesting account. Some beard still remained upon the chin of Henry VIII., says Sir Henry Halford. Henry VIII. died Jan. 28, 1547. He had been dead, therefore, April 1, 1813, the day of the examination, two hundred and sixty-six years. The larger coffin measured six feet ten inches. Sir Henry means top measure. We always allow seven feet lid, or thereabouts, for a six feet corpse. Henry, in his History, vol. xi. p. 369, Lond. 1814, says that King Henry VIII. was tall. Strype, in Appendix A., vol. vi. p. 267, Ecc. Mem., London, 1816, devotes twenty-four octavo pages to an account of the funeral of Henry VIII., with all its singular details; and, at the last, he says--"Then was the vault uncovered, under the said corpse; and the corpse let down therein by the vice, with help of sixteen tal yeomen of the guard, appointed to the same." "Then, when the mold was brought in, at the word, pulverem pulveri et cinerem cineri, first the Lord Great Master, and after the Lord Chamberlain and al others in order, with heavy and dolorous lamentation brake their staves in shivers upon their heads and cast them after the corps into the pit. And then the gentlemen ushers, in like manner brake their rods, and threw them into the vault with exceeding sorrow and heaviness, not without grievous sighs and tears, not only of them, but of many others, as well of the meaner sort, as of the nobility, very piteous and sorrowful to behold." No. XLI. My attention was arrested, a day or two since, by a memorial, referred to, in the Atlas, from the owner of the land, famous, in revolutionary history, as the birth-place of LIBERTY TREE; and, especially, by a suggestion, which quadrates entirely with my notions of the fitness of things. If I were a demi-millionaire, I should delight to raise a monument, upon that consecrated spot--it should be a simple colossal shaft, of Massachusetts granite, surmounted with the cap of liberty. I would not inscribe one syllable upon it--but, if any grey-headed _Boston boy_--born here, within the limits of the old peninsula--should be moved, by the spirit, to write below-- Hæc olim meminisse juvabit-- I should not deem that act any interference with my original purpose. What days and nights those were! 1765! then, the man, who has now passed on to ninety-four, was the boy of ten! How perfectly the tablet of memory retains those impressions, made, by the pressure of great events, when the wax was soft and warm! It is quite common, with the present generation, at least, to connect the origin of LIBERTY TREE with 1775-6. This is an error. It became celebrated, ten years earlier, during the disturbances in Boston, on account of the Stamp Act, which passed March 22, 1765, and was to be in force, on the first of November following. Intelligence arrived, that Andrew Oliver, Secretary of the Province, was to be distributor of stamps. There was a cluster or grove of beautiful elms, in HANOVER SQUARE--such was the name, then given to the corner of Orange, now part of Washington Street, and Auchmuty's Lane, now Essex Street. Opposite the southwesterly corner of Frog Lane, now Boylston Street, where the market-house now stands, there was an old house, with manifold gables, and two massive chimneys, and, in the yard, in front of it, there stood a large, spreading elm. This was LIBERTY TREE. Its first designation was on this wise. During the night of August 13, 1765, some of the SONS OF LIBERTY, as they styled themselves, assuming the appellation bestowed on them in the House of Commons, by Col. Barre, in a moment of splendid but unpremeditated eloquence, hung, upon that tree, an effigy of Mr. Oliver, and a boot, with a figure of the devil peeping out, and holding the stamp act in his hand; this boot was intended as a practical pun--wretched enough--upon the name of Lord Bute. In the morning of the 14th, a great crowd collected to the spot. Some of the neighbors attempted to take the effigy down. The _Sons of Liberty_ gave them a forcible hint, and they desisted. The Lieutenant Governor, as Chief Justice, directed the sheriff to take it down: he reconnoitred the ground, and reported that it could not be done, without peril of life. Business was suspended, about town. After dark, the effigy was borne, by the mob, to a building, which was supposed to have been erected, as a stamp-office. This they destroyed, and, bearing the fragments to Fort Hill, where Mr. Oliver lived, they made a bonfire, and burnt the effigy before his door. They next drove him and his family from his house, broke the windows and fences, and stoned the Lieutenant Governor and Sheriff, when they came to parley--all this, upon the night of August 14, 1765. On the 26th, they destroyed the house of Mr. Story, register-deputy of the Admiralty, and burnt the books and records of the court. They then served the house of Mr. Hollowell, Contractor of the Customs, in a similar manner, plundering and carrying away money and chattels. They next proceeded to the residence of the Lieutenant Governor, and destroyed every article not easily transported, doing irreparable mischief, by the destruction of many valuable manuscripts. The next day, a town meeting was held, and the citizens expressed their _detestation of the riots_--and, afterwards manifested their silent sympathy with the mob, by punishing nobody. Nov. 1, 1765, the day, when the stamp act came into force, the bells were muffled and tolled; the shipping displayed their colors, at half mast; the stamp act was printed, with a death's head, in the place of the stamp, and cried about the streets, under the name of the FOLLY OF ENGLAND, AND THE RUIN OF AMERICA. A new political journal appeared, having for its emblem, or political phylactery, a serpent, cut into pieces, each piece bearing the initials of a colony, with the ominous motto--JOIN OR DIE. More effigies were hung, upon "_the large old elm_," as Gordon terms it--LIBERTY TREE. They were then cut down, and escorted over town. They were brought back, and hung up again; taken down again; escorted to the Neck, by an immense concourse; hanged upon the gallows tree; taken down once more; and torn into innumerable fragments. Three cheers were then given, and, upon a request to that effect, every man went quietly home; and a night of unusual stillness ensued. Hearing that Mr. Oliver intended to resume his office, he was required, through the newspaper, by an anonymous writer, to acknowledge, or deny, the truth of that report. His answer proving unsatisfactory, he received a requisition, Nov. 16th, to appear "_tomorrow, under_ LIBERTY TREE, _to make a public resignation_." Two thousand persons gathered then, beneath that TREE--not the rabble, but the selectmen, the merchants, and chief inhabitants. Mr. Oliver requested, that the meeting might be held, in the town house; but the SONS OF LIBERTY seemed resolved, that he should be _treed_--no place, under the canopy of Heaven, would answer, but LIBERTY TREE. Mr. Oliver came; subscribed an ample declaration; and made oath to it, before Richard Dana, J. P. This exactitude and circumspection, on the part of the people, was not a work of supererogation: Andrew Oliver was a most amiable man, in private, but a most lubricious hypocrite, in public life; as appears by his famous letters, sent home by Dr. Franklin, in 1772. After his declaration under the TREE, he made a short speech, expressive of his "_utter detestation of the stamp act_." What a spectacle was there and then! The best and the boldest were there. Samuel Adams and John--Jerry Gridley, Samuel Sewall, and John Hancock, _et id genus omne_ were in Boston then, and the busiest men alive: their absence would have been marked--they must have been there. What an act of daring, thus to defy the monarch and his vicegerents! I paused, this very day, and gazed upon the spot, and put the steam upon my imagination, to conjure, into life and action, that little band of sterling patriots, gathered around; and that noble elm in their midst:-- "In medio ramos annosaque brachia pandit Ulmus opaca, ingens." Thenceforward, the SONS OF LIBERTY seem to have taken the TREE, under their special protection. On Valentine's day, 1776, they assembled, and passed a vote, that _it should be pruned after the best manner_. It is well, certainly, now and then, to lop off some rank, disorderly shoots of licentiousness, that will sometimes appear, upon LIBERTY TREE. It was pruned, accordingly, by a party of volunteer carpenters, under the direction of a gentleman of skill and judgment, in such matters. News of the repeal of the stamp act arrived in Boston, May 16, 1766. The bells rang merrily--and the cannon were unlimbered, around LIBERTY TREE, and bellowed for joy. The TREE, so skilfully pruned, in February, must have presented a beautiful appearance, bourgeoning forth, in the middle of May! The nineteenth of May was appointed, for a merrymaking. At one, in the morning, the bell of the Hollis Street Church, says a zealous writer of that day, "_began to ring_"--_sua sponte_, no doubt. The slumbers of the pastor, Dr. Byles, were disturbed, of course, for he was a tory, though a very pleasant tory, after all. Christ Church replied, with its royal peal, from the North, and _God save the king_, rang pleasantly again, in colonial ears. The universal joy was expressed, in all those unphilosophical ways, enumerated by Pope, With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder. LIBERTY TREE was hung with various colors. Fireworks and illuminations succeeded. Gov. Hancock treated the people with "_a pipe of Madeira_;" and the SONS OF LIBERTY raised a pyramid, upon the Common, with two hundred and eighty lamps. At twelve o'clock--midnight--a drum, upon the Common, beat the _tattoo_; and men, women, and children retired to their homes, in the most perfect order: verily, a soberness had come over the spirit of their dreams, and method into their madness. On the evening of the twentieth of May, it was resolved to have a festival of lanterns. The inhabitants vied with each other; and, about dusk, they were seen streaming, from all quarters, to HANOVER SQUARE, every man and boy with his lamp or lantern. In a brief space, LIBERTY TREE was converted into a brilliant constellation. Like the sparkling waters, during the burning of Ucalegon's palace, described by Homer, the boughs, the branches, the veriest twigs of this popular idol --------"were bright, With splendors not their own, and shone with sparkling light." It appears, by the journals of that day, from which most of these particulars are gathered, that our fathers--what inimitable, top-gallant fellows they were!--took a pleasant fancy into their heads, that these lamps would shed a brighter lustre, if the poor debtors, in jail, could join in the general joy, under LIBERTY TREE. Accordingly they made up a purse and paid the debts of them all! There was a general jail delivery of the poor debtors, for very joy. Well: a Boston boy, of the old school, was a noble animal--how easily held by the heart-strings!--with how much difficulty, by the head or the tail! An antiquarian friend, to whom I am already under sundry obligations, has obligingly loaned me an interesting document, in connection with the subject of LIBERTY TREE; under whose shade I propose to linger a little longer. No. XLII. March 22, 1765. George III. and his ministers took it into their heads to sow the wind; and, in an almost inconceivably short time, they reaped the whirlwind. They scattered dragons' teeth, and there came up armed men. They planted the stamp act, in the Colonial soil, and there sprang into life, mature and full of vigor, the LIBERTY TREE, like Minerva, fully developed, and in perfect armor, from the brain of Jupiter. Whoever would find a clear, succinct, and impartial account of the effect of the stamp act, upon the people of New England, may resort to Dodsley's Annual Register, page 49, of that memorable year. "The sun of liberty has set," wrote Franklin home, "but you must light up the candles of industry and economy." The life of that act of oppression was short and stormy. March 18, 1766, its miserable requiem was sung in Parliament--"an event," says the Annual Register, of that year, page 46, "that caused more universal joy, throughout the British dominions, than, perhaps, any other, that can be remembered." How such a viper ever found its way into the cradle of liberty is quite a marvel--certain it is, the genius of freedom, with the power of Hercules, speedily strangled it there. In America, and, especially, in Boston, the joy, as I have already stated, was very great; and some there were, beyond all doubt, who were delighted, to find an apology, for going back to monarchical usages. Even liberty may be, sometimes, irksome, at first, to him, who has long lived a slave; and it is no small grievance, I dare say, to such, to be deprived of the luxury of calling some one, Lord and Master, after the flesh. However monstrous, and even ridiculous, the idea of a king may seem to us, republicans, born in this wonderfully bracing atmosphere--there are some, who have a strong taste for _booing_ and genuflection, and the doffing of beavers, and throwing up of "greasy caps," and rending their throats, for very ecstacy, when the royal coach is coming along, bearing the heir apparent, in diapers. This taste, I suppose, like that for olives, must be acquired; it cannot be natural. May 19, and 20, 1766, the face of the town of Boston was dressed in smiles--a broad grin rather, from ear to ear, from Winnisimmet to Roxbury. Nothing was talked of but "_a grateful people_," and "_the darling monarch_"--which amounts to this--the "_darling monarch_" had graciously desisted, from grinding their faces any longer, simply because he was convinced, that the "_grateful people_" would kick the grindstone over, and peradventure the grinder, should the "_darling_" attempt to give it another turn. Under LIBERTY TREE, there was erected, during the rejoicings, an obelisk with four sides. An engraving of those four sides was made at the time, and is now, doubtless, very rare. A copy, loaned me by the friend, to whom I referred, in my last number, is lying before me. I present it, _verbatim, literatim, et punctuatim_. It is thirteen and an half inches long, and nine and an half wide. On top are these words--"A VIEW of the OBELISK erected under LIBERTY TREE in BOSTON on the Rejoicings for the Repeal of the ---- Stamp Act 1766." At the bottom--"To every Lover of LIBERTY this Plate is humbly dedicated by her true born SONS in BOSTON, New England." The plate presents, apparently, four obelisks, which are, in reality, the four sides of one. Every side, above the base, is divided horizontally, and nearly equally, into three parts. The superior division of each contains four heads, many of which may be readily recognized, and all of which have indicating letters. The middle division of each contains ten decasyllabic lines. The inferior division of each contains a sketch, of rude execution, and rather more patriotic, than tasteful, in the design. The principal portraits are of George III.; Queen Charlotte; Marquis of Rockingham; Duke of York; Gen. Conway; Lord Townshend; Colonel Barré; W. Pitt; Lord Dartmouth; Charles Townshend; Lord George Sackville; John Wilkes; Alderman Beckford; Lord Camden; &c. The first side is subscribed thus: "_America in distress, apprehending the total loss of_ LIBERTY;" and is inscribed thus: Oh thou, whom next to Heaven we most revere Fair LIBERTY! thou lovely Goddess hear! Have we not woo'd thee, won thee, held thee long, Lain in thy Lap and melted on thy tongue. Thro' Deaths and Dangers rugged paths pursu'd And led thee smiling to this SOLITUDE, Hid thee within our hearts' most golden cell And brav'd the Powers of Earth and Powers of Hell, GODDESS! we cannot part, thou must not fly, Be SLAVES! we dare to scorn it, dare to die. Beneath is the sketch--America recumbent and dejected, in the form of an Indian chief, under a pine tree, the angel of Liberty hovering over; the Prime minister advancing with a chain, followed by one of the bishops, and others, Bute clearly designated by his Scotch plaid, and gaiters; over head, flying towards the Indian, with the stamp act in his right claw, is the Devil; of whom it is manifest our patriotic sires had a very clever conception. The second side is subscribed thus: "_She implores the aid of her patrons_;" and is inscribed thus: While clanking chains and curses shall salute Thine Ears remorseless G----le, and thine O B----e, To you blest PATRIOTS, we our cause submit, Illustrious CAMPDEN, Britain's Guardian, PITT. Recede not, frown not, rather let us be Deprived of being than of LIBERTY, Let fraud or malice blacken all our crimes, No disaffection stains these peaceful climes. Oh save us, shield us from impending woes, The foes of Britain only are our foes. Beneath is the sketch--America, on one knee, pointing over her shoulder towards a retreating group, composed, as the chain and the plaid inform us, of the Prime Minister Bute, and company, upon whose heads a thunder cloud is bursting. At the same time America--the Indian, as before--supplicates the aid of others, whose leader is being crowned, by Fame, with a laurel wreath. The enormous nose--a great help to identification--marks the Earl of Chatham; Camden may be known by his wig; and Barré by his military air. The third side is subscribed thus: "_She endures the Conflict, for a short Season_" and is inscribed thus: Boast foul Oppression, boast thy transient Reign, While honest FREEDOM struggles with her Chain, But know the Sons of Virtue, hardy, brave, Disclaim to lose thro' mean Dispair to save; Arrowed in Thunder awfull they appear, With proud Deliverance stalking in their Rear, While Tyrant Foes their pallid Fears betray, Shrink from their Arms, and give their Vengeance way. See in the unequal War OPPRESSORS fall, The hate, contempt, and endless Curse of all. Beneath is the sketch--THE TREE OF LIBERTY, with an eagle feeding its young, in the topmost branches, and an angel advancing with an ægis. The fourth side is subscribed thus: "_And has her_ LIBERTY _restored by the Royal hand of_ GEORGE _the Third_;" and is inscribed thus: Our FAITH approv'd, our LIBERTY restor'd, Our Hearts bend grateful to our sov'reign Lord; Hail darling Monarch! by this act endear'd, Our firm affections are thy best reward-- Sh'd Britain's self against herself divide, And hostile Armies frown on either side; Sh'd hosts rebellious shake our Brunswick's Throne, And as they dar'd thy Parent dare the Son. To this Asylum stretch thine happy Wing, And we'll contend who best shall love our KING. Beneath is the sketch--George the Third, in armor, resembling a Dutch widow, in a long-short, introducing America to the goddess of liberty, who are, apparently, just commencing the Polka--at the bottom of the engraving are the words--_Paul Revere Sculp._ Our ancestors dealt rather in fact than fiction--they were no poets. Gordon refers to LIBERTY TREE, i. 175. The fame of LIBERTY TREE spread far beyond its branches. Not long before it was cut down, by the British soldiers, during the winter of 1775-6, an English gentleman, Philip Billes, residing at Backway, near Cambridge, England, died, seized of a considerable fortune, which he bequeathed to two gentlemen, not relatives, on condition, that they would faithfully execute a provision, set forth in his will, namely, that his body should be buried, under the shadow of LIBERTY TREE, in Boston, New England. This curious statement was published in England, June 3, 1774, and may be found in the Boston Evening Gazette, first page, Aug. 22, 1774, printed by Thomas & John Fleet, sign of the Heart and Crown, Cornhill. No. XLIII. Josiah Carter died, at the close of December, 1774. Never was there a happier occasion, for citing the _Quis desiderio_, &c., and I would cite that fine ode, were it not worn threadbare, like an old coverlet, by having been, immemorially, thrown over all manner of corpses, from the cobbler's to the king's. If good old Dr. Charles Chauncy were within hearing, I would, indeed, apply to him a portion of its noble passages: Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit, Nulli flebilior quam tibi----. For good Josiah many wept, I fancy; But none more fluently than Dr. Chauncy. Josiah Carter was sexton of the Old Brick. He died, in the prime of life--fifty only--a martyr to his profession--conscientious to a fault--standing all alone in the cold vault, after the last mourner had retired, and knocking gently upon the coffin lid, seeking for some little sign of animation, and begging the corpse, for Heaven's sake, if it were alive, to say so, in good English. Carter was one of your real _integer vitæ_ men. It is said of him, that he never actually lost his self-government, but once, in his life. He was finishing a grave, in the Granary yard, and had come out of the pit, and was looking at his work, when a young, surgical sprig came up, and, with something of a mysterious air, shadowed forth a proposition, the substance of which was, that Carter should sell him the corpse--cover it lightly--and aid in removing it, by night. In an instant, Carter jerked the little chirurgeon into the grave--it was a deep one--and began to fill up, with all his might. The screams of the little fellow drew quite a number to the spot, and he was speedily rescued. When interrogated, years afterwards, as to his real intentions, at the time, Carter always became solemnized; and said he considered the preservation of that young doctor--a particular Providence. Carter had a strong aversion to unburying--so have I--especially a hatchet. I have a rooted hatred of slavery; and I hope our friends, on the sunny side of Mason's and Dixon's line, will not censure me, for digging up the graves of the past, and exposing unsightly relics, while I solicit the world's attention to the following literary _bijoux_. To be sold, a young negro fellow, fit for country or other business.--Will be sold to the highest bidder, a very good gold watch, a negro boy, &c.--Cheap, for cash, a negro man, and woman, and two children.--A very likely negro wench, about 16 years of age.--A likely negro woman, about 30, cheap for cash.--A likely negro boy, about 13.--Sold only for want of employ, a healthy, tractable negro girl, about 18 years of age.--To be sold, for want of employ, a strong, hearty negro fellow, about 25 years of age.--Ran away, a negro, named Dick, a well-looking, well-shaped fellow, right negro, little on the yellow, &c.--A likely negro woman, about 33 years old, remarkable for honesty and good temper.--Grant Webster has for sale new and second hand chaises, rum, wines, and male and female negroes.--At auction, a negro woman that is used to most sorts of house business.--A likely, healthy negro man, a good cook, and can drive a carriage.--Ran away, a negro man, named Prince, a tall, straight fellow; he is about 33 years old, talks pretty good English; his design was to get off in some vessel, so as to go to England, under the notion, if he could get there, he should be free, &c.--Ten dollars reward: ran away, negro Primus, five feet ten inches high, long limbs, very long finger nails, &c.--To be sold, for no fault, a negro man, of good temper.--A valuable negro man.--Ran away, my negro, Cromarte, commonly called Crum, &c., &c.; whoever will return said runaway to me, or secure him in some public jail, &c.--The cash will be given for a negro boy of good temper.--A fine negro male child, to be given away.--To be sold, a Spanish Indian woman, about 21 years old, also a negro child, about two years old. To be sold, a strong, hearty negro girl, and her son, about a week old.--Ran away, my negro man, Samson; when he speaks has a leering look under his eyes; whoever will return him, or secure him in any of the jails, shall receive ten dollars reward. For sale, a likely negro man; has had the smallpox.--A likely negro boy, large for his age, about 13.--To be sold, very reasonably, a likely negro woman, about 33 or '4 years of age.--To be sold or hired, for a number of years, a strong, healthy, honest, negro girl, about 16 years of age. Ah, my dear, indignant reader, I marvel not, that you are grieved and shocked, that man should dare, directly under the eye of God, to offer his fellow for sale, as he would offer a side of mutton, or a slaughtered hog--that he should offer to sell him, from head to heel, liver and lights, and lungs, and heart, and bone, and muscle, and presume to convey over, to the buyer, the very will of the poor black man, for years, and for aye; so that the miserable creature should never draw in one single breath of freedom, but breathe the breath of a slave forever and ever. This is very damnable indeed--very. You read the advertisements, which I have paraded before you, with a sentiment of disgust towards the men of the South--_nimium ne crede colori_. These are northern negroes! these are northern advertisements! --------Mutato nomine, de te Fabula narratur--------. Every one of these slaves was owned in Boston: every one of these advertisements was published in the Boston Gazette, and the two last on December 10, 1781. They are taken from one only of the public journals, and are a very Flemish sample of the whole cloth, which may be examined by him, who has leisure to turn over the several papers, then published here. There is one, however, so awfully ridiculous, when we consider the profession of the deceased owner, and the place of sale, and which, in these connections, presents such an example of _sacra, commixta profanis_, that I must give the advertisement without defalcation. John Moorhead, the first minister of Bury, afterwards Berry Street Church, died Dec. 2, 1773. About a year after, his effects were sold, and the following advertisement appears, in the Boston Gazette, Jan. 2, 1775: "To be sold by Public Auction, on Thursday next, at ten o'clock in the Forenoon, all the Household Furniture, belonging to the Estate of the Rev. Mr. John Moorhead, deceased, consisting of Tables, Chairs, Looking Glasses, Feather Beds, Bedsteads and Bedding, Pewter, Brass, sundry Pieces of Plate, &c., &c. A valuable collection of Books--Also a likely Negro Lad--The sale to be at the House in Auchmuty's Lane, South End, not far from Liberty Tree."--Moses and the Prophets! _A human being to be sold as a_ SLAVE, _not far from_ LIBERTY TREE, in 1775! Let me be clearly comprehended. Two wrongs cannot, like two negatives, neutralize each other. It is true, there was slavery in Massachusetts, and probably more of it, than is supposed to have existed, by many of the present generation. Free negroes were not numerous, in Boston, in those years. In the Boston Gazette of Jan. 2, 1775, it is stated, that 547 whites and 52 blacks were buried in the town in 1774; and 533 whites and 62 blacks in 1773. Such was the proportion then. The energy of our northern constitution has exorcised the evil spirit of slavery. Common sense and the grace of God put it into the minds and hearts of our fathers, when the accursed _Bohun Upas_ was a sapling, to pull it up, by the roots. It follows not, therefore, that the people of the South are entitled to be treated by us, their brethren, like _outside barbarians_, because they do not cast it out from their midst, as promptly, and as easily, now that it has stricken down its roots into the bowels of the earth, and become a colossus, and overshadowed the land. Slavery, being the abomination that it is, in the abstract, and in the relative, we may well regret, that it ever defiled our peninsula; especially that a slave market, for the sale of one slave only, ever existed, "_not far from Liberty Tree_." In sober truth, we are not quite justified, for railing at the South, as we have done. The sins of our dear, old fathers are still so comparatively recent, in regard to slavery, that I am absolutely afraid to fire canister and grape, among the group of offenders, lest I should disturb the ashes of my ancestors. Neither may we forget, that we, of the North, consented, aided and abetted, constitutionally, in the confirmation of slavery. Some of the most furious of the abolitionists, in this fair city, are _descendants in the right line, from Boston slaveholders_--their fathers did not recognize the sinfulness of holding slaves! The people of the South are entitled to civility, from the people of the North, because they are citizens of one common country; and, if there is one village, town, or city of these United States, that, more than any and all others, is under solemn obligations to cherish a sentiment of grateful and affectionate respect for the South, it is the city of Boston. I propose to refresh the reader's recollection, in my next. No. XLIV. _Delenda est Carthago--abolendum est servitium._--No doubt of it; slavery must be buried--decently, however. I cannot endure rudeness and violence, at a funeral. John Cades, in Charter Street, lost his place, in 1789, for letting old Goody Smith go by the run. The _naufragium_ of Erasmus, was nothing at all, compared with that of the old lady's coffin. Our Southern confederates are entitled to _civility_, because they are men and brethren; and they are entitled to _kindness and courtesy from us, of Boston_, because we owe them a debt of gratitude, which it would be shameful to forget. Since we, of the North, have presumed to be _undertakers_ upon this occasion, let us do the thing "_decenter et ornate_." Besides, our friends of the South are notoriously testy and hot-headed: they are, geographically, children of the sun. John Smith's description of the Massachusetts Indians, in 1614, Richmond ed., ii. 194, is truly applicable to the Southern people, "_very kind, but, in their fury, no less valiant_." I am no more inclined to uphold the South, in the continued practice of a moral wrong, because they gave us bread when we were hungry, as they certainly did, than was Sir Matthew Hale, to decide favorably for the suitor, who sent him the fat buck. _Nullum simile quatuor pedibus currit_--the South, when they bestowed their kindness upon us, during the operation of the _Boston Port Bill_, had no possible favor to ask, in return. This famous Port Bill, which operated like _guano_ upon LIBERTY TREE, and caused it to send forth a multitude of new and vigorous shoots, was an act of revenge and coercion, passed March 31, 1774, by the British Parliament. No government was ever so _penny wise_ and _pound foolish_, as that of Great Britain, in 1773-'4. They actually sacrificed thirteen fine, flourishing colonies for _three pence_! In 1773 the East India Company, suffering from the bad effects of the smuggling trade, in the colonies, all taxation having been withdrawn, by Great Britain, excepting on tea, proposed, for the purpose of quieting the strife, to sell their tea, free of all duties, in the Colonies, and that sixpence a pound should be retained by the Government, on exportation. But the Government insisted upon _three pence_ worth of dignity; in other words, for the honor of the Crown, they resolved, that the colonists _should pay three pence_ a pound, import duty. This was a very poor bargain--a _crown_ for _three pence_! Well; I have no room for detail--the tea came; some of it went back again; and the balance was tossed into the sea. It was not suffered to be landed, at Philadelphia and New York. Seventeen chests, brought to New York, on private account, says Gordon, vol. i. page 333, were thrown overboard, Nov. 18, 1773, and combustibles were prepared to burn the ships, if they came up from the Hook. Dec. 16, 1773, three hundred and twenty-four chests of tea were broken open, on board the ships, in Boston, and their contents thrown into the salt water, by a "number of persons," says Gordon, vol. i. page 341, "chiefly masters of vessels and shipbuilders from the north end of the town," dressed as Indians. In consequence of this, the _Port Bill_ was passed. The object of this bill was to beggar--commercially to neutralize or nullify--the town of Boston, by shutting the port, and cutting off all import and export, by sea, until full compensation should be made, for the tea destroyed, and to the officers of the revenue, and others, who had suffered, by the riots, in the years 1773 and 1774. Such was the _Port Bill_, whose destructive operation was directed, upon the port of Boston alone, under a fatal misunderstanding of the British government, in relation to the real unanimity of the American people. It is no easy matter, to describe the effect of this act of folly and injustice. The whole country seemed to be affected, with a sort of political _neuralgia_; and the attack upon Boston, like a wound upon some principal nerve, convulsed the whole fabric. The colonies resembled a band of brothers--"born for affliction:" a blow was no sooner aimed at one, than the remaining twelve rushed to the rescue, each one interposing an ægis. In no part of the country, were there more dignified, or more touching, or more substantial testimonies of sympathy manifested, for the people of Boston, than in the Southern States; and especially in Virginia, Maryland, and both the Carolinas. The _Port Bill_ came into force, June 1, 1774. The Marylanders of Annapolis, on the 25th of May preceding, assembled, and resolved, that Boston was "_suffering in the common cause of America_." On the 30th, the magistrates, and other inhabitants of Queen Anne's County resolved, in full meeting, that they would "_make known, as speedily as possible, their sentiments to their distressed brethren of Boston, and that they looked upon the cause of Boston to be the common cause of America_." The House of Burgesses, in Virginia, appointed the day, when the Boston Port Bill came into operation, as a day of fasting and prayer, throughout the ancient dominion. A published letter, from Kent County, Maryland, dated June 7, 1774, says--"The people of Boston need not be afraid of being starved into compliance; if they will only give a short notice, they may make their town the granary of America." June 24, 1774.--Twenty-four days after the Port Bill went into operation, a public meeting was held at Charleston, S. C. The moving spirits were the Trapiers and the Elliots, the Horries and the Clarksons, the Gadsdens and the Pinkneys of that day; and resolutions were passed, full of brotherly love and sympathy, for the inhabitants of Boston. "Baltimore, July 16th, 1774.--A vessel hath sailed from the Eastern Shore of this Province, with a cargo of provisions as a free gift to our besieged brethren of Boston. The inhabitants of all the counties of Virginia and Maryland are subscribing, with great liberality, for the relief of the distressed towns of Boston and Charlestown. The inhabitants of Alexandria, we hear, in a few hours, subscribed £350, for that noble purpose. Subscriptions are opened in this town, for the support and animation of Boston, under their present great conflict, for the common freedom of us all. A vessel is now loading with provisions, as a testimony of the affection of this people towards their persecuted brethren." "Salem, Aug. 23, 1774.--Yesterday arrived at Marblehead, Capt. Perkins, from Baltimore, with 3000 bushels of corn, 20 barrels of rye meal, and 21 barrels of bread, for the benefit of the poor of Boston, and with 1000 bushels of corn from Annapolis, for the same benevolent purpose." "New York, Aug. 15, 1774.--Saturday last, Capt. Dickerson arrived here, and brought 376 barrels of rye from South Carolina, to be sold, and proceeds remitted to Boston, a present to the sufferers; a still larger cargo is to be shipped for the like benevolent purpose." "Newport, R. I.--Capt. Bull, from Wilmington, North Carolina, arrived here last Tuesday, with a load of provisions for the poor of Boston; to sail again for Salem." These testimonies of a kind and brotherly spirit, came from all quarters of the country. These illustrations might be multiplied to any extent. I pass by the manifestations of the most cordial sympathy from other colonies, and the contributions from the towns and villages around us--my business lies, at present with the South--and my object is to remind some of the more rampant and furious of my abolition friends, who are of yesterday, that the people of the South, however hasty they may be, living under the sun's fiercer rays, and however excited, when a Northern man, however respectable, comes to take up his quarters in their midst, and gather evidence against them, under their very noses--are not precisely _outside barbarians_. Let the work of abolition go forward, in a dignified and decent spirit. Let us argue; and, so far as we rightfully may, let us legislate. Let us bring the whole world's sympathy up to the work of emancipation. But, let us not revile and vituperate those, who are, to all intents and purposes, our brethren, as certainly as if they lived just over the Roxbury line, instead of Mason's and Dixon's. Such harsh and unmitigated scoffing and abuse, as we too often witness, are equally ungracious, ungentlemanly, and ungrateful. There is something strangely grotesque, to be sure, in the idea of calling a state, in which there are more slaves than freemen, the _land of liberty_. Our Massachusetts ancestors had a very good _theoretical_ conception of its inconsistency and absurdity, as early as 1773; when the first glimmerings of independence began to come over the spirit of their dreams. In that year, the Massachusetts negroes caught the liberty fever, and presented a petition to have their fetters knocked off. May 17, 1773, the inhabitants of Pembroke addressed a respectfully suggestive letter to their representative in the General Court, John Turner; the last paragraph of which is well worthy of republication. The entire letter may be found in the Boston Gazette of June 14, 1773--"We think the negro petition reasonable--agreeable to natural justice and the precepts of the Gospel; and therefore advise that, in concurrence with the other worthy members of the assembly, you endeavor to find a way, in which they may be freed from slavery, without wrong to their present masters, or injury to themselves--and that a total abolition of slavery may in due time take place. Then we trust we may with humble confidence, look up to the Great Arbiter of Heaven and earth, expecting that he will in his own due time, look upon our affliction, and in the way of his Providence, deliver us from the insults, the grievances, and impositions we so justly complain of." This, as the reader will remember, had reference to slavery in Massachusetts. No. XLV. In 1823, and in the month of May, something, in my line, caused me to visit the first ex-President Adams, at the old mansion in Quincy. By some persons, he was accounted a cold man; and his son, John Quincy, even a colder man: yet neither was cold, unless in the sense, in which Mount Hecla is cold--belted in everlasting ice, though liable, occasionally, to violent eruptions of a fiery character. As I was taking my leave, being about to remove into a distant State, my daughter, between five and six years old, stepped timidly towards Mr. Adams, and placing her little hand upon his, and looking upon his venerable features, said to him--"_Sir, you are so old, and I am going away so far, that I do not think I shall ever see you again--will you let me kiss you before I go?_" His brow was suddenly overcast--the spirit became gently solemnized--"_Certainly, my child_" said he, "_if you desire to kiss a very old man, whom it is quite likely you will never see again_."--He bowed his aged form, and the child, rising on tiptoe, impressed a kiss upon his brow. I would give a great deal more than I can afford, for a fair sketch of that old man's face, as he resumed his position--I see it now, with the eye of a Swedenborgian. His features were slightly flushed, but not discomposed at all; tears filled his eyes; and, if one word must suffice to express all that I saw, that word is _benevolence_--that same benevolence, which taught him, on the day of his death, July 4, 1826, when asked if he knew what day it was, to exclaim--"_Yes, it is the glorious Fourth of July--God bless it--God bless you all_." At the time of the little occurrence, which I have related, Mr. Adams was eighty-eight years old. I ventured to say, that I wished we could give him the years of Methuselah--to which he replied, with a faint smile,--"_My friend, you could not wish me a greater curse_."--As we wax older and grayer, this expression, which, in the common phrase, is _Greek_ to the young and uninitiated, becomes sufficiently translated into every man's vernacular. Mr. Adams was born October 19, 1735, and had therefore attained his ninety-first year, when he died. Nothing like the highest ancient standard of longevity is attained, in modern times. Nine hundred, sixty, and nine years, is certainly a long life-time. When baby Lamech was born, his father was a young fellow of one hundred and eighty-seven. Weary work it must have been, waiting so long, for one's inheritance! The records of modern longevity will appear, nevertheless, somewhat surprising, to those, who have given but little attention to the subject. The celebrated Albert De Haller, and there can be no higher authority, enumerated eleven hundred and eleven cases of individuals, who had lived from 100 to 169. His classification is as follows:-- 1000 from 100 to 110 60 " 110 to 120 29 " 120 to 130 15 " 130 to 140 6 " 140 to 150 1 of 169. The oldest was Henry Jenkins, of Yorkshire, who died in 1670. Thomas Parr, of Wilmington, in Shropshire, died in 1635, aged 152. He was a poor yeoman, and married his first wife, when he was in his 88th year, or, as some say, his 80th, and had two children. He was brought to Court, by the Earl of Arundel, in the reign of Charles I., and died, as it was supposed, in consequence of change of diet. His body was examined by Dr. Harvey, who thought he might have lived much longer, had he adhered to his simple habits. Being rudely asked, before the King, what more he had done, in his long life, than other old men, he replied--"_At the age of 105, I did penance in Alderbury Church, for an illegitimate child_." When he was 120, he married a second wife, by whom he had a child. Sharon Turner, in his Sacred History of the World, vol. iii. ch. 23, says, in a note, that Parr's son (by the second wife, the issue by the first died early) lived to the age of 113--his grandson to that of 109--his great-grandson to that of 124; and two other grandsons, who died in 1761 and 1763, to that of 127. Parr's was a much longer life than Reuben's, Judah's, Issachar's, Abner's, Simeon's, Dan's, Zebulon's, Levi's, or Naphthali's. Dr. Harvey's account of the post mortem examination is extremely interesting. The quaint lines of Taylor, the water poet, as he was styled, I cannot omit:-- "Good wholesome labor was his exercise, Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise; In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day, And to his team he whistled time away: The cock his night-clock, and till day was done, His watch and chief sundial was the sun. He was of old Pythagoras' opinion, That green cheese was most wholesome with an onion; Coarse meslin bread, and for his daily swig, Milk, buttermilk, and water, whey and whig. Sometimes metheglin, and by fortune happy, He sometimes sipp'd a cup of ale most nappy, Cider or perry, when he did repair T'a Whitsun ale, wake, wedding or a fair; Or, when in Christmas time he was a guest At his good landlord's house, among the rest. Else he had very little time to waste, Or at the alehouse huff-cap ale to taste. His physic was good butter, which the soil Of Salop yields, more sweet than candy oil. And garlic he esteemed, above the rate Of Venice treacle or best Mithridate. He entertained no gout, no ache he felt, The air was good and temperate, where he dwelt; While mavises and sweet-tongued nightingales Did sing him roundelays and madrigals. Thus, living within bounds of nature's laws Of his long, lasting life may be some cause. From head to heel, his body had all over A quickset, thickset, nat'ral, hairy cover." Isaac lived to the age of 180, or five years longer than his father Abraham. I now propose to enter one or more well-known old stagers, of modern times, who will beat Isaac, by five lengths. Mr. Easton, of Salisbury, England, a respectable bookseller, and quoted, as good authority by Turner, prepared a more extensive list than Haller, of persons, who had died aged from 100 to 185. His work was entitled _Human Longevity_--1600 of his cases occurred, within the British Isles, and 1687 between the years 1706 and 1799. He sets down three between 170 and 185, giving their names and other particulars. Mr. Whitehurst's tables contain several cases, not in Mr. Easton's work, from 134 years to 148. Some twenty other cases are stated, by Turner, from 130 to 150. I refer, historically, to the case of Jonathan Hartop, not because of the very great age he attained, but for other reasons of interest: "1791.--Died, Jonathan Hartop, aged one hundred and thirty-eight, of the village of Aldborough, Yorkshire. He could read to the last, without spectacles, and play at cribbage, with the most perfect recollection. He remembered Charles II., and once travelled to London, with the facetious Killegrew. He ate but little; his only beverage was milk. He had been married five times. Mr. Hartop lent Milton fifty pounds, which the bard returned, with honor, though not without much difficulty. Mr. Hartop would have declined receiving it; but the pride of the poet was equal to his genius, and he sent the money with an angry letter, which was found, among the curious possessions of that venerable old man." On the 4th of July, 1846, I visited Dr. Ezra Green, at his residence, in Dover, N. H. He showed me a couple of letters, which he had received, a short time before, from Daniel Webster and Thomas H. Benton, congratulating him, on having completed his one hundredth year, on the 17th of the preceding June, the anniversary of the battle of Bunker's Hill, and remarked, that those gentlemen had not regarded the difference, between the old style and the new. He told me, that in 1777, he had been a surgeon, in the Ranger, with John Paul Jones. Upon my taking out my glasses, to read a passage in a pamphlet, to which he called my attention, he told me he had never used spectacles, nor felt the need of any such assistance, in reading. Dr. Green died, in 1847. He graduated, at Harvard, in 1765. At the time of his death, every other member of his own class, numbering fifty-four, was dead. Previously to 1765, two thousand and seventy-five individuals are named, upon the catalogue. They were all dead at the time of his decease, though he died so recently, as 1847. Yet, from the year, when he graduated, to 1786, a period of twenty years, of seven hundred and seventy-three graduates, fifteen only appear, upon the catalogue of 1848, without the fatal star. One of the fifteen, Harrison Gray Otis, has recently died, leaving three survivors only, in his class of 1783, Asa Andrews, J. S. Boies, and Jonathan Ewins. Another of the fifteen has also recently died, being the oldest graduate, Judge Timothy Farrar, of the class of 1767. The oldest living graduate of Harvard is James Lovell, of the class of 1776. I send my communication to the press, as speedily as possible, lest he also should be off, before I can publish. No. XLVI. A few days ago, I saw, in the hands of the artist, Mr. Alvan Clarke, a sketch, nearly completed, from Stuart's painting of John Adams, in his very old age. This sketch is to be engraved, as an accompaniment of the works of Mr. Adams, about to be published, by Little & Brown. I scarcely know what to say of this sketch of Mr. Adams. His fine old face, such as it was in the flesh, and at the very last of his long and illustrious career, is fixed in my memory--rivetted there--as firmly as his name is bolted, upon the loftiest column of our national history. Never have I seen a more perfect fac simile of man, without the aid of relief--it is the resurrection and the life. If I am at a loss what to say of the sketch, I am still farther at fault, what to say of the artist. Like some of those heavenly bodies, whose contemplation occupies no little portion of his time, it is not always the easiest thing in the world, to know in what part of his orbit he may be found; if I desire to obtain a portrait, or a miniature, or a sketch, he can scarcely devote his time to it, he is so very busy, in contriving some new improvement, for his already celebrated rifle; or if it is a patent muzzled rifle that I want, he is quite likely to be occupied, in the manufacture of a telescope. Be all these matters as they may, I can vouch for it, after years of experience, Alvan Clarke is a very clever fellow, _Anglice et Americanice_; and this sketch of Mr. Adams does him honor, as an artist. It was in the year 1822, I believe, that a young lady sent me her album, with a request, that I, of all people in the world, would occupy one of its pages. Well, I felt, that after all, it was quite in my line, for I had always looked upon a young lady's album, as a kind of cemetery, for the burial of anybody's bantlings, and I began to read the inscriptions, upon such as reposed in this place, appointed for the still-born. I was a little startled, I confess, at my first glance, upon the autograph of the late Bishop Griswold, appended to some very respectable verses. My attention was next drawn to some lines, over the name of Daniel Webster, _manu propria_. I forget them now, but I remember, that the American Eagle was invoked for the occasion, and flapped its wings, through one or more of the stanzas. Next came an article in strong, sensible prose, from John Adams, written by an amanuensis, but signed with his own hand. Such a hand--the "_manu deficiente_" of Tibullus. The letters, formed by the failing, trembling fingers, resembled the forked lightning. A solemnizing and impressive autograph it was: and, under the impulse of the moment, I had the audacity to spoil three pages of this consecrated album, by appending to this venerable name the following lines:-- High over Alps, in Dauphine, There lies a lonely spot, So wild, that ages rolled away, And man had claimed it not: For ages there, the tiger's yell Bay'd the hoarse torrent as it fell. Amid the dark, sequestered glade, No more the brute shall roam; For man, unsocial man, hath made That wilderness his home: And convent bell, with notes forlorn, Is heard, at midnight, eve, and morn. For now, amid the Grand Chartreuse, Carthusian monks reside; Whose lives are passed, from man recluse, In scourging human pride; In matins, vespers, aves, creeds, With crosses, masses, prayers, and beads. When hither men of curious mood, Or pilgrims, bend their way, To view this Alpine solitude, Or, heav'nward bent, to pray, Saint Bruno's monks their album bring, Inscrib'd by poet, priest, and king. Since pilgrim first, with holy tears, Inscrib'd the tablet fair, On time's dark flood, some thousand years, Have pass'd like billows there. What countless names its pages blot, By country, kindred, long forgot! Here chaste conceits and thoughts divine Unclaim'd, and nameless, stand; Which, like the Grecian's waving line, Betray some master's hand. And here Saint Bruno's monks display, With pride, the classic lines of Gray. While pilgrim ponders o'er the name, He feels his bosom glow; And counts it nothing less than fame, To write his own below. So, in this Album, fain would I, Beneath a name, that cannot die. Thrice happy book! no tablet bears A nobler name than thine; Still followed by a nation's pray'rs, Through ling'ring life's decline. The wav'ring stylus scarce obey'd The hand, that once an empire sway'd! Not thus, among the patriot band, That name enroll'd we see-- No falt'ring tongue, no trembling hand Proclaim'd an empire free!-- Lady, retrace those lines, and tell, If, in thy heart, no sadness dwell? And, in those fainting, struggling lines, Oh, see'st thou naught sublime! No tott'ring pile, that half inclines! No mighty wreck of time! Sighs not thy gentle heart to save The sage, the patriot, from the grave! If thus, oh then recall that sigh, Unholy 'tis, and vain; For saints and sages never die, But sleep, to rise again. Life is a lengthened day, at best, And in the grave tir'd trav'llers rest; Till, with his trump, to wake the dead, Th' appointed angel flies; Then Heav'n's bright album shall be spread, And all who sleep, shall rise; The blest to Zion's Hill repair, And write their names immortal there. I had as much pleasure, in composing these lines, as I ever had, in composing the limbs or the features of a corpse; and now that they are fairly laid out, the reader may bury them in oblivion, as soon as he pleases. The lines of Gray, referred to, in the sixth stanza, may be found in the collections of his works, and were written in the album of the Chartreuse, in 1741. My recollections of John Adams, are very perfect, and preëminently pleasant. I knew nothing of him personally, of course, in the days of his power. I had nothing to ask at his hands, but the permission to sit and listen. How vast and how various his learning!--"Qui sermo! quæ præcepta! quanta notitia antiquitatis!... Omnia memoria tenebat, non domestica solum, sed etiam externa bella: cujus sermone ita tum cupide fruebar, quasi jam divinarem id, quod evenit, illo extincto, fore, unde discerem, neminem." Surpassingly delightful were the outpourings, till some thoughtless wight, by an ill-timed allusion, opened the fountain of bitter waters--then, history, literature, the arts, all were buried _in gurgite vasto_, giving place to Jefferson's injustice, the Mazzei letters, and Callender's prospect before us--_quantum mutatus ab illo_! How forcibly the dead are quickened, upon the retina of memory, by the exhibition of some well known and personally associated article--the little hat of Napoleon--the mantle of Cæsar--"_you all do know this mantle_!" I have just now drawn, from my treasury, an autograph of John Adams, bearing date, Jan. 31, 1824, and a lock of strong hair, cut from his venerable brow, the day before. In October of that year, he was eighty-nine years of age; and that lock of hair is a dark iron gray. I have also taken from its casket a silver pen, and small portable inkstand attached, which also were his. The contemplation of these things--I came honestly by them--seems almost to raise that venerable form before me. I can almost hear him repeat those memorable words--"THE UNION IS OUR ROCK OF SAFETY AS WELL AS OUR PLEDGE OF GRANDEUR." No. XLVII. I am rather surprised, to find how little is known, among the rising generation, about slavery, in the Old Bay State. One might delve for a twelve month, and not gather together the half of all, that is condensed, in Dr. Belknap's replies to Judge Tucker's inquiries, Mass. H. C., iv. 191. I never was a sexton in the Berry Street Church, but I knew Dr. Jeremy Belknap well, in 1797, when he lived on the southeasterly side of Lincoln Street, near Essex. He died the following year. His garden was overrun with spiders. I had a great veneration for the doctor--he gave me a copy of his Foresters--and, to repay a small part of the debt, I was proceeding, one summer morning, with a strong arm, to demolish the spiders, when he pleasantly called to me to desist, saying, that he preferred them to the flies. Slavery was here--negro slavery--at a very early day. Josselyn speaks of three slaves, in the family of Maverick, on Noddle's Island, Oct. 2, 1639, M. H. C., xxiii. 231. These were probably brought directly from Africa. In 1645, the General Court of Massachusetts ordered Mr. Williams, at Pascataqua, over which Massachusetts exercised jurisdiction, to send the negro he had of Captain Smith, to them, that he might be sent home; as Smith had confessed, that the negroes he brought were stolen from Guinea. Ibid. iv. 195. In the same year, a law was passed, against the traffic in slaves, those excepted, who were taken in war, or cast into servitude, for crime. Ibid. The slave trade was carried on, in Massachusetts, to a very small extent. "In 1703," says Dr. Belknap, "a duty of £4 was laid on every negro imported." He adds--"By the inquiries which I have made of our oldest merchants, now living, I cannot find that more than three ships in a year, belonging to this port, were ever employed in the African trade. The rum distilled here, was the mainspring of this traffic. Very few whole cargoes ever came to this port. One gentleman says he remembers two or three. I remember one, between thirty and forty years ago, which consisted almost wholly of children. At Rhode Island the rum distillery and the African trade were prosecuted to a greater extent than in Boston; and I believe no other seaport, in Massachusetts, had any concern in the slave business." Ibid. 196. Dr. Belknap drew up his answers to Judge Tucker's inquiries, April 21, 1795: "_between thirty and forty years ago_," therefore, was between 1755 and 1765. Dr. Belknap remembered the arrival in Boston of a "_whole cargo_" of slaves, "_almost wholly children_," between the years 1755 and 1765! If we have ever had an accurate and careful narrator of matters of fact, in New England, that man was Jeremy Belknap. The last of these years, 1765, was the memorable year of the Stamp Act, and LIBERTY TREE! Let us hope the arrival was nearer to 1755. "About the time of the Stamp Act," says Dr. Belknap, "this trade began to decline, and, in 1788, it was prohibited by law. This could not have been done previous to the Revolution, as the governors sent hither from England, it is said, were instructed not to consent to any acts made for that purpose." Ibid. 197. In 1767, a bill was brought into the House of Representatives, "to prevent the unnatural and unwarrantable custom of enslaving mankind, and the importation of slaves into the Province:" but it came to nothing. "Had it passed both houses in any form whatever," says Dr. B., ibid. page 202, "Gov. Bernard would not have consented to it." One scarcely knows which most to admire, the fury against the South, of gentlemen, whose ancestors imported cargoes of slaves, or bought and sold them, at retail, or the righteous indignation of Great Britain, who instructed her colonial governors, to veto every attempt of the Massachusetts Legislature, to abolish the traffic in human flesh. A disposition existed, at an earlier period, to abolish the brutal traffic. In a letter to the Rev. Dr. Freeman from Timothy Pickering, which may found in M. H. C., xviii. 183, he refers to the following transcript, from the records of the Selectmen of Boston: "1701, May 26. The Representatives are desired to promote the encouraging the bringing of white servants, and to put a period to negroes being slaves." "A few only of our merchants," says Dr. B., M. H. C., iv. 197, "were engaged in this traffic. It was never supported by popular opinion. A degree of infamy was attached to the characters of those, who were employed in it. Several of them, in their last hours, bitterly lamented their concern in it." Chief Justice Samuel Sewall wrote a pamphlet against it. Many, says Dr. B., who were wholly opposed to the traffic, would yet buy a slave, when brought here, on the ground that it was better for him to be brought up in a Christian land! For this, Abraham and the patriarchs were vouched in, of course, as supporters. Our winters were unfavorable to unacclimated negroes; white laborers were therefore preferred to black. "_Negro children_," says Dr. B., ibid. 200, "_were reckoned an incumbrance in a family; and, when weaned, were given away like puppies. They have been publicly advertised in the newspapers, to be given away_." In answer to the question, how slavery had been abolished in Massachusetts? Dr. Belknap answered--"_by public opinion_." He considers, that slavery came to an end, in our Commonwealth, in 1783. After 1781, there were, certainly, very few, who had the brass to offer negroes, for sale, openly, in the newspapers of Boston. Public opinion, as Dr. Belknap says, was accomplishing this work: and every calm, impartial person may opine for himself, how patiently we of the North should have endured, at that time, even a modicum of the galling abuse, of which such a _profluvium_ is daily administered, to the people of the South. It seems to me, that such rough treatment would have been more likely to addle, than to hatch the ovum of public opinion in 1783. Dr. Belknap's account, ibid. 203, is very clear. He says--"The present constitution of Massachusetts was established in 1780. The first article of the declaration of rights asserts that '_all men are born free and equal_.' This was inserted, not merely as a moral or political truth, but with a particular view to establish the liberation of the negroes, on a general principle; and so it was understood, by the people at large; but some doubted whether this were sufficient. Many of the blacks, taking advantage of the _public opinion_, and of this general assertion, in the bill of rights, asked their freedom and obtained it. Others took it without leave. Some of the aged and infirm thought it most prudent to continue in the families, where they had been well used, and experience has proved that they acted right. In 1781, at the court in Worcester County, an indictment was found against a white man for assaulting, beating, and imprisoning a black. He was tried at the Supreme Judicial Court, in 1783. His defence was that the black was his slave, and that the beating, &c., was the necessary restraint and correction of the master. This was answered by citing the aforesaid clause in the declaration of rights. The Judge and Jury were of opinion that he had no right to beat or imprison the negro. He was found guilty and fined forty shillings. This decision was a mortal wound to slavery in Massachusetts." The reader will perceive, that a distinction was maintained, between the _slave trade_, eo nomine, and the _holding of slaves_, inseparably connected as it was, with the incidents of sale and transfer from man to man, in towns and villages. He, who was engaged in the _trade_, so called, was supposed _per se_ or _per alium_ to _steal_ the slaves; but, contrary to the proverb, the _receiver_ was, in this case, not accounted so bad as the _thief_! The prohibition of the _traffic_, in 1788, grew out of public indignation, produced by the act of one Avery, from Connecticut, who decoyed three black men on board his vessel, under pretence of employing them; and while they were at work below, proceeded to sea, having previously cleared for Martinico. The knowledge of this outrage produced a great sensation. Gov. Hancock, and M. L'Etombe, the French Consul, wrote in favor of the kidnapped negroes, to all the West India Islands. A petition was presented to the Legislature, from the members of the association of the Boston Clergy; another from the blacks; and one, at that very time, from the Quakers, was lying on the table, for an act against equipping and insuring vessels, engaged in the traffic, and against kidnappers. Such an act was passed March 26, 1788. The poor negroes, carried off by that arch villain, Avery, were offered for sale, in the island of St. Bartholomew. They told their story publicly--_magna est veritas_--the Governor heard and believed it--the sale was forbidden. An inhabitant of the island--a Mr. ATHERTON, of blessed memory--became their protector, and gave bonds for their good behavior, for six months. Letters, confirming their story, arrived. They were sent on their way home rejoicing, and arrived in Boston, on the following 29th day of July. In 1763, according to Dr. Belknap, ibid. 198, there was 1 black to every 45 whites in Massachusetts; in 1776, 1 to every 65; in 1784, 1 to every 80. The whole number, in the latter year, 4377 blacks, 354,133 whites. It appears, by a census, taken by order of Government, in the last month of 1754, and the first month of 1755, that there were then in the Province of Massachusetts Bay 2717 negro slaves of and over 16 years of age. Of these, 989 belonged to Boston. This table may be found in M. H. C., xiii. 95. No. XLVIII. Of all sorts of affectation the affectation of happiness is the most universal. How many, whose domestic relations are full of trouble, are, abroad, apparently, the happiest of mortals. How many, after laying down the severest sumptuary laws, for their domestics, on the subject of _sugar_ and _butter_, go forth, in all their personal finery, to inquire the prices of articles, which they have no means to purchase, and return, comforted by the assurance, that they have the reputation of fashion and wealth, with those, at least, who have, so deferentially, displayed their diamonds and pearls! Who would not be thought wealthy, and wise, and witty, if he could! Happiness is every man's _cynosure_, when he embarks upon the ocean of life. No man would willingly be thought so very unskilful, as that ill-starred Palinurus, who made the shores of Norway, on a voyage to the coast of Africa. Whether wealth, or fame, or fashion, or pleasure be the principal object of pursuit, no one is willing to be accounted a disappointed man, after the application of his best energies, for years. The man of wealth--the man of ambition, for example, are desirous of being accounted happy. It would certainly be exceedingly annoying to both, to be convinced, that they were believed, by mankind, to be otherwise. Their condition is rendered tolerable, only by the conviction, that thousands suppose them happy, and covet their condition accordingly. There is something particularly agreeable, in being envied, of course. Now, it is the common law of man's nature--a law, that executes itself--that _possession makes him poor_ as Horace says, Sat. i. 1, 1. --------"Nemo, quam sibi sortem, Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit illi, Contentus vivat."-------- All experience has demonstrated, that happiness is not to be bought, and that what there is of it, in this present life, is a home-made article, which every one produces for himself, in the workshop of his own bosom. It no more consists, in the accumulation of wealth, than in snuffing up the east wind. The poor believe the rich to be happy--they become rich, and find they were mistaken. But they keep the secret, and affect to be happy, nevertheless. Seneca looked upon the devotion of time and talent to the acquirement of money, beyond the measure of a man's reasonable wants, with profound contempt. He called such, as gave themselves up to the unvarying pursuit of wealth, _short lived_; meaning that the hours and years, so employed, were carved out of the estate of a man's life, and utterly thrown away. There is a fine passage, in ch. 17, of Seneca's book, _De Brevitate Vitæ_. "Misserrimam ergo necesse est, non tantum brevissimam, vitam eorum esse, qui magno parant labore, quod majore possideant: operose assequuntur quæ volunt, anxii tenent quæ assecuti sunt. Nulla interim nunquam amplius redituri temporis est ratio"--It is clear, therefore, that the life must be very miserable, and very brief, of those, who get their gains with great labor, and hold on to their gettings with greater--who obtain the object of their wishes, with much difficulty, and are everlastingly anxious for the safe keeping of their treasures. They seem to have no true estimate of those hours, thus wasted, which never can return. In one of his admirable letters to Lucilius, the eightieth, on the subject of poverty, he says--"Si vis scire quam nihil in illa mali sit, compara inter se pauperum et divitum vultus. Sæpius pauper et fidelius ridet; nulla sollicitudo in alto est; etiamsi qua incidit cura, velut nubes levis transit Horum, qui felices vocantur, hilaritas ficta est, au gravis et suppurata tristitia; eo quidem gravior, quia interdum non licet palam esse miseros, sed inter ærumnas, cor ipsum exedentes, necesse est agere felicem"--If you wish to know, that there is no evil therein, compare the faces of the rich and the poor. The poor man laughs much oftener, and more heartily. There is no wearying solicitude pressing upon his inmost soul, and when care comes, it passes away, like a thin cloud. But the hilarity of these rich men, who are called happy, is affected, or a deep-seated and rankling anxiety, the more oppressive, because it never would answer for them to appear as miserable, as they are, being constrained to appear happy, in the midst of harassing cares, gnawing at their vitals. If Seneca had been on 'Change, daily, during the last half year, and watched the countenances of our wealthy money-lenders, he could not have portrayed the picture with a more masterly pencil. The rate of usury has, of course, a relation to the hazard encountered, and that hazard is ever uppermost in the mind of the usurer: and it is extremely doubtful, if the hope, however sanguine, of realizing two per cent. a month, is always sufficient, to quiet those fears, which will occasionally arise, of losing the principal and interest together. I never buried an old usurer, without a conviction, as I looked upon his hard, corrugated features, that, if he could carry nothing else with him, he certainly carried upon his checkered brow the very phylactery of his calling. We may talk about money, as an article of commerce, till we are tired--we may weary the legislature, by our importunity, into a repeal of the existing laws against usury--we may cudgel our brains, to stretch the mantle of the law over our operations, and make it appear _a regular business transaction_--it is a case, in which no refinement of the culinary art will ever be able to disguise, or neutralize, the odor of the opossum--there ever was--there is--there ever will be, I am afraid, a certain touch of moral _nastiness_ about it, which no casuistical chemistry will ever be able entirely to remove. Doubtless, there are men, who take something more, during a period of scarcity, than legal interest, and who are very worthy men withal. There are others, who are descendants, in the right line, from the horse-leech of biblical history--who take all they can get. Now, there is but one category: _they are all usurers_; and those, who are respectable, impart of their respectability to such, as have little or none; and give a confidence to those, who would be treated with contempt, for their merciless gripings, were they not banded together, with men of character, in the same occupation, as usurers. Those, who take seven or eight per cent. per annum, and those who take _one per cent. a day_, and such things have been, are not easily distinguished; but the question, who come within the category, as usurers, is a thing more readily comprehended. All are such, who exceed the law. _Usurer_, originally, was not a term of reproach; for _interest_ and _usury_ meant one and the same thing. The earlier statutes against usury, in England, were directed chiefly against the Jews--whose lineal descendants are still in our midst. Usury was forbidden, by act of Parliament, in 1341. The rate then taken by the Jews, was enormous. In 1545, 37 Henry VIII., the rate established was ten per cent. This statute was confirmed by 13 Eliz. 1570. Reduced to eight per cent., 21 James I. 1623, when the word _interest_ was first employed, instead of _usury_. Again reduced, by Cromwell, 1650, to six per cent. Confirmed by Charles II. 1660. Reduced to five per cent., 5 Anne, 1714. There are not two words about it; extortion and usury harden the heart; soil the reputation; and diminish the quantum of happiness, by lowering the standard of self-respect. That unconscionable griper, whose god is Mammon, and who fattens upon misery, as surely as the vulture upon carrion, stalking up and down like a commercial buzzard, tearing away the substance of his miserable victim, by piecemeal--_two per cent. a month_--can he be happy! However much like a human being he may have looked, in his youth, the workings of his mercenary soul have told too truly upon his iron features, until that visage would form an appropriate figure-head for the portal of 'Change alley, or the Inquisition. --------"Is your name Shylock? Shylock is my name." To how many, in this age of _anxious inquirers_, may we hold up this picture, and propound this interrogatory! God is just, though Mahomet be not his prophet. Instead of exclaiming, that God's ways are past finding out, let us go doggedly to work, and study them a little. Some of them, I humbly confess, appear sufficiently intelligible, with common sense for an expositor. Does not the All-wise contriver say, in language not to be mistaken, to such as worship, at the shrines of avarice and sensuality--you have chosen idols, and your punishment shall consist, in part, in the ridicule and contempt, which the worship of these idols brings upon your old age. You--the victim of intemperance--shall continue, with your bloated lips, to worship--not a stone image--but a stone jug; and grasping your idol with your trembling fingers, literally stagger into the grave! And you, though last, not least, of all vermicular things, whose whole time and intellectual powers are devoted to no higher object than making money--shall still crawl along, heaping up treasure, day after day--day after day--to die at last, not knowing who shall come after you, a wise man or a fool! "Constant at Church and 'Change; his gains were sure, His givings rare, save farthings to the poor! The Dev'l was piq'd such saintship to behold, And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old; But Satan now is wiser than of yore, And tempts, by making rich, not making poor." No. XLIX. Self-conceit and vanity are very pardonable offences, till, stimulated by flattery, or aggravated by indulgence, they assume the offensive forms of arrogance and insolence. If we should drive, from the circle of our friends, all, who are occasionally guilty of such petty misdemeanors, we should restrict ourselves to the solitude of Selkirk. There are some worthy men, with whom this little infirmity is an intermittent, alternating, like fever and ague, between self-conceit and self-abasement. Like some estimable people, of both sexes, who, at one moment, proclaim themselves the chief of sinners, and the next, are in admirable working condition, as the spiritual guides and instructors of all mankind; these persons, under the influence of the wind, or the weather, or the world's smiles, or its frowns, or the state of their digestive organs, indicate, by their air and carriage, today, a feeling, far on the sunny side of self-complacency, and of deep humility, tomorrow. William Boodle has been dead, some twenty years. He was my school-fellow. I would have undertaken anything, for Boodle, while living, but I could not undertake for him, when dead. The idea of burying Billy Boodle, my playmate from the cradle--we were put into breeches, the very same day--with whom I had passed, simultaneously, through all the epocha--rattles--drums--go-carts--kites--tops--bats--skates--the idea of shovelling the cold earth upon him, was too much. I would have buried the Governor and Council, with the greatest pleasure, but Billy Boodle--I couldn't. So I changed works, that day, with one of our craft, who comprehended my feelings perfectly. I never shall forget my sensations, the first time he called me _Mr. Wycherly_. We had ever been on terms of the greatest intimacy, and had never known any other words of designation, than Abner and Bill. I was very much amazed; and he seemed a little confused, himself, when I laughed in his face, and asked him what the devil he meant by it. But he grew daily more formal in his manners, and more particular in his dress. His voice became changed--he began to use longer words--assumed an unusual wave of the hand, and a particular movement of the head, when speaking--and, while talking, on the most common-place topics, he had a way, quite new with him, of bringing down the fore-finger of his right hand, frequently and forcibly, upon the ball of the uplifted thumb of the left. He was a leather-breeches maker; and I caught him, upon two or three occasions, spouting in his shop, all by himself, before a small looking-glass. He once made a pair of buckskins, for old General Heath--they did not fit--the General returned them, and Boodle said he would have them _taken into a new draft_--I thought he was a little deranged: "taken where?" said the old General. Boodle colored, and corrected himself, saying he would have them _let out_. He had two turns of this strange behavior, in one year, during which, he was rather neglectful of his business, pompous in his family, and talked to his wife, who was a plain, notable woman, of nothing but first principles, and political economy. In the intervals between these attacks, he was perfectly himself again, and it was Abner and Bill, as in former days. I have often smiled, at my own dullness, in not sooner apprehending the solution of this little enigma. Boodle was a member of the Legislature; and the fits were upon him, during the sessions. No man, probably, was ever more thoroughly confounded, than my old friend, when, it having been deemed expedient to compliment the leather-breeches interest, the committee requested him to permit his name to be put upon the list of candidates, as one of the representatives of the city of Boston, in the General Court. He could not think of it--the committee averred the utter impossibility of doing without him--he was ignorant of the duties--they could be learned in half a day--he was without education--the very thing, a self-taught man! He consented. How much more easily we are persuaded to be great men, than to be Christians! There is but a step from conscious insignificancy to the loftiest pretension. Boodle was elected, and awoke the next morning, less surprised by the event, than at the extraordinary fact, that his talents had been overlooked, so long. He spoiled three good skins that day, from sheer absence of mind. However disposed we may be to laugh at the airs of men, who so entirely misapprehend themselves and their constituents, our laughter should be tempered with charity. They are not honestly told, that they are wanted, only as makeweights--to keep in file--to follow, _en suite_--to register an edict: and their vanity is pardonable, in the ratio of that ignorance of themselves, which leads them to rely, so implicitly, upon the testimony of others. Comparative mensuration is a very popular process, and a very comforting process, for all, who have made small progress in self-knowledge; and this category comprehends all, but a very small minority. There are a few, I doubt not, who think humbly of themselves; but there are very few, indeed, who cannot perceive, in themselves, or their possessions, some one or more points of imaginary superiority, over their fellows. This is an inexpensive mode of enjoying one's self, and I cannot see the wisdom, or the wit, of disturbing the self-complacency of any one, upon such an occasion, unless the delusion is of vital importance to somebody. What, if your neighbor prefers his Dutch domicil, with its overhanging gable, to your classic chateau--or sees more to admire, in his broad-faced squab of a wife, than in your faultless Helen--or vaunts the superiority of his short-legged cob, over your famous blood horse! Let him. Such things should be passed, with great forbearance, were it only for the innocent amusement they afford us. So far, however, is this from the ordinary mode of treating them, that I am compelled to believe vanity is often more apt, than criminality, to excite our irritable principle, and stimulate the spirit of resentment. I have known some worthy men, generous and humane, whose very gait has rendered them exceedingly unpopular. I once heard a pious and reverend clergyman say, of one of his very best parishioners, but whose unfortunate air of hauteur was rather remarkable, that, with all his excellent qualities, "it would do the flesh good to give him a kick." From a thousand illustrations, which are all around us, I will select one only. The anecdote, which I am about to relate, may be told without any apprehension of giving offence; as the parties have been dead, some thirty years. A worthy clergyman, residing in a neighboring state, grew old; and the parish, who entertained the most cordial respect and affection, for this venerable soldier of the cross, resolved to give him a colleague. After due inquiry, and a _quantum sufficit_ of preaching on probation, they decided on giving a call to Parson Brocklebank. He was a little, red, round man, with a spherical head, a Brougham nose, and a gait, the like of which had never been seen, in that parish, before. It had not attracted particular notice, until after he was settled. To be sure, an aged single lady, of the parish, was heard to say, that she saw something of it, at the ordination, when Parson Brocklebank stepped forward, to receive the right hand of fellowship. Suffice it to say, for the reader's particular edification, that it was indescribable. It became the village talk, and is thought to have had an injurious influence, in retarding a revival, which seemed to be commencing, just before the period of the ordination. However lowly in spirit, the new minister may have been, all who ever beheld him move, were satisfied, at a glance, that he had a most exalted opinion of himself. And yet he was an excellent man. This unfortunate trick of jerking out the hips, and those rotundities of flesh connected therewith, however it might have originated in "curs'd pride, that busy sin," had become, with Parson Brocklebank, an unchangeable habit. We often see it in a slight degree, but, as it existed in his particular case, it was a thing not known among men. I think I have seen it among women. Dr. Johnson would have called it a fundamental undulation, elaborated by the ostentatious workings of a pompous spirit. Whatever it was, it was fatal to the peace and prosperity of that parish. Every one talked of it. The young laughed at it; the old mourned over it; the middle aged were vexed by it; boys and girls were whipped, for imitating it; children were forbidden to look at it, for fear of their catching it; the very dogs were said to have barked at it. The parish began to dissolve, _sine die_. The deacons waited upon their old clergyman, Father Paybody, and the following colloquy ensued: "We're in a bad way, Father Paybody; and, if folks keep going off so, we don't see how we shall be able to pay the salaries.--Dismiss me: I am of little use now.--No, no, Father Paybody, while there's a potato in this parish, we'll share it together. We call'd for advice. Ever since Parson Brocklebank was settled, the parish has been going to pieces: what is the cause of it?--The shrewd old man shook his head, and smiled.--Parson Brocklebank is a good man, Father Paybody.--Excellent.--Sound doctrine.--Very.--Amazing ready at short notice.--Very.--Great at clearing a knotty passage.--Very.--We think him a very pious Christian.--Very.--In the parochial relation he is very acceptable.--Very.--I hear he has a winning way, and always has candy or gingerbread in his pockets, for the children, which helps the word greatly, with the little ones.--Well, nearly half our people are dissatisfied, and have left, or will leave soon. What is the cause of it, Father Paybody?--I will tell you: it's owing to no other cause under the sun, than that wriggle of Brother Brocklebank's behind." No. L. I sincerely hope, that Daniel H. Pearson, now in prison, under suspicion of having murdered his wife and twin daughters, at Wilmington, in this Commonwealth, in the month of April last, may be proved to be an innocent man. For, should he be convicted, he will certainly be sentenced to be hung; and it is quite probable, that Governor Briggs, and his iron-hearted Council may do, as they recently did, in the case of poor Washington Goode, a most unfortunate man, who, unhappily, committed a most infernal murder, of which, after an impartial trial, he was duly convicted. Will it be believed, in this age of improved contrivances, moral and physical, that the Governor and Council of our Commonwealth have actually refused, to rush between the sentence and the execution, and save this egregious scoundrel from the gallows! They have solemnly decided, not to interfere with the operation of that ancient law of this Commonwealth, which decrees, that he, who kills his fellow man, with malice prepense, shall be hanged, by the neck, till he is dead! It really seems to me, that the time has arrived when Massachusetts should be governed, by some compassionate person, who will prove himself, upon such unpleasant occasions, the murderer's friend. I am not unapprized of the fact, that there is a strong opposition to these opinions, among the wisest and best men in the community; and that, irrespectively of the operation of the _lex talionis_ upon the murderer, his death is accounted necessary, _in terrorem_, for the rest of mankind; as Cicero has said--"_ut poena ad paucos, metus ad omnes perveniat_"--that the punishment may reach the few, and fear the many. But Cicero was a heathen. There are also some individuals, having very little of that contempt for old wives' tales, which characterizes those profound thinkers, our interesting fellow-citizens of the Liberty Party, and who still venture, in these enlightened days, to cite the word of God--WHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD, BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED. In the present condition of society, when there are so very few of us, who do not feel, that we are wise above what is written, this precept, delivered by God Almighty, to Noah, appears exceedingly preposterous, greatly resembling some of those _blue laws_, which were in operation, in the olden time, in a sister state. What was Noah to Jeremy Bentham! Although I am pained to confess the shortcomings of Jeremy; for, though he did much to meliorate the severity of the British penal code, he went not, by any means, to those happy lengths, which we approve, in shielding the unfortunate murderer from the halter. There was a very amiable, old gentleman in England, who lived, through the times of Charles I., both Cromwells, and Charles II. He was reputed so wise, and learned, and just, and pious, that his judgment was highly prized, by all men. He was esteemed the greatest lawyer and the most upright, in all England; so much so, that, in 1671, he was created Lord Chief Justice of the realm. I desire to reason impartially, upon this subject, and therefore admit, that this great and good man, Sir Matthew Hale, believed death to be a very just punishment, for certain crimes, inferior to murder. Although Sir Matthew's crude notions are rapidly going out of fashion, it is but fair, to transcribe his words--"When offences grow enormous, frequent, and dangerous to a kingdom or state, destructive or highly pernicious to civil societies, and to the great insecurity and danger of the kingdom or its inhabitants, severe punishment and even death itself is necessary to be annexed to laws, in many cases, by the prudence of lawgivers." In all candor, we must admit, that Sir Matthew Hale was notoriously the very reverse of a sanguinary Judge. But Sir Matthew's days were the days of small things. We cannot sufficiently bless the Great Disposer of human affairs, for raising up the foolish, as He has done, in these latter days, and in such great numbers withal, to confound the wise. It is now no longer necessary, as of old, to pursue a particular course of study, to qualify mankind, for the work of legislation, or the practice of law, or physic, or the exposition of the more subtle points of religion, or ethics, or political economy. This truly is an age of intuition. He, who learns, or half learns, one profession, is, instanter, competent to perform the duties of all. It is a heavenly stream of universal light and power, somewhat analogous to the miraculous gift of tongues. Nothing, in this connection, is more remarkable, than the rapid turgescence of every man's confidence, in his own abilities, upon the slightest encouragement, from his neighbor. There has been scarcely a blacksmith in New England, since the remarkable and merited success of Elihu Burritt, who, if you ask his opinion of the efficacy of pennyroyal for the stomach-ache, will not, with your permission, of course, prescribe for any acute or chronic complaint, with which you are afflicted. Tailors, in full measure, nine to a man, will readily solve you a point of theology, which would have been fearfully approached, by Tillotston or Horne. And, upon this solemn subject of capital punishment, there is scarcely a man-midwife in the land, who is not ready, with his instruments, to deliver the community of all their scruples at once. This, certainly, is a blessed condition of things, for which we cannot be sufficiently thankful. That we may do abundant justice to our opponents, I propose to offer, in this place, a quotation from the Edinburgh Review, vol. 86, p. 216. The article is entitled--"_What is to be done with our criminals?_" The passage runs thus--"Another circumstance, which renders legislation on this subject peculiarly difficult, is the lamentably perverted sentimentality, which is extensively diffusing itself among the people, and which may soon render it problematical, whether any penal code, really calculated to answer its objects, can be devised; a sentimentality, which weeps over the criminal, and has no tears to spare for the miseries he has caused--which transforms the felon into an object of interest and sympathy, and forgets the innocent sufferers from his cruelty or perfidy. So far as pity for the criminal is consistent with a more comprehensive compassion for those he has wronged, and is limited by the necessity of obtaining them redress and providing for the safety of society--so far as it prompts to a desire to see the statute-book cleared of every needless severity, and that no punishments shall be inflicted for punishment's sake it is laudable. "But we must, with regret, profess our belief, that it has often far transcended these limits; and has exhibited itself in forms and modes, which, if permitted to dictate the tone of our criminal legislation, would tend to the rapid increase of crime. The people in question belong to a class, always numerous, who are led by the imagination, and not by their reason--by emotion rather than reflection. They see the felon in chains, and they are dissolved in commiseration; they do not stop to realize all the miseries, which have at last made _him_ miserable--perhaps, in the present apathy of his conscience, much less miserable than many of those whom he has injured." This is from an article, ably written, of some fifty-eight pages, published in 1847. I give it a place here, lest I should be suspected of suppressing all arguments, on the other side. The idea of hanging a murderer, by form of law, instead of placing him for a few years, in some _anxious seat_, the treadmill or the state prison, where he might be converted perhaps--cutting him off, in the midst of his days, without time allowed for repentance, is a terrible thing. I am perfectly aware, that it will be replied--this is the very thing which he did for his wretched victim. We are told, that the highest penalty known to the law is demanded. _All that a man hath will he give for his life_; and we are opposed, in our humane endeavors, by the scriptural edict referred to already. It is averred to be an all-important object in capital punishment, to operate upon the fears of others, _ut metus_, as we said before, _ad omnes perveniat_, which would be less likely to be the case, if the halter were abolished. It is true, that, while there is life, there is hope--hope of pardon; hope even of a natural and less horrible death; a fond, fearful hope of cutting the keeper's throat, and escaping from thraldom! How truly the poor murderer deserves our compassion! What a revolting spectacle this hanging is! Here, however, I confess, the answer is complete--nobody, but the functionaries, is suffered to see it. It is much less of an entertainment, than it was, in the days of George Selwyn, who was in the habit of feeing the keeper of Newgate, for due notice of every execution, and a reservation of the best seat, nearest the gallows. It has been said, that hanging has become more unpopular, since it ceased to be a public amusement. It may be so--I rather doubt it. In former times, there were very few inexpensive public amusements, in Boston, beside the Thursday lectures; and a hanging has always been highly attractive, in town and country. I well remember, not very many years ago, while riding into the city, in my chaise, having been compelled to halt, and remain at rest, for twenty minutes, in Washington, near Pleasant Street, while the immense mass of men, women and children rushed by, on their way to the execution of an Irishman, which took place at the gallows, near the grave-yard, on the Neck. The prisoner was in an open barouche, dressed in a blue coat and gilt buttons, white waistcoat, drab breeches, and white top boots, and his hair was powdered. He was accompanied by Mr. Larrassy, the Catholic priest, and the physician of the prison. During the afternoon of July 30, 1794, on the morning of which day the great fire occurred in Boston, three pirates, brought home in irons, on board the brig Betsey, Captain Saunders, belonging to Daniel Sargent, were hung on the Common; and three governors, sitting in their chairs, would not have drawn half the concourse, then and there assembled. No. LI. "Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragic play Untimely smothered in their dusky graves." There were no humane and gentle spirits, in those days of old, to speak soft words of comfort in the ears of murderers and midnight assassins. Poor fellows! after they had let out the last drop of blood, in the hearts of their innocent victims, and reduced wives to widowhood, and children to orphanage--after the parricide had plunged the dagger in his father's heart--after the husband had murdered her, whom he had sworn, under the eye of God, to love and to cherish--after the wife, with the assistance of her paramour, had stealthily administered the poisonous draught to her confiding husband--they were respectively indicted--arraigned--publicly and deliberately tried--abundantly defended--and, when duly convicted at last, they were hanged, forsooth, by their necks, till they were dead! Merciful God! where were the Marys and the Marthas! Was there no political lawyer, in those days, whom the desire of personal aggrandizement could induce to befriend the poor, afflicted cut-throat, by which parade of philanthropy he might ride into notice, as the patriot of the Anti-capital-punishment party! Was there no tender-hearted doctor, whose leisure hours, neither few nor far between, might have been devoted to the blessed work of relieving the murderer, from the gallows, and himself, from the excruciating misery of nothing to do! Truly we live in a tragi-comical world. During the late trial of John Brown, the other day, for the murder of Miss Coventry, at Tolland, in regard to which the jury could not agree, a requisition arrived from the Governor of New York, for the prisoner, to answer, for the murder of Mrs. Hammond.--Dr. V. P. Coolidge, who murdered Matthews, at Waterville, committed suicide in prison, a few days since.--A precocious boy, eight years old, has, this month, chopped off the head of his sleeping father, with an axe, in the town of Lisle, N. Y.--Matthew Wood is to be hung in New York, June 22, for the murder of his wife.--Alexander Jones is to be hung, in the same State, on the same day, for arson.--Goode is to be hung here, in a few days.--On the 27th day of the last month, a man, named Newkirk, near Louisville, Kentucky, shot and killed his mother, near one hundred years of age.--On the third day of the present month, Mr. Carroll, near Philadelphia, murdered his lady, by choking and pitching her down stairs.--J. M. Riley is to be hung, June 5, for the murder of W. Willis, in Independence, Tennessee.--Vintner is under sentence of death, for murdering Mrs. Cooper, in Baltimore.--Elder Enos G. Dudley is to be hung, in New Hampshire, May 23, for the murder of his wife.--The wife of John Freedly, of Philadelphia, is now in jail, for helping her husband, to murder his first wife.--Pearson is now in prison, under charge of murdering his wife and twin daughters, at Wilmington, in this Commonwealth, in April last.--Mrs. McAndrew has been convicted of murder, for killing her sister-in-law, in Madison, Mississippi.--Elisha N. Baldwin is to be hung, June 5, for the murder of his brother-in-law, Victor Matthews, at St. Louis.--The girl, Blaisdell, is to be hung, in New Hampshire, Aug. 30, for poisoning a little boy, two and a half years old. She was on trial for this act only. She had previously poisoned the child's grandmother, her friend and protectress, and subsequently attempted to poison both its parents. This "_misguided young lady_" was engaged to be married, and wanting cash, for an outfit, had forged the note of the child's father, for four hundred dollars. Of Wood's case I know little more, than that he murdered his wife. Surely he is to be pitied, poor fellow. The case of Elder Enos is deeply interesting. This worthy Elder took his partner out, to give her a sleigh-ride, in life and health, and brought home her lifeless body. She had knocked her head against a tree--such, indeed, was the opinion, expressed by Elder Enos. He was also of opinion that it was not good for an Elder to be alone, for one minute; and he exhibited rather too much haste, perhaps, in taking to himself another partner. The jury were unanimously of opinion, that Elder Enos was mistaken, and that Mrs. Dudley came to her death, by the hands of Elder Enos himself. The Elder and the jury differed in opinion; and therefore, forsooth, Elder Enos must be hanged by the neck till he is dead! How much better to change this punishment, for perpetual imprisonment--and that, after a few years of good behavior, upon a petition, subscribed by hundreds, who care not the value of a sixpence, whether Elder Enos is in the State Prison, or out of it, for a pardon. Then the church will again be blessed with his services, as a ruling Elder; and the present Mrs. Dudley may herself be favored with a sleigh-ride, at some future day. The case of the "_misguided_" Miss Blaisdell is truly affecting. It is quite inconceivable how the people of New Hampshire can have the heart to hang such an interesting creature by the neck, till she is dead. I am of opinion, that the remarks, with which Judge Eastman prefaced his sentence, must have hurt Miss Blaisdell's feelings. It seems that she only made use of the little innocent, as æronauts employ a pet balloon, to try the wind. She wished to ascertain, if her poison was first proof, before she tried it, upon the parents. Although it had worked to perfection, upon the old lady, Miss Blaisdell, who appears to have acted with consummate prudence, was not quite satisfied of its efficacy, upon more vigorous constitutions. It is quite surprising, that Judge Eastman should have talked so unkindly to Miss Blaisdell, in open court--"_An experiment is to be made; the efficiency of your poison is to be tried; and the helpless innocent boy is selected. He is left in your care, with all the confidence of a mother. He plays at your feet, he prattles at your side. You take him up, and give him the fatal morphia; and, when you see him sicken and dizzy, and stretching out his little arms to his mother, and trying to walk, your heart relents not. May God soften it._" What sort of a Judge is this, to harrow up the delicate feelings of "_a misguided young lady_" after this fashion! It has been proposed, by a medical gentleman, whose philanthropy has assumed the appearance of a violent eruption, breaking out in every direction, that, if this abominable punishment, this destruction of life, which God Almighty has prescribed, in the case of murder, must continue to be inflicted, the "_misguided young ladies_" and "_unfortunate men_," who commit that crime, shall be executed under the influence of ether. This may be considered the happiest suggestion of the age. A tract may be expected from the pen of this gentleman, ere long, entitled "Crumbs of comfort for Cut-throats, or Hanging made easy." Jeremy Bentham gave his body to be dissected, for the good of mankind. Oh, that this worthy doctor, who has struck out this happy thought of hanging, under the influence of ether, would _verify the suggestion_! There are some individuals, who had rather be hanged, than talked to, in such an unfeeling manner, as Judge Eastman talked to the unfortunate and misguided Miss Blaisdell: it has therefore been decided to improve, upon the suggestion of hanging murderers, under the influence of ether; and we propose to apply for an act, authorizing the sponge to be applied to the nostrils of the condemned, by the clerk _ex officio_, during the time, when the judge is pronouncing the sentence. The time of the murderer is short, and there are many little comforts, and even delicacies, which would greatly tend to soften the rigor of his imprisonment. We have it, upon the testimony of more than one experienced keeper of Newgate, that, with some few exceptions, the appetite of the misguided, who are about to be hanged, is remarkably good. I fully comprehend the objections, which will be made to the use of ether, and granting such other little indulgences, to those, who are about to be sentenced, or are already condemned to be hanged. The Ciceronian argument,--_ut metus ad omnes perveniat_, will be neutralized. How many, it will be said, are now upon the earth, without God in this world, without the least particle of religious sensibility, disappointed men, desperate, degraded, men of utterly broken hopes, broken hearts, and broken fortunes, to whom nothing would be more acceptable, than an easy transition from this wide-awake world of pain and sadness to that region of negative happiness, which they anticipate, in their fancied state of endless oblivion beyond. They may be, nevertheless, disturbed, in some small degree, _in articulo_, by that indestructible doubt, which hangs over the mind, even the mind of the most sceptical, and deepens and darkens as death draws near,--SUPPOSE THERE SHOULD BE A GOD!--what then! They are therefore unwilling to cut their own throats, however willing to cut the throats of other people. But, if the State will take the responsibility, and furnish the ether, there are not a few, who would very complacently embrace the opportunity. That fear, which it is desirable to keep before the eyes of all men, say our opponents, is surely not the fear of the easiest of all imaginable deaths--the fear of meeting, not the King of terrors, but the very thing, which all men pray for, a placid exit from a world of care--a welcome spirit--an _etherial_ deliverer. On the contrary, we wish, say they, to hold up to the world the fear of a terrible, as well as a shameful death: and we desire to give a certainty to this fear, which we cannot do, while the frequent exercise of the power of commutation and of pardon teaches that portion of our race, which is fatally bent upon mischief, that the gibbet is nothing but a bugbear; and that, let them commit as many murders, as they will, there is not one chance, in fifty, of their coming to the gallows, at last. It is not easy to answer this argument, upon the spur of the moment; and it has been referred to a committee of our society, with instructions to prepare a reply, in season for the next execution. We have the satisfaction of knowing, that no efforts have been spared by us, to save Washington Goode, one of the most interesting of murderers, from the gallows. We have endeavored to get up an excitement in the community, by posting placards, in numerous places--"A MAN TO BE HANGED!" By this we intended to put an execution upon the footing of a puppet-show or play, and thereby to excite the public indignation. But, most unfortunately, there is too much common sense among the people of Boston, and too little enthusiasm altogether, for the successful advancement of our philanthropic views. However, importunity, if we faint not, will certainly prevail. The right of petition is ours. Let us follow, in the steps of Amy Darden and William Vans. The Legislature, at their last session, indefinitely postponed the consideration of the subject of the abolition of capital punishment. The Legislature is made of flesh and blood, and must finally give way, as a matter of course. It cannot be denied, that gentlemen make use, occasionally, of strange arguments, while opposing our efforts, in favor of those _misguided_ persons, who _unfortunately_ commit rape, treason, arson, murder, &c. A few years since, when a bill was before our House of Representatives, for the abolition of capital punishment, in the case of rape, while it was proposed to retain it in the case of highway robbery--"Let us go home, Mr. Speaker," exclaimed an audacious orator, "and tell our wives and our daughters, that we set a higher value upon our purses, than upon the security of their persons, from brutal violation." No. LII. To my anonymous correspondent who inquires, through the medium of the post-office, in what respect my "dealings with extortioners" can fairly be entitled "_dealings with the dead_," I reply, because they are _alive_ unto sin, and _dead_ unto righteousness. In Lord Bacon's Life of Henry VII., London edition of 1824, vol. v. 51, the Lord Chancellor Morton says to the Parliament--"His Grace prays you to take into consideration matters of trade, as also the manufactures of the kingdom, and to repress the bastard and barren employment of moneys to usury and unlawful exchanges, that they may be, as their natural use is, turned upon commerce, and lawful, and royal trading." Henry VIII. came to the throne, in 1509, and the rate of interest was fixed, in 1545, the 37th of that king's reign; and that rate was ten per cent. per annum. Before that time, no Christian was allowed to take interest for money; and the Jews had the matter of usury, all to themselves. It was shown, before Parliament, that, in 1260, two shillings was the rate, demanded and given, for the loan of twenty shillings for one week; and Stowe states, that the people were so highly excited against the Jews, on account of their extortion, as to massacre seven hundred of them, in London, in 1262. In 1274, a law was passed, compelling every Jew, lending money on interest, to wear a plate on his breast, signifying, that he was an usurer, or to quit the realm. What an exhibition we should have, in State Street, and the alleys, if this edict should be revived, against those, whose uncircumcision would avail them nothing, to disprove their Levitical propinquity. In 1277, two hundred and sixty-seven Jews were hung, in London, for clipping the coin. Their usurious practices, at last, so highly exasperated the nation, that, according to Rapin, Lond., 1757, vol. iii. 246, 15,000 were banished the realm, in 1290. They had obtained great privileges from King Edward; but, says Rapin, "lost all these advantages, by not curbing their insatiable greediness of enriching themselves, by unlawful means, as usury, &c." I find Sir Edward Coke denies the fact of their banishment. His version is this: "They were not banished, but their usury was banished, by the statute, enacted in this parliament, and that was the cause they banished themselves into foreign countries, where they might live by their usury; and because they were odious to the nation, that they might pass out of the realm in safety, they made a petition to the king, that a certain day might be prefixed for them to depart the realm, that they might have the king's writ to his sheriffs, for their safe conduct." 2d Institute, 507. Hume, nevertheless, Oxford ed., ii. 210, reaffirms the statement of Rapin. Hume says, ibid., the practice of usury was afterwards carried on, "by the English themselves upon their fellow-citizens, or by the Lombards and other foreigners;" and he adds--"It is very much to be questioned, whether the dealings of these new usurers were equally open and unexceptionable with the old." Perhaps it may be questioned, whether the community would not fare better, at the present day, if some of the circumcised could be imported hither, from the Jews' Quarter, in Istampol. The following remark of Hume, on the same page, is of importance to the political economist:--"But as the canon law, seconded by the municipal, permitted no Christian to take interest, all transactions of this kind must, after the banishment of the Jews, have become more secret and clandestine, and the lender, of consequence, be paid both for the use of his money, _and for the infamy and danger, which he incurred by lending it_." This is not from Aristotle, nor one of the school divines, but from David Hume, whose liberality is sufficiently notorious. The English usurers, in those days, were more excusable, because they were not permitted to take _any interest whatever_, for the loan of money, while money lenders here have not the same excuse for being usurers, as they may lawfully take six per cent. per annum, or one per cent. above the legal rate of Great Britain, as established in 1714, the 13th of Queen Anne, and which has remained unaltered, to the present day. I have heard of a fellow, who, upon being asked, after conviction of larceny, if he did not regret his conduct, replied, with an air of great sincerity, that he certainly did--for, instead of stealing a few pieces of gold, as he had done, he might easily have stolen enough, to bribe the court and jury. The Jews were wiser in their day and generation--they never suffered themselves to be placed in a predicament, which might cause them to suffer from any such regret. For many years, there subsisted a delightful understanding, between them and Edward I. Longshanks. Longshanks granted them many and various indulgencies; by his permission, they even had a synagogue in London. On their part, they were willing to relieve the necessities of Longshanks. In short, Longshanks was, vicariously, and upon the principle, that _qui facit per alium facit per se_, the very Apollyon of all usurers. He countenanced the extortion of the Jews, and shared the spoils. Sir Edward Coke, in his Second Institute, 506, states that, in seven years, covering portions of the reigns of Henry III. and Edward I., the Crown had four hundred and twenty thousand pounds, fifteen shillings, and four pence from the Jews. After treating of the advantages and disadvantages of taking interest, on money loans, and arriving at the sensible conclusion, that it is impossible for society to get along without them, Lord Bacon remarks, ii. 354--"Let usury (the term for interest in those days) in general be reduced to five in the hundred, and let the rate be proclaimed to be free and current: and let the State shut itself out to take any penalty for the same. This will preserve borrowing from any stop or dryness. This will ease infinite borrowers in the country, &c." Lord Bacon was therefore in favor of an universal rate of interest, established by law. Of usury, in the opprobrious sense of the word, the taking of excessive and unlawful interest, this great man speaks in his tract on Riches, ii. 340, in no very complimentary terms--"Usury is the certainest means of gain, though one of the worst, as that whereby a man doth eat his bread, in _sudore vultus alieni_," by the sweat of another's brow. I have heard it said of a rural governor of Massachusetts, now sleeping with his fathers, that, although addicted to the practice of virtual usury, he scrupulously abstained from lending money, at any rate, beyond six per cent. It became a by-word, in his district, however, when a farmer became straitened for a little money, and was inquiring among his neighbors--_that it was quite likely his excellency might have a yoke of cattle, that he did not care to winter over_! The cattle were sold at a high price to the needy man, who sold them forthwith, at auction, or otherwise, for a small one, giving the worthy governor his note in payment, and a mortgage on his farm, if required. The note was payable in six months, or a year, with "lawful interest." This moral manoeuvre appears to have been of ancient origin. There is the draught of a law for the punishment of it, in Lord Bacon's works, iv. 285. The preamble runs thus--"Whereas it is an usual practice, to the undoing and overthrowing of many young gentlemen and others, that where men are in necessity, and desire to borrow money, they are answered, that money cannot be had, but that they may have commodities sold unto them, upon credit, whereof they may make money, as they can: in which course it ever comes to pass, not only that such commodities are bought at extreme high rates, and sold again far under foot, at a double loss; but also that the party which is to borrow, is wrapt in bonds and counter bonds; so that upon a little money, which he receiveth, he is subject to penalties and suits of great value." Then follows the statute, taking away legal remedy, and punishing the broker or procurer with six months' imprisonment, and the pillory. It has been commonly understood, that, before the act of 37th Henry VIII., though Christians were forbidden to take any interest for money, the Jews were not restrained; yet Lord Chief Baron Hale, Hard. 420, says that Jewish usury was forbidden, at common law, being forty per cent. and upwards, per annum, but no other. Lea, C. J., Palm. 292, says, that the usury, condemned at common law, was the "_biting usury_" of the Jews. To comprehend this expression, it must be understood, that, among the Jews, of old, there were two Hebrew words, signifying _usury_, _terebit_, which meant simply _increase_, and _Neshec_, which meant _devouring_ or _biting usury_. Of this distinction, an account may be found in Calmet, vol. iii. Fragment 46. When the statute of James I. was passed, in 1623, reducing the rate from ten to eight per cent., Orde says, in his Law of Usury, p. 5, that the Bishops "would not, at first, agree to it, for the sole reason, that there was no clause that disgraced usury, as in former statutes; and then the clause at the end of that statute was added, for their satisfaction." Usury was punished more severely in France, than in England. For the first offence, the usurer "was punished by a public and ignominious acknowledgment of his offence, and was banished. His second offence was capital, and he was hanged." Coke's 3d Institute, 152. No. LIII. Our society, whose object is nothing less than the entire and unqualified abolition of capital punishment, have derived the greatest advantage, from an ample recognition of the rights of women--not only by a free participation of counsel with the softer sex, after the example of certain other societies, the value of whose services can never be understood, by the present generation; but by assigning equally to both sexes, all offices of honor and trust. We have adhered to this principle, with the most perfect impartiality, in the composition of our committees. Thus, our committee, for visiting the condemned, consists of the Rev. Mr. Puzzlepot, and the five Miss Frizzles--the committee on public excitement, prior to an execution, consists of Dr. Omnibus, Squire Farrago, Mrs. Pickett, and her daughters, the Misses Patience and Hopestill Pickett. In like proportion, all our committees are constructed. We think proper, in this public manner, to express our warmest acknowledgments to Mrs. Negoose, Madam Moody, and Squire Bodkin, for their able report, on the iniquity of presumptive or circumstantial evidence. The notes, appended to this report, are invaluable--their authorship cannot be mistaken--every individual, acquainted with the peculiar style of the gifted author, will recognize the powerful hand of the justly celebrated Mrs. Folsom. This committee are of opinion, that, under the show or pretence of punishing murder, our legal tribunals are constantly committing it. They _presume_, forsooth, that is, they guess, that the prisoner is guilty, and therefore take the awful responsibility of hanging him by the neck, till he is dead! This, says Mrs. Negoose, is _presumption_ with a vengeance. The committee refer to the statement of Sir Matthew Hale, as cited by Blackstone, iv. 358-9, that he had known two cases, in which, after the accused had been hung for murder, the individuals, supposed to have been murdered, had re-appeared, in full life. Upon this, the committee reason, with irresistible force and acumen. How many judges, say they, there have been, since the world began, we know not. _Two cases_, in which innocent persons were executed, on presumptive or circumstantial evidence, are proved to have occurred, within the knowledge of _one judge_. It is reasonable, say the committee, to conclude that, at a moderate calculation, _three cases_ more, remaining undiscovered, occurred within the jurisdiction of that _one judge_. Now, we have nothing to do, but to ascertain the number of judges, who have ever existed, and then multiply that number by _five_; and thus, say the committee, "by the unerring force of figures, which cannot lie, we have the sanguinary result." "Talk not of ermine," exclaims Mrs. Negoose, the chairwoman of the committee, in a gush of scorching eloquence, "these blood-stained judges, gory with the blood of the innocents, let them be stripped of their ermine, and robed with the skins of wild cats and hyenas." It has excited the highest indignation in the society, that Sir Matthew Hale, who has ever borne the name of a humane and upright judge, should have continued to decide questions, involving life, upon circumstantial evidence, after the cases, referred to above, had come to his knowledge, and in the very same manner, that he had been accustomed to decide them, in earlier times. Mrs. Moody openly expresses her opinion, that he was no better than he should be; and Squire Bodkin only wishes, that he could have had half an hour's conversation with Sir Matthew. The only effect, produced upon the mind of Sir Matthew Hale, by these painful discoveries, seems to have been to call forth an expression of opinion, that circumstantial evidence should be received with caution; and that, in trials for murder and manslaughter, no person should ever be convicted, till the body of the individual, alleged to have been killed, had been discovered. An opinion, often repeated, as having been expressed by Chief Justice Dana, after the conviction of Fairbanks, for the murder of Miss Fales, at Dedham, in 1801, has frequently been a topic of conversation, among the members of our society, and Mrs. Negoose is satisfied, that if Chief Justice Dana expressed any such opinion, he must have been out of his head. Fairbanks was convicted and hung, on circumstantial evidence entirely. The concatenation, or linking together, of circumstances, in that remarkable case, was very extraordinary. The sympathy for Fairbanks was very great, and began to exhibit itself, almost as soon, as the spirit had fled from the body of his victim. After his condemnation, his zealous admirers, for such they seemed to be, assisted him successfully, to break jail. He was retaken, on the borders of Lake Champlain; and, as the jail in Boston was of better proof, than the jail in Dedham, he was committed to the former. The genealogy of Fairbanks was shrouded in a sort of mystery. Ladies, of respectable standing, visited him, in his cell, and one, in particular, of some literary celebrity, in our days of small things, was supposed to have supplied him with a knife, of rather expensive workmanship, for the purpose of self-destruction. This knife was found upon his person, after her visits. There was no positive proof, to establish the guilt of Jason Fairbanks--not a tittle. Yet a merciless jury found him guilty, by a process, which our society considers mere _guess work_,--and after the execution, Judge Dana is reported to have said, that he believed Fairbanks murdered Miss Fales, more certainly, from the circumstantial evidence, produced at the trial, than if he had had the testimony of his own eyesight, at a short distance, in a dusky day. What sort of a Judge is this? cried Mrs. Negoose--sure enough, exclaimed Madam Moody. I have no objection to give our opponents all the advantage, which they can possibly derive from a full and fair exposition of their arguments. When a witness, for example, swears, directly and unhesitatingly, that he saw the prisoner inflict a wound, with a deadly weapon, upon another person--that he saw that other person instantly fall, and die shortly after, this is _positive evidence of something_. Yet the act may be murder, or it may be manslaughter, or it may be justifiable homicide. Murder consists of three parts, the malice prepense, the blow inflicted or means employed, and the death ensuing, within a time prescribed by law. There can be no _murder_, if either of these parts be absent. Now, it is contended, by such as deem it lawful and right to hang the unfortunate, misguided, upon circumstantial evidence, that, however _positive_ the evidence may be, upon the two latter points--the act done and the death ensuing--it is necessary, from the nature of things, in every case to depend on _circumstantial_ evidence, to prove the malice prepense. One or more of the senses enable the witness to swear positively to either of the two latter points. But the malice prepense must be _inferred_, from words, deeds, and _circumstances_. Upon this Dr. Omnibus sensibly observes, that this very fact proves the impropriety of hanging upon all occasions: and Mrs. Negoose remarks, that she is of the same opinion, on the authority of that ancient dictum, the authorship of which seems to be equally ascribed to Solomon and Sancho Panza--that "_circumstances_ alter cases." It is really surprising, that so grave and sensible a man, as Mr. Simon Greenleaf, should have made the remark, which appears on page 74, vol. i., of his Treatise on Evidence,--"_In both cases_ (civil and criminal) _a verdict may well be founded on circumstances alone; and these often lead to a conclusion far more satisfactory than direct evidence may produce_." Mr. Greenleaf refers, for illustration of this opinion, to the case of Bodine, N. Y. Legal Observer, vol. iv. p. 89, et seq. Lawyer Bodkin's work on evidence will, doubtless, correct this error. Let us reason impartially. Compunction, in a dying hour, we cannot deny it, has established the fact, that innocent persons have been hung, now and then, upon _positive_ evidence, the false witness confessing himself the murderer, _in articulo mortis_. Well, says Madam Moody, here is fresh proof of the great sinfulness of hanging.--To be sure.--But let our opponents have fair play. A. is found dead, evidently stabbed.--B. is seized upon suspicion.--C. heard B. declare he would have the heart's blood of A.--D. saw B. with a knife in his hand, ten minutes before the murder.--E. finds a knife bloody, near the place of the murder.--F. recognizes the knife as his own, and by him lent to B. just before the time of the murder.--G. says the size of the wound is precisely the size of the knife.--H. says, that, when he arrested B. his hand and shirt-sleeve were bloody.--I. says he heard B. say, just after the murder, "I've got my revenge." In the case supposed, C. D. E. F. G. H. and I. swear _positively_, each one to a particular fact. Here are seven witnesses. Here then is a chain of evidence, whereof each witness furnishes a single link. It is the opinion of Peake, Chitty, Starkie, Greenleaf, and all other writers, on the law of evidence, that this chain is often as strong or stronger, than it would be, were it fabricated by one man only. I will not deny, that Dr. Omnibus and Mrs. Negoose think differently. An extraordinary example of circumstantial evidence, in a capital case, was related by Lord Eldon. A man was on trial for murder. The evidence against him, which was wholly circumstantial, was so very insufficient, that the prisoner, confident of acquittal, assumed an air of easy nonchalance. The officer, who had arrested the prisoner, and conducted the customary search, had exhibited, in court, the articles, found upon his person, at the time of his capture--a few articles of little value, and, among them, a fragment of a newspaper. The surgeon, who examined the body of the victim after death, produced the ball, which he had extracted from the wound, precisely as he found it. Enveloped in a wrapper of some sort, and with the blood dried upon it, it presented an almost unintelligible mass. A basin of warm water was brought into court--the mass was softened--the wrapper carefully detached--it was the fragment of a newspaper, and fitted like the counterpart of an indenture to the fragment, taken by the officer from the prisoner's person. He was hung. Dear me! says Mrs. Negoose, what a pity! I regret to learn from the late London papers, that Mr. Horace Twiss is recently dead. No one, I am confident, will fail to join in this feeling of regret, who has enjoyed, as I have done, the perusal of his truly delightful work, "The Public and Private Life of Lord Chancellor Eldon." No. LIV. A pleasant anecdote is related by Nichols, of Dean Swift, who, when his servant apologized for not cleaning his boots, on a journey, because they would soon be dirty again, directed him to get the horses in readiness immediately: and, upon the fellow's remonstrance, that he had not eaten his breakfast, replied, that it was of little consequence, as he would soon be hungry again. The American Irish are, undoubtedly, a very sweet people, when they are thoroughly washed; but they rarely think of washing themselves or their children--they are so soon dirty again. Hydrophobia is an Irish epidemic; and there are also some of the Native American Party, I fear, who have not been into water, since the Declaration of Independence. When Peter Fagan applied to me, a few days since, to read for him a letter, from his cousin, Eyley Murphy, of Ballyconnel, in the county of Cavan, he was so insufferably filthy, that I gave him a quarter of a dollar, to be spent in sacrificing to the graces, that is, in taking a warm bath. While he was absent, I examined the letter; and found it to be a very interesting account of the execution of Fagan's fourth cousin, Rory Mullowny, for murder. As I thought its publication might be of importance here, at this time, I obtained Mr. Fagan's permission to place it before the community. I was, at first, disposed to correct the spelling, and give it rather more of an English complexion, but have, upon the whole, decided to publish it, as it is. Fagan tells me, that Eyley Murphy was the daughter of the hedge school-master, at Ballyconnel. The letter is written in a fair hand, and directed, "For Misther Pether Fagan, these--Boston, Capital of Amerriky." Ballyconnel, Cavan, March 19, 1849.--Fagan dear, bad news and thrue for ye it is; Rory Mullowny, your own blood cousin o' the forth remove, by the mither's side, was pit up yestreen for the murther o' Tooley O'Shane, and there was niver a felly o' all that's been hung in Ballyconnel, with sich respictable attindance. The widdy Magee pit the divle into both the poor fellies, no more nor a waak arter the birril o' her forth husband, and so she kipt a flarting wid the one and the tither, till she flarted um out o' the warld this away. Poor Rory--what a swaat boy he was--jist sax foot and fore inches in his brogans--och, my God! it's myself that wush'd I'd bin pit up along wid im. But he's claan gane now; whin we was childer togither how we used to gather the pirriwincles by the brook, and chase the fire-flaughts in the pasture o' a June evening--och my God--Pether--Pether--but there's no use waaping anyhow, so I'll be telling ye the shtory. Poor Mullowny was found guilty o' what they call sircumstanshul ividunce. A spaach it was he made whin the cussid sherry was pittin im up, and he swore he died more innisent o' the crime nor the mither o' God, and he called God to witness what he sed. Himself it was that was rather hasty onyhow, in makin a confission to father Brian Bogle o' this very murther, and some other small mathers, a rape or too, may be, and sich like. But the socyety that's agin pittin a body up--God bliss their sowls--they perswaded im to spaak at the gallows, and till the paaple how it was, and they rit im a spaach, in wich he toult 'em a body's last wull was the only wull that was gud in the law, and sure it was a poor body's last words and dyin spaach that was gud anunder the tree. And whin he had dun, the cursed divelsbird o' a sherry, wid a hart as coult as bog mud, swung im off in a minnit. It was himsilf was spaakin; and I jist pit my apurn to my face to wipe aff the saut wather, whin I heerd a shreek and a howl, louder and wilder nor ten thousand keenas at a birril, whin I lookd up and saw poor, daar Mullowny a swingin in the air. The like o' that yersilf niver saad, Pether Fagan, nor the mither that brot ye into this world o' care and confushon. The wimmin scraamed loud enuff to friten the little childer claan away in Ballymahon. The min swung their shillalies owr their heds. Father Brian Bogle was crossing himself, and a stone hurld by Jimmy Fitzgerald at the infarnal sherry, knocked father Bogle's taath down his throte. By the same token ye see, they was pit in for im the dee afore at considerable cost. Father Brian fell back, head foremost, ye see, on top o' Molly Mahoney's little bit table o' refrishments, and twas the wark o' a minnit. Molly, who jist afore was wall to do in the warld, was a brukken marchant, immadiately, all claan gane; tumblers o' whiskey, cakes, custards, and cookies was all knocked in the shape o' bit o'chalk; and all the pennies she had took since bick o'dee--for more nor ten thousan was on the spot to see poor Rory pit up afore dee--was scattered and clutched up, by hunders o' little childher that was playing prop and chuck farding anunder the gallus. A jug o' buthermilk was capsized ower the widdy Magee's bran new dress, that was made for the hanging precesely, and ruinated it pretty considerably intirely. It was not myself that pittied the hussy--she to be there, as naar to the gallus as she could squaze hersel, and the very cause o' the dith o' poor Rory, and Tooley O'Shane into the bargin. Och, Fagan, niver ye see was the likes o' it in Ballyconnel afore. Whin the sherry was for cuttin the alter and littin the corps o' poor, daar Mullowny down into the shell, that was all riddy below, the Mullownys swore they would have the body, for a riglar birrill, and a wake, and a keena, ye see--and the O'Shanes swore it should go to the risirictioners, to be made into a menotomy. Then for it, it was--sich a cursin and swaring and howling--sich a swingin o' shillalies, sich a crackin o' pates, sich callin upon Jasus and the blissid mither, sich a scramin o' wimmin and childer, niver was herd afore in county Cavan. The sherry he gat on Molly Mahoney's little table to read the ryot act, and whin he opunt his mouth Phelim Macfarland flung a rottun egg atwaan his taath preceesly, and brot im to a spaady conclushon. Poor Rory's vinrable oult mither was carried aff and murthered in the side o' the hid, wid a stone mint for the sherry, o' which she recovered diricly. They tried to kaap her quiet in her shanty, but she took on so gravous, that they let her attind the pittin up--poor ould sowl--she sed she had attinded the last moments o' her good man, and both her childer, Patrick and Pether, whin they wur pit up the same way, and it was not the like o' her to hart poor daar Rory's faalings onyhow. Dolly Macabe was saved by a myrrikle, ye see. She took out wid her her siven childer, leading little Phelim by the hand, wid her babe at the brist, and hersilf in a familiar way into the bargin. She was knocked ower and trampled under the faat o' the fellies as was yellin and fitin, and stunted out o' her raason intirely. Only jist think o' it, Fagan daar, when she kim too, not one o' the childher was hart in the laast, nor Dolly naather; and the first thing she asked wos, whose was the two swaat babes, lyin together, and they toult her they war her own. Ye see, Patrick O'Shane and some more trod upon Dolly Macabe and hastened matters a leetle, and she was delivered o' twins, widout knowin anything about it. They gied her a glass o' whiskey, and O'Flaherty, the baker, pit the swaat babes in his brid cart, and Dolly, who priffird walking, wint home as well as could be expected. All the Macabes have ixcillint constitushons, and make no moor o' sich thrifles, than nothing at all. But its for tellin the petiklars I'm writin. As I toult ye, twas about the widdy Magee. Rory toult more nor fifty, for a waak afore, that he'd have Tooley's hart's blood. When Tooley was found, it was ston ded he was, and his hed was bate all to paces, and Rory was o' tap o' im houltin im by the throte, wid a shillaly nigh by, covered wid blud, and the blood was rinnin out o' his eyes, and nose, and aars. Lawyer McGammon definded Rory, the poor unfortunit crathur, and he frankly admitted, that it was onlocky for him to be found jist that away, but he toult the jewry, that as he hoped for salvashun, Rory was an innysunt man, and he belaaved the foreman as guilty nor he. He brot half Ballyconnel to prove that Tooley was liable to blaad fraly at the nose, and was apt to have a rush o' blood to the hed, and he compared Rory to the good Summeritan, and sed he was there by the marest axidunt in the warld, and was tryin to stop the flow o' blud by houltin Tooley by the throte. As to the bloody shillaly, McGammon brot more nor twenty witnesses, and ivery one a Mullowny, to sware it was more like Tooley's own shillaly nor two paas in a pud; and then he had three lunatic doctors, they call'd em, to prove that the O'Shane's were o' the silf-distructive persuashun. As to what Rory had sed about havin Tooley's hart's blud, lawyer McGammon provd that it was a common mode o' spakin in Ballyconnel and all owr the contree, among frinds and neybors, and thin he hinted, in a dillikit wey, that all the Mullownys wuld be after sayin that virry same thing o' the jewry, if thay brot Rory to the gallus by thair vardic, and that he was guilty o' nothin but circumstanshul ividunce. But the jewry brot in the poor felly guilty o' murther, and its all owr wid poor Rory. It's no more I can rite--Your sister Betty Macnamarra has nine fine boys, at thraa births it is. From yours ever till the dee, EYLEY MURPHY. No impartial reader of Miss Eyley Murphy's letter will hesitate to pronounce Rory Mullowny an unfortunate man, and his case another example of the abominable practice of hanging innocent persons, upon circumstantial evidence. No. LV. Poor Eli--as the old man was familiarly called by the Boston sextons of his time. He was a prime hand, at the shortest notice, in his better days. He has been long dead--died by inches--his memory first. For a year or more before his death, he was troubled with some strange hallucinations, of rather a professional character--among them, an impression, that he had committed a terrible sin, in putting so many respectable people under ground, who had never done him any harm. He said to me, more than once, while attempting to dissipate this film from his mental vision--"Abner, take my advice, and give up this wicked business, or you'll be served so yourself, one of these days." I was, upon one occasion, going over one of our farms, with the old man--the Granary burying-ground--and he flew into a terrible passion, because no grave had been dug for old Master Lovell--the father. We tried to remind him, that Master Lovell, many years before, in 1776, had turned tory, and gone off with the British army; but poor old Eli was past conviction. He took his last favorite walk, among the graves on Copp's Hill, one morning in May--he there met a very worthy man, whom he was so fully persuaded he had buried, twenty years before, that he hobbled home, in the greatest trepidation, took to his bed, and never left it, but to verify his own suggestion, that we are all to be finally buried. During his last, brief illness, his mental wanderings were very manifest:--"Poor man--poor man"--he would mutter to himself--"I'm sure I buried him--deep grave, very--estate's been settled--his sons--very fast young men, took possession--gone long ago--poor weeping widow--married twice since--what a time there'll be--oh Lord forgive me, I'll never bury another." He was eighty-two then, and used to say he longed to die, and get among his old friends, for all, that he had known, were dead and gone. A feeling, somewhat akin to this, is apt to gather about us, and grow stronger, as we march farther forward on our way, the numbers of our companions gradually lessening, as we go. Our ranks close up--those, with whom we stood, shoulder to shoulder, are cut down by the great leveller--and their places are filled by others. As we grow older, and the friends and companions of our earlier days are removed, we have a desire to do the next best thing--we cannot supply their places--but there are individuals--worthy people withal--whose faces have been familiar to our eyes, for fifty or sixty years--we have passed them, daily, or weekly--we chance to meet, no matter where--the ice is broken, by a mutual agreement, that it is very hot, or that it is very cold--very wet, or very dry--an allusion follows to the great number of years we have known each other, by name, and this results, frequently, in a relation, which, if it be not entitled to the sacred name of friendship, is not to be despised by those, who are deep in the valley:--out of such materials, an old craft, near the termination of its voyage, may rig up a respectable jury-mast, at least, and sail on comfortably, to the haven where it would be. The old standard merchants, who transacted business, on the Long Wharf, Boston Pier, when I was a boy--are dead--_stelligeri_--almost every one of them; and, if all, that I have known and heard of them, were fairly told, it would make a very readable volume, highly honorable to many of their number, and calculated to operate, as a stimulus, upon the profession, in every age. One little narrative spreads itself before my memory, at this moment, which I received from the only surviving son of the individual, to whom it especially refers. A merchant, very extensively engaged in commerce, and located upon the Long Wharf, died February 18, 1806, at the age of 75, intestate. His eldest son administered upon the estate. This old gentleman used pleasantly to say, that, for many years, he had fed a very large number of the Catholics, on the shores of the Mediterranean, during Lent, referring to his very extensive connection with the fishing business. In his day, he was certainly well known; and, to the present time, is well remembered, by some of the "_old ones down along shore_," from the Gurnet's Nose to Race Point. Among his papers, a package, of very considerable size, was found, after his death, carefully tied up, and labelled as follows: "_Notes, due-bills, and accounts against sundry persons, down along shore. Some of these may be got by suit or severe dunning. But the people are poor: most of them have had fishermen's luck. My children will do as they think best. Perhaps they will think with me, that it is best to burn this package entire._" "About a month," said my informant, "after our father died, the sons met together, and, after some general remarks, our elder brother, the administrator, produced this package, of whose existence we were already apprized; read the superscription; and asked what course should be taken, in regard to it. Another brother, a few years younger than the eldest, a man of strong, impulsive temperament, unable, at the moment, to express his feeling, by words, while he brushed the tears from his eyes with one hand, by a spasmodic jerk of the other, towards the fireplace, indicated his wish to have the package put into the flames. It was suggested, by another of our number, that it might be well, first, to make a list of the debtors' names, and of the dates, and amounts, that we might be enabled, as the intended discharge was for all, to inform such as might offer payment, that their debts were forgiven. On the following day, we again assembled--the list had been prepared--and all the notes, due-bills, and accounts, whose amount, including interest, exceeded thirty-two thousand dollars, were committed to the flames." "It was about four months after our father's death," continued my informant, "in the month of June, that, as I was sitting in my eldest brother's counting-room, waiting for an opportunity to speak with him, there came in a hard-favored, little, old man, who looked as if time and rough weather had been to windward of him, for seventy years. He asked if my brother was not the executor. He replied, that he was administrator, as our father died intestate. 'Well,' said the stranger, 'I've come up from the Cape, to pay a debt I owed the old gentleman.' My brother," continued my informant, "requested him to take a seat, being, at the moment, engaged with other persons, at the desk." "The old man sat down, and, putting on his glasses, drew out a very ancient, leather pocket-book, and began to count over his money. When he had done--and there was quite a parcel of bank notes--as he sat, waiting his turn, slowly twisting his thumbs, with his old gray, meditative eyes upon the floor, he sighed; and I knew the money, as the phrase runs, _came hard_--and secretly wished the old man's name might be found, upon the forgiven list. My brother was soon at leisure, and asked him the common questions--his name, &c. The original debt was four hundred and forty dollars--it had stood a long time, and, with the interest, amounted to a sum, between seven and eight hundred. My brother went to his desk, and, after examining the forgiven list attentively, a sudden smile lighted up his countenance, and told me the truth, at a glance--the old man's name was there! My brother quietly took a chair, by his side, and a conversation ensued, between them, which I never shall forget.--'Your note is outlawed,' said my brother; 'it was dated twelve years ago, payable in two years; there is no witness, and no interest has ever been paid; you are not bound to pay this note, we cannot recover the amount.' 'Sir,' said the old man, 'I wish to pay it. It is the only heavy debt I have in the world. It may be outlawed here, but I have no child, and my old woman and I hope we have made our peace with God, and wish to do so with man. I should like to pay it'--and he laid his bank notes before my brother, requesting him to count them over. 'I cannot take this money,' said my brother. The old man became alarmed. 'I have cast simple interest, for twelve years and a little over,' said the old man. 'I will pay you compound interest, if you say so. The debt ought to have been paid, long ago, but your father, sir, was very indulgent--he knew I'd been unlucky, and told me not to worry about it.' "My brother then set the whole matter plainly before him, and, taking the bank bills, returned them to the pocket book, telling him, that, although our father left no formal will, he had recommended to his children, to destroy certain notes, due-bills, and other evidences of debt, and release those, who might be legally bound to pay them. For a moment the worthy old man appeared to be stupefied. After he had collected himself, and wiped a few tears from his eyes, he stated, that, from the time he had heard of our father's death, he had raked, and scraped, and pinched and spared, to get the money together, for the payment of this debt.--'About ten days ago,' said he, 'I had made up the sum, within twenty dollars. My wife knew how much the payment of this debt lay upon my spirits, and advised me to sell a cow, and make up the difference, and get the heavy burden off my spirits. I did so--and now, what will my old woman say! I must get back to the Cape, and tell her this good news. She'll probably say over the very words she said, when she put her hand on my shoulder as we parted--_I have never yet seen the righteous man forsaken, nor his seed begging bread_.' After a hearty shake of the hand, and a blessing upon our old father's memory, he went upon his way rejoicing. "After a short silence--taking his pencil and making a cast--'there,' said my brother, 'your part of the amount would be so much--contrive a plan to convey to me your share of the pleasure, derived from this operation, and the money is at your service.'" Such is the simple tale, which I have told, as it was told to me. No. LVI. "_Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in Heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do, in the synagogues, and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, they have their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth. That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father, which seeth in secret, himself shall reward thee openly._" This ancient word--_alms_--according to its derivative import, comprehends not only those _oboli_, which are given to the wandering poor, but all bestowments, great and small, in the blessed cause of charity. In the present age, how limited the number, whose moral courage and self-denial enable them to do their alms in secret, and without sounding a trumpet, as the hypocrites do! How many, impatient of delay, prefer an immediate reward--_to have glory of men_--rather than a long draft, upon far futurity, though God himself be the paymaster! The ability, to plan a magnificent, prospective charity, to provide the means for its consummation, to preserve inviolate the secret of this high and holy purpose, except from some confidential friend perhaps, until the noble and pure-minded benefactor himself is beyond the reach of all human praise--this is indeed a celestial and a rare accomplishment. My thoughts have been drawn hitherward, by the public announcement of certain testamentary donations of the late Theodore Lyman--ten thousand dollars to the Horticultural Society--ten thousand dollars to the Farm School--and fifty thousand dollars to the Reform School at Westborough. The public have been long in doubt, who was the secret patron of that excellent establishment, upon which he had previously bestowed two and twenty thousand dollars.--While we readily admit, that, in these unostentatious and posthumous benefactions, there is every claim upon the grateful respect of the community--while we delight to cherish a sentiment of reverence, for the memory of a good man, who would not suffer the sound of his munificence to go forth, till he had descended to that grave, where there is no device, nor work, and where his ears must be closed forever to the world's applause--still there are some, who, doubtless, will marvel at these magnificent, noiseless, and posthumous appropriations. With a very small portion of the amounts, bestowed upon these institutions, what glory might have been had of men, aye, and in his own life time! By distributing the aggregate into comparatively petty sums--by the exercise of rather more than ordinary vigilance and cunning, in the selection of fitting opportunities, what a reputation Mr. Lyman might have obtained! He would not only have been preceded, by the sound of a trumpet, but every penny paper would have readily converted itself into a penny trumpet, to spread the fame of his showy benefactions. His name would have been in every mouth--aye, and on every omnibus and engine. Add to all this a very small amount--a few hundred dollars, devoted to the procurement of plaster casts of himself, to be skilfully distributed, and verily he would have had his reward. The Hon. Theodore Lyman is dead, and, today, my grateful and respectful dealings are with his memory. The practical benevolence of this gentleman has been well known to me, for years. There are quiet, unobtrusive charities, which are not likely to figure, in the daily journals, or to be known by any person, but the parties. For such as these I have occasionally solicited Mr. Lyman, and never in vain. On the other hand, there are individuals, whose names are forever before the public, in connection with some work, to be seen of men; but whose gold and silver, unless they are likely to glitter, _in transitu_, before the eye of the community, are parted with, reluctantly, if at all. This great public benefactor, upon the present occasion, seems to have said, in the gentle, unobtrusive whisperings of his noble spirit--"A portion of that, which God has permitted me to gather, I believe it is my bounden duty to return, into the treasury of the Lord. This will I do. The secret shall remain, while I live, between God, who gives me this willing heart, and myself. And, when the world shall, at last, become unavoidably apprized of the fact, I shall have taken sanctuary in the grave, where the fulsome applause of the multitude can never reach me." Between such apostolic charity as this, and certain flashy munificence, whose authors seem to be forever drawing drafts, at sight, and always _without grace_, upon the public, for fresh laudation--more votes of thanks--additional resolutions of all sorts of societies--and a more copious supply of vapid editorial adulation--between these, I say, there is all that real difference which exists, between the "gem of purest ray serene," and the wretched Bristol imitation--between the flower that blooms and sends abroad its perfume in secret, and that corruption whose veritable character can never be concealed; and I may be suffered to say, as truly as Jock Jabos of his professional relations, that one of my calling may be supposed to know something of corruption, by this time. ----"My ear is pained, My soul is sick with every day's report" of _ad captandum_ benefactions. Today, that generous benefactor, Mr. Pipkin, endows some village Lyceum, which is destined forever to glory in the euphonious name of Pipkin. Tomorrow our illustrious fellow-citizen, Mr. Snooks, presents a bell to some village church, and, the very next week, we are told, that the bell was cracked, while ringing peals in honor of the munificent Snooks. Even the Tonsons, whose ubiquity is a proverb, and whose inordinate relish for all sorts of notoriety surpasses their powers of munificence, are always in, for a pen'worth of this species of titillating snuff, at small cost. The Hon. Theodore Lyman was born in Boston, in 1792. His father was Theodore Lyman, a shrewd, enterprising, and eminently successful merchant of this city. His mother's maiden name was Lydia Williams. She was a sister of Samuel Williams, the celebrated London Banker. The subject of this brief notice received his preparatory education, at Phillips Exeter Academy, under the charge of the venerable Dr. Abbott. He entered Harvard University in 1806, and took his degrees in the usual course. In 1812, Mr. Lyman went to England, upon a visit to his maternal uncle, Mr. Williams, and, during his absence, travelled on the continent, with Mr. Edward Everett, visiting Greece, Palestine, &c., and remaining abroad, until 1816. He was in Paris, when the allied armies entered that city. Of this event he subsequently published an account, in a work, very pleasantly written, entitled _Three Weeks in Paris_. In 1820, or very near that period, Mr. Lyman married Miss Mary Henderson of New York, a lady of rare personal beauty and accomplishments, who died in 1836. The issue of this marriage were three daughters and a son, Julia, Mary, Cora and Theodore. The two last survive. The elder children, Julia and Mary, in language of beautiful significancy, have "gone before." Mr. Lyman published an octavo volume, on Italy, and compiled two useful volumes, on the Diplomacy of the United States with Foreign Nations. In 1834 and 1835, Mr. Lyman was Mayor of the City of Boston. He brought to that office the manners of a refined and polished gentleman; the independence of a man of spirit and of honor; a true regard for justice and the rights of all men; a lofty contempt for all time-serving policy; talents of a highly respectable order; a mind well stored and well balanced; and a cordial desire, exemplified in his own personal and domestic relations, and by his encouraging word and open hand, of promoting the best interests of the great temperance reform. To the duties of this office, in which there is something less of glory than of toil, he devoted himself, during those two years, with great personal sacrifice and privation to those, whom he loved most. The period of his mayoralty was, by no means, a period of calm repose. Those years were scored, by the spirit of misrule, with deep, dark lines of infamy. Those years are memorable for the Vandal outrage upon the Ursuline Convent, and the Garrison riot; in which, a portion of the people of Boston demonstrated the terrible truth, that they were not to be outdone in fury, even by the most furious abolitionist, who ever converted his stylus into a harpoon, and his inkhorn into a vial of wrath. Mr. Lyman, even in comparatively early life, filled the offices of a Brigadier and Major General of our Militia; and was in our Legislative Councils. The temperament of Mr. Lyman was peculiar. Frigid, and even formal, before the world, he was one of the most warm-hearted men, among the noiseless paths of charity, and in the closer relations of life. I have sometimes marvelled, where he bestowed his keen sensibility, while going through the rough and wearying detail of official duty. In the spring of 1840 we met accidentally, at the South--in the city of Charleston. He was ill. His mind was ill at ease. He seemed to me, at that time, a practical illustration of the truth, that it is not good for man to be alone. Yet he had been long stricken then, in his domestic relation. His chief anxiety seemed to be about the health of his little boy. He told me, that he lingered there on his account. I never knew a more devoted father. A gentleman, well-known to the community, by his untiring practical benevolence, to whom I applied for information, has sent me a reply, from which I must be permitted to extract one passage, for the benefit of the world--"I have known much of his benevolent acts, having been the frequent almoner of his bounty, with the injunction, '_Keep it to yourself_.' He often called, and spent one or two hours, to converse on temperance, and the poor, and would spend a long winter evening in my office, to learn of me what my situation enabled me to communicate, and always left a check for $50 or $100, to give to the Howard, or some other society. In the severe winter weather, I remarked that he would say, '_This weather makes one feel for the poor_.' He often sent his man with provisions to the houses of the destitute, and had a heart to feel for others' woe." He has gone! But the memory of this good man shall never go! It shall be embalmed in the grateful tears of the reformed, from age to age. Thousands, now unborn, shall be snatched, like brands from the burning, through the agency of this heavenly charity; and, as they turn from the walls of this noble institution, in a moral sense, regenerate, they shall bless the name of their noble benefactor; and thus raise and perpetuate, to the memory of THEODORE LYMAN, the _monumentum ære perennius_. No. LVII. It is scarcely credible, for what peccadilloes, life was forfeited, by the laws of England, within the memory of men, now living. One hundred and sixty offences, which may be committed by man, have been declared, by different acts of parliament, to be felony, without benefit of clergy; that is, punishable with death. It is truly wonderful, that, in the eighteenth century, it should have been a capital offence, in England, to break down the mound of a fish pond--to cut down a cherry tree in an orchard--or to be seen, for one month, in the company of those, who called themselves Egyptians. We constantly refer to the laws of Draco, the Archon of Athens, as a code of unequalled cruelty; under whose operation, crimes of the highest order, and the most trifling offences, were punished, with equal severity. Draco punished murder with death, and he punished idleness with death. The laws of England punished murder with death, and they punished theft, over the value of twelve pence, with death. What is the necessity of going back to the time of Draco, 624 years before Christ, for examples of inhuman, and absurdly inconsistent legislation? The Marquis of Beccaria, in his treatise, _De Delitti e Delle Pene_, seems to have awakened legislators from a trance, in 1764, by propounding the simple inquiry--_Ought not punishments to be proportioned to crimes, and how shall that proportion be established?_ A matter, so apparently simple, seems not to have been thought of before. Sir Samuel Romilly, Sir James Mackintosh, and Sir Robert Peel are entitled to great praise, for their efforts to soften and humanize the criminal code of Great Britain. The distinction, between grand and petty larceny, was not abolished, until 1827, when, by the act 7th and 8th Geo. IV. chap. 29, theft was made punishable by transportation, or imprisonment and whipping. By this statute, robbery from the person, burglary, stealing in a dwelling-house to the value of £5, stealing cattle, and sheep-stealing are made punishable with death. So that the punishment was, even then, the same, for murdering a man, and stealing a sheep, or £5 from a dwelling-house. Death, by this statute, was also the punishment for arson, for setting fire to coal mines, and ships; and for riotously demolishing buildings or machinery. In the following year, 1828, by the act 9th Geo. IV. ch. 31, death is made the punishment, for murder, maliciously shooting, cutting and maiming, administering poison, attempting to drown, suffocate, &c., and for rape and sodomy. By this act, more than fifty statutes, relative to offences against the person, are repealed. The act 11th Geo. IV. and 1st Will. IV. ch. 66, passed in 1830, abolishes capital punishment, in all cases of forgery, excepting forgery of the royal seals, exchequer bills, bank notes, wills, bills of exchange, promissory notes, or money orders, transfers of stock, and powers of attorney. Death remained the penalty for all these forgeries, in 1830, and, for all other forgeries, transportation and imprisonment. Two years after, in 1832, another step was taken. By 2d Will. IV. ch. 34, capital punishment was abolished, and transportation and imprisonment substituted, for all offences, relative to the coin. This was a prodigious stride. This gave us a great hope, that misguided murderers might finally be suffered to live in security, at least, from the halter: for no object had been of greater moment with the British nation, than the coin of the realm, and the death penalty had often been exacted from those, who had dared to clip or counterfeit that sacred representative of majesty. The principle is well established, that men, who fly from one extreme, _in contraria currunt_. We trusted, therefore, that extremely lenient legislation would supervene, upon its very opposite. We had great confidence in a system of "indefatigable teasing," as Butler calls it. In the same year, 1832, by 2d and 3d Will. IV. ch. 62, capital punishment was abolished, in cases of stealing from a dwelling-house to the value of £5, and sheep-stealing; and by the same act, ch. 123, capital punishment was abolished, in all cases of forgery, excepting in the cases of wills, and powers of attorney for stock. In 1833, by 3d and 4th Will. IV. ch. 44, capital punishment was abolished in case of dwelling-house robbery; repealing so much of the larceny act of 1827. Our good friends in England next thought it expedient to divest the process of hanging, of all its postmortuary terrors. I have heard of condemned persons, who expressed a greater horror, at the thought of being dissected, than of being hanged. It was deemed proper, therefore, to relieve the unfortunates, on this tender point. Accordingly, in 1834, by 4th Will. IV. ch. 26, dissecting murderers, and hanging them, in chains, were abolished. It had been the law of England, that all persons returning, _sua sponte_, after transportation, should be hanged. But experience has shown how deep is the affection, which convicts bear to their former haunts, their native land. It is a perfect _nostalgia_. This law was therefore repealed, in 1834, by 4th and 5th Will. IV. ch. 67. In 1835, by 5th and 6th Will. IV. ch. 33, sundry felonies, never before deemed bailable offences, were made so, notwithstanding the parties confessed themselves guilty. Sacrilege and letter-stealing had long been capital offences in England. In the same year, they were no longer punished with death. We had great hopes from Victoria. In 1837, 1 Vic. ch. 23, she began, by abolishing the pillory entirely;--and ch. 84, capital punishment is abolished, in all cases of forgery;--ch. 85, capital punishment is inflicted, for administering poison, or doing bodily injury with intent to mutilate; but other acts, with intent to murder, or maim, or disfigure, are punished with different degrees of transportation and imprisonment.--Ch. 86 takes away capital punishment, in burglary, unless accompanied with violence.--Ch. 87 takes away capital punishment, in case of robbery, unless attended with cutting or wounding. Ch. 88 leaves the punishment of death, transportation or imprisonment, to the discretion of the court, in case of piracy, where murder is attempted. Ch. 89 varies the laws of arson, making arson a capital offence, in regard to a dwelling-house, _any person being therein_.--Ch. 91 abolishes capital punishment in cases of riotous assemblies, seducing from allegiance, and certain offences against the revenue laws. It is rather surprising, that there is such a general prejudice throughout the world, in favor of putting murderers to death. The Bible is an awful stumbling block, in this respect. We are also reminded that Solon, when he abolished the code of Draco, retained the punishment of death, in the case of murder. I have never thought much of Solon, since I became acquainted with this weak point in his character. A writer in the Edinburgh Review, vol. 86, p. 217, speaking of death as the punishment for murder, observes--"The intense desire which now actuates a portion of the community, to get rid of capital punishment even for murder, may be taken as an indication of this excessive sensibility. The propriety of that punishment in the given case, would certainly appear to be distinctly sanctioned by that book, to which its opponents professedly appeal--by reason--and by the all but universal practice of nations. It is the only certain guarantee which society can have for the security of its members." Here we have it again--"that book"--the Bible. It cannot be denied that the Bible, or Solon, or Sir Matthew Hale, or somebody else, is everlastingly in the way of this and other modern, philanthropic movements. What was Solon, in comparison with David Crockett--we are sure we are right, and why should we not go ahead? For my own part, I have never been able to perceive the wisdom of attempting to conceal any of our prospective movements. Indeed, our future course must be sufficiently apparent, at a glance. When we have _agitated_, until capital punishment is abolished, and we have had a commemorative celebration, with emblematical banners, and an hundred guns on the Common, nothing will be further from our thoughts, than a dissolution, sine die. One of our chief arguments in favor of abolishing capital punishment, is the greater hardship of a life-long imprisonment. Availing of this argument, we shall be able to show, that we have placed these unfortunates, in a worse condition than before. A petition will be presented to the Governor and Council, from five thousand unhappy murderers, ravishers, house-burners, burglars and highway robbers--such we think will be the number, in a few years--representing their miserable condition, and respectfully requesting to be hanged, under the influence of ether or otherwise, as to the Governor and Council may seem fit. We shall then _agitate_ anew, and endeavor, through public meetings and the press, to exhibit the barbarity of refusing their humble request. This, we well enough know, will not be granted; and the only escape from the dilemma, will be to suffer them, to go at large, upon their parole of honor. It will not, of course, be expected, that this parole will be received from any, who cannot produce a certificate, under the hand of the warden, that they have committed no murder, rape, arson, burglary, or highway robbery, during the period of their confinement in the State Prison. No. LVIII. The late Archbishop of Bordeaux, when Bishop of Boston, Dr. Cheverus, told me, that he had very little influence with his people, in regard to their extravagance at funerals. It is very hard to persuade them to abate the tithe of a hair, in the cost of a _birril_. This post-mortuary profligacy, this pride of death, is confined to no age or nation of the world. It has prevailed, ever since chaos was licked into shape, and throughout all Heathendom and Christendom, begetting a childish and preposterous competition, who should bear off the corpses of their relations, most showily, and cause them to rot, most expensively. This amazing folly has often required, and received, the sumptuary curb of legislation. I have briefly referred, in a former number, to the restraining edicts of the law-givers of Greece, and the laws of the Twelve Tables at Rome. Even here, and among the earlier records of our own country, evidences are not wanting, that the attention of our worthy ancestors had been attracted to the subject of funereal extravagance. At a meeting, held in Faneuil Hall, October 28, 1767, at which the Hon. James Otis was the Moderator, the following resolution was passed: "_And we further agree strictly to adhere to the late regulations respecting funerals, and will not use any gloves but what are manufactured here, nor procure any new garments, upon such occasions, but what shall be absolutely necessary_." This resolution was passed, _inter alia similia_, with reference to the Stamp Act of 1765, and as part of the system of non-importation. There is probably no place like England--no city like London, for funereal parade and extravagance. The Church, to use the fox-hunting phrase, must be _in at the death_; and how truly would a simple funeral, without pageantry, in some sort--a cold, unceremonious burial, without mutes, and streamers, and feathers--without bell, book, or candle--flout and scandalize the gorgeous Church of England! The Church and the State are connected, so intimately and indissolubly connected, that he, who dies in the arms of Mother Church, must permit that particular old lady, in the matter of his funeral, to indulge her ruling passion, for costly forms and ceremonies. It is more than forty years, since, with infinite delight, I first read that effusion--outpouring--splendid little eruption, if you like--of Walter Scott's, called Llewellyn. Apart from all context, a single stanza is to my present purpose; I give it from memory, where it has clung, for forty years: When a prince to the fate of a peasant has yielded, The tapestry waves dark, round the dim lighted pall, With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, And pages stand mute in the canopied hall. Through the vault, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming, In the proudly arched chapel the banners are beaming, Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a chief of the people should fall. In all this, the nobility ape royalty, the gentry the nobility, the commonalty the gentry: and there is no estate so low, as not, in this particular, to account the death of a near relative a perfect justification of extravagance. There is scarcely one in a thousand, I believe, who has any just idea of the amount, annually lavished upon funerals, in Great Britain; or of the extraordinary fact, that joint stock burial companies exist there, and declare excellent dividends. In 1843, at the request of her Majesty's principal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, Edwin Chadwick, Esquire, drew up "a report on the results of a special inquiry into the practice of interment, in towns." Mr. Chadwick states, that, _upon a moderate calculation, the sum annually expended in funeral expenses, in England and Wales, is five millions of pounds sterling_, and that four of these millions may be justly set down as expended on the mere fopperies of death. Evelyn says, that his mother requested his father, on her death bed, to bestow upon the poor, whatever he had designed, for the expenses of her funeral. Speaking of this abominable misapplication of money, a writer, in the London Quarterly Review, vol. 73, p. 466, exclaims--"To what does it go? To silk scarfs and brass nails--feathers for the horses--kid gloves and gin for the mutes--white satin and black cloth for the worms. And whom does it benefit? Not those, whose unfeigned sorrow makes them callous, at the moment, to its show, and almost to its mockery--not the cold spectator, who sees its dull magnificence give the lie to the preacher's equality of death--but the lowest of all hypocrites, the hired mourner, &c." It is calculated by Mr. Chadwick, that £60 to £100 are necessary to bury an upper tradesman--£250 for a gentleman--£500 to £1500 for a nobleman. High profits were obtained, by the joint stock burial companies in England, in 1843. The sale of graves in one cemetery was at the rate of £17,000 per acre, and a calculation, made for another, gave £45,375 per acre, not including fees for monuments, &c. One company, says Mr. Chadwick, has set forth an estimate, that seven acres, at the rate of ten coffins, in one grave, would accommodate 1,335,000--one million three hundred and thirty-five thousand--paupers. The following interrogatory was put, and repeated by members of the Parliamentary Committee, to the witnesses: "_Do you think there would be any objection to burying bodies with a certain quantity of quick lime, sufficient to destroy the coffin and the whole thing in a given time?_" In 1843, Mr. J. C. Loudon published, in London, his work on the Managing of Cemeteries and the Improvement of Churchyards. The cool, philosophic style, in which Mr. Loudon handles this interesting subject, is rather remarkable. On page 50, he expatiates, as follows: "_This temporary cemetery may be merely a field, rented on a twenty-one years' lease, of such an extent, as to be filled with graves in fourteen years. At the end of seven years more it may revert to the landlord, and be cultivated, planted, or laid down in grass, or in any manner that may be thought proper. Nor does there appear to us any objection to union workhouses having a portion of their garden ground used as a cemetery, to be restored to cultivation, after a sufficient time had elapsed._" This certainly is doing the utilitarian thing, with a vengeance. Quite a novel rotation of crops--cabbages following corpses. My long experience assures me, that the rapidity of decomposition depends, upon certain qualities in the subject and in the soil. Skeletons are sometimes found, in tolerably perfect condition, after an inhumation of two hundred years. Perhaps Mr. Loudon, in his eager festination for a crop, may have determined to bury in quicklime. Paupers and quicklime would make a capital compost, and scarcely require a top-dressing, of any kind, for years. What beets! what carrots, for the cockney market! Notwithstanding the quicklime, I should rather fear an occasional envelopment of some _unlucky_ relic, in the guise of a _lucky_ bone--a grinder, perhaps. And, when these vegetables shall again have been converted into animals, and these animals shall have served their day and generation, they shall again be converted into cabbages and carrots, as all their predecessors were. Well, this Mr. Loudon is a practical fellow; and his metastasis is admirable. Here are thousands of miserable wretches--_nullorum fiilii_, many of them--they have contributed scarcely anything to the common weal, while living; now let us put them in the way, with the assistance of a little quicklime, of doing something for their fellow-beings, after they are dead. The pauper squashes and cabbages must have been at a premium, in Leadenhall Market. Imagination is clearly worth something. After all my reason can accord, in the way of respect, for these utilitarian notions, I solemnly protest against marrowfats, cultivated in Mr. Loudon's pauper hotbeds. No doubt they would be larger, and the flavor richer and more peculiar--nevertheless, Mr. Loudon must excuse me--I say I protest. He gives an alternative permission, to lay down his mixture of dead bodies and quicklime to grass, or for the pasture of cows. Even then the milk would have a suspicious flavor, or _post-mortem_ smell, I apprehend; it would be the same thing, by second intention, as the surgeons say. The explanation of Mr. Loudon's monstrous proposition can be found nowhere, but in his concentrated interest in agriculture, to which he would have the living and the dead alike contribute. When contemplating the corpse of a portly pauper, he seems to think of nothing, but the readiest mode of converting it into cabbages. I have heard of a cutaneous fellow, who had an irresistible fancy, for skinning animals--it had become a passion. Nothing came amiss to him. He sought with avidity, for every four-footed and creeping thing, that died within five miles of his dwelling, for the pleasure of skinning it. The insides of his apartments were covered with the expanded skins, not only of beasts and the lesser vermin, but of birds, serpents and fishes. His house was an exuvial museum. He had a little son, a mere child, who assisted his father, on these occasions, in a small way. He had the misfortune to lose his grandmother--a fine old lady--and the following brief colloquy occurred, between the father and the child, the day before she was buried: "I say, father." "What, Peter?" "When are you going to skin Granny?" No. LIX. Last Sabbath morning, I read Cicero's _Dialogus de Amicitia_--simple Latinity, and very short--27 sections only. It seemed like enjoying the company of an old friend. It is now just forty-seven years, since I first read it, at Exeter. I marvel at Montaigne, for not thinking highly of it--but find some little motive, in the fact, that he had written a tract upon the subject, himself, which may be found, in his first volume, page 215, London, 1811, and which can no more be compared to the _Dialogus_, than--to use George Colman's expression--a mummy to Hyperion. The Dialogus de Amicitia, of a Sabbath morning! Aye, my reverend, orthodox brother. Not having, in my system, one pulse of sympathy for disorganization, and liberty parties, I reverence the holy Sabbath, as much as you do yourself; and, to prevent the _Dialogus_ from hurting me, I read one sermon before, and another immediately after--Jeremy Taylor's _Apples of Sodom_; and Fléchier's _Sur La Correction Fraternelle_--such sermons, as, in the concoction, would, perhaps, be very likely to burst your mental boiler, and which would not suit the appetites of many, modern congregations, who have ruined their powers of inwardly digesting such strong meat, by dieting upon theological _fricandises faites avec du sucre_. And you was not at meeting then! Right again, my dear brother. I am deaf as a haddock; though Sir Thomas Browne has annihilated this favorite standard of comparison, by assuring us, that a haddock has as good ears, as any other fish in the sea. Mine, however, are quite unscriptural--ears not to hear. My ear is all in my eye. Roscius boasted of his power to convey his meaning, by mute gesticulation. Our modern clergy have so little of this gift, that, with my impracticable ears, it is all dumb show for me. Now and then, when the wind is fair, I catch a word or two; and no cross-readings were ever more grotesque and comical, than my cross-hearings. I am convinced, that I do not always have the worst of it. When, in reply to an old lady, who once asked me how I liked the preacher, I told her I heard not a syllable--what a mercy! she exclaimed. But consider the example! True, there is something in that. Try the experiment--stop the _meatus auditorius_ with beeswax, and try it, for half a dozen Sabbaths, even with the knowledge, that you can remove the impediment at will, which I cannot! After I had finished the _Dialogus_, I found myself successfully engaged, in the process of mental exhumation:--up they came, one after another, the playmates of my childhood, with their tee-totums and merry-andrews--the companions of my boyhood, with their tops, kites, and marbles--the friends and associates of my youth, with their skates, bats, and fowling pieces. It is really quite pleasant to gather a party, upon such short notice, and with so little effort; and without the trouble of providing wine and sweetmeats. Upon the very threshold of manhood, how they scatter and disperse! There is a passage of the Dialogus--the tenth section--which is so true to life, at the present hour, that one can scarcely realize it was written, before the birth of Christ:--"Ille (Scipio) quidem nihil dificilius esse dicebat, quam amicitiam usque ad extremum vitæ permanere. Nam vel ut non idem expediret utrique, incidere sæpe; vel ut de republica non idem sentirent; mutari etiam mores hominum sæpe dicebat, alias adversis rebus, alias ætate ingravescente. Atque earum rerum exemplum ex similitudine capiebat incuentis ætatis, quod summi puerorum amores sæpe una cum prætexta ponerentur; sin autem ad adolescentiam perduxissent, dirimi tamen interdum contentione, vel uxoriæ conditionis, vel commodi allicujus, quod idem adipisci uterque non posset. Quod si qui longius in amicitia provecti essent, tamen sæpe labefactari, si in honoris contentionem incidissent: pestem esse nullam amicitiis, quam in plerisque pecuniæ cupiditatem, in optimis quibusque honoris certamen et gloriæ: ex quo inimicitias maximas sæpe inter amicissimos extitisse." Lord Rochester said, that nothing was ever benefited, by translation, but a bishop. This, nevertheless, I believe, is a fair translation of the passage-- He (Scipio) said, that nothing was more difficult, than for friendship to continue to the very end of life: either because its continuance was found to be inexpedient for one of the parties, or on account of political differences. He remarked, that men's humors were apt to be affected, sometimes, by adverse fortune, and at others, by the heavy listlessness of age. He drew an example of these things, from a similar condition in youth--the most vehement attachments, among boys, were commonly laid aside with the prætexta, or at the age of maturity; or, if continued beyond that period, they were occasionally interrupted, by some contention about the state or condition of the wife, or the possessions or advantages of somebody, which the other party was unable to equal. Indeed, if some there were, whose friendship was drawn along to a later period, it was very apt to be weakened, if they became rivals, in the path of fame. The greatest bane of friendship, among the mass, was the love of money, and among some, of the better sort, the thirst for glory; by which the bitterest hatred had been generated, between those, who had been the greatest friends. Unless it be orthodoxy, nothing has been so variously defined, as _friendship_. A man who stands by, and sees another murdered, in a duel, is his _friend_. Mutual endorsers are _friends_. Partisans are the _friends_ of the candidate. Those gentlemen, who give their time and talents to eat and drink up some wealthy fool, who would pass for an Amphytrion, and laugh at the fellow's simplicity, behind his back, are his _friends_. The patrons of players and buffoons, signors and signorinas, are their _friends_. The venders of Havana cigars and Bologna sausages inform their _friends_ and patrons, that they have recently received a fresh supply. Marat was the _friend_ of the people. Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar were the _friends_ of Job; and he told them rather uncivilly, I think, that they were miserable comforters. Matthew speaks of a _friend_ of publicans and sinners. Monsieur Megret, who, as Voltaire relates, the instant Charles XII. was killed, exclaimed--_Voila la piece finie, allons souper_--see, the play is over, let us go to supper, was the king's _friend_. William the First, like other kings, had many _friends_, who, the moment he died, ran away, and literally left the dead to bury the dead; of which a curious account may be found, in the Harleian Miscellany, vol. iii. page 160, London, 1809. Friendship flourishes, at Christmas and New Year, for every one, we are told, in the book of Proverbs, is a _friend_ to him that giveth gifts. There seems to be no end to this enumeration of _friends_. The name is legion, to say nothing of the whole society of _Friends_. What then could Aristotle have meant, when he exclaimed, as Diogenes Laertius says he did, lib. v. sec. 21, _My friends, there is no such thing as a friend_? Menander is stated by Plutarch, in his tract, on Brotherly Love, cap. 3, to have proclaimed that man happy, who had found even _the shadow of a friend_? It would be hard to describe the friend, whom Aristotle and Menander had in mind. Cicero has employed twenty-seven sections, and given us an imperfect definition after all. Such a friend comes not, within any one of the categories I have named. _Friends_, in the common acceptation of that word, may be readily lost and won. The direction, ascribed to Rochefoucault, seems less revolting, when applied to such _friends_ as these--_to treat all one's friends, as if, one day, they might be foes, and all one's foes, as if, one day, they might be friend_. This cold-blooded axiom is Rochefoucault's, only by adoption. Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, lib. ii. cap. 13, and Diogenes Laertius, in his life of Bias, lib. i. sec. 7, ascribe something like this saying to him. Cicero, in the sixteenth section of the _Dialogus de Amicitia_, after referring to the opinion--"_ita amare oportere, ut si aliquando esset ossurus_," and stating Scipio's abhorrence of the sentiment, expresses his belief, that it never proceeded from so good and wise a man, as Bias. Aulus Gellius, lib. i. cap. 3, imputes to Chilon, one of the seven wise men of Greece, substantially, the same sentiment--"_Love him, as if you were one day to hate him, and hate him, as if you were one day to love him_." Poor Rochefoucault, who had sins enough to answer for, is as unjustly held to be author of this infernal sentiment, as was Dr. Guillotin of the instrument, that bears his ill-fated name. Boccacio was in the right--_there is a skeleton in every house_. We have, all of us, our crosses to carry; and should strive to bear them as gracefully, as comports with the infirmity of human nature; and among the most severe is the loss of an old friend. Aristotle was mistaken--there is such a thing as a friend. Some fifty years ago, I began to have a friend--our professions and pursuits were similar. For some fifty years, we have cherished a feeling of mutual affection and respect; and, now that we have retired from the active exercise of our craft, we daily meet together, and, like a brace of veteran grasshoppers, chirp over days bygone. I believe I never asked of my friend an unreasonable or unseemly thing. God knows he never did of me. Thus we have obeyed Cicero's first law of friendship--_Hæc igitur prima lex in amicitia sanciatur, ut neque rogemus res turpes, nec faciamus, rogati_. We are most happily adapted to each other. I have always taken pleasure in regurgitating, from the fourth stomach of the mind, some tale or anecdote, and chewing over the cud of pleasant fancy. No man ever had a friend with a more willing ear, or a shorter memory. But for this, which I have always accounted a Providence, my stock would have been exhausted, long ago. After lying fallow, for two or three months, every tale is as good as new. God bless my friend, and compensate the shortness of his memory, by giving him length of days, and every good thing, in this and a better world. No. LX. Much has been said and written, of late, here and elsewhere, on the subject of _intra mural_ interment--burial within the _walls_ or _confines_ of cities. This term, though commonly employed by British writers, is wholly inapplicable, in all those rural cities, which have recently sprung up among us, and in which there are still many broad acres of meadow and pasture, plough-land and forest. In these almost nominal cities, the question must be, in relation to the propriety of burying the dead, not within the confines, but in the more densely peopled portions--in the very midst of the living. I have an opinion, firmly fixed, and long cherished, upon this important subject; and, considering myself, professionally, an expert, in these matters, I shall devote the present article to their consideration. There is no doubt, that a cemetery, from its improper location, or the mass of putrefying material, which the madness, or folly, or avarice of its proprietors has accumulated there, or from the indecent and almost superficial deposition of half-buried corpses, may become, like the burden of our sins--_intolerable_. It is not less certain, that it may become a _public nuisance_--not merely in the _popular_ sense--but _legally_, and, as such, indictable at common law. Neither can there be any doubt, that the city authorities, without a resort to the process of indictment, and as conservators of the public health, have full power, to prevent all future interments in that cemetery. This is true of a cemetery in the suburbs--_a fortiori_, of a cemetery in the city. At the present day, it may seem astonishing to many, that any doubt ever prevailed, in the minds of respectable members of the medical faculty, as to the unhealthy influences of the effluvia, arising from _animal_ corruption. Orfila, Parant Duchâtelet, and other Frenchmen, of high professional reputation, have maintained, that such effluvia are perfectly innocuous. It seems to be almost universally agreed, at the present day, to reject such extraordinary doctrines entirely; although it is admitted, by the highest authorities, that the exhalations from _vegetable_ corruption are the more pernicious of the two. So far as the decision of this question concerns the remedy, by legal process, it is of no absolute importance. The popular impression, that exhalations, of any kind, cannot constitute a _public nuisance_, in the technical import of those words, unless those exhalations are injurious to health, is erroneous. Lord Mansfield held this not to be necessary; and that it was enough, if the air were so affected, as to be breathed by the public, with less comfort and pleasure, than before. Interment, beyond the confines of the city, was enjoined, some eighteen hundred years ago. It was decreed in Rome, by the twelve tables--_hominem mortuum in urbe ne sepelito_. A writer, in the London Quarterly Review, vol. 73, p. 446, has written, very ably, on this interesting topic. He supplies some facts of importance, connected with the history of interment. A. D. 381.--The Theodosian code forbade all interment within the walls of the city, and even ordered, that all the bodies and monuments, already placed there, should be carried out. A. D. 529.--The first clause was confirmed by Justinian. A. D. 563.--The Council of Brague decreed, that no dead body should be buried, within the circle of the city walls. A. D. 586.--The Council of Auxerre decreed, that no one should be buried in their temples. A. D. 827.--Charlemagne decreed, that no person should be buried in a church. A. D. 1076.--The Council of Winchester decreed, that no person should be buried in the churches. A. D. 1552.--Latimer, on Saint Luke vii. ii., says, "the citizens of Nain had their burying places without the city; and I do marvel, that London, being so great a city, hath not a burial place without," &c. A. D. 1565.--Charles Borromeo, the good bishop of Milan, ordered the return to the ancient custom of suburban cemeteries. Sir Matthew Hale used to say, "churches were made for the living, not for the dead." The learned Anthony Rivet observed--"I wish this custom, which covetousness and superstition first brought in, were abolished; and that the ancient custom were revived to have burying places, in the free and open fields, without the gates of cities." In 1832, fifteen Archbishops, Bishops, and others, ecclesiastical commissioners, in London, recommended the abolition of all burials in churches. At great expense, the City Government of Roxbury have judiciously selected a spot, eminently beautiful, and remote from the peopled portion of the city, for the burial of the dead. The great argument--the manifest motive--was _a just regard for the health of their constituents_. If the present nuisance should continue much longer, and grow much greater, may not the question be respectfully asked, with some little pertinency, _what has become of that just regard?_ Surely there is no lack of power. In 1832, the government of Boston said to the town of Roxbury, not in the language of David to Moab--thou shalt be "_my wash pot_"--but thou shalt be the receptacle of our offal--of all, that is filthy, and corruptible, within our borders. The City Government of Boston went extensively then into the carrion and garbage business, and furnished the provant for a legion of hogs, the property of an influential citizen of Roxbury. This awful hoggery was located on the road, now called East Street. The carrion carts of the metropolis of New England, _eundo, redeundo, et manendo_, dropping filth and fatness, as they went, became an abominable nuisance; and, as Commodore Trunnion beat up to church, on his wedding day, so every citizen, as soon as he discovered one of these aromatic vehicles, drawn by six or eight horses, tossing up their heads, and snorting sympathetically, was obliged to close-haul his nose, and struggle for the weather gage. Then again, the proprietor of this colossal hog-sty, with his burnery of bones, and other fragrant contrivances, created a stench, unknown among men, since the bituminous conflagration of the cities of the plain--Sodom and Gomorrah; and which terrible stench, in the language of Sternhold & Hopkins, "_came flying all abroad_." In the keeping of the varying wind, this "_arria cattiva_," like that from a graveyard, surcharged with half-buried corpses, visited, from day to day, every dwelling, and nauseated every man, woman, and child in the village. Four town meetings were held, upon this subject. Roxbury calmly remonstrated,--Boston doggedly persisted; and, at last, patience having had its perfect work, the carrion carts, while attempting to enter Roxbury, were met, by the yeomanry, on the line, and driven back to Boston. Chief Justice Shaw having refused an application for an _injunction_, the complaint was brought before the grand jury of Norfolk. Bills were found, against the owner of the hogs, and the city of Boston. My learned and amiable friend, the late John Pickering, then the City Solicitor, defended them both, with great ability; and the present Judge Merrick, then County Attorney, opposed the whole swinish concern, with the spirit of an Israelite, and the power of a Rabbi. The owner of the hogs and the city of Boston were both duly convicted, and, entering into a written obligation to sin no more, in this wise, the indictment was held over them, for a reasonable period, until they had given satisfactory evidence of their sincerity. In the testimony of Dr. George Cheyne Shattuck, which was published, at the time, after sustaining the prosecutors amply, in their allegation, in respect to the deleterious effect of the nuisance, he remarks--"_The Creator has established, in the sense of smelling, a sentinel, to descry distant danger of life. The alarm, sounded through this organ, seldom passes unheeded, with impunity._" Dr. John C. Warren and sixteen other respectable physicians concurred in this opinion. No. LXI. How long--oh Lord--how long will thy peculiar people disregard the simple, unmistakable teachings of common sense, and the admonitions of their own, proper noses, and bury the dead, in the very midst of the living!--Above all, how long will they continue to perpetrate that hideous folly of burying the dead, in tombs! What a childish effort, to keep the worm at bay--to stave off corruption, yet a little while--to procrastinate the payment of nature's debt, at maturity--DUST THOU ART AND UNTO DUST THOU SHALT RETURN!--For what? That the poor, senseless tabernacle may have a few more months or years, to rot in--that friends and relatives may, from time to time, be enabled, upon every re-opening of the tomb, to gratify their morbid curiosity, and see how the worms are getting on--that, whenever the tomb is unbarred, for another and another tenant, as it may often happen, at the time, when corruption is doing its utmost--its rankest work--the foul quintessence--the reeking, deleterious gases may rush back upon the living world; and, blending with ten thousand kindred stenches, in a densely peopled city, promote the mighty work of pestilence and death. Who does not sympathize with Cowper! Oh for a lodge, in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where the atrocious smells of docks, and sewers, Eruptive gas, and rank distillery May never reach me more. My lungs are pain'd, My nose is sick, with this eternal stench Of corpse and carrion, with which earth is fill'd. I am not unmindful, that, in a former number of these Dealings with the Dead, I have passed over these burial-grounds, and partially exhibited the interior of these tombs already. But there really seems to be a great awakening, upon this subject, at the present moment, at home and abroad; and I rejoice, that it is so. I am aware, that, within the bounds of old, peninsular Boston, no inhumations--_burials in graves_--are permitted. This is well.--_Burials in tombs_ are still allowed.--Why? This mode of burial is much more offensive. In _grave burial_, the gases percolate gradually; and a considerable portion may be reasonably supposed to be neutralized, _in transitu_. This is unquestionably the case, unless the grave is kept open, or opened, six times, or more, on the speculation principle, for the reception of new customers. In _tomb burial_, it is otherwise. The tomb is opened for new comers, and sometimes, most inopportunely, and the horrible smell fills the atmosphere, and compels the neighboring inhabitants, to close their windows and doors. As, with some persons, this may seem to require authentication, without leading the reader to every offensive graveyard in this city, I will take a single, and a sufficient example--I will take the oldest graveyard in the Commonwealth, and the most central, in the city of Boston. I refer to Isaac Johnson's lot, where, in 1630, his bones were laid--the Chapel burying-ground. The Savings Bank building bounds upon that cemetery. The rooms of the Massachusetts Historical Society are over the Bank. The stench, produced, by burials in the tombs, in that yard, during the summer of 1849, has compelled the Librarian to close his windows. _Tomb burial_, in this yard, has not been limited to deceased proprietors, and their relatives; it has, in some instances, been a matter of traffic. I have been struck with the present arrangement of the gravestones, in this yard. Some ingenious person has removed them all, from their original positions, and actually planted them, "_all of a row_," like the four and twenty fiddlers--or rather, in four straight rows, near the four sides of the graveyard. This is a queerer metamorphosis, than any I ever read of. Ovid has nothing to compare with it. There they are, every one, with its "_Here lies_," &c., compelled to stand forever, a monument of falsehood. Of all the pranks, ever perpetrated in a graveyard, this, surely, is the most amusing. In defiance of the _lex loci_, which rightfully enjoins solemnity of demeanor, in such a place--and of all my reverence for Isaac Johnson, and those illustrious men, who slumber there, I was actually seized with a fit of uncontrollable laughter; and came to the conclusion, that this sacrilegious transposition must have been the work of Punch, or Puck, or some Lord of misrule. As I proceeded to read the inscriptions, my merriment increased, for the gravestones seemed to be conferring together, upon the subject of these extraordinary changes, which had befallen them; and repeating over to one another--"_As you are now, so once was I_." As it happened, in the case of Major Pitcairn, should any person desire to remove the ashes of his ancestor, these misplaced gravestones would surely lead to the awakening of the wrong passenger; and some venerable old lady, who died in her bed, may be transported to England, and buried under arms, for a major of infantry, who died in battle. Why continue to bury in tombs? _Surely the sufferance on the part of the City Government, does not arise, from a respect for vested rights!!!_ If the City Government has power to close the offensive cellars in Broad Street, and elsewhere, being private property, because they are accounted injurious to public health, why may they not close the tombs, being private property, for the very same reason? Considerations of public health are paramount. When, upon an application from a number of the liquor-sellers, wholesale and retail, in this city, Chancellor Kent gave his opinion, adverse to their hearts' desire, that the license laws were _constitutional_, he alluded, analogically, to the power of the Commonwealth, to pass sanatory laws. If the municipal power were deemed inadequate, legislation would give all the power required. For it would, indeed, be monstrous, having settled the fact, that the public health suffered, from burial in tombs, to suppose it a remediless evil. The slaughter-houses and tanneries, which once existed, in Kilby Street and Dock Square, would not be tolerated now. Originally, they were not nuisances. Population gathered around them--their precedency availed them nothing--they became nuisances, by the force of circumstances. The tombs, in the churchyard, were not nuisances, when population was sparse--though they are so now. But the fact I have stated will increase the evil, from day to day: there can be no more burials, in graves, within the city proper--people will die--and, as we have not the taste nor courage to burn--they must be buried--where? In the tombs--which, as I have stated, is the most offensive and mischievous mode of burial. I have already alluded to some instances of traffic, connected with certain tombs, in the Chapel yard. If some plan be not adopted, a new line of business will spring up, in which the members of my profession will figure, to some extent: many of the present owners of tombs will sell out, and move their dead to Mount Auburn, or Forest Hills; and the city tombs will be crammed with as many corpses, as they can hold, by their speculating proprietors. Rather than this, it would have been better to continue the old mode of earth burial. The remedy is plain--the fields are before you--_carry out_ "your dead!" A famous preacher of eternal torment, and who always, in addition to the sulphurous complexion of his discourses throughout, devoted three or four pages, at the close, exclusively to brimstone and fire; is said, upon a special occasion, to have produced a prodigious effect, upon the more devoted of his intensely agitated flock, by causing the sexton, when he heard the preacher scream BRIMSTONE, at the top of his lungs, to throw two or three rolls, into the furnace below, whose fumes speedily ascended into the church. This anecdote came instantly to my recollection, some twenty years ago, one Sabbath morning, while attending the services in St. Paul's church, in this city. The rector was absent, and a very worthy clergyman supplied his place. In the course of his sermon, he repeated, in a very solemn tone, pointing downward with his finger, in the direction of the tombs below, those memorable words of Job--_If I wait, the grave is mine house: I have made my bed in darkness. I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister._ Almost immediately--the coincidence was wonderful--I was oppressed by a most offensive stench, which certainly seemed to be _germain_ to the subject. It became more and more powerful. It seemed to me, and I call myself a pretty good judge, to be posthumous, decidedly. I certainly believed it proceeded from the charnel house below. My eyes turned right and left, to see how my neighbors were impressed. The females bowed their heads, and used their handkerchiefs--the males were evidently aware of it; but, with a slight compression of their noses, kept their eyes fixed upon the preacher. Two medical gentlemen, then present, and yet living, pronounced it to be _the worm and corruption_, and connected it with the burial of a particular individual, not long before. The case was carefully investigated, by the wardens and others; who were perfectly satisfied, that this horrible effluvium was, very probably, produced, by the burning of a heretic, in the form of a church mouse, that had taken up his quarters, in the pipe or flue, and was thus converted into an unsavory _pastille_. No. LXII. Draco, I think, would have been perfectly satisfied with some portions of the primitive, colonial and town legislation of Massachusetts. Hutchinson, i. 436, quotes the following decree--"Captain Stone, for abusing Mr. Ludlow, and calling him _Justass_, is fined an hundred pounds, and prohibited coming within the patent, without the Governor's leave, upon pain of death." Hazard, Hist. Coll. i. 630, has preserved a law against the Quakers, published in Boston, by beat of drum. It bears date Oct. 14th, 1656. The preamble is couched, in rather strong language--"Whereas there is a cursed sect of heretics lately risen up in the world, which are commonly called Quakers, who take upon them to be immediately sent of God," &c. The statute inflicts a fine of £100 upon any person, who brings one of them into any harbor, creek, or cove, compels him to carry such Quaker away--the Quaker to be put in the house of correction, and severely whipped; no person to speak to him. £5 penalty, for importing, dispersing, or concealing any book, containing their "devilish opinions;" 40 shillings for maintaining such opinions. £4 for persisting. House of correction and banishment, for still persisting. The poor Quakers gave our intolerant ancestors complete vexation. Hazard, ii. 589, gives an extract from a law, for the special punishment of two of these unhappy people, Peter Pierson and Judah Brown--"That they shall, by the constable of Boston, be forthwith taken out of the prison, and stripped from the girdle upwards, by the executioner, tied to the cart's tail, and whipped through the town, with twenty stripes; and then carried to Roxbury, and delivered to the constable there, who is also to tie them, or cause them to be tied, in like manner, to the cart's tail, and again whip them through the town with ten stripes; and then carried to Dedham, and delivered to the constable there, who is again, in like manner, to cause them to be tied to the cart's tail, and whipped, with ten stripes, through the town, and thence they are immediately to depart the jurisdiction, at their peril." The legislative designation of the Quakers was _Quaker rogues, heretics, accursed rantors, and vagabonds_. In 1657, according to Hutchinson, i. 197, "an additional law was made, by which all persons were subjected to the penalty of 40 shillings, for every hour's entertainment, given to a known Quaker, and every Quaker, after the first conviction, if a man, was to lose an ear, and a second time the other; a woman, each time, to be severely whipped; and the third time, man or woman, to have their tongues bored through, with a red-hot iron." In 1658, 10 shillings fine were levied, on every person, present at a Quaker meeting, and £5 for speaking at such meeting. In October of that year, the punishment of death was decreed against all Quakers, returning into the Colony, after banishment. Bishop, in his "New England Judged," says, that the ears of Holden, Copeland, and Rous, three Quakers, were cut off in prison. June 1, 1660, Mary Dyer was hanged for returning, after banishment. Seven persons were fined, some of them £10 apiece, for harboring, and Edward Wharton whipped, twenty stripes, for piloting the Quakers. Several persons were brought to trial--"for adhering to the cursed sect of Quakers, not disowning themselves to be such, refusing to give civil respect, leaving their families and relations, and running from place to place, vagabond-like." Daniel Gold and Robert Harper were sentenced to be whipped, and, with Alice Courland, Mary Scott, and Hope Clifford, banished, under pain of death. William Kingsmill, Margaret Smith, Mary Trask, and Provided Southwick were sentenced to be whipped, and Hannah Phelps admonished. Sundry others were whipped and banished, that year. John Chamberlain came to trial, with his hat on, and refused to answer. The verdict of the jury, as recorded, was--"_much inclining to the cursed opinions of the Quakers_." Wendlock Christopherson was sentenced to death, but suffered to fly the jurisdiction. March 14, 1660.--William Ledea, "_a cursed Quaker_," was hanged. Some of these Quakers, I apprehend, were determined to exhibit the naked truth to our Puritan fathers. "Deborah Wilson," says Hutchinson, i. 204, "went through the streets of Salem, naked as she came into the world, for which she was well whipped." At length, Sept. 9, 1661, an order came from the King, prohibiting the capital, and even corporal, punishment of the Quakers. Oct. 13, 1657.--Benedict Arnold, William Baulston, Randall Howldon, Arthur Fenner, and William Feild, the Government of Rhode Island, addressed a letter, on the subject of this persecution, to the General Court of Massachusetts, in reply to one, received from them. This letter is highly creditable to the good sense and discretion of the writers--"And as concerning these Quakers, (so called)" say they, "which are now among us, we have no law, whereby to punish any, for only declaring by words, &c., their mindes and understandings concerning the things and ways of God, as to salvation and an eternal condition. And we moreover finde that in those places, where these people aforesaid, in this Coloney, are most of all suffered to declare themselves freely, and are only opposed by arguments in discourse, there they least of all desire to come; and we are informed they begin to loath this place, for that they are not opposed by the civil authority, but with all patience and meekness are suffered to say over their pretended revelations and admonitions, nor are they like or able to gain many here to their way; and surely we find that they delight to be persecuted by the civil powers, and when they are soe, they are like to gaine more adherents by the conseyte of their patient sufferings than by consent to their pernicious sayings." One is taken rather by surprise, upon meeting with such a sample of admirable common sense, in an adjoining Colony, and on such a subject, at that early day--so opposite withal to those principles of action, which prevailed in Massachusetts. The laws of the Colony, enacted from year to year, were first collected together, and ratified by the General Court, in 1648. Hutchinson, i. 437, says, "Mr. Bellingham of the magistrates, and Mr. Cotton of the clergy, had the greatest share in this work." This code was framed, by Bellingham and Cotton, with a particular regard to Moses and the tables, and a singular piece of mosaic it was. "Murder, sodomy, witchcraft, arson, and _rape of a child_, under ten years of age," says Hutchinson, i. 440, "were the only crimes made capital in the Colony, which were capital in England." Rape, in the general sense, not being a capital offence, by the Jewish law, was not made a capital offence, in the Colony, for many years. High treason is not even named. The worship of false gods was punished with death, with an exception, in favor of the Indians, who were fined £5 a piece, for powowing. Blasphemy and reproaching religion were capital offences. Adultery with a married woman, whether the man were married or single, was punished with the death of both parties; but, if the woman were single, whether the man were married or single, it was not a capital offence, in either. Man-stealing was a capital offence. So was wilful perjury, with intent to take away another's life. Cursing or smiting a parent, by a child over sixteen years of age, unless in self-defence, or provoked by cruelty, or having been "unchristianly neglected in its education," was a capital offence. A stubborn, rebellious son was punished with death. There was a conviction under this law; "but the offender," says Hutchinson, ibid. 442, "was rescued from the gallows, by the King's commissioners, in 1665." The return of a "cursed Quaker," or a Romish priest, after banishment, and the denial of either of the books, of the Old or New Testament, were punished with banishment or death, at the discretion of the court. The jurisdiction of the Colony was extended, by the code of Parson Cotton and Mr. Bellingham, over the ocean; for they decreed the same punishment, for the last-named offence, when committed upon the high seas, and the General Court ratified this law. Burglary, and theft, in a house, or in the fields, on the Lord's day, were, upon a third conviction, made capital crimes. The distinction, between grand and petty larceny, which was recognized in England, till 1827, 7th and 8th Geo. IV., ch. 29, was abolished, by the code of Cotton and Bellingham, in 1648; and theft, without limitation of value, was made punishable, by fine or whipping, and restitution of treble value. In some cases, only double. Thus, ibid. 436, we have the following entry--"Josias Plaistowe, for stealing four baskets of corn from the Indians, is ordered to return them eight baskets, to be fined five pounds, and hereafter to be called by the name of Josias, and not Mr., as formerly he used to be." This lenity, in regard to larceny, Mr. Cotton seems to have been willing to counterbalance, by a terrible severity, on some other occasions. Mr. Hutchinson, ibid. 442, states, that he has seen the first draught of this code, in the hand-writing of Mr. Cotton, in which there are named six offences, made punishable with death, all which are altered, in the hand of Gov. Winthrop, and the death penalty stricken out. The six offences were--"Prophaning the Lord's day, in a careless or scornful neglect or contempt thereof--Reviling the magistrates in the highest rank, viz., the Governor and Council--Defiling a woman espoused--Incest within the Levitical degrees--The pollution, mentioned in Leviticus xx. 13 to 16--Lying with a maid in her father's house, and keeping secret, till she is married to another." Mr. Cotton would have punished all these offences with death. On the subject of divorce, the code of 1648 differed from that of the present day, _with us_, essentially. Adultery in the wife was held to be sufficient cause, for divorce _a vinculo_: "but male adultery," says Hutchinson, i. 445, "after some debate and consultation with the elders, was judged not sufficient." The principle, which directed their decision, was, doubtless, the same, referred to and recognized, by Lord Chancellor Eldon, in the House of Lords, in 1801, as reported by Mr. Twiss, in his Memoirs, vol. i. p. 383. No. LXIII. If the materials, of which history and biography are made--the sources of information--were accessible to every reader, and the patience and ability were his, to examine for himself, there is, probably, no historian nor biographer, in whose accuracy and impartiality, his confidence would not be occasionally weakened. The statement or assertion, the authority for which lies scattered, among the pages of fifty different writers, perhaps, and which the historian has compressed within ten short lines, would, now and then, be found tinctured, and its true complexion materially altered, by the religious or political coloring of the writer's mind. The entire history of one or more ages has been written, to support a particular code of religious or political tenets. The prejudices of an annalist have, occasionally, from long indulgence, become so habitual, that his offences, in this wise, become almost involuntary. It is very probable, that the devoted followers--the wholesale admirers--of William Penn, who have presented their conceptions of his character, and their constructions of his conduct, to the world, from time to time, have been led into some little excesses, by the force of habitual idolatry. On the other hand, few readers, I believe, have failed to be surprised, by some of the statements and opinions, in regard to Penn, which are presented, on the pages of Mr. Macaulay's History of England. In my last number, I alluded to the persecution of the Quakers in Massachusetts. It is my purpose, to say something more of these "_cursed_" Quakers, and, particularly, of William Penn. My remarks may extend over several consecutive numbers of these Dealings with the Dead; and, I flatter myself, that, from the nature of the subject, they will not be wholly uninteresting to the reader. I have always cherished a feeling of regard and respect, for these "cursed" Quakers, originating in early impressions, and increased, by some personal intercourse, with certain members of the Society of Friends. It appears, by the Salem Records, that John Kitchen was fined thirty pence, for "unworthy and malignant carriages and speeches, in open court, Sept. 25, 1662." I was very much chagrined, when I first glanced at this record; for he was my great, great, great-grandfather, by the mother's side; and grandfather of the Hon. Col. John Turner, of Salem, who commanded, at the battle of Haverhill. Great was my satisfaction, when I discovered, that John Kitchen's offence was neither more nor less, than an absolute refusal to take off his hat, in presence of the magistrate. For the luxury of keeping it on, and absenting themselves from the ordinances, he appears to have paid £40 stirling, in fines, for himself and Elizabeth, his wife. The "_cursed_" Quakers appear to have had a hard time of it, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Felt tells us, in his Annals, p. 204, that Robinson and Stevenson were hung in 1659, for returning from banishment; and, on p. 206, that Mary Dyer, of the Friends, was hung, June 1, 1660. The deposition of John Ward and Thomas Mekens, is still of record, taken in that very month and year, showing that they saw Mrs. Kitchen pulled off her horse, and heard one Batter tell her, she was "_a base, quaking slut_," and had been "_a powowing_." Now, John Kitchen was a good Quaker, doubtless, so far as regarded the essential qualification of obstinately wearing his hat, and refusing to take an oath. But he was made of flesh and blood, like all other Quakers; and this outrage, in pulling my gr. gr. gr. grandmother down from her horse, was more than flesh and blood could bear. A copy of the deposition of Giles Corey is now before me, showing, that John, upon other occasions, was not so pacific, as he might have been--and that, upon one occasion, "_he struck up Mr. Edward Norris his heels_"--and, upon another, he beat Giles Corey himself, "_till he was all blody_." He seems to have been moved, by the spirit, to thrash them both. I take this Giles Corey to be the man, or the father of the man, who, as Felt says, p. 308, was pressed to death, in Salem, for standing mute, during the witch mania, September 19, 1692. William Penn was, for many years, engaged in controversy, chiefly in defence of the peculiar, religious opinions of the Quakers. Wood, in his Athenæ Oxonienses, iv. p. 647, Lond. 1820, gives the titles of fifty-two tracts and pamphlets, published by Penn, between 1668 and 1690. In the heat of controversy, his character was rudely assailed, and his conduct grossly misrepresented. The familiar relation, subsisting between him and James II., gave color, with some persons, to the report, that Penn, at heart, was a Papist and a Jesuit. These groundless imputations have, long ago, been swallowed up, in their own absurdity. So strong, however, was the hold, which these ridiculous fancies had taken of the public mind, that, after the revolution of 1688, he was examined before the Council, and obliged to give bond, for his appearance, from time to time; till, at last, he obtained a hearing before King William, and effectually established his innocence. Among the few men, of elevated standing, who gave, or pretended to give credit to the rumor, that Penn was a Papist, Burnet appears in the foremost rank. He, who could speak of Prior, as "_one Prior_," might be expected to speak of William Penn, as "_Penn the Quaker_." The appearance of Penn, at the Court of the Prince of Orange, could, on no account, have been agreeable to a Bishop, and, least of all Bishops, to Burnet; who saw, in the new comer, the confidential agent of his bitterest enemy, King James the Second; and who might, on other scores, have been jealous of the influence, even of "_Penn the Quaker_." Burnet's words are these, vol. ii. p. 318, Lond., 1818--"Many suspected that he was a concealed Papist; it is certain he was much with father Peter, and was particularly trusted by the Earl of Sunderland." On the preceding page Burnet thus describes the Quaker--"He was a talking vain man, who had been long in the King's favor, he being the Vice Admiral's son. He had such an opinion of his own faculty of persuading, that he thought none could stand before it; though he was singular in that opinion; for he had a tedious, luscious way, that was not apt to overcome a man's reason, though it might tire his patience." It is impossible not to perceive, in this description, some touches, which, historians have told us, were singularly applicable to Burnet himself. William, who perfectly comprehended the character of Halifax and Burnet, perceived the propriety of keeping them apart, when the former came to Hungerford, as a commissioner from the King, Dec. 8, 1688. How far I judge rightly, in applying a part of Burnet's description of Penn, to Burnet himself, may appear, in the following passage from Macaulay, vol. ii. p. 538: "Almost all those, who were admitted to his (William's) confidence, were men, taciturn and impenetrable as himself. Burnet was the only exception. He was notoriously garrulous and indiscreet. Yet circumstances had made it necessary to trust him; and he would, doubtless, under the dexterous management of Halifax, have poured put secrets, as fast as words. William knew this well; and, when he was informed, that Halifax was asking for the Doctor, could not refrain from exclaiming, '_If they get together, there will be fine tattling_.'" Mr. Macaulay remarks, that--"_To speak the whole truth, concerning Penn, is a task, which requires some courage_." He then, vol. i. page 505, delivers himself as follows--"The integrity of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and persecution. But now, attacked by royal wiles, by female blandishments, by the insinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of veteran diplomatists and courtiers, his resolution began to give way. Titles and phrases, against which he had often borne his testimony, dropped occasionally from his lips and his pen. It would be well, if he had been guilty of nothing worse than such compliances with the fashions of the world. Unhappily it cannot be concealed, that he bore a chief part in some transactions, condemned, not merely by the rigid code of the society, to which he belonged, but by the general sense of all honest men. He afterwards solemnly protested that his hands were pure from illicit gain, and that he had never received any gratuity from those, whom he had obliged, though he might easily, while his interest at court lasted, have made a hundred and twenty thousand pounds. To this assertion full credit is due. But bribes may be offered to vanity, as well as to cupidity; and it is impossible to deny that Penn was cajoled into bearing a part, in some unjustifiable transactions of which others enjoyed the profits." This passage will tend, in the ratio of Mr. Macaulay's influence, to disturb the popular opinion of William Penn. It is very carefully written, and will not always be so carefully read. It is, perhaps, unfortunate for Penn, that Mr. Macaulay felt obliged, in pursuing the course of his history, to postpone the presentation of the facts, upon which his opinions rest, until they arise, in their chronological order. Thus the impression, instead of being removed, qualified, or confirmed, by instant examination, is suffered to become imbedded in the mind. Having carefully collated this passage, with every other passage, relative to Penn, in Mr. Macaulay's work, I must confess, that the exceedingly painful impression, produced by the paragraph, presented above, has been materially relieved, by a careful consideration of all the evidence, subsequently offered, by Mr. Macaulay himself, and by the testimony of other writers. Perhaps the reader will consent to go along with me, in the examination of this question. No. LXIV. Mr. Macaulay's second mention of William Penn may be found, vol. i. page 650. A number of young girls, acting under the direction of their school-mistress, had walked in procession, and presented a standard to Monmouth, at Taunton, in 1635. Some of them had expiated their offence already. That hell-hound of a judge, Jeffreys, had literally frightened one of them to death. It was determined, under menace of the gibbet, to extort a ransom from the parents of _all_ these innocent girls. Who does not apply those lines of Shakspeare to this infernal judge! "Did you say all? What, all? Oh, hell-kite, all? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam, At one fell swoop?" "The Queen's maids of honor," says Mr. Macaulay, "asked the royal permission, to wring money out of the parents of the poor children; and the permission was granted." They demanded £7000, and applied to Sir Francis Warre, to exact the ransom. "He was charged to declare, in strong language, that the maids of honor would not endure delay," &c. Warre excused himself. Mr. Macaulay proceeds as follows: "The maids of honor then requested William Penn to act for them, and Penn accepted the commission. Yet it should seem that a little of the pertinacious scrupulosity, which he had often shown, about taking off his hat, would not have been altogether out of place on this occasion. He probably silenced the remonstrances of his conscience, by repeating to himself, that none of the money, which he extorted, would go into his own pocket; that, if he refused to be the agent of the ladies, they would find agents less humane; that by complying he should increase his influence at the court; and that his influence at the court had already enabled him, and might still enable him to render greater services to his oppressed brethren. The maids of honor were at last forced to content themselves with less than a third part of what they had demanded." Now it seems to me, that no clear-headed, whole-hearted, _impartial_ reader will draw the inference, from this passage, which Mr. Macaulay would manifestly have him draw. Penn well understood the resolute brutality of Jeffreys, the never-dying obstinacy and vindictive malevolence of James, and the heartless greediness of these maids of honor. He knew, as Mr. Macaulay says, that "_if he refused to be the agent of the ladies they would find agents less humane_." There was no secrecy here--this thing was not done in a corner. Mr. Macaulay says, "they _charged_ Sir Francis Warre," &c.: and after he refused, they "_requested_ William Penn," &c. Penn acted as a peacemaker. He stood between these she wolves--these shameless maids of honor--and the Taunton lambs; and, instead of £7000, he persuaded those vampyres, who, under the royal grant, had full power in their hands to do their wicked will--to receive less than £2300. Mr. Macaulay admits, that Penn received not a farthing; and, that, had he refused, matters might have been worse for the oppressed. The known character of Penn demands of us the presumption, in his favor, that he entered upon this business conscientiously, and not as an _extortioner_--and that he made, as the result leads us to believe he did, the very best terms for the parents. Wherein was ever the sin or the shame of negotiating, between the buccaneers of the Tortugas, and the parents of captive children, for their ransom? Does not Mr. Macaulay present the reign of James II. before us, as blotted all over, with official piracy and judicial murder? If the adjustment of this odious business increased the influence of Penn, at court, and thereby enabled him to "_render great services to his oppressed brethren_"--these were the natural consequences of the act; without them, there was enough of just and honorable motive, for a mediator, to step between the oppressor and the oppressed, and lessen, as much as possible, the weight of the oppression. If the conduct of William Penn, upon this occasion, was the humane and Christian thing, which it certainly appears to have been, "_the pertinacious scrupulosity, which he had often shown, about taking off his hat_" would have been wholly out of place. And if so, what justification can be found for Mr. Macaulay's expressions--"_the remonstrances of his conscience_," and "_the money, which he extorted_." It is proverbially hard, for an old dog to learn new tricks. He, to whose hand the hatchet is familiar, when he substitutes the rapier, will still hack and hew with it, as though it were a hatchet. It may well be doubted, if an impartial history, especially those parts of it, wherein the writer deals with character and motive, can ever be trustworthily and impartially written, by a veteran, professional reviewer, of the tomahawk school, however splendid his talents may be. Upon this occasion, Penn, doubtless, persuaded the maids of honor to moderate their demands; at the same time, representing to the parents the uncompromising character of those, with whom they had to deal, and the unavoidable necessity of making terms. It is impossible to judge of the transaction aright, without taking into view the character of those dark days of tyranny and misrule, and the little security, then enjoyed by the subject. On page 659, ibid., Mr. Macaulay, once more, introduces Penn to his readers--"William Penn, for whom exhibitions, which humane men generally avoid, seem to have had a strong attraction, hastened from Cheapside, where he had seen Cornish hanged, to Tyburn, in order to see Elizabeth Gaunt burned. He afterwards related that, when she calmly disposed the straw about her, in such a manner, as to shorten her sufferings, all the bystanders burst into tears." Here is another attempt to lower the Quaker, in public estimation. That Penn ever, from the cradle to the grave, gazed, unsympathizingly, upon human suffering, nobody, but a madman, will credit, for a moment. Nor would Mr. Macaulay, notwithstanding the rather peculiar construction of the paragraph, venture _directly_ so to represent him. It has been my fortune to know several men, of kind and warm affections, who have confessed, without reserve, a strong desire to witness the execution of criminals. Cornish and Gaunt were executed on the same day, and their fate excited universal attention. Penn's account of the last moments of both was very minute; and shows him to have been a deeply interested observer. I am not aware, that he ever attended any other execution. And if he did not, the remark of Mr. Macaulay, which is _general_, can never be justified, in relation to Penn; though it would fairly apply to the celebrated George Selwyn, who, though remarkable for the keenness of his sensibility, and the kindness of his heart, was in the habit of attending every execution in London; and who, upon one remarkable occasion of this kind, actually embarked for the Continent. Why could not Mr. Macaulay, who often refers to Clarkson, have adopted some of his charitable and gentlemanly constructions of Penn's conduct, upon this occasion? Clarkson says--"Men of the most noted benevolence have felt and indulged a curiosity of this sort. They have been worked upon, by different motives; some, perhaps, by a desire of seeing what human nature would be, at such an awful crisis; what would be its struggles; what would be the effects of innocence or guilt; what would be the power of religion on the mind." * * * * "I should say that he consented to witness the scenes in question, with a view to do good; with a view of being able to make an impression on the King's mind, by his own relation," &c. In vol. ii. page 222, 1687, Mr. Macaulay says--"Penn had never been a strong-headed man: the life which he had been leading, during two years, had not a little impaired his moral sensibility; and, if his conscience ever reproached him, he comforted himself by repeating, that he had a good and noble end in view, and that he was not paid for his services in money." Again, ibid., page 227, referring to the effort of the King, to propitiate William Kiffen, a great man, among the Baptists, no phraseology would suit Mr. Macaulay, but this--"_Penn was employed in the work of seduction_." What _seduction_? Indeed, whenever a good chance presents itself to reach the Quaker, anywhere and anyhow, through the joints of the harness, the phylactery of Mr. Macaulay seems to have been--_semper paratus_. It was enough, that Penn was, in some sense, the confidant, and, occasionally, the _unconstrained and perfectly conscientious_ agent of this most miserable King. That posterity will sanction these politico-historical flings, at the character of William Penn, I cannot believe. Tillotson knew him well. He had once expressed a suspicion that Penn was a Papist. A correspondence ensued. "In conclusion," says Chalmers, "Tillotson declared himself fully satisfied, and, as in that case he had promised, he heartily begs pardon of Penn." Chalmers himself, who had no sympathy with the "_cursed Quakers_," closes his account of Penn, as follows--"_It must be evident from his works, that he was a man of abilities; and from his conduct through life, that he was a man of the purest conscience. This, without acceding to his opinions in religion, we are perfectly willing to allow and to declare_." No. LXV. There was a couple of unamiable, maiden ladies, who had cherished, for a long time, an unkindly feeling to the son of their married sister; and, whenever her temporary absence afforded a fitting opportunity, one of them would inquire of the other, if it was not _a good time to lick Billy_. Mr. Macaulay suffers no convenient occasion to pass, without exhibiting a practical illustration of this opinion, that it is _a good time to lick Billy_. In vol. ii. page 292, Mr. Macaulay says--"Penn was at Chester (in 1687,) on a pastoral tour. His popularity and authority among his brethren had greatly declined since he had become a tool of the King and the Jesuits." In proof of this assertion Mr. Macaulay refers to a letter, from Bonrepaux to Seignelay, and to Gerard Croese's Quaker History. Let us see, for ourselves, what Bonrepaux says--"Penn, chef des Quakers, qu'on sait être dans les intérêts du Roi d'Angleterre, est si fort décrié parmi ceux de son parti qu'ils n'ont plus aucune confiance en lui." Now I ask, in the name of historical truth, if Mr. Macaulay is sustained in his assertion, by Bonrepaux? Is there a jot or tittle of evidence, in this reference, that Penn "_had become a tool of the King and of the Jesuits_;" or that Bonrepaux was himself of any such opinion? Let us next present the passage from Croese--"Etiam Quakeri Pennum non amplius, ut ante, ita amabant ac magnifaciebant, quidam aversabantur ac fugiebant." I ask, in reference to this quotation from Croese, the same question? No possible version of these passages into English will go farther, than to show, that the Quakers were dissatisfied with Penn, about that time: in neither is there the slightest reference to Penn, as "_a tool of the King and of the Jesuits_." Mr. Macaulay's passage is so constructed, that his citation of authorities goes, not only to the fact of Penn's unpopularity, for a time, but to the cause of it, as assigned by Mr. Macaulay himself, namely, that Penn "_had become a tool of the King and of the Jesuits_." Now it is well known, that Penn, in 1687, was in bad odor with some of the Quakers. He was _suspected_, by some persons, of being a Jesuit--George Keith, the Quaker renegade, called him a deist--he was said by others to be a Papist. Even Tillotson had given countenance to this foolish story, which Penn's intimacy with King James tended to corroborate. How far Tillotston believed Penn to be a _Papist_, or a _tool_ of the King, or of the _Jesuits_, will appear, upon the perusal of a few lines from Tillotson to Penn, written in 1686, the year before that, of which Mr. Macaulay is writing--"I am very sorry that the suspicion I had entertained concerning you, of which I gave you the true account in my former letter, hath occasioned so much trouble and inconvenience to you: and I do now declare with great joy, that I am fully satisfied, that there was no just ground for that suspicion, and therefore do heartily beg your pardon for it." Clarkson's Memoirs, vol. i. chap. 22. If the authorities, cited, sustained the statement of Mr. Macaulay, their credibility would still form a serious question. In vol. ii. pages 305-7-8, Mr. Macaulay refers to Bonrepaux's "complicity with the Jesuits." It would have been quite agreeable to that crafty emissary of Lewis, to have had it believed, that Penn was of their fraternity. As for Gerard Croese, Chalmers speaks of him and his history, with very little respect; and states, that it dissatisfied the Quakers. However this may have been, there is not a syllable in Gerard Croese's Historia Quakeriana, giving color to Mr. Macaulay's assertion, that Penn "_had become a tool of the King and of the Jesuits_." On the contrary, Croese, as I shall show hereafter, speaks of Penn, with great respect, on several occasions. In the same paragraph, of which a part is quoted, at the commencement of this article, Mr. Macaulay, after stating, that, when the King and Penn met at Chester, in 1687, Penn preached, or, to use Mr. Macaulay's word, _harangued_, in the tennis court, he says--"_It is said indeed, that his Majesty deigned to look into the tennis court, and to listen, with decency, to his friend's melodious eloquence_." What does Mr. Macaulay mean?--that the King did not laugh outright?--that he made some little exertion, to suppress a disposition to make a mock of Penn and his preaching? No intelligent reader, though he may not catch the invidious spirit of this remark, can fail to perceive the writer's design, to speak disparagingly of Penn. Well: what is Mr. Macaulay's authority for this? He quotes "Cartwright's Diary, Aug. 30, 1687, and Clarkson's Life of William Penn"--but without any indication of volume, chapter, or page. This loose and unsatisfactory kind of reference is quite common with Mr. Macaulay; and one might almost as well indicate the route to the pyramids, by setting up a finger post in Edinburgh, pointing in the direction of Cairo. No eminent historian, English or Scotch, has ever been thus regardless of his reader's comfort; neither Rapin nor Tindal, Smollett nor Hume, nor Henry, nor Robertson, nor Guthrie, nor any other. Of this the reader may well complain. This may all be well enough, in a historical romance--but in a matter, pretending to be true and impartial history, no good reader will walk by faith, altogether, and upon the staff of a single narrator; and he will too often find, that the spirit of the context, in the authority, is very different, from that of the citation. He, who imparts to any historical fact the coloring of his own prejudice, and _dresses up_ a statement, after his own fancy, has no right to vouch in, as his authority, for the _whole thing_, however grotesque he may have made it--the writer, who has stated the _naked fact_. If Clarkson said simply, that the King had listened to Penn's preaching, Mr. Macaulay has no right to quote Clarkson, as having said so, in a manner to lower Penn, the tithe of a hair, in the estimation of the world. _A fortiori_, if Clarkson has said, that the King listened to Penn's preaching, _on several occasion, with respect_, Mr. Macaulay had no right to quote Clarkson, as his authority, for the sneering and ill-natured statement, to which I have referred. This is not history, it is gross misrepresentation; and, the more forcibly and ingeniously it is fabricated, the more unjust and the more ungenerous the libel, upon the dead. The reader, if he will, may judge of Mr. Macaulay's impartiality, by comparing his words with the _only words_ uttered by Clarkson, on this point. They may be found, vol. i. chap. 23--"Among the places he (Penn) visited, in Cheshire, was Chester itself. The King, who was then travelling, arriving there at the same time, went to the meeting-house of the Quakers, to hear him preach. This mark of respect the King showed him also, at two or three other places where they fell in with each other, in the course of their respective tours." This is the only passage, which can be referred to, in Clarkson, by Mr. Macaulay, to sustain his ill-natured remark, whose evil spirit is entirely neutralized, by the very authority he cites. But there will be many, who will rather give Mr. Macaulay credit, for stating the point impartially; and few, I apprehend, who will take the trouble to look, through two octavo volumes, for a passage, thus vaguely referred to, without any indication of the volume, chapter, or page. This rude assault, upon the character and motives of William Penn, Mr. Macaulay commences, by saying--"_To speak the whole truths concerning Penn, is a task, which requires some courage_." It is becoming, in every historian, to speak the truth, the whole truth, and _nothing but the truth_. It certainly requires some courage--audacity, perhaps, is the better word--to present citations, in French and Latin, to sustain an assertion, which those citations do not sustain; and to refer to a highly respectable author, as having stated that, which he has nowhere stated. It may not be amiss, to present my views of Mr. Macaulay's injustice, more plainly than I have done. It is obvious to all, that a fact--the same fact--may, by the very manner of stating it, raise or lower the character of him, in regard to whom it is related. The _manner_ of representing it may become _material_, or, substantially, part and parcel of the fact, as completely, as the coloring is part and parcel of a picture. No man has a right to take the sketch or outline of an angel, and, having given it the sable complexion of a devil, ascribe the entire thing, such as he has made it, to the author of the original sketch. No man, surely, has a right to seize a wreath, respectfully designed for the brows of his neighbor; distort it into the shape of a fool's cap; clap it upon that neighbor's head; and then charge the responsibility upon him, who prepared the original chaplet, as a token of respect. Mr. Macaulay represents King James, as listening to the preaching of Penn, with concealed contempt--such are the force and meaning of his words; and he quotes Clarkson, as authority for this, who says precisely the contrary. Every reader, who is uninstructed in the French and Latin languages, will view the quotations from Bonrepaux and Croese, as authorities for Mr. Macaulay's assertion, that Penn had "_become the tool of the King and the Jesuits_"--for, whether carelessly, or cunningly, contrived, the sentence will certainly be understood to mean precisely this. A large number, even of those, who understand the languages, will take these quotations, as evidence, upon Mr. Macaulay's word, without examination. Now, as I have stated, there is not the slightest authority, in these passages, for Mr. Macaulay's assertion. No. LXVI. Mr. Macaulay's last attack upon William Penn will be found, in vol. ii., pages 295-6-7. The Fellows of Magdalen College had been most abominably treated, by James II., in 1687. The detail is too long for my limits, and is, withal, unnecessary here, since there is neither doubt nor denial of the fact. The mediatorial agency of Penn was employed. The King was enraged, and resolved to have his way. His obstinacy was a proverb. There were three courses for Penn--right, left, and medial--to side with the King--to side with the Fellows--or to act as a mediator. Mr. Macaulay is pleased, in his Index, to speak of the transaction, as "_Penn's mediation_." Had he sided with the Fellows entirely, he would have lost his influence utterly, to serve them, with the King. Had he sided with the King entirely, he would have lost all confidence with the Fellows. Mr. Macaulay, here, as elsewhere, is evidently bent upon showing up Penn, as the "_tool of the King_:" and, if there is anything more unjust, upon historical record, I know not where to look for it. [1]With manifest effort, and in stinted measure, Mr. Macaulay lets down a few drops of the milk of human kindness, in the outset, and says of Penn--"_He had too much good feeling to approve of the violent and unjust proceedings of the government, and even ventured to express part of what he thought_." Here, that which proceeded from _fixed and lofty principle_, is ascribed to a less honorable motive--"_good feeling_," or _bonhommie_; and the "_part of what he thought_," was neither more nor less, than a bold and frank remonstrance, committed to writing, and sent to the King, by Penn. [1] The palpable reluctance of Mr. Macaulay to deal in liberal construction, and to award the smallest praise, on such occasions, is not confined to Penn. A writer in Blackwood's Magazine, for October, 1849, page 509, after referring to the glorious defeat of the Dutch fleet, off Harwich, when the Duke of York, afterwards James II., commanded in person, remarks--"Mr. Macaulay, in his late published _History of England_, has not deigned even to notice this engagement--a remarkable omission, the reason of which omission it is foreign to our purpose to inquire. This much we may be allowed to say, that no historian, who intends to form an accurate estimate of the character of James II., or to compile a complete register of his deeds, can justly accomplish his task, without giving that unfortunate monarch the credit for his conduct and intrepidity, in one of the most important and successful naval actions, which stands recorded, in our annals." Other English historians have related it. Hume, Oxford ed. 1826, vol. vii. page 355--Smollett, Lond. ed. 1759, vol. viii. page 31.--Rapin, Lond. ed. 1760, vol. xi. page 272. "The Duke of York," says Smollett, "was in the hottest part of the battle, and behaved with great spirit and composure, even when the Earl of Falmouth, the Lord Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle, were killed at his side, by one cannon ball, which covered him with the blood and brains of these three gallant gentlemen." When they met at Oxford, says Clarkson, vol. i. chap. 23, "William Penn had an opportunity of showing not only his courage, but his consistency in those principles of religious liberty, which he had defended, during his whole life." After giving an account of the Prince's injustice, Clarkson says--"Next morning William Penn was on horseback, ready to leave Oxford, but knowing what had taken place, he rode up to Magdalen College, and conversed with the Fellows, on the subject. After this conversation, he wrote a letter, and desired them to present it to the King." * * * * "Dr. Sykes, in relating this anecdote of William Penn, by letter to Dr. Chazlett, who was then absent, mentions that Penn, after some discourse with the Fellows of Magdalen College, wrote a short letter, directed to the King. He wrote to this purpose--that their case was hard, and that, in their circumstances, they could not yield obedience." This was confirmed by Mr. Creech, as Clarkson states, and by Sewell, who states, in his History of the Rise and Progress of the Quakers, that Penn told the King the act "_could not in justice be defended, since the general liberty of conscience did not allow of depriving any of their property, who did what they ought to do, as the Fellows of the said College appeared to have done_." This is the "_part of what he thought_," referred to by Mr. Macaulay, who has not found it convenient, upon this occasion, to quote a syllable from Clarkson, nor from Sewell, of whose work Chalmers and others have spoken with respect. I know of no better mode of presenting this matter fairly, than by laying before the reader contrasted passages, from Mr. Macaulay, and from Clarkson, relating to the conduct of Penn, upon this occasion. Mr. Macaulay shall lead off--"James, was as usual, obstinate in the wrong. The courtly Quaker, therefore, did his best to seduce the college from the path of right."--Therefore!--Wherefore? Penn did his best to _seduce_ the college from the path of right, _because_ James was, as usual, obstinate in the wrong! This is based, of course, upon Mr. Macaulay's favorite hypothesis, that Penn was "_the tool of the King and the Jesuits_."--"He tried first intimidation. Ruin, he said, impended over the society. The King was highly incensed. The case might be a hard one. Most people thought it so. But every child knew that his Majesty loved to have his own way, and could not bear to be thwarted. Penn, therefore, exhorted the Fellows not to rely on the goodness of their cause, but to submit, or at least to temporize. Such counsel came strangely from one, who had been expelled from the University for raising a riot about the surplice, who had run the risk of being disinherited, rather than take off his hat to the princes of the blood, and who had been more than once sent to prison, for haranguing in conventicles. He did not succeed in frightening the Magdalen men." It may be thought scarcely worth while, to charge a Quaker, at the age of _forty-three_, with inconsistency, because his views had somewhat altered, since he was a wild young man, at _twenty-one_. It is also clear, that Penn viewed the Magdalen question, as one quite as much of _property_ as of _conscience_; and that he could see no good reason, with his eyes of toleration wide open, why all the great educational institutions should be forever, in the hands of one denomination. Mr. Macaulay again--"Then Penn tried a gentler tone. He had an interview with Hough and some of the Fellows, and after many professions of sympathy and friendship, began to hint at a compromise. The King could not bear to be crossed. The college must give way. Parker must be admitted. But he was in very bad health. All his preferments would soon be vacant. 'Dr. Hough,' said Penn, 'may then be Bishop of Oxford. How should you like that, gentlemen?' Penn had passed his life in declaiming against a hireling ministry. He held, that he was bound to refuse the payment of tithes, and this even when he had bought lands, chargeable with tithes, and had been allowed the value of the tithes in the purchase money. According to his own principles, he would have committed a great sin, if he had interfered, for the purpose of obtaining a benefice, on the most honorable terms, for the most pious divine. Yet to such a degree had his manners been corrupted by evil communications, and his understanding obscured by inordinate zeal for a single object, that he did not scruple to become a broker in simony of a peculiarly discreditable kind, and to use a bishopric as a bait to tempt a divine to perjury." Are these the words of truth and soberness? I rather think they are not. In the sacred name of common sense--did Penn become a _broker in simony of a peculiarly discreditable kind, and use a bishopric, as a bait to tempt a divine to perjury_, by stating, that Parker was very infirm, and, that, should he die, Hough might be his successor! If this is history, give us fiction, for Heaven's sake, which is said to be less marvellous than fact. There is not the least pretence, that he offered, or was authorized to offer, any such "_bait_." He spoke of a mere contingency; and did the best he could to mediate, between the King and the Fellows, both of whom were highly incensed. As to the matter of tithes, Penn was mediating, between men, _who had no scruples about tithes_. He recognized, _pro hac vice_, the usages of the parties; and a Christian judge may, as shrewdly, be charged with infidelity, for conforming to the established law of evidence, and permitting a disciple of Mahomet to be sworn, upon the Koran. When Hough replied, that the Papists had robbed them of University College, and Christ Church, and were now after Magdalen, and would have all the rest, "Penn," says Mr. Macaulay, "was foolish enough to answer, that he believed the Papists would now be content. 'University,' he said, 'is a pleasant college. Christ Church is a noble place. Magdalen is a fine building. The situation is convenient. The walks by the river are delightful. If the Roman Catholics are reasonable, they will be satisfied with these.'" And now I will present Clarkson's just and sensible view of this transaction. Mr. Macaulay has said, vol. ii. page 295, that "_the agency of Penn was employed_," meaning, as the context shows, employed _by the King_. Clarkson, vol. i. chap. 23, says expressly, that, Oct. 3, 1687, Dr. Bailey wrote to Penn, "stated the merits of the case, and solicited his mediation." Penn told the Fellows, as appears from _Dr. Hough's own letter, written the evening after their last interview_, that he "feared they had come too late. He would use, however, his endeavors; and, if they were unsuccessful, they must attribute it to want of power in him, and not of good will to serve them." The mediation came to nothing. The Fellows grew dissatisfied with Penn; falling, doubtless, into the very common error of parties, highly excited, and differing so widely, that all, who are not _for them; in toto, are against them_. They seem to have been specially offended, by the following liberal remark of Penn's--"For my part, I have always declared my opinion, that the preferments of the Church should not be put into any other hands but such as they at present are in; but I hope you would not have the two Universities such invincible bulwarks of the Church of England, that none but they must be capable of giving their children a learned education." In the same volume and chapter, Clarkson remarks--"They (the delegates from Magdalen) thought, strange to relate, that Penn had been rambling; and because he spoke doubtfully, about the success of his intended efforts, and of the superior capacity of the established clergy, that they alone should monopolize education, that his language was not to be depended upon as sincere. How this could have come into their heads, except from the terror, into which the situation of the College had thrown them, it is not easy to conceive; for certainly William Penn was as explicit, as any man could have been, under similar circumstances. He informed them, that, after repeated efforts with the King, he feared they had come too late. This was plain language. He informed them again, that he would make another trial with the King; that he would read their papers to him, unless peremptorily commanded to forbear; but that, if he failed, they must attribute his want of success not to his want of will, but want of power." "This, though expressive of his doubts and fears, was but a necessary caution, when his exertions had already failed; and it was still more necessary, when there was reason to suppose, that, though the King had a regard for him, and was glad to employ him, as an instrument, in forwarding his public views, yet that he would not gratify him, where his solicitations directly opposed them. That William Penn did afterwards make a trial with the King, to serve the College, there can be no doubt, because no instance can be produced, wherein he ever forfeited his word or broke his promise. But all trials with this view must of necessity have been ineffectual. The King and his ministers had already determined the point in question." Such were the sentiments of Clarkson. No. LXVII. Charles I. was King, when William Penn was born; and, when he died, George I. was on the throne. Penn therefore lived in the reins of nine rulers of the realm--Charles I.--the Cromwells, Oliver and Richard--Charles II.--James II.--William and Mary as joint sovereigns--William alone--Anne--and George I. He was the son of Admiral, Sir William Penn, and was born on Tower Hill, London, Oct. 4, 1644. The spirit and the flesh strove hard for the mastery, before young William came forth a Quaker, fully developed. He was remarkable at Oxford, for his fine scholarship, and athletic performances. Penn believed, that the Lord appeared to him, when he was very young. The devil seems to have made him a short visit afterwards, if we may rely upon the testimony of Penn's biographers. Wood, in his Athenæ, iv. 645, gives this brief account of the Lord's visit--Penn was "educated in puerile learning, at Chigwell in Essex, where, at eleven years of age, being retired in a chamber alone, he was so suddenly surprised with an inward comfort, and, as he thought, an external glory in the room, that he has, many times, said that, from that time, he had the seal of divinity and immortality, that there was also a God, and that the soul of man was capable of enjoying his divine communications." His biographer, Clarkson, says, that Penn, at the age of sixteen, was led to a sense of the corruptions of the established faith, by the preaching of Thomas Loe, a Quaker; and broke off at the chapel, and began to hold prayer meetings. For this he was fined and admonished. It is remarkable, that Wood, though he states, that Penn, after he became a Quaker, in good earnest, was imprisoned, once in Ireland, once in the Tower, and three times in Newgate, does not even allude, in his Athenæ, to the expulsion from Oxford, which is related, by Chalmers, Clarkson, and others. It seems, that, after he had become impressed, by Loe's preaching, an order came down from court, that the students should wear surplices. This so irritated Penn, that, instead of letting his yea be yea, and his nay nay--in company with others, says Clarkson, "he fell upon those students, who appeared in surplices, and tore them everywhere over their heads." On the subject of his conversion, Wood says--"If you'll believe a satirical pamphlet--'_The history of Will Penn's conversion from a gentleman to a Quaker_,' printed at London, in 1682--you'll find, that the reason of his turning Quaker was the loss of his mistress, a delicate young lady, that then lived in Dublin; or, as others say, because he refused to fight a duel." For two, good and sufficient reasons, this statement, contained in the "_satirical pamphlet_," and referred to by Wood, is unworthy of the slightest credit. In the first place, though Penn met Loe, in Dublin, after the expulsion from Oxford, and became more fully impressed, yet his first meeting with Loe was at Oxford, before the expulsion, and the serious impression, produced by his preaching, led, albeit rather oddly, to the affair of the surplices. In the second place, the notion, that Penn would put on Quakerism, to avoid a duel, is still more incredible. Nothing could be more unfortunate, than any imputation upon Penn's courage, moral or physical. We have seen, that he was famous for his athletic exercises. Strange, though it may seem, to such as have contemplated Penn, as the quiet non-combatant, he was an accomplished swordsman, and, upon one occasion, was actually engaged in an affair, which had all the aspect, and all the peril, of the _duellium_, however it may have lacked the preliminary forms and ceremonies. "During his residence in Paris," says Chalmers, "he was assaulted in the street, one evening, by a person with a drawn sword, on account of a supposed affront; but among other accomplishments of a gay man, he had become so good a swordsman, as to disarm his antagonist." After his expulsion from Oxford, in 1662, he returned home. His father, the Admiral, was greatly provoked, to see his son resorting to the company of religious people, who were, of all, the least likely, in the licentious reign of Charles II., to advance his worldly interest. The old gentleman tried severity, and finally, as Penn himself relates, gave the Quaker neophyte a thrashing, and turned him out of doors. Ere long, the father got the better of the admiral. He relented: and, probably, supposing there was as little vitality in Paris, for a Quaker, as some of the old philosophers fancied there might be, in a vacuum, for an angel, he sent young William thither, as one of a fashionable travelling party. After his return, he was admitted of Lincoln's Inn, and continued there, till the year of the plague, 1665. The following year, his father sent him to Ireland, to take charge of an estate. At Cork, he met Loe once more--attended his meetings, became an unalterable Quaker, preached in conventicles--was committed to prison--released upon application to the Earl of Orrery--and summoned home, by his indignant father. The old Admiral loved his accomplished son, then twenty-three years old--but abhorred his Quakerish airs and manners. In all points, save one--the point of conscience--William was unexceptionably dutiful. At length, the Admiral agreed to compound, on conditions, which seem not to have been very oppressive: in short, he consented to waive all objections, and let William do as he pleased, in regard to his religion, provided he would yield, in one particular--doff his broad brim--take off his hat--in presence of the King, the Duke of York, and his own father, the Admiral. Young William demanded time for consideration. It was granted; and he earnestly sought the Lord, on an empty stomach, as he says himself, with prayer. He finally informed his father, that he _could not do it_; and, once again, the Admiral, in a paroxysm of wrath, turned the rebellious young Quaker out of doors, broad brim and all. William Penn now began to figure, as a preacher, at the Quaker meetings. The _friends_, and the fond mother, ever on hand, in such emergencies, supplied his temporal necessities. Even the old Admiral, becoming satisfied of William's perfect sincerity, although too proud to tack about, hoisted private signals, for his release, when imprisoned, for attending Quaker meetings; and evidently lay by, ready to bear down, in the event of serious difficulty. In 1668, Penn's brim grew broader and broader, and his coat became buttonless behind. He was a writer and a preacher, and a powerful defender of the "_cursed and depised_" Quakers. The titles of his various works may be found in Clarkson, and in Wood's Athenæ. They conformed to the fashion of the age, and were, necessarily, quaint and extended. I have room for one only, as a specimen,--the title of his first tract--"_Truth exalted, in a short but sure testimony, against all those religious faiths and worships, that have been formed and followed in the darkness of apostacy; and for that glorious light, which is now risen, and shines forth in the life and doctrine of the despised Quakers, as the alone good old way of life and salvation; presented to princes, priests, and people, that they may repent, believe, and obey. By William Penn; whom Divine love constrains, in an holy contempt, to trample on Egypt's glory, not fearing the King's wrath, having beheld the majesty of Him, who is invisible._" In this same year 1668, he was imprisoned in the Tower, for publishing his SANDY FOUNDATION SHAKEN. There he was confined seven months, doing infinitely more mischief, for the cause of lawn sleeves and white frocks, forms, ceremonies, and hat-worship, as he calls it, than if he had been loose. For, then and there, he wrote his most able pamphlets, especially, NO CROSS NO CROWN, which gained him great praise, far beyond the pale of Quakerdom. His treatise has been often reprinted, and translated into foreign tongues. In 1670, his influence was so great, that he obtained an order in Council, for the release of the Quakers then in prison. At a later day, he again assumed the office of St. Peter's angel, and set three thousand captives free. In 1685, says Mr. Macaulay, "he strongly represented the sufferings of the Quakers to the new King," &c. "In this way, about fifteen hundred Quakers, and a still greater number of Roman Catholics regained their liberty." No wonder he was mistaken for a Papist, by those, who adopt that bastard principle, that charity begins at home, and ends there; whose religious circle forms the exclusive line of demarcation, for the exercise of that celestial principle; and who look, with the eye of a Chinaman, upon all beyond the holy sectarian wall, as outside barbarians. I was delighted and rather surprised, that Mr. Macaulay suffered the statement of this fact to pass, without some ill-natured expression, in regard to Penn--who, I say it reverentially, was less the TOOL of the King, than of Jesus Christ. No. LXVIII. In 1670, William Penn was, for the third time, committed to Newgate, for preaching. His fines were paid by his father, who died this year, entirely reconciled to his son; and, upon his bed of death, pronounced these comforting words--"_Son William, let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your conscience: I charge you, do nothing against your conscience. So will you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to you in a day of trouble_." Penn inherited from his father an estate, yielding about £1500 per annum. About this time he wrote his "_Seasonable caveat against Popery_;" though he knew it was the faith of the Queen and his good friend, the Duke of York. Shortly after, he travelled in Holland and Germany. In 1672, he married Gulielma Maria Springett. In 1675, he held his famous dispute with Richard Baxter; and, in 1677, he again visited the continent, in company with George Cox and Robert Barclay, constantly preaching, and writing, and importuning, in behalf of his despised and oppressed brethren. About this period, and soon after his return to England, we find him petitioning Parliament, in their behalf. Twice, he was permitted to address the committee of the House of Commons, upon this subject. Whoever coveted the honor of being the creditor of royalty found a willing customer, in Charles the Second. In 1681, that monarch, in consideration of £16,000 due from him to the estate of Admiral Penn, conveyed to William the district, now called Pennsylvania. He himself would have given it the name of Sylvania, but the King insisted, on prefixing the name of the grantee. Full powers of legislation and government were bestowed upon the proprietor. The only limitation was a power, reserved to the Privy Council, to rescind his laws, within six months, after they were laid before that body. The charter bears date March 4, 1681. He first designed to call his domain "New Wales," and nothing saved the Philadelphians from being Welchmen, but an objection, from the under-secretary of state, who was himself a Welchman, and was offended at the Quaker's presumption. He encouraged emigrants, judiciously selected, to embark for his Province; and followed, himself, with about a hundred Quakers, in September, 1682. His arrival in the Delaware, his beneficent administration, and the whole story of his negotiation, with the Indians, are full of interest, and overflowing. It is a long story withal, too long, altogether, for our narrow boundaries. I have indicated the sources of information, and this is all my limits will allow. After two years, he returned to England, and became a greater favorite than ever, with James II.--was calumniated, of course--pursued by the unholy alliance of churchmen, and sectaries, and apostate Quakers--grossly insulted--"chastened but not killed"--and finally deprived of his government. Justice, at length, prevailed. Penn's rights were restored, by William III. Having lost his wife and son, he went again, upon his travels, and again married. In 1699, he returned to Pennsylvania, and remained there, for the term of two years. He then went home to England; and, after continuing to employ his tongue and his pen, as freely as ever, for several years, he died, July 30, 1718, at the age of seventy-two years, at Jordan, near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire. Such is the mere _skeleton_ of this good man's life; and it is my purpose to _flesh it up_, with some few of those highly interesting, and well authenticated, incidents, which may be found, on the pages of trust worthy writers. I do not believe, that the pen of any past, present, or future historian, or biographer, however masterly the hand that holds it--however bitter and pungent the gall of bigotry or political venom, in which it may dipped--will ever be able, very grievously, or lastingly, to soil the character of William Penn. The world's opinion has settled down, upon firm convictions. If new facts can be produced, then, indeed, a writer may justly move, for a reconsideration of the public sentiment--but Mr. Macaulay does not present _a single fact_, in relation to William Penn, not known before--he gives a _construction_ of his own, so manifestly tinctured with ill nature, as, at once, to excite the suspicion of his reader. I wear a narrow brim, and have buttons behind--I am no Quaker--and, indeed, have a quarrel with them all--chiefly grammatical--though I esteem and respect the principles of that moral and religious people--but I simply describe the impulse of my own heart, when I say, that Mr. Macaulay's ill natured treatment of William Penn painfully disturbed my confidence, in his impartiality; and constrained me to "read, mark, learn and inwardly digest," the highly seasoned _provant_, which he has furnished--_cum grano salis_; and with great care, not to swallow the _flummery_. Scotchmen have not always written thus of William Penn; and the sentiments of mankind, now and hereafter, if I do not strangely err, will be found, embodied in the concluding passage of an article in the Edinburgh Review, vol. xxi. page 462. "We shall not stop to examine what dregs of ambition, or what hankerings after worldly prosperity may have mixed themselves with the pious and philanthropic principles, that were undoubtedly his chief guides in forming, that great settlement, which still bears his name, and profits by his example. Human virtue does not challenge nor admit of such a scrutiny: and it should be sufficient for the glory of William Penn, that he stands upon record, as the most humane, the most moderate, and most pacific of all governors." All this may be enough for his _glory_. But there are some simple, touching truths, to be told of William Penn, and some highly interesting personal details; which, though they may have little about them, in accordance with the ordinary estimate of _glory_, will long continue to envelop the memory of this extraordinary man, with a purer and a milder light. I know no better mode of concluding the present article, than by presenting a few extracts, from the valedictory letter of William Penn to his wife and children, written on the eve of his first visit to Pennsylvania, September, 1682. If the _saints_ write such admirable love letters, it would greatly benefit the _sinners_--the men of this world--to follow the example, and surpass it, if they can. "My dear wife and children. My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death itself can extinguish nor lessen towards you, most endearingly visits you, with eternal embraces, and will abide with you forever. My dear wife! remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life; the most beloved, as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. God knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence's making; and God's image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and that, without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world. Take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee, in my stead, while thou livest." Here follows some domestic advice. Penn then proceeds--"And now, my dearest, let me recommend to thy care, my dear children, abundantly beloved of me, as the Lord's blessings, and the sweet pledges of our mutual and endeared affection. Above all things, endeavor to breed them up, in the knowledge and love of virtue, and that holy plain way of it, which we have lived in, that the world, in no part of it, get into my family. * * * "For their learning, be liberal. Spare no cost. For by such parsimony all is lost, that is saved: but let it be useful knowledge, such as is consistent with truth and godliness, not cherishing a vain conversation, or idle mind. * * * I recommend the useful parts of mathematics, &c., but agriculture is especially in my eye: let my children be husbandmen and housewives: it is industrious, healthy, honest and of good example. * * * Be sure to observe their genius, and do not cross it as to learning. * * * I choose not they should be married to earthly, covetous kindred; and of cities and towns of concourse, beware. The world is apt to stick close to those, who have lived and got wealth there. A country life and estate, I like best for my children. I prefer a decent mansion, of an hundred pounds per annum, before ten thousand pounds, in London, or such like place, in a way of trade." He then addresses his children, and finally his elder boys, in the following admirable strain, honorable alike to his understanding and his heart. "And, as for you, who are likely to be concerned, in the government of Pennsylvania, I do charge you, before the Lord God and his holy angels, that you be lowly, diligent and tender, fearing God, loving the people, and hating covetousness. Let justice have its impartial course, and the law free passage. Though to your loss, protect no man against it--for you are not above the law, but the law above you. Live therefore the lives, yourselves, you would have the people live; and then you have right and boldness to punish the transgressor. Keep upon the square, for God sees you: therefore do your duty, and be sure you see with your own eyes, and hear with your own ears. Entertain no lurchers; cherish no informers for gain or revenge; use no tricks; fly to no devices, to support or cover injustice but let your heart be upright before the Lord, trusting in him, above the contrivances of men, and none shall be able to hurt or supplant." The letter, from which I have made these few extracts, concludes--"So farewell to my thrice dearly beloved wife and children! Yours as God pleaseth, in that, which no waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance wear away." It is truly pleasant to get behind the curtain of form and ceremony, and look at these eminent men, in their night-gowns and slippers, and listen to them thus, while talking to their wives and their children. No. LXIX. It is remarkable, that such a genuine Quaker, as William Penn, should have sprung from such a belligerent stock. His father, as I have stated, was a British admiral; and his grandfather, Giles, was a captain in the navy. William Penn may, nevertheless, have derived, from this origin, and from his Dutch mother, Margaret Jasper, of Rotterdam--a certain quality, eminently characteristic of the Quaker--that resolute determination, which the coarser man of the world calls _pluck_, and the Quaker, _constancy_. This constancy of purpose, in William Penn, seems never to have been shaken. It appeared, in his refusal to doff his brim, before his father, the Duke of York, and the King. It was manifested, when, being imprisoned in the Tower, for printing his _Sandy Foundation Shaken_, and hearing, that the Bishop of London had declared the offender should publicly recant, or remain there, for life; he replied, "_he would weary out the malice of his enemies by his patience, and that his prison should be his grave, before he would renounce his just opinions, for he owed his conscience to no man_." This same constancy was signally exhibited, during the disputation, between himself and George Whitehead, for the Quakers, and Thomas Vincent and others, for the Presbyterians. Vincent had a parish, in Spitalfields. Two of his parishioners went to listen, perhaps to laugh, at the Quakers. Like Goldsmith's scoffers, who came to laugh, and remained to pray--they went in, Presbyterians, and came out, Quakers. They were converted. At this, Vincent lost his patience; and seems to have become a persecutor of the _cursed Quakers_; and, as Clarkson states, said all manner of "_unhandsome_" things of them, and their _damnable_ doctrines. Penn and Whitehead invited Vincent to a public discussion. After much delay and evasion, Vincent consented. As every fowl is bravest on his own _stercorium_, Vincent selected his own Presbyterian meeting-house, as the place for the discussion; and, before the appointed hour, filled it with his own people, so completely, that the disputants themselves, Penn and Whitehead, could scarcely gain admittance. They were instantly insulted, by a charge, suddenly made, that the Quakers held "_damnable doctrines_." Whitehead began a reply; Vincent interrupted him, and proposed, as the proper course, that he should put questions to the Quakers. He put the motion, and, as almost all present were of his party, it was agreed to, of course. He then put a question concerning the Godhead, which he knew the Quakers would answer in the negative. Whitehead and Penn attempted to explain. Several rose on the other side. Whitehead desired to put a question to Vincent. This the Presbyterians refused. They proceeded to laugh, hiss and stigmatize. Penn they called a Jesuit. Upon an answer from Whitehead, to a question from Vincent, uproar ensued, and Vincent "went instantly to prayer," that the Lord would _come short_ with heretics and blasphemers. When he had, by this manoeuvre, discharged his battery upon the Quakers, effectually securing himself from interruption--for no one would presume to interrupt a minister at prayer--he cut off all power of reply, by telling the people to go home immediately, at the same moment setting them the example. The closing part, which especially exhibits that constancy, for which the Quakers have ever been remarkable, cannot be more happily related, than in the language of Mr. Clarkson himself. "The congregation was leaving the meeting-house, and they had not yet been heard. Finding they would soon be left to themselves, some of them, at length, ventured to speak; but they were pulled down, and the candles, for the controversy had lasted till midnight, were put out. They were not, however, prevented by this usage, from going on: for, rising up, they continued their defence in the dark; and what was extraordinary, many staid to hear it. This brought Vincent among them with a candle. Addressing himself to the Quakers, he desired them to disperse. To this, at length, they consented, but only, on the promise, that another meeting should be granted them, for the same purpose, in the same place." Vincent did not keep his promise. He was, doubtless, fearful that more of his parishioners would be converted. Penn and Whitehead, at last, went to Vincent's meeting-house, on a lecture day; and, when the lecture was finished, rose and begged an audience: but Vincent went off, as fast as possible; and the congregation, as speedily, followed. Finding no other mode before him, Penn wrote and published his celebrated _Sandy Foundation Shaken_, which caused his imprisonment in the Tower, as already related. Another remarkable example of the constancy of Penn is recorded, in the history of his trial, before the Lord Mayor, for a breach of the conventicle act, in 1670. Mr. Macaulay is pleased to say, Penn had never been "_a strong-headed man_." This is one of those sliding phrases, that may mean anything, or nothing. It may mean, that not being a _strong-headed man_, he necessarily belonged to the other category, and was a _weak-headed man_. Or, it may mean, that he was not as strong-headed as Lord Verulam, or Mr. Macaulay. I wish the reader would decide this question for himself; and, for that end, read the history of this interesting trial, as given by Clarkson, in the first volume, and sixth chapter of his Memoirs of Penn. If the evidences of a strong head and a strong heart were not abundantly exhibited, by the accused, upon that occasion, I know not where to look for them. The jury returned a verdict of _guilty of speaking in Grace Street Church_. Sir Samuel Starling, the Mayor, and the whole court abused the jurors, after the example of Jeffreys, and sent them back to their room. After half an hour, they returned the same verdict, in writing, signed with their names. The court were more enraged than before; and, Mr. Clarkson says, the Recorder addressed them thus--"You shall not be dismissed, till we have a verdict, such as the court will accept; and you shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco; you shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict, by the help of God, or you shall starve for it." After being out all night, the jury returned the same verdict, for the third time. They were severely abused by the court, after the fashion of that day, and sent to their room, once more. A fourth time, they returned the same verdict. Penn addressed the jury, and the court ordered the jailor to stop his mouth, and bring fetters, and stake him to the ground. Friend William, for an instant, merged the Quaker in the Englishman, and exclaimed--"Do your pleasure, I matter not your fetters." On the fifth of September, the jury, who had received no refreshment, for two days and two nights, returned a verdict of _not guilty_. Such was the condition of things, at that day, that, for the rendition of that verdict, the jury were fined forty marks apiece, and imprisoned in Newgate. Penn was, at this time, five-and-twenty years of age. The peculiar position of William Penn, at the court of Charles and James the Second, may be explained, without laying, at his door, the imputation of being a time-server, and a man of the world. Between the latter monarch and the Quaker, there existed a relation, akin to friendship. Penn, in keeping with his Quaker principles, was forgetful of injuries, and mindful of benefits. It is impossible to say, how long he would have remained in the tower, when imprisoned there, through the agency of the Bishop of London, had he not been released, upon the unsolicited importunity of James II., when Duke of York. When the Admiral, his father, was near his end, "he sent one of his friends," says Mr. Clarkson, "to the Duke of York, to desire of him, as a death-bed request, that he would endeavor to protect his son, as far as he consistently could, and to ask the King to do the same, in case of future persecution. The answer was gratifying, both of them promising their services, upon a fit occasion." Perhaps it would not be going too far--with Mr. Macaulay's permission, of course--to ascribe that personal consideration, which Penn exhibited, for Charles and James--a part of it, at least--to a grateful recollection of their favors, to his father and himself. "_Titles and phrases_," says Mr. Macaulay, "_against which he had often borne his testimony, dropped occasionally from his lips and his pen_." I rather doubt, if the recording angel, who will never "_set down aught in malice_," has noted the unquakerish sins of William Penn, in doing grammatical justice to personal pronouns. This, truly, is a mighty small matter. If Penn was not so particular, in these little things, as some others of his brotherhood, his birth and education may be well considered. He was not a Quaker born. His residence in France may also be taken into the account. "He had contracted," says Clarkson, "a sort of polished or courtly demeanor, which he had insensibly taken from the customs of the people, among whom he had lately lived." In the matter of the hat, even Mr. Macaulay will never charge William Penn with inconsistency. In Granger's Biographical History of England, iv. 16, I find the following anecdote--"We are credibly informed, that he sat with his hat on before Charles II., and that the King, as a gentle rebuke for his ill manners, put off his own: upon which Penn said to him--'Friend Charles, why dost thou not put on thy hat?' The King answered, ''Tis the custom of this place, that never above one person should be covered at a time.'" This tale is told also, in a note to Grey's Hudibras, on canto ii. v. 225, and elsewhere. No. LXX. _The pride of life_--that omnipresent frailty--that universal mark of man's congenital naughtiness--in William Penn, seemed scarcely an earthly leaven, springing, as it did, from a comforting consciousness of the purity of his own. _The pride of life_, with him, was essentially _humility_; for, when compelled to rest his defence, in any degree, upon his individual character, he vaunted not himself, but gave all the glory to the Giver. No man, however, more keenly felt the assaults, which were made upon his character, by the tongue and the pen of envy and hatred, ignorance and bigotry, because he knew, that the shaft, though aimed, ostensibly, at him, was frequently designed, for that body, whose prominent leader he was. In the very year of his father's death, and shortly after that event, he was seized, by a file of soldiers, sent purposely, for his apprehension, while preaching, in a Quaker meeting-house, and carried before Sir John Robinson, who treated him roughly, and sent him, for six months, to Newgate. In the course of the trial, Robinson said to Penn--"_You have been as bad as other folks_"--to which Penn replied--"_When and where? I charge thee to tell the company to my face._" Robinson rejoined--"Abroad, and at home too." This was so notoriously false and absurd, that an ingenuous member of the court, Sir John Shelden, exclaimed--"_No, no, Sir John, that's too much_." Penn, turning to the assembly, and with all the chastened indignation of an insulted Christian--Quaker as he was--delivered himself, with a strength and simplicity, which would have done honor to Paul, in the presence of Agrippa; and which must forever, so long as the precious record shall remain, touch a responsive chord--even in the bosoms of those, whose practice it is, upon ordinary occasions, to let their yea be yea, and their nay--nay. I am sure it would have cheered the old Admiral's heart, and elevated his respect for the broad brim, to have heard the manly language of his Quaker son, that day. "I make this bold challenge to all men, women, and children upon earth, justly to accuse me, with having seen me drunk, heard me swear, utter a curse, or speak one obscene word, much less that I ever made it my practice. I speak this to God's glory, who has ever preserved me from the power of these pollutions, and who, from a child, begot an hatred in me, towards them." "But there is nothing more common, than, when men are of a more severe life than ordinary, for loose persons to comfort themselves with the conceit, that these were once as they themselves are; as if there were no collateral or oblique line of the compass or globe, by which men might be said to come to the Arctic pole, but directly and immediately from the Antarctic. Thy words shall be thy burden, and I trample thy slanders, as dirt, under my feet." Mr. Clarkson is quoted, as good authority, by Mr. Macaulay. Such he has ever been esteemed. A brief quotation may not be amiss, in regard to Penn's relation to James II. Having referred to the Admiral's dying request to Charles and James, to have a regard for his Quaker son, Clarkson says--"From this period a more regular acquaintance grew up between them (William Penn and James II.) and intimacy followed. During this intimacy, however William Penn might have disapproved, as he did, of the King's religious opinions, he was attached to him, from a belief, that he was a friend to liberty of conscience. Entertaining this opinion concerning him, he conceived it to be his duty, now that he had become King, to renew this intimacy with him, and that, in a stronger manner than ever, that he might forward the great object, for which he had crossed the Atlantic, namely, the relief of those unhappy persons, who were then suffering, on account of their religion. * * * * He used his influence with the King solely in doing good." The relation, between William Penn and the Papist King, was indeed remarkable. Gerard Croese published his Historia Quakeriana, at Amsterdam, in 1695, which was translated into English, in the following year. It was greatly disliked, by the Quakers; and, in 1696, drew forth an answer from one of the society. The testimony of Croese, in relation to Penn, may therefore be deemed impartial. He says--"The king loved him, as a singular and entire friend, and imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels. He often honored him with his company in private, discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not for one but many hours together." When a peer, who had been long kept waiting for Penn to come forth, ventured to complain, the King simply said--"_Penn always talked ingeniously and he heard him willingly_." Croese says, that Penn was unwearied, as the suitor on behalf of his oppressed people, making constant efforts for their liberation, and paying their legal expenses, from his private purse. The King's remark certainly does not quadrate with Burnet's statement, that Penn "_had a tedious luscious way of talking_." With Queen Anne he was a great favorite; and Clarkson says, vol. ii. chap. 15, "she received him always in a friendly manner, and was pleased with his conversation." So was Tillotson. So was a better judge than Queen Anne, Tillotson, or Burnet. In Noble's continuation of Granger, Swift is stated to have said--"_Penn talked very agreeably and with much spirit_." Somewhat of Penn's relation to King James may be gathered, from Penn's answer, when examined, in 1690, before King William, in regard to an intercepted letter from King James to Penn. In that letter, James desired Penn to "_come to his assistance and express to him the resentments of his favor and benevolence_." When asked what _resentments_ were intended, he replied that "he did not know, but he supposed the King meant he should compass his restoration. Though, however he could not avoid the suspicion of such an attempt, he could avoid the guilt of it. He confessed he had loved King James; and, as he had loved him, in his prosperity, he could not hate him, in his adversity--yes, he loved him yet, for the many favors he had conferred on him, though he could not join with him, in what concerned the state or kingdom." This answer, says Pickart, "_was noble, generous, and wise_." One of the most able and eloquent compositions of William Penn is his justly celebrated letter of October 24, 1688, to William Popple. Mr. Popple was secretary to the Lords Commissioners, for the affairs of trade and plantations, and a particular friend of Penn and of his schoolfellow, John Locke. Had Mr. Macaulay flourished then, he would have had readier listeners to these cavils, than he has at present. Penn, in 1688, was excessively unpopular. He was not only _the tool of the King and the Jesuits_, but a rank _Papist_ and _Jesuit_ himself--the _friend of arbitrary power,--bred at St. Omers in the Jesuits College--he had taken orders at Rome--married under a dispensation--officiated as a priest at Whitehall_--no charge against William Penn was too absurd, to gain credit with the people, at the period of the Revolution. Upon this occasion, Mr. Popple addressed to Penn a letter, eminently beautiful, in point of style, and containing a most forcible appeal to Penn's sense of duty to himself, to the society of Friends, to his children, and the world, to put down these atrocious calumnies, by some public written declaration. His letter will be found, in Clarkson's Memoirs, vol. ii. chap. i. I truly regret, that I have space only, for some brief disconnected extracts, from William Penn's reply. "Worthy Friend; it is now above twenty years, I thank God, that I have not been very solicitous what the world thought of me, &c. The business, chiefly insisted on, is my Popery and endeavors to promote it. I do say then, and that, with all simplicity, that I am not only no Jesuit, but no Papist; and which is more, I never had any temptation upon me to be so, either from doubts in my own mind, about the way I profess, or from the discourses or writings of any of that religion. And in the presence of Almighty God I do declare, that the King did never once directly or indirectly, attack me or tempt me upon that subject." * * * * "I say then solemnly, that so far from having been bred at St. Omers, and having received orders at Rome, I never was at either place; nor do I know anybody there, nor had I ever a correspondence with anybody in those places." After alluding to the absurdity of charging him with having officiated as a Catholic Priest, he adverts to his opinion of the views of King James, on the subject of toleration--"And in his honor, as well as in my own defence, I am obliged in conscience to say, that he has ever declared to me it was his opinion; and on all occasions, when Duke, he never refused me the repeated proof of it, as often as I had any poor sufferers for conscience' sake to solicit his help for." * * * * "To this let me add the relation my father had to this King's service; his particular favor in getting me released out of the Tower of London in 1669, my father's humble request to him, upon his death-bed, to protect me from the inconveniences and troubles my persuasion might expose me to, and his friendly promise to do it, and exact performance of it, from the moment I addressed myself to him. I say, when all this is considered, anybody, that has the least pretence to good nature, gratitude, or generosity, must needs know how to interpret my access to the King." This letter contains sentiments, on the subject of religious toleration, which would be highly ornamental, if placed in golden characters, upon the walls of all our churches--"Our fault is, we are apt to be mighty hot upon speculative errors, and break all bounds in our resentments; but we let practical ones pass without remark, if not without repentance! as if a mistake about an obscure proposition of faith were a greater evil, than the breach of an undoubted precept. Such a religion the devils themselves are not without, for they have both faith and knowledge; but their faith doth not work by love, nor their knowledge by obedience." * * * "Let us not think religion a litigious thing; nor that Christ came only to make us disputants." * * * * "It is charity that deservedly excels in the Christian religion." * * * * "He that suffers his difference with his neighbor, about the other world, to carry him beyond the line of moderation in this, is the worse for his opinion, even if it be true. It is too little considered by Christians, that men may hold the truth in unrighteousness; that they may be orthodox, and not know what spirit they are of." Verily, this "_courtly Quaker_"--this "_tool of the King and the Jesuits_," who was "_never a strong-headed man_"--was quite a Christian gentleman after all. No. LXXI. In the latter days of William Penn, _the sun and the light were darkened--the clouds returned after the rain--the grasshopper became a burden_--and the years had drawn nigh, when he could truly say he had _no pleasure in them_. No mortal, probably, ever enjoyed a more continual feast from the consciousness of a life, devoted to the glory of God, and the welfare of man; but many of his temporal reliances had crumbled under him; and trouble had gathered about his path, and about his bed. He had not much more comfort in his government, I fear, than Sancho Panza enjoyed, in that of Barataria. Its commencement was marked, by a vexatious dispute with Lord Baltimore; and the Governor's absence was ever the signal for altercation, between different cliques and parties, and vexatious neglect, on the part of his tenants and agents. In his letters to Thomas Lloyd, the President of his Council, he complains of some in the government, for drinking, carousing, and official extortion. In his letters to Lloyd and Harrison in 1686, he complains of the Council, for neglecting and slighting his letters; that he cannot get "_a penny_" of his quit-rents; and adds--"God is my witness, I lie not. I am now above six thousand pounds out of pocket, more than ever I saw by the province; and you may throw in my pains, cares, and hazard of life, and leaving of my family and friends to serve them." It is even stated by Clarkson, vol. i. ch. 22, that want of funds from the Province prevented his returning to America, in 1686. In the following year, he renews these complaints. In 1688, and after the revolution, he was examined, before the Lords of Council, on the charge of being a Papist and a Jesuit; gave bonds for his attendance, on the first day of the next term; and, no witness then appearing against him, he was discharged. In 1690, he was again arrested, and bound over as before, and, no witness appearing, was again discharged. In the same year, he was once more arrested, and committed to prison. On the day of trial, no witness appeared, and he was again discharged. He resolved to fly from such continual persecution, to America, and, while making his preparation, he was again arrested, upon the information of one Fuller, who was afterward set in the pillory, for his crime. Penn sought safety, in privacy and retirement from the world. In 1691, a new proclamation was issued for his arrest; and his American affairs wore a gloomy aspect. In 1693, he was deprived of his government, by King William; and pursued with unrelenting rage, by his enemies. In the words of Clarkson, he was "_a poor, persecuted exile_." "_Canonized to-day and cursed to-morrow_"--such seems to have been the fortune of William Penn. His only prudent course seemed to be to bow down, before the wrath of that popular hurricane, which swept furiously over him, and went upon its way. This good and great man was not wholly forgotten. He had never forfeited the affectionate respect of some persons, who have left bright names, for the admiration of future ages. Such were Locke and Tillotson. They marked their time, and moved in behalf of the oppressed. Lords Ranelagh, Rochester, and Sidney went to King William--they "_considered it a dishonor to the Government, that a man, who had lived such an exemplary life, and who had been so distinguished for his talents, disinterestedness, generosity, and public spirit, should be buried in an ignoble obscurity, and prevented from rising to future eminence and usefulness, in consequence of the charge of an unprincipled wretch, whom Parliament had publicly stigmatized, as a cheat and an impostor_." King William replied to these truly noble lords, "that William Penn was _an old friend of his, as well as theirs_, and that he might follow his business, as freely as ever, for he had nothing to say against him." The principal Secretary of State, Sir John Trenchard, and the Marquis of Winchester bore these joyful tidings to William Penn. And how did he receive them? He went instantly, of course, to tender the homage of his humble acknowledgments to King William--not so. He was then greatly embarrassed in his pecuniary affairs. Foes were on every side. The wife whom, in his parting letter, he bade remember, that she was _the love of his youth and the joy of his life_, was on her death-bed, prostrated there, according to Clarkson, in no small degree, by her too keen sympathy for her long suffering husband. His _heart_ was broken--his _spirit_ was not. He preferred rights before favors, and desired permission publicly to defend himself, before the King in council. This was granted, and he was abundantly acquitted, after a deliberate hearing. The last hours of his wife, Gulielma Maria, were cheered by this intelligence. In about a month after this event, she died. "She was an excelling person," said he, "as wife, child, mother, mistress, friend, and neighbor." In 1694, a complete reconciliation took place between Penn and the society of Friends; and, in the same year, he was restored to the Government of Pennsylvania. In 1696, he married Hannah Callowhill, of Bristol. These gleams of returning happiness were soon obscured. A few weeks after this marriage, he lost his eldest son. This young man was upon the eve of twenty-one. His father's simple narrative of the dying hour is truly affecting. "His time drawing on apace, he said to me--'My dear father, kiss me. Thou art a dear father. How can I make thee amends?' He also called his sister, and said to her, 'poor child, come and kiss me,' between whom seemed a tender and long parting. I sent for his brother, that he might kiss him too, which he did. All were in tears about him. Turning his head to me, he said softly, 'Dear father, hast thou no hope for me?' I answered, 'My dear child, I am afraid to hope, and I dare not despair, but am and have been resigned, though one of the hardest lessons I ever learned.'" When the doctor came, he was very weak, and the narrative continues thus. "He said--'Let my father speak to the doctor, and I'll go to sleep,' which he did and waked no more; breathing his last upon my breast, the tenth day of the second month, between nine and ten in the morning, 1696. So ended the life of my dear child and eldest son, much of my comfort and hope, and one of the most tender and dutiful, as well as ingenuous and virtuous youths I knew, if I may say so of my own dear son, in whom I lost all that any father can lose in a child; since he was capable of anything, that became a sober young man, my friend and companion, as well as most affectionate and dutiful child." About this time Penn was sorely grieved, by the conduct of George Keith, the apostate Quaker, who had been excommunicated, and now spent his time, in abusing the society. Penn had become well convinced of many solemn truths, presented in the last chapter of Ecclesiastes, and of none more fully, than that there is no end of making books. He continued to pour forth pamphlets, on various subjects. In this year, 1696, he became acquainted, and had several interviews, with Peter the Great, who was then working, as a common shipwright, in the dock yards at Deptford. In 1699 he once more visited Pennsylvania. In 1701 he returned to England. In 1702 and 1703 he continued to preach and publish, as vigorously as ever. In 1707 he became involved in a lawsuit, with the executors of one Ford, his former steward, or agent. Ford was undoubtedly a knave. Penn suffered severely from this cause. The decision was against him; and, though Chancery could not relieve, many thought him greatly wronged. He was compelled, in 1708, to live within the rules of the Fleet. This, doubtless, was the occasion of Mr. Burke's erroneous statement, many years after, that Penn died in the Fleet Prison. An amusing anecdote may be referred to this period, which, though not mentioned by Clarkson, nor in the life by Chalmers, may be found in the Encyclopædia Britannica, of 1798, and is repeated, in Napier's edition of 1842. Penn is said to have had a peep-hole, through which, unseen, he could see every visitor. A creditor, having often knocked, and becoming impatient, knocked more violently; "will not your master see me?" said he, when the door was opened--"He hath _seen_ thee, friend," the servant replied, "but he doth not like thee." In 1709, his necessities were such, that he mortgaged his whole Province of Pennsylvania, for £6600. This necessity, as Oldmixon says, in his "Account of the British Empire in America," arose from "his bounty to the Indians, his generosity in minding the public affairs of the Colony more than his own private ones, his humanity to those, who have not made suitable returns, his confidence in those, who have betrayed him." In 1712, he had three apoplectic fits, followed by those painful effects, which are usual in such cases. His friend, Thomas Story, the first recorder of Philadelphia, made him yearly visits, after this period, till his death, which took place July 30, 1718. It is impossible to read the account of these visits, as given by Thomas Story himself, and presented by Clarkson, vol. ii. chap. 18, without emotion. It has too often befallen those, whose lives have been devoted to the benefit of mankind, to be outraged, after they were dead and buried. Malice delights to meddle with their ashes. Political prejudice and priestly bigotry seek, in graves, undisturbed by ages, for something to gratify their unnatural appetites, and satisfy the gnawings of a mean, vindictive spirit. Penn had not long been committed to the tomb, when a wretch, Henry Pickworth, an excommunicated renegade, spread abroad, with all the industry and energy of a malicious spirit, the report that Penn had died a raving maniac, at Bath. This rumor became so general, that it was thought necessary to destroy it, by the publication of certificates from those, who had ministered about his dying bed. For one hundred and thirty years, William Penn has slumbered in the grave. That _hutesium et clamor_, that spirit of persecution, by which this excellent man was pursued, vilified, impoverished, and exiled, has long been hushed. The high churchman, the bigot, the Quaker renegade, the false accuser, have worn out their viperous teeth upon the file. All, that bore the primeval impress of human weakness, in William Penn, had well nigh perished, and departed from the minds of men. All, that was excellent, and lovely, and of good report, had become case hardened, as it were, into a sort of precious immortality. That his spirit had found a celestial niche, among the just made perfect, was the firm faith of all, who believe, that their Father in Heaven is a God of toleration and of mercy. I have paid my imperfect tribute of affectionate respect to the memory of William Penn. Notwithstanding Mr. Macaulay's efforts to disturb the popular opinion, in regard to William Penn, his History of England is one of the most amusing books, in the English language. Relationship is worth something, even in a library; I have placed the two volumes, already published, between the works of Sir Walter Scott, and a highly prized edition of the Arabian Nights. No. LXXII. Death has taken away, within a brief space, several of our estimable citizens--Mr. Joseph Balch, an excellent and amiable man, who filled an official station, honorably for himself, and profitably for others--Mr. Samuel C. Gray, a gentleman of taste and refinement, who graduated at Harvard College, in 1811, and, at the time of his death, was President of the Atlas Bank--Mr. John Bromfield, a man of a sound head, and a kind heart. Having bestowed five and twenty thousand dollars, in his life-time, upon the Boston Athenæum, he modestly left the more extended purposes of his benevolent heart, to be proclaimed, after his decease; and, by his will, distributed, among eight charitable institutions, and his native town, the sum of one hundred and ten thousand dollars. The features of these good men are still upon the retina of our memories; the tones of their voices yet ring in our ears; we almost expect their wonted salutation, upon the public walk. But there is no mockery here--they are gone--the places, that knew them, shall know them no more! Death has laid his icy hand upon these men, as he has ever laid the same cold palm upon their fathers, since time began. Such exits are common. Disease triumphed over the flesh, and they ceased to be. But Death has done his dismal work, of late, in our very midst, by the hand of cruel violence--not sitting like the King of Terrors, in quiet dignity, upon his throne, and casting his unerring shafts abroad; but darting down upon his unsuspecting victim, and, with a murderous grasp, crushing him at once. I allude, as every reader well knows, to the fate of the late Dr. George Parkman. As the Coroner's Inquest, after long and laborious investigation, has declared, that he was "_killed_," we must assume it to be so. I have known this gentleman, for more than forty years; and have had occasion to observe some of the peculiarities of his character, in the relations of business, as well as in those of ordinary intercourse--I say the _peculiarities_ of his character, for he certainly must be classed in the category of _eccentric_ men. Having heard much of this ill-fated gentleman, for many years, before the late awful occurrence, and still more since the event--for he was extensively known, and all, who knew him, have something to relate--I am satisfied, that those very traits of eccentricity, to which I refer, have led the larger part of mankind, to form erroneous impressions of his character. Dr. George Parkman was the son of Samuel Parkman, an enterprising, and successful merchant, of Boston, who was a descendant of Ebenezer Parkman, who graduated at Harvard College, in 1721, and was ordained Oct. 28, 1724, the first minister of Westborough; and who, after a ministry of sixty years, died, Dec. 9, 1782, at the age of 79, and whose wife was the daughter of Robert Breck, minister of Marlborough, who was the grandson of Edward Breck, one of the early settlers of Dorchester, in 1636. Dr. George Parkman graduated, at Harvard College, in 1809. When he commenced his junior year, John White Webster, now Erving Professor of Chemistry and Mineralogy, entered the University, as freshman. Dr. Webster, who is now in prison, charged with the "_killing_" of Dr. Parkman, will, in due time, be tried, by a jury of his countrymen. Will it not be decorous, and humane, and in accordance with the golden rule, for the men, women, and children of Massachusetts, to permit the accused to have an impartial trial? Can this be possible, if, upon the _on dits_ of the day, of whose value every man of any experience can judge, this individual, whose past career seems not to have been particularly bloodthirsty, is to be morally condemned, without a hearing? Hundreds, whose elastic intellects have been accustomed to jump in judgment, are already assured, that we believe Dr. Webster innocent. Now we _believe_ no such thing--nor do we _believe_ he is guilty. His reputation and his life are of some little importance to himself, and to his family; and we should be heartily ashamed, to carry a head upon our shoulders, which would not enable us to suspend our judgment, until all the _true facts_ are in, and all the _false facts_ are out. How much beautiful reasoning has been utterly and gratuitously wasted, upon premises, which have turned out to be not a whit better, than stubble and rottenness! The very readiness, with which everybody believes all manner of evil, of everybody, furnishes evidence enough, that the devil is in everybody; and goes not a little way, in support of the doctrine of original sin. Let us, by all means, and especially, by an avoidance of the topic, give assurance to the accused of a fair and impartial trial. If he shall be proved to be innocent, who will not blush, that has contributed to fill the atmosphere, with a presentiment of this poor man's guilt? If, on the other hand, he shall be proved to be guilty of an incomparably foul and fiendish murder--let him be hanged by the neck till he is dead, for God's sake--aye, for GOD'S SAKE--for God hath said--WHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD, BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED. The personal appearance of Dr. Parkman was remarkable--so much so, that his identity could not well be mistaken, by any one, who had carefully observed his person. His body was unusually attenuated, and I have often, while looking at his profile, perceived a resemblance to Hogarth's sketch of his friend Fielding, taken from memory, after death. The talents of Dr. George Parkman were highly respectable. His mind was of that order, which took little rest--its movements, like those of his body, were always quick; more so, perhaps, upon some occasions, than comported with the formation of just and permanent judgment. He was a respectably well read man, not only in his own profession, but he possessed a very creditable store of general information, and was an entertaining and instructive companion. In various ways, he promoted the best interests of medical science; and nothing, probably, prevented him from attaining very considerable eminence, in his calling, but the accession of hereditary wealth; whose management occupied, for many years, a large portion of his time and thoughts. By some persons, he has been accounted over sharp and hard, in his pecuniary dealings--mean and even miserly. No opinion can be more untrue. Dr. Parkman's eccentricity was nowhere so manifest, as in his money relations. The line was singularly well defined, in his mind, between charity, or liberality, and traffic. He adhered to the time-honored maxim, that _there is no love in trade_. There are persons, who, in their dealings, give up fractions, and suffer petty encroachments, for the sake of popularity; and who make, not only their own side of a bargain, but, in a very amiable, patronizing way, a portion of the other. Dr. Parkman did none of these things. He gave men credit, for a full share of selfishness and cunning--made his contracts carefully--performed them strictly--and expected an exact fulfilment, from the other party. It is perfectly natural, that the promptness and the pertinacity of Dr. Parkman, in exacting the punctual payment of money, and the strict performance of contracts, should be equally surprising and annoying to those, whose previous dealings had been with men, of less method and vigilance. But no man, however irritated by the daily repetition of the dun, has ever charged, upon Dr. Parkman, the slightest departure from the line of strict integrity. He was a man of honor, in the true acceptation of that word. His domestic arrangements were of the most liberal kind--his manners were courteous--and he possessed the high spirit of a gentleman--and, with all the occasional evidences, which his conduct _openly_ supplied, of his particular care, in the gathering of units; he could be _secretly_ liberal, with hundreds. It may well be doubted, if any individual has ever lived, for sixty years, in this city, whose real character has been so little understood, by the community at large. The reason is at hand--he exposed that regard for pittances, which most men conceal--and he concealed many acts of charity, which most men expose. He had many tenants of the lower order--he was frequently his own collector, and brought upon himself many murmurs and complaints, which are commonly the agent's portion. The charities of Dr. Parkman wore an aspect, now and then, of whimsicality, and were strangely contrasted with _apparent_ meanness. Thus, upon one occasion, he is said to have insisted upon being paid a paltry balance of rent, some twenty-five cents, by a poor woman, who assured him it was all she had to buy her dinner. "_Now we have settled the rent_," said he, and immediately gave her a couple of dollars. A gentleman, an old college acquaintance of Dr. Parkman's, told me, a day or two since, that the Dr. came to him, after this gentleman's failure, some years ago, and said to him, with great kindness and delicacy--"You want a house--there is mine in ---- street, empty and repaired--take it--you shall pay no rent for a year, and as much longer, as may suit your convenience." In 1832, this city was visited by the cholera. Mr. Charles Wells was Mayor, and a very good Mayor was he. Had his benevolence induced him to labor, for the more extensive diffusion of the blessing of alcohol, among the poor, the liquor trade would certainly have voted him a punch-bowl, for his vigorous opposition to the cholera. Upon the occasion, to which I refer, Dr. Parkman said to the city authorities--"You are seeking for a cholera hospital--take any of my houses, that may suit you, rent free, in welcome. If you prefer that, which I occupy, I will move out, with pleasure." When Dorcas died, the good people of Joppa began to display her handiwork. I am surprised, though much of it was known to me before, at the amount of evidence, which is now produced, from various quarters, to prove, that this unfortunate gentleman was a man of the most kind affections, and of extensive, practical benevolence. Let me close these remarks, with one brief anecdote; which, though once already related of Dr. Parkman, by the editor of the Transcript, is worthy of many republications, and is not at all like news, on the stock exchange, good only while it is new. "A politician stopped the Doctor in the street and asked him to subscribe for the expense of a salute, in honor of some political victory. The Doctor put his arm in his, and invited him to take a little walk. He led him round the corner into a dismal alley, and then up three flights of rickety stairs into a room where a poor woman was sitting, propped by pillows, feebly attempting to sew. Some pale, hungry-looking children were near. The Doctor took six dollars out of his pocket-book, and handed it to the politician, and, simply remarking, "do with it as you please," he darted out of the room in his usually impulsive way." I must close this feeble tribute of respect to the memory of one, who truly deserved a milder fate and an abler pen. Had we the power of recall--how well and wisely might we pay his ransom, with scores of men, quite as _eccentric_ in their way, but whose _eccentricity_ has very rarely assumed the charitable type! No. LXXIII. When I was a very young man, I had the honor of a slight acquaintance with a most worthy gentleman, my senior by many years, who represented the town of Hull, in the Legislature of our Commonwealth. As I marked the solemn step, with which he moved along the public way, towards the House of Representatives, and the weight of responsibility, which hung upon his anxious brow--if such, thought I, is the effect, produced upon the representative of Hull--what an awful thing it must be, to represent the whole United States of North America, at the court of the greatest nation in the world! In harmony with this opinion, every nation of the earth has selected, from the _élite_ of the whole country, for the high and responsible employment of standing before the world, as the legitimate representative of itself, a man of affairs--I do not mean the affairs of trade, and discounts, and invoices, and profits--I use the word, in its most ample diplomatic sense--a man of great wisdom, and knowledge, and experience--a man familiar with the laws of nations--a man of dignity--not that arrogated dignity, which looks supremely wise, while it feels supremely foolish--but that conscious dignity, which is innate, and sits upon the wearer, like an easy garment--a man of liberal education, and great familiarity, not with the whole circle of sciences, but with the whole circle of historical and correlative knowledge--a man of classical erudition, and a scholar, competent to bear a becoming part, in that elevated intercourse of mind, which forms the dignified and delightful recreation of the diplomatist, in the first society of Europe. Men, who have been bred up, amid the pursuits of trade, have been, with great propriety, selected, to fill the offices of _consuls_, in foreign lands; agreeably to the long established distinction, that _consuls_ represent the _commercial affairs_--_ambassadors_ the _state and dignity_ of the country, from whence they come. Oh! for the wand of that enchantress, the glorious witch of Endor! to turn up the sod of memory, and conjure, from their honorable graves, the train of illustrious, and highly gifted men, who, from time to time, have been sent forth, to represent this great Republic, before the throne of England! First, on that scroll of honor, is a name, which shall prove coeval with the first days, and with the last, of this Republic. It shall never perish, till the whole earth itself shall be rolled up, like a scroll. On the second day of June, 1785, JOHN ADAMS was presented to King George, the third. The very man, whom that obstinate, old monarch had never contemplated, in his royal visions, but as a rebel, suing for pardon, with a rope about his neck, then stood before him, calm and erect--the equal of that king, in all things, that became a man, and his mighty superior in many--the representative of a nation, which his consummate wisdom, and invincible, moral courage had contributed, so materially, to render free and independent. What a tribute was conveyed, in the words of Jefferson, his political rival--"_The great pillar and support to the declaration of independence, and its ablest advocate and champion on the floor of the house was_ JOHN ADAMS. _He was the Colossus of that Congress: not graceful, not eloquent, not always fluent, in his public addresses, he yet came out with a power both of thought and expression, which moved the hearers from their seats._" In those thoughtful days, secretaries of legation were carefully selected, and with some reference, of course, to their contingent responsibilities, in the event of the absence, or illness, of their principals. When, in 1779, Mr. Adams went, on his mission to France, a gentleman of high qualifications, Mr. Francis Dana, gave up his seat, _as a member of Congress_, to follow that great man, _as secretary of legation_. Mr. Dana subsequently figured, ably and gracefully, in the highest stations. In 1780, he was minister to Russia. In 1784, he was a delegate to Congress. In 1797, he declined the office of envoy extraordinary to France. From 1792 to 1806, he was the able, impartial, and eminently dignified Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts. In 1794, it was thought, by the appointing power, that John Jay might be trusted to represent our Republic, at the British Court. With what a reputation, for wisdom, and talents, and learning, that great man crossed the sea! Mr. Jay, an eminent lawyer, uniting the wisdom and dignity of years, with the vigor and zeal of early manhood, was a member of the first American Congress, at the age of twenty-nine. Chairman of the Committee, of which Lee and Livingston were members, he was the author of the eloquent "_Address to the People of Great Britain_." He was Chief Justice of the State of New York, from 1777 to 1779, and relinquished that elevated station, as incompatible with the due performance of his duties, as President of Congress. From his skilful hand came the stirring address of that assembly, to its constituents, of Sept. 8, 1779. He was appointed minister plenipotentiary to Spain, at the close of that year--a commissioner, to negotiate peace with Great Britain, in 1782--Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court of the United States, in 1789--Governor of New York, in 1795, being then abroad, as minister plenipotentiary of the United States, to Great Britain, to which office he was appointed in 1794--and again Governor of New York, in 1798. Rufus King graduated at Harvard College, in 1777, with a high reputation, as a classical scholar and an orator; and studied his profession, with the late Chief Justice Parsons. In 1784, he was a delegate to Congress. He was a member of the Convention of 1787, to form the Constitution of the United States. In 1789, he was a member of the United States Senate. Of the celebrated Camillus papers, commonly ascribed to Hamilton, all, excepting the ten first, were from the pen of Rufus King. In 1796, he was nominated, by Washington, minister plenipotentiary to the Court of Great Britain. He filled that high station, till the close of the second year of the Jefferson administration. After a long retirement, he was again in the Senate of the United States, in 1813. After quitting the Senate, in 1825, he was once more appointed minister to Great Britain; but, after remaining abroad, about a year, in ill health, he returned, and died at Jamaica, Long Island, April 29, 1827. "_And what shall I more say?_ For the time would fail me, to tell of" Pinckney, and Gore, and the younger Adams, that incarnation of wisdom and learning, and Gallatin, and Maclean, and Everett, and Bancroft, every one of whom has been preceded, by the well-earned reputation of high, intellectual powers and attainments, whatever may have been the difference of their political opinions. Knowledge is power; talent is power; and fine literary tastes and acquirements are, preëminently, power; and, in no spot, upon the surface of the earth, are they more truly so, than in the great British metropolis. The wand of a man of letters can there do more, than can be achieved, by the power of Midas, or the wonder-working lamp of Aladdin. Our fathers, therefore, preferred, that the nation should be represented, in its simplicity and strength, by men of long heads, strong hearts, and short purses. They considered a regular, thorough, and polished education, literary attainments of a very high order, a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the law of nations, and an extensive store of general information, absolutely essential, in a minister plenipotentiary, from this Republic, to the Court of Great Britain; for our _state and dignity_ were to be represented there, not less than our _commercial relations_. They well knew, that our representative should be qualified to represent the refined and educated portions of our community, in the presence of those elevated classes, among whom he must frequently appear; and "_whose talk_," to use the expression of Dr. Johnson, was not likely to be "_of bullocks_." They therefore invariably selected, for this exalted station, one, who would be abundantly able to represent the nation, with gravity, and dignity, and wisdom, and knowledge, and power; and who would never be reduced, whatever the subject might be, to believe his safety was in sitting still, or of suffering the secret of his impotency to escape, by opening his mouth. If I have passed too rapidly for the reader's willingness to linger, over the names of some highly distinguished men, who have so ably represented our country, at the British Court, and who still _survive_--it is because _my dealings are with the dead_. No. LXXIV. "An immense quantity of fuel was always of necessity used, when dead bodies were burned, instead of buried; and a friend, learned in such lore, as well as in much that is far more valuable, informs us that the burning of a _martyr_ was always an expensive process." This passage was transferred, from the New York Courier and Enquirer, to the Boston Atlas, December 29, 1849, and is part of an article having reference to the partial cremation of Dr. Parkman's remains. I must presume, as a sexton of the old school, to doubt the accuracy of this statement, in the very face of the averment, that the editor's authority is "_a friend, learned in such lore_." To enable my readers to judge of the comparative expense of burial, in the ordinary mode, by interment or entombment, and by cremation, I refer, in the first place, to Mr. Chadwick's Report, made by request of Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, Lond. 1843, in which it is stated, that a Master in Chancery, when dealing with insolvent estates, will pass, "_as a matter of course_," such claims as these--from £60 to £100 for burying an upper tradesman--£250 for burying a gentleman--£500 to £1500 for burying a nobleman. But let us confine our remarks to the particular allegation. The "_friend, learned in such lore_," has greatly diminished the labor of refutation, by confining his statement to the burning of _martyrs_--"_the burning of a martyr was always an expensive process_," requiring, says the Courier and Enquirer, "_an immense quantity of fuel_." I well remember to have read, though I cannot recall the authority, that aromatic woods and spices were occasionally used in the East, during the _suttees_, to correct the offensive odor. In addition to the reason, assigned by Cicero, De Legibus, ii. 23, for the law against intramural burning, that conflagration might be avoided--Servius, in a note, on the �neis, vi. 150, states another, that the air might not be infected with the stench. To prevent this, we know that costly perfumes were cast upon the pile; and the respect and affection for the defunct came to be measured, at last, by this species of extravagance; just as the funereal sorrow of the Irish is supposed to be graduated, by the number of coaches, and the quantity of whiskey. But our business is with the _martyrs_. What was the cost of burning John Rogers I really do not know. I doubt if the process was very expensive; for good old John Strype has told us, almost to a fagot, how much fuel it took, to burn Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley. The fuel, employed to burn Latimer and Ridley, cost fifteen shillings and four pence sterling for both; and the fuel for burning Cranmer, nine shillings and four pence only. Then there were chains, stakes, laborers, and cartage; and the whole cost for burning all three, was _one pound, sixteen shillings, and six pence_! Not a very expensive process truly. The authority is not at every one's command: I therefore give it entire, from Strype's Memorials of Cranmer, Oxford ed., 1840, vol. i. p. 563:-- _s._ _d._ "For three loads of wood fagots to burn Ridley and Latimer, 12 0 Item, one load of furs fagots, 3 4 For the carriage of these four loads, 2 0 Item, a post, 1 4 Item, two chains, 3 4 Item, two staples, 0 6 Item, four laborers, 2 8 "FOR BURNING CRANMER. For an 100 of wood fagots, 6 0 For an 100 and half of furs fagots, 3 4 For the carriage of them, 0 8 To two laborers, 1 4." £1500 to _bury_ a nobleman, and £1 16 6, to _burn_ three martyrs! Leaving the Courier and Enquirer, and the "_friend, learned in such lore_," to _bury_ or to _burn_ this record, as they please, I turn to another subject, referred to, on the very same page of Strype's Memorials, and which is not without some little interest, at the present moment. A prisoner, charged with any terrible offence, innocent or guilty, lies under the _surveillance_ of all eyes and ears. The slightest act, the shortest word, the very breath of his nostrils are carefully reported. The public resolves itself into a committee of anxious inquirers, to ascertain precisely how he eats, and drinks, and sleeps. There are persons of lively fancies, whose imaginations fire up, at the mere sight of his prison walls, and start off, under high pressure, filling the air with rumors, too horribly delightful, to be doubted for an instant. If the topic were not the terrible thing that it is, it would be difficult to preserve one's gravity, while listening to some portion of the testimony, upon which, it may be our fortune, one of these days, to be convicted of murder, by the charitable public. Of the guilt or innocence of John White Webster I _know_ nothing, and I _believe_ nothing. But it has been currently reported, that, since his confinement, he has been detected, in the crime of eating oysters. I doubt, if this ordeal would have been considered entirely satisfactory, even by Dr. Mather, in 1692. Man is a marvellous monster, when sitting, self-placed, in judgment, on his fellow! The very thing, which is a sin, in the commission or observance, is no less a sin, in the omission and the breach--for who will doubt the blood-guiltiness of a man, that, while confined, on a charge of murder, can partake of an oyster pie! And if he cannot do this, who will doubt, that a consciousness of guilt has deprived him of his appetite! I have heard of a drunken husband, who, while staggering home, after midnight, communed with himself, as follows--"_If my wife has gone to bed, before I get home to supper, I'll beat her,--and if she is sitting up, so late as this, burning my wood and candles, I'll beat her_." Good John Strype, ibid. 562, says of Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley, while in the prison of Bocardo--"They ate constantly suppers as well as dinners. Their meals amounted to about three or four shillings; seldom exceeding four. Their bread and ale commonly came to two pence or three pence; they had constantly cheese and pears for their last dish, both at dinner and supper; and always wine." It is not uninteresting to note the prices, paid for certain articles of their diet, in those days, 1555. While describing the _provant_ of these martyrs, Strype annexes the prices, "_it being an extraordinary dear time_.--A goose, 14d. A pig, 12 oz. 13d. A cony, 6d. A woodcock, 3d. and sometimes 5d. A couple of chickens, 6d. Three plovers, 10d. Half a dozen larks, 3d. A dozen of larks and 2 plovers, 10d. A breast of veal, 11d. A shoulder of mutton, 10d. Roast beef, 12d." He presents one of Cranmer's bills of fare:-- "Bread and ale, 2.d. Item oisters, 1.d. Item butter, 2.d. Item eggs, 2.d. Item lyng, 8.d. Item a piece of fresh salmon, 10.d. Wine, 3.d. Cheese and pears, 2.d." Two bailiffs, Wells and Winkle, upon their own responsibility, furnished the table of these martyrs, and appear never to have been reimbursed. Strype says, ibid. 563, that they expended £63 10s. 2d., and never received but £20, which they obtained from Sir William Petre, Secretary of State. Ten years after, a petition was presented to the successor of Cranmer, that these poor bailiffs might receive some recompense. After the pile had burnt down, in the case of Cranmer, upon raking among the embers, his heart was found entire. Upon this incident, Strype exclaims--"Methinks it is a pity, that his heart, that remained sound in the fire, and was found unconsumed in his ashes, was not preserved in some urn; which, when the better times of Queen Elizabeth came, might, in memory of this truly good and great Thomas of Canterbury, have been placed among his predecessors, in his church there, as one of the truest glories of that See." In 1821, Mr. William Ward, of Serampore, published, in London, his "_Farewell Letters_." Mr. Ward was a Baptist missionary; and, at the time of the publication, was preparing to return to Bengal. This work was very favorably reviewed in the Christian Observer, vol. xxi. p. 504. I have never met with a description, so exceedingly minute, of the _suttee_, the process of burning widows. He thus describes the funeral pile--"The funeral pile consists of a quantity of fagots, laid on the earth, rising, in height, about three feet from the ground, about four feet wide, and six feet in length." Admitting these fagots to be closely packed, the pile contains seventy-two cubic feet of wood, or fifty-six less than a cord. "_A large quantity of fagots are then laid upon the bodies_," says Mr. Ward. As the widow often leaps from the pile, and is chased back again, into the flames, by the benevolent Bramins, the fagots, which are not heaped _around_ the pile, but "_laid on the bodies_," cannot be a very oppressive load; and the quantity, thus employed in the _suttee_, is for the cremation of two bodies, at least, the dead husband, and the living widow. There can be no doubt of the superior economy of cremation, over earth-burial. The notions of an "_expensive process_," and the "_immense quantities of fuel_," have no foundation in practice. If the ashes, as has been sometimes the case, were given to the winds, or cast upon the waters, the expense of cremation would be exceedingly small. But cremation, however inexpensive, in itself, has led to unmeasured extravagance, in the matter of urns of the most costly materials, and workmanship, of which an ample account may be found, in the _Hydriotaphia_ of Sir Thomas Browne, London, 1835, vol. iii. p. 449. More remarkable changes have occurred, in modern times, than a revival of the practice of cremation. It is an error, however, to suppose this practice to have been the original mode of dealing with the dead. It was very general about the year 1225, B. C., but the usage, at the present day, was, doubtless, the primitive practice of mankind. So thought Cicero, De Legibus ii. 22. "Ac mihi quidem antiquissimum sepulturæ genus id fuisse videtur, quo apud Xenophontem Cyrus utitur. Redditur enim terræ corpus, et ita locatum ac situm, quasi operimento matris obducitur." Nevertheless, there is a strong cremation party among us. Who would not save sixpence, if he could, even in a winding-sheet! Should the wood and lumber interest be fairly represented, in our city councils, it would not be surprising, if there should be a majority, in favor of taking the remains of our citizens to Nova Scotia, to be burnt, rather than to Malden, to be buried. My friends, Birch, Touchwood, and Deal, are of this opinion; and would be happy to receive the citizens on board their regular coasters, for this purpose, at a reasonable price, per hundred, or by the single citizen--packed in ice. An experienced person will be always on hand, to receive the corpses. Religious services will be duly performed, during the burning, without extra charge; and, should the project find favor with the public, a regular line of funeral coasters, with appropriate emblems, and figure-heads, will, in due time, be established. Those, who prefer the more economical mode of water-burial, for their departed relatives, thereby saving the expense of fuel altogether, will be accommodated, if they will leave orders in writing, with the masters on board, who will personally superintend the dropping of the bodies, off soundings. No. LXXV. While attempting to rectify the supposed mistakes of other men, we sometimes commit egregious blunders ourselves. In turning over an old copy of John Josselyn's Voyages to New England, in 1638 and 1663, my attention was attracted, by a particular passage, and a marginal manuscript note, intended to correct what the annotator supposed, and what some readers might suppose, to be a blunder of the printer, or the author. The passage runs thus--"In 1602, these North parts were further discovered by Capt. _Bartholomew Gosnold_. The first _English_ that planted there, set down not far from the _Narragansetts Bay_, and called their Colony _Plimouth_, since old _Plimouth, An. Dom., 1602_." The annotator had written, on the margin, "_gross blunder_," and, in both instances, run his indignant pen through 1602, and substituted 1620. There are others, doubtless, who would have done the same thing. The first aspect of the thing is certainly very tempting. The text, nevertheless, is undoubtedly correct. It is altogether likely, that the matter, stated by Josselyn, can be found, so stated by no other writer. In 1602, Gosnold discovered the Elizabeth Islands, and built a house, and erected palisades, on the "Island Elizabeth," the westernmost of the group, whose Indian name was Cuttyhunk. In 1797, Dr. Jeremy Belknap visited this interesting spot. "_We had the supreme satisfaction_," says he, Am. Biog. ii. 115, "_to find the cellar of Gosnold's store-house_!" Hutchinson, i. 1, refers expressly to the passage, in Josselyn; and after stating that Gosnold discovered the Elizabeth Islands, in 1602, and built a fort there, and intended a settlement, but could not persuade his people to remain, he adds, in a note--"_This, I suppose, is what Josselyn, and no other author, calls the first colony of New Plimouth, for he says it was begun in 1602, and near Narragansett Bay_." The writer of a "Topographical Description of New Bedford," M. H. C., iv. 234, states, that the island, on which Gosnold built his fort and store-house, was _Nashaun_, and refers to Dr. Belknap's Biography. The New Bedford writer is wrong, in point of fact, and right, in point of reference. Dr. Belknap published the first volume of his Biography, in 1794, containing a short notice of Gosnold, in which, p. 236, he says--"The island, on which Gosnold and his companions took up their abode, is now called by its Indian name, _Nashaun_, and is the property of the Hon. James Bowdoin, of Boston, to whom I am indebted for these remarks on Gosnold's journal." The writer of the description of New Bedford published his account, the following year, and relied on Dr. Belknap, who unfortunately relied on his informant, who, it seems, was entirely mistaken. Dr. Belknap published his second volume, in 1798, with a new and more extended memoir of Gosnold, in which, p. 100, he remarks--"The account of Gosnold's voyage and discovery, in the first volume of this work, is so erroneous, from the misinformation, which I had received, that I thought it best to write the whole of it anew. The former mistakes are here corrected, partly from the best information which I could obtain, after the most assiduous inquiry; but principally from _my own observations_, on the spot; compared with the journal of the voyage, more critically examined than before." Here is abundant evidence of that scrupulous regard for historical truth, for which that upright and excellent man was ever remarkable. With most writers, the pride of authorship would have revolted. The very thought of these _vestigia retrorsum_, would not have found toleration, for a moment. Some less offensive mode might have been adopted, by the employment of _errata_, or _appendices_, or _addenda_. Not so: this conscientious man, however innocently, had misled the public, upon a few historical points, and nothing would give him satisfaction, but a public recantation. His right hand had not been the agent, like Cranmer's, of voluntary falsehood, but of unintentional mistake, like Scævola's; and nothing would suffice, in his opinion, but the actual cautery. In this second life of Gosnold, p. 114, after describing "the island Elizabeth," or Cuttyhunk, Dr. Belknap says--"To this spot I went, on the 20th day of June, 1797, in company with several gentlemen, whose curiosity and obliging kindness induced them to accompany me. The protecting hand of nature had reserved this favorite spot to herself. Its fertility and its productions are exactly the same, as in Gosnold's time, excepting the wood, of which there is none. Every species of what he calls 'rubbish,' with strawberries, pears, tansy, and other fruits, and herbs, appear in rich abundance, unmolested by any animal but aquatic birds. We had the supreme satisfaction to find the cellar of Gosnold's store-house." "_We had the supreme satisfaction to find the cellar of Gosnold's store-house!_"--A whole-souled ejaculation this! I reverence the memory of the man who made it. It is not every other man we meet on 'Change, who can estimate a sentiment like this. My little Jew friend, in Griper's Alley, entirely mistakes the case. Never having heard of Bart Gosnold before, he takes him, for the like of Kidd; and the venerable Dr. Jeremy Belknap, for a gold-finder. What _supreme satisfaction_ could there be, in discovering the cellar of a store-house, nearly two hundred years old, unless hidden treasures were there concealed! How, in the name of two per cent. a month, and all the other gods we worship, could a visit down to Cuttyhunk ever _pay_, only to stare at the stones of an ancient cellar! Dr. Belknap's ejaculation reminds one of divers interesting matters--of Archimedes, when he leaped from his bath, and ran about naked, for joy, with _eureka_ on his lips, having excogitated the plan, for detecting the fraud, practised upon Hiero.--It also recalls--_parvis componere magna_--Johnson's memorable exclamation, upon walking over the graves, at Icolmkill--"To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavored, and would be foolish, if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses; whatever makes the past, the distant or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct as indifferent and unmoved over any ground, which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona." Dr. Jeremy Belknap was a Boston boy, born June 4, 1744. He learned his rudiments, under the effective birch of Master Lovell; graduated A. M. at Harvard, 1762, S. T. D. 1792. He was ordained pastor of the church in Dover, N. H. 1767; and in 1787, he became pastor of the church in Berry Street, formerly known as Johnny Moorehead's, who was settled there in 1730, and succeeded, by David Annan, in 1783, and which is now Dr. Gannett's. Dr. Belknap was the founder of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and one of the most earnest promoters of the welfare of Harvard College. Dr. Belknap published sermons, on various occasions; a volume of dissertations, on the character and resurrection of Christ; his history of New Hampshire in three volumes; his American Biography, in two volumes; and the Foresters, an American Tale, well worthy of republication, at the present day. He wrote extensively, in the newspapers, and published several essays, on the slave trade, and upon the early settlement of the country. I have the most perfect recollection of this excellent man; for I saw him often, when I was very young; and I used to wonder, how a man, with so rough a voice, could bestow such a benign and captivating smile, upon little boys. The churchman prays to be delivered from _sudden_ death. Dr. Belknap prayed for _sudden_ death--that he might be translated "_in a moment_"--such were his words. Yet here is no discrepancy. No man, prepared to die, will pray for a lingering death--and to him, who is not prepared, no death, however prolonged, can be other than _sudden_ and premature. On the ninth of February, 1791, Dr. Belknap was called to mourn the loss of a friend, whose death was immediate. Among the Dr.'s papers, after his decease, the following lines were found, bearing the date of that friend's demise, and exhibiting, with considerable felicity of language, his own views and aspirations:-- "When faith and patience, hope and love Have made us meet for Heav'n above; How blest the privilege to rise, Snatch'd, in a moment, to the skies! Unconscious, to resign our breath, Nor taste the bitterness of death! Such be my lot, Lord, if thou please To die in silence, and at ease; When thou dost know, that I'm prepared, Oh seize me quick to my reward. But, if thy wisdom sees it best, To turn thine ear from this request; If sickness be th' appointed way, To waste this frame of human clay; If, worn with grief, and rack'd with pain, This earth must turn to earth again; Then let thine angels round me stand; Support me, by thy powerful hand; Let not my faith or patience move, Nor aught abate my hope or love; But brighter may my graces shine, Till they're absorbed in light divine." The will of the Lord coincided with the wish of this eminent disciple; and his was the sudden death, that he had asked of God. At 4 o'clock in the morning of June 20, 1798, paralysis seized upon his frame, and, before noon, he was no more. Personal considerations of the flesh cannot be supposed, alone, to have moved the heart of this benevolent man. Who would not wish to avoid that pain, which is reflected, for days, and weeks, and months, and years, from the faces of those we love, who watch, and weep, about the bed of disease and death! Who can imagine this veteran soldier of the cross, with his armor of righteousness, upon the right hand and upon the left, awaiting the welcome signal to depart--without adopting, in the spiritual, and in the physical, sense, the language of the prophet--"_Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his_." No. LXXVI. I never dream, if I can possibly avoid it--when the thing is absolutely forced upon me, why that is another affair. On the evening of the second day of January, 1850, from some inexplicable cause, I lost all appetite for my pillow. I had, till past eleven, been engaged, in the perusal of Goethe's Confessions of a Fair Saint. After a vain trial of the commonplace expedients, such as counting leaping sheep, up to a thousand and one; humming Old Hundred; and fixing my thoughts upon the heads of good parson Cleverly's last Sabbath sermon, on perseverance; I, fortunately, thought of Joel Barlow's Columbiad, and, after two or three pages, went, thankfully, to bed. I threw myself upon my right side, as I always do; for, being deaf--very--in the sinister ear, I thus exclude the nocturnal cries of fire, oysters, and murder. I think I must have been asleep, full half an hour, by a capital Shrewsbury clock, that I keep in my chamber. It was, of course, on the dawning side of twelve--the very time, when dreams are true, or poets lie, which latter alternative is impossible. I was aroused, by the stroke of a deep-toned bell; and, in an instant, sat bolt upright, listening to the sound. I should have known it, among a thousand--it was the old passing bell of King's Chapel. I am confident, as to the bell--it had the full, jarring sound, occasioned by the blockhead of a sexton, who cracked it, in 1814. I counted the strokes--one--two--three--an adult male, of course--and then the age--seventy-four was the number of the strokes of that good old bell, corresponding with the years of his pilgrimage--and then a pause--I almost expected another--so, doubtless, did he, poor man--but it came not!--Some old stager, thought I, has put up, for the long night; and the power of slumber was upon me, in a moment. I slept--but it was a fitful sleep--and I dreamt such a dream, as none but a sexton of the old school can ever dream-- --------"velut ægri somnia, vanæ Fingentur species, ut nec pes, nec caput uni Reddatur formæ." "Funeral baked meats," and bride's cake, and weepers, and wedding rings seemed oddly consorted together. At one moment, two very light and airy skeletons seemed to be engaged, in dancing the polka; and, getting angry, flung their skulls furiously at each other. I then fancied, that I saw old Grossman, driving his hearse at a full run, with the corpse of an intemperate old lady, not to the graveyard, but, by mistake, to the very shop, where she bought her Jamaica. I dare not relate the half of my dream, lest I should excite some doubt of my veracity. For aught I know, I might have dreamt on till midsummer, had not a hand been laid on my shoulder, and a change come over the spirit of my dream, in a marvellous manner--for I actually dreamt I was wider awake, than I often am, when Sirius rages, of a summer afternoon, and I am taking my comfort, in my postprandial chair. Starting suddenly, I beheld the well known features of an old acquaintance and fellow-spadesman--"Don't you know me?" "Yes," said I--"no, I can't say I do"--for I was confoundedly frightened--"Not know me! Haven't we lifted, head and foot, together, for six and thirty years?" "Well, I suppose we have; but you are so deadly pale; and, will you be so kind as to take your hand from my shoulder; for it's rather airy, at this season, you know, and your palm is like the hand of death." "And such it is," said he--"did you not hear my bell?" "_Your_ bell?" I inquired, gazing more intently, at the little, white-haired, old man, that stood before me. "Even so, Abner," he replied; "your old friend, and fellow-laborer, Martin Smith, is dead. I always had a solemn affection, for the passing bell. It sounded not so pleasantly, to be sure, in the neighborhood of theatres and gay hotels; and its good, old, solemnizing tones are no longer permitted to be heard. I longed to hear it, once more; and, after they had laid me out, and left me alone, I clapped on my great coat, over my shroud, as you see, and ran up to the church, and tolled my own death peal. When, more than one hundred years ago, in 1747, Dr. Caner took possession, in the old way, by entering, and closing the doors, and tolling the bell, as the Rev. Roger Price had done before, in 1729, he did not feel, that the church belonged to him, half so truly as I have felt, for many years, whenever I got a fair grip of that ancient bell-rope." "Martin," said I, "this is rather a long speech, for a ghost; and must be wearying to the spirit; suppose you sit down." This I said, because I really supposed the good, little, old man, contrary to all his known habits, was practising upon my credulity--perhaps upon my fears; and was playing a new year's prank, in his old age: and I resolved, by the smallest touch of sarcasm in the world, to show him, that I was not so easily deceived. He made no reply; but, drawing my hand between his great coat and shroud, placed it over the region of his heart--"Good God! you are really dead then, Martin!" said I, for all was cold and still there. "I am," he replied. "I have lived long--did you count the strokes of my bell?"--I nodded assent, for I could not speak.--"Four years beyond the scriptural measure of man's pilgrimage. You are not so old as I am"--"No," I replied.--"No, not quite," said he.--"No, no, Martin," said I, adjusting my night cap, "not by several years."--"Well," said the old man, with a sigh, "a few years make very little difference, when one has so many to answer for; those odd years are like a few odd shillings, in a very long account. I have come to ask you to go with me."--A cold sweat broke through my skin, as quickly, as if it had been mere tissue paper; and my mind instantly sprang to the work of finding devices, for putting the old man off. "Surely," said he, observing my reluctance, "you would not deny the request of a dying man." "Perhaps not," I replied, "but now that you are dead, dear Martin, for Heaven's sake, what's the use of it?" The old man seemed to be pained, by my hesitation--"Abner," said he, after a short pause, "you and I have had a goodly number of strange passages, at odd hours, down in that vault--are ye afeard, Abner--eh!"--"Why, as to that, Martin," said I, "if you were a real, live sexton, I'd go with pleasure; but our relations are somewhat changed, you will admit. Besides, as I told you before, I cannot see the use of it." I felt rather vexed, to be suspected of fear. "You have the advantage of me, Abner Wycherly," said Martin Smith, "being alive; and I have come to ask you to do a favor, for me, which I cannot do, for myself."--"What is it?" said I, rather impatiently, perhaps.--"I want you to embalm my"--"Martin," said I, interrupting him--"I can't--I never embalmed in my life." "You misunderstand me"--the old man replied--"I want you to embalm my memory; and preserve it, from the too common lot of our profession, who are remembered, often, as resurrectionists, and men of intemperate lives, and mysterious conversations. I want you to allow me a little _niche_, among your _Dealings with the Dead_. I shall take but little room, you see for yourself"--and then, in an under-tone, he said something about thinking more of the honor, than he should of a place in Westminster Abbey; which was very agreeable, to be sure, notwithstanding the sepulchral tone, in which it was uttered. Indeed I was surprised to find how very refreshing, to the spirits of an author, this species of extreme unction might be, administered even by a ghost. "Martin," said I, "I have always thought highly of your good opinion; but what can I say--how can I serve you?" "I am desirous," said he, "of transmitting to my children a good name, which is better than riches."--"Well, my worthy, old fellow-laborer," I replied, "if that is all you want, the work is done to your hand, already. You will not suspect me of flattering you to your face, now that you are dead, Martin; and I can truly say, that I have heard thousands speak of you, with great kindness and respect, and never a lisp against you. All this I am ready to vouch for--but, for what purpose, do you ask me to go with you?" "I wish you to go with me, and examine for yourself," said the old man; "and then you can speak, of your own knowledge. Don't refuse me--let us have one more of those cozy walks, Abner, under the old Chapel, and over that yard. I desire to talk over some things with you there, which can be better understood, upon the spot--and I want to explain one or two matters, so that you may be able to defend my reputation, should any censure be cast upon it, after I am gone."--"I cannot go with you tonight, Martin," said I; "I see a gleam in the East, already."--"True," said he, "I may be missed."--For not more than the half of one second, I closed my eyes--and, in that twinkling of an eye, he was gone--but I heard him whisper, distinctly, as he went--"_tomorrow night_!" No. LXXVII. I verily believe, that ghosts are the most punctual people in the world, especially if they were ever sextons, after the flesh. The last stroke of twelve had not ceased ringing in my ears, when that icy palm was again laid upon my shoulder; and Martin Smith stood by the side of my bed. "Well, Martin," said I, "since you have taken the trouble to come out again, and upon such a stormy night withal, I cannot refuse your request."--It seemed to me, that I rose to put on my garments, and found them already on; and had scarcely prepared to go, with my old friend, to the Chapel, before we were in the middle of the broad aisle. Dreams are marvellous things, certainly--all this was a dream, I suppose--for, if it was not--what was it? There seemed to be an oppressive weight, upon the mind of my old friend, connected, doubtless, with those explanations, which he had proposed to make, upon the spot. We sat down, near Governor Shirley's monument. "Abner," said he, "I wish, before I am buried, to make a clean breast, and to confess my misdeeds."--"I cannot believe, Martin," I replied, "that there is a very heavy, professional load upon your conscience. If there is, I know not what will become of the rest of us. But I will hearken to all you may choose to reveal."--"Well," resumed the old man, with a sigh, "I have tried to be conscientious, but we are all liable to error--we are are all fallible creatures, especially sextons. I have been sexton here, for six and thirty years; and I am often painfully reminded, that, in the year 1815, I was rather remiss, in dusting the pews."--"Have you any other burden upon your conscience?"--"I have," he replied; and, rising, requested me to follow him. He went out into the yard, and walked near the northerly corner, where Dr. Caner's house formerly stood, which was afterwards occupied, as the Boston Athenæum, and, more recently, gave place to the present Savings Bank. "Here," said he, "thirty years ago, Dinah Furbush, a worthy, negro woman, was buried. The careless carpenter made her coffin one foot too short; and, to conceal his blunder, chopped off Dinah's head, and, clapping it between her feet, nailed down the lid. This scandalous transaction came to my knowledge, and I grieve to say, that I never communicated it to the wardens."--"Well, Martin," said I, "what more?"--"Nothing, thank Heaven!" he replied. Giving way to an irresistible impulse, I broke forth into a roar of laughter, so long and loud, that three watchmen gathered to the wall, and seeing Martin Smith, whom they well knew, with the bottom of his shroud, exhibited below his great coat, they dropped their hooks and rattles, and ran for their lives. Martin walked slowly back to the church, and I followed. He walked in, among the tombs--thousands of spirits seemed to welcome his advent--but, as I crossed the threshold, at the tramp of a living foot, they vanished, in a moment. "How many corpses have you lifted, my old friend, in your six and thirty years of office?" "About five thousand," he replied, "exclusive of babies. It is a very grateful employment, when one becomes used to it." "I have heard," continued Martin, "that the office of executioner, in Paris, is highly respectable, and has been hereditary, for many years, in the family of the Sansons. I have done all in my power, to elevate our profession; and it is my highest ambition, that the office should continue in my family; and that my descendants may be sextons, till the graves shall give up their dead, and death itself be swallowed up in victory." I was sensibly touched, by the enthusiasm of this good old official; for I honor the man, who honors his calling. I could not refrain from saying a few kind and respectful words, of the old man's son and successor. He was moved--"The eyes of ghosts," said he, "are tearless, or I should weep. You have heard," continued the old man, in a low, tremulous voice, "that, when the mother of Washington was complimented, by some distinguished men, upon the achievements of her son, she went on with her knitting, saying, '_Well, George always was a good boy_'--now, I need say no more of Frank; and, in truth, I can say no less. I knew he would be a sexton. He has forgotten it, I dare say; but he was not satisfied with the first go-cart he ever had, till he had fashioned it, like a hearse. He _took hold right_, from the beginning. When I resigned, and gave him the keys, and felt, that I should no more walk up and down the broad aisle, as I had done, for so many years, I wept like a child." "Yours has been a hale old age. You have always been _temperate_, I believe," said I.--"No," the old man replied, "I have always been _abstinent_. Like yourself, I use no intoxicating drink, upon any occasion, nor tobacco, in any of its forms, and we have come, as you say, to a hale old age. I have seen drunken sextons squirt tobacco juice over the coffin and pall; and let the corpse go by the run; and I know more than one successor of St. Peter, in this city, who smoke and chew, from morning to night; and give the sextons great trouble, in cleaning up after them." We had advanced midway, among the tombs.--"It is awfully cold and dark here, Martin," said I, "and I hear something, like a mysterious breathing in the air; and, now and then, it seems as if a feather brushed my cheek."--"Is it unpleasant?" said the old man.--"Not particularly agreeable," I replied.--"The spirits are aware, that another is added to their number," said he, "and even the presence of one, in the flesh, will scarcely restrain them from coming forth. I will send them back to their dormitories." He lighted a spirit lamp, not in the vulgar sense of that word, but a lamp, before whose rays no spirit, however determined, could stand, for an instant. There is comfort, even in a farthing rush light--I felt warmer. "What a subterraneous life you must have had of it," said I, "and how many tears and sighs you must have witnessed!" "Why yes," he replied, with a shake of the head, and a sigh, "the duties of my office have given to my features an expression of universal compassion--a sort of omnibus look, which has caused many a mourner to say--'Ah, Mr. Smith, I see how much you feel for me.' And I'm sure I did; not perhaps quite so keenly as I might, if I had been less frequently encored in the performance of my melancholy part. Yes," continued the old man--"I have witnessed tears and sighs, and deep grief, and shallow, and raving--for a month, and life-long; very proper tears, gushing from the eyes of widows, already wooed and won; and from the eyes of widowers, who, in a right melancholy way, had predetermined the mothers, for their orphan children. But passages have occurred, now and then, all in my sad vocation, pure and holy, and soul-stirring enough, to give pulse to a heart of stone." The old man took from his pocket a master key, and beckoned me to follow. He opened an ancient tomb. The mouldy shells were piled one upon another, and a few rusty fragments of that flimsy garniture, which was in vogue of old, had fallen on the bricks below. "_Sacred to the memory!_" said the old man, with a sad, significant smile, upon his intelligent features, as he removed the coffin of a child. I looked into the little receptacle, as he raised the lamp. "This," said he, "was the most beautiful boy I ever buried." "This?" said I, for the little narrow house contained nothing but a small handful of grayish dust. "Aye," he replied, "I see; it is all gone now--it is twelve years since I looked at it last--there were some remnants of bones then, and a lock or two of golden hair. This small deposit was one of the first that I made, in this melancholy savings bank. Six-and-thirty years! So tender and so frail a thing may well be turned to dust. "Time is an alchymist, Abner, as you and I well know. If tears could have embalmed, it would not have been thus. I have never witnessed such agony. The poor, young mother lies there. She was not seventeen, when she died. In a luckless hour, she married a very gentlemanly sot, and left her native home, for a land of strangers. Hers was the common fate of such unequal bargains. He wasted her little property, died of intemperance, and left her nothing, but this orphan boy. And all the love of her warm, young heart was turned upon this child. It had, to be sure, the sweetest, catching smile, that I ever beheld. "Their heart strings seemed twisted together--the child pined; and the mother grew pale and wan. They waned together. The child died first. The poor, lone, young mother seemed frantic; and refused to part with her idol. After the little thing was made ready for the tomb, she would not suffer it to be removed. It was laid upon the bed, beside her. On the following day, I carried the coffin to the house; and, leaving it below, went up, with a kind neighbor, to the chamber, hoping to prevail upon the poor thing, to permit us to remove the body of the child. She was holding her little boy, clasped in her arms--their lips were joined together--'It is a pity to awaken her,' said the neighbor, who attended me--I put my hand upon her forehead--'Nothing but the last trump will awaken her,' said I--'she is dead.'" "Well, Martin," said I, "pray let us talk of something else--where is old Isaac Johnson, the founder of the city, who was buried, in this lot, in 1630?"--"Ah"--the old man replied--"the prophets, where are _they_! I believe you may as well look among the embers, after a conflagration, for the original spark." "You must know many curious things, Martin," said I, "concerning this ancient temple."--"I do," said he, "of my own knowledge, and still more, by tradition; and some things, that neither the wardens nor vestry wot of. If I thought I might trust you, Abner, in a matter of such moment, but"--"Did I ever deceive you, Martin," said I, "while living; and do you think I would take advantage of your confidence, now you are a ghost?"--"Pardon me, Abner," he replied, for he saw, that he had wounded my feelings, "but the matter, to which I allude, were it made public, would produce terrible confusion--but I will trust you--meet me here, at ten minutes before twelve, on Sabbath night--three low knocks upon the outer door--at present I can reveal no more."--"No postponement, on account of the weather?" I inquired.--"None," the old man replied, and locked up the tomb. "Did you ever see Dr. Caner," I inquired, as we ascended into the body of the church.--"That," replied Martin Smith, "is rather a delicate question. In the very year, in which I was born, 1776, the Rev. Doctor Henry Caner, then an old man, carried off the church plate, 2800 ounces of silver, the gift of three kings; of which not a particle has ever been recovered: and, in lieu thereof, he left behind his fervent prayers, that God would "_change the hearts of the rebels_." This the Almighty has never seen fit to do--so that the society have not only lost the silver, but the benefit of Dr. Caner's prayers. No, Abner, I have never seen Dr. Caner, according to the flesh, but--ask me nothing further, on this highly exciting subject, till we meet again." I awoke, sorely disturbed--Martin had vanished. No. LXXVIII. I know not why, but the idea of another meeting with Martin Smith, notwithstanding my affectionate respect, for that good old man, disturbed me so much, that I resolved, to be out of his way, by keeping awake. But, in defiance of my very best efforts, strengthened by a bowl of unsugared hyson, at half past eleven, if I err not, I fell into a profound slumber; and, at the very appointed moment, found myself, at the Chapel door. At the third knock, it opened, with an almost alarming suddenness--I quietly entered--and the old man closed it softly, after me. "In ten minutes," said he, "the congregation will assemble."--"What," I inquired, "at this time of night?"--"Be silent," said he, rather angrily, as I thought; and, drawing me, by the arm, to the north side of the door, he shoved me against the Vassal monument, with a force, that I would not have believed it possible, for any modern ghost to exert. "Be still and listen," said he. "In 1782, my dear, old pastor, Dr. Freeman, came here, as Reader; and became Rector, in 1787. Dr. Caner was inducted, in 1747, and continued Rector, twenty-nine years; for, as I told you, he went off with the plate, in 1776. There were no Rectors, between those two. Brockwell and Troutbeck were Caner's assistants only: the first died in 1755, and the last left, the year before Dr. Caner." "Well," continued the old man, "never reveal what I am about to tell you, Abner Wycherly--the Trinitarians have never surrendered their claims, upon this Church; and, precisely at midnight, upon every Sabbath, since 1776, Dr. Caner and the congregation have gathered here; and the Church service has been performed, just as it used to be, before the revolution. They make short work of it, rarely exceeding fifteen minutes--hush, for your life--they are coming!" A glare of unearthly light, invisible through the windows, as Martin assured me, to all without, filled the tabernacle, in an instant--exceedingly like gas light; and, at the same instant, I heard a rattling, resembling the down-sitting, after prayers, in a village meeting-house, where the seats are clappers, and go on hinges. Observing, that my jaws chattered, Martin pressed my hand in his icy fingers, and whispered, that it was nothing but Dr. Caner's congregation, coming up, rather less silently, of course, than when they were in the flesh. Being the first Sunday in the month, all the communion plate, that Caner carried off, was paraded, on the altar. I wish the twelve apostles could have seen it. It glittered, like Jones, Ball & Poor's bow-window, viewed from the old, Donnison corner. The whole interior of the Chapel was marvellously changed. I was much struck, by a showy, gilt crown, over the organ, supported by a couple of gilt mitres. This was the famous organ, said to have been selected by Handel, and which came over in 1756. At this moment, a brief and sudden darkness hid everything from view; succeeded, instantly, by a brighter light than before; and all was changed. The organ had vanished; the monuments of Shirley and Apthorp, and the tablet of Price, over the vestry door, were gone; I looked behind me, for the Vassal monument, against which I had been leaning; it was no longer there. Martin Smith perceived my astonishment, and whispered, that Dr. Caner was never so partial to the Stone Chapel, which was opened in 1754, as he was to the ancient King's Chapel, in which he had been inducted in 1747, and in which we then were. The pews were larger than any Hingham boxes I ever saw; but very small. The pulpit was on the north side. In front of it was the governor's pew, highly ornamented, lined with China silk; the cushions and chairs therein were covered with crimson damask, and the window curtain was of the same material. Near to this, I saw an elevated pew, in which were half a dozen fine looking skeletons, with their heads up and their arms akimbo. This pew, Martin informed me, was reserved, for the officers of the army and navy. A small organ was in the western gallery, said to be the first, ever heard in our country. From the walls and pillars, hung several escutcheons and armorial bearings. I distinguished those of the royal family, and of Andros, Nicholson, Hamilton, Dudley, Shute, Belcher, and Shirley. I had always associated the _hour-glass_ with my ideas of a Presbyterian pulpit, in the olden time, when the very length of the discourse gave the hearer some little foretaste of eternity. I was rather surprised to see an hour-glass, of large proportions, perched upon the pulpit, in its highly ornamented stand of brass. The altar-piece was at the easterly end of the Church, with the Glory, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, and some texts of Scripture. The congregation had taken their seats; and a slender, sickly looking skeleton glided into the reading desk. "Dr. Caner?" said I. "Brockwell, the assistant," replied Martin, in a whisper, "the very first wardens, of 1686, are in the pew, tonight, Bullivant and Banks. They all serve in rotation. Next Sabbath, we shall have Foxcroft and Ravenscroft. Clerke Hill, and Rutley are sextons, tonight." The services were very well conducted; and, taking all things into consideration, I was surprised, that I comprehended so well, as I did. The prayer, for the royal family, was very impressively delivered. The assistant made use, I observed, of the Athanasian creed, and every one seemed to understand it, at which I was greatly surprised. Dr. Caner seemed very feeble, and preached a very short discourse upon the loss of Esau's birthright, making a pointed application, to the conversion of King's Chapel, by the Unitarians. He made rather a poor case of it, I thought. Martin was so much offended, that he said, though being a ghost, he was obliged to be quiet, he wished I would call the watch, and break up the meeting. I told him, that I did not believe Dr. Caner's arguments would have any very mischievous effect; and it seemed not more than fair, that these ancient worshippers should have the use of the church, at midnight, so long as they conducted themselves orderly--consumed no fuel--and furnished their own light. One of the sextons, passing near me, accidentally dropped a small parcel. I was seized with a vehement desire of possessing it; and, watching my opportunity, conveyed it to my pocket. When Dr. Caner pronounced his final amen, light was instantly turned into darkness--a slight noise ensued--"_the service is over!_" said Martin, and all was still. I begged Martin to light his lamp; and, by its light, I examined the parcel the sexton had dropped. It was a small roll, containing some extracts from the records. They were not without interest. "Sept. 21, 1691.--It must not be forgot that Sir Robert Robertson gave a new silk damask cushion and cloth pulpit-cover." "1697.--Whit Sunday. Paid Mr. Coneyball, for buying and carting Poses and hanging the Doares 8s." "Dec. 20.--Paid for a stone Gug Clark Hill broak." "March 29, 1698.--Paid Mr. Shelson for Loucking after the Boyes £1." "1701, Aug. 4.--Paid for scouring the brass frame for the hour-glass 10s." "1733, Oct. 11.--Voted that the Brass Stand for the hour-glass be lent to the church of Scituate, as also three Diaper napkins, provided Mr. Addington Davenport, their minister, gives his note to return the same to the Church wardens of the Church, &c." "April 3, 1740.--Rec'd of Mr. Sylvester Gardner Sixteen Pounds Two Shills, in full for wine for the Chapple for the year past. John Hancock." I was about to put this fragment of the record into my pocket--"If," said Martin, "you do not particularly covet a visit from Clark Hill, or whichever of the old sextons it was, that dropped that paper, leave it, as you found it." I did so, most joyfully. "If you have any questions to ask of me," said the old man, "ask them now, and briefly, for we are about to part--to meet no more, until we meet, as I trust we shall, in a better world." "As a mere matter of curiosity," said I, "I should like to know, if you consider your venerable pastor, now dead and gone, Dr. Freeman, as the successor of Saint Peter?" "No more," said Martin Smith, with an expression almost too comical for a ghost, "than I consider you and myself successors of the sexton, who, under the directions of Abraham, buried Sarah, in the cave of the field of Machpelah, before Mamre." "Do you consider the Apostolical succession broken off, at the time of Dr. Freeman's ordination?" "Short off, like a pipe stem," he replied. "And so you do not consider the laying on of a Bishop's hand necessary, to empower a man to preach the Gospel?" "No more," said he, "than I consider the laying on of spades, necessary to empower a man, to dig a grave. We were a peculiar people, but quite as zealous for good works, as any of our neighbors. The Bishop of New York declined to ordain our pastor, because we were Unitarians; and we could not expect this service from our neighbors, had it been otherwise, on account of our adherence to the Liturgy, though modified, and to certain Episcopal forms--so we ordained him ourselves. The senior warden laid his hands upon the good man and true--said nothing of the thirty-nine articles--but gave him a Bible, as the sole compass for his voyage, in full confidence, that, while he steered thereby, we should be upon our course, to the haven, where we would be. We have never felt the want of the succession, for a moment, and, ever since, we have been a most happy and u----." Just then a distant steam whistle struck upon the ear, which Martin, undoubtedly, mistook, for cock-crowing--for his lamp was extinguished, in an instant, and he vanished. If my confidence in dreams needed any confirmation, nothing more could be required, than a careful comparison of many of these incidents, with the statements, in the history of King's Chapel, published by the late, amiable Rector, seventeen years ago. A copy is, at this moment, beneath my eye; and, upon the fly leaf, in the author's own hand writing, under date Jan. 1, 1843, I read--"_Presented to Martin Smith, for many years, a sexton of this church, from his friend F. W. P. Greenwood_." Aye; every one was the _friend_ of good old Martin Smith. Here, deposited among the leaves of this book, is an order, from that excellent man, my honored friend, Colonel Joseph May, then junior warden. It bears date "Saturday, 18 June, 1814." It is laconic, and to the point. "_Toll slow!_" This also is subscribed "_Your friend_." Yes, every one was the friend of Martin Smith. He was a spruce, little, old man--especially at Christmas. No. LXXIX. Nothing can be more entirely unfounded, than the popular notion, that circumstantial evidence is an inferior quality of proof. The most able writers, on the law of evidence, have always maintained the contrary. Sir William Blackstone and Sir Matthew Hale, it is true, have expressed the very just and humane opinion, that circumstantial evidence should be weighed with extreme caution; and the latter has expressly said, that, in trials, for murder and manslaughter, no conviction ought ever to be had, until the fact is clearly proven, or the body of the person, alleged to have been killed, has been discovered; for he stated, that two instances had occurred, within his own knowledge, in which, after the execution of the accused, the persons, supposed to have been murdered, had reäppeared alive. Probably, one of the most extraordinary cases of fatal confidence in circumstantial evidence, recorded, in the history of British, criminal jurisprudence, is that, commonly referred to, as the case of "_Hayes and Bradford_." In that case, a murder was certainly committed; the body of the murdered man was readily found; the murderer escaped; and, after many years, confessed the crime, in a dying hour; and another person, who had designed to commit the murder, but found his intended victim, already slain, was arrested, as the murderer; and, after an elaborate trial, suffered for the crime, upon the gallows. There is a case in the criminal jurisprudence of our own country, in all its strange particulars, far surpassing the British example, to which I have referred; and attended by circumstances, almost incredible, were the evidence and vouchers less respectable, than they are. I refer to the case of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, who were tried, for the murder of Russell Colvin, and convicted, before the Supreme Judicial Court of the State of Vermont, in October, 1819. In this remarkable case, it must be observed, that the Judges appeared to have acted, in utter disregard of that merciful caution of Sir Matthew Hale, to which I have alluded; and that these miserable men were rescued, from their impending fate, in a most remarkable manner. It is my purpose to present a clear and faithful account of this occurrence; and, to enable the reader to go along with me, step by step, with perfect confidence, in a matter, in which, from the marvellous character of the circumstances, to doubt would be extremely natural, I will first exhibit the sources, from which the elements of this narrative are drawn. I. The public journals of the day, published in Vermont. II. "Mystery developed, &c., by the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, Hartford, 1820." III. A sermon, on the occasion, by the same. IV. "A brief sketch of the Indictment, Trial, and Conviction of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, for the murder of Russell Colvin, by S. Putnam Waldo, Hartford." V. "A Collection of remarkable events, by Leonard Deming. Middlebury, 1825." VI. "Journals of the General Assembly of the State of Vermont, for 1819, October session," in which, page 185, may be found the minutes of the testimony, taken on the trial, and certified up, by Judge Chace, to the Legislature, by request, on petition, for a commutation of punishment. VII. Law Reporter, published in Boston, vol. v. page 193. VIII. Trial of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, Rutland, 1820. IX. Remarks thereon, N. A. Review, vol. x. page 418. X. Greenleaf's Treatise on Evidence, vol. i. page 320, note 2. XI. Cooley's Memoir of Rev. Lemuel Haynes, N. Y., 1839. In the village of Manchester, Bennington County, and State of Vermont, there resided in 1812, an old man, whose name was Barney Boorn, who had two sons, Stephen and Jesse, and a daughter Sarah, who had married Russell Colvin. Like the conies of the Bible, these people were _a feeble folk_--their mental powers were slender--they grew up in ignorance--their lot was poverty. Colvin, in particular, was, notoriously, an _imbecile_. He had been, for a long period, partially deranged. He was incompetent to manage the concerns of his family. He moved about in an idle, wandering way, and was perfectly inoffensive; and the wilful destruction of such a man would have been the murder of an _innocent_. In May, 1812, Russell Colvin was missing from home. This, in consideration of his uncertain habits, occasioned, at first, but little surprise. But his continued absence, for days, and weeks, and months, produced very considerable excitement, in the village of Manchester. This excitement naturally increased, with the term of his absence; and the contagion began, ere long, to catch upon the neighboring towns; until the most exciting topic of the day, throughout that portion of the Hampshire Grants, in the absence of mad dogs and revivals, was the mysterious disappearance of Russell Colvin. Rumors began to spread, from lip to lip. Suspicion, like a hungry leech--"a German one"--fastened upon the Boorns. Nor was this suspicion groundless. Thomas Johnson, a neighbor of all the parties, a credible witness, who swore to the facts, seven years after, on the trial, reported, that the last time he saw Russell Colvin was immediately before his remarkable disappearance, and that he and the Boorns were then quarrelling, while engaged in picking up stones. Lewis Colvin, the son of Russell, with manifest reluctance, stated, that, just before his father's disappearance, a quarrel took place, between his father and Stephen--that his father struck Stephen first--that Stephen then knocked his father down twice with a club--that he, the boy, was frightened and ran away--that Stephen told him never to mention what had happened--and that he had never seen his father since. Here, doubtless, was legitimate ground, for suspicion, and the village of Manchester, on the Battenkill, was in a state of universal fermentation--the very atmosphere seemed redolent of murder. It is marvellous, in what manner the Boorns escaped from being lynched, without trial; and, more especially, how Stephen was preserved, from the fate of his namesake, the martyr. A shortlived calm followed this tempest of popular feeling--parties were formed--some were sure the Boorns were the murderers of Colvin--some were inclined to believe they were not. The Boorns continued to dwell in the village, _without any effort to escape_; and the evidence against them was not deemed legally sufficient then, even to authorize their arrest. It appeared, upon the statement of Mrs. Colvin, that Stephen and Jesse, her brothers, had told her, upon a certain occasion, that she might be satisfied her husband was dead, and that _they knew it_. This additional fact gave fresh impulse to the popular excitement. In such miserable society, as may be supposed to have remained to these suspected men, it is not wonderful, that they should often have encountered the most unsparing allusions, and vulgar interrogatories--nor that they should have met this species of persecution, with equally vulgar and unflinching replies. It became well established, ere long, upon the declarations of a Mr. Baldwin and his wife, that, when asked where Colvin had gone, one of the Boorns replied, that he had "_gone to hell_"--and the other that he had "_gone where potatoes would not freeze_." It is not wonderful, that, upon such evidence, the daughters of Manchester should begin to prophecy, and the young men to see visions, and the old men to dream dreams. In the language of one, who has briefly described the condition of that village, during this period of intense excitement--"_Every house was haunted with the ghost of Colvin_." At length, a respectable man, a paternal uncle of the Boorns, began to dream, in good earnest. The ghost of Colvin appeared to him, and told him, upon his honor, that he had been murdered; and indicated the place, with unmistakable precision, where his body lay concealed. Like a bill, which cannot pass to enactment, until after a third reading, the declarations of a ghost are not entitled to the slightest regard, until after a third repetition. Every sensible ghost knows this, of course. The ghost of Colvin seems to have understood his business perfectly; and he manifested a very commendable delicacy, in selecting one of the family, for his confidant. Three times, in perfect conformity with acknowledged precedent, the ghost of Colvin announced the fact of his murder, and indicated the place, where his body was concealed. To put a slight upon a respectable ghost, in perfectly good standing, who had taken all this trouble, was entirely out of the question. Accordingly, the uncle of the Boorns summoned his neighbors--announced these revelations--gathered a posse--proceeded to dig in the hole, so particularly indicated by the ghost--and, after digging to a great depth, succeeded completely, in discovering nothing of any human remains. Indeed he was as unsuccessful, as our worthy friend, the Warden of the Prison, in his recent search for hidden treasure--excepting, that it does not appear, that the ghost made the slightest effort to bury him alive. This movement was productive, nevertheless, of additional testimony, against the Boorns. In the hole, were found a jack-knife and a button, both which Mrs. Colvin solemnly declared to have belonged to her husband. In regard to the location of the body, the ghost was certainly mistaken; perhaps Mr. Boorn, the uncle, being dull of hearing, might have misunderstood the revelation; and perhaps the memory of the ghost was treacherous. Evidence, gathered up by piecemeal, was, nevertheless, gradually enveloping the fate of these miserable men--evidence of a much more substantial material, than dreams are made of. Thomas Johnson, the witness, above referred to, having purchased the field, where the quarrel took place, between Colvin and the Boorns, the children of Johnson found, while playing there, an old mouldy hat; which Johnson asserted, at the time, and afterwards, at the trial, swore, positively, had belonged to Colvin. Nearly seven years had passed, since the disappearance of Russell Colvin. Stephen Boorn had removed from Manchester, about five years after the supposed murder; and resided in Denmark, Lewis County, New York; at the distance of some two hundred miles. Jesse still continued in Manchester; and _neither of these wretched men, upon any occasion, appears to have attempted flight, or concealment_. Stephen Boorn, who, as the sequel will abundantly show, seems not to have been entirely deficient, in natural affection, had discovered, after a bitter experience of five long years, that the burden of his sins was not more intolerable, than the oppressive consciousness of the tenure, by which he lived, and moved, and had his being; which tenure was no other, than that, by which Cain walked upon the earth, after the murder of Abel. Stephen Boorn gathered up the little, that he had, and went into a far country--not hastily, nor by night--but openly, and in the light of day. Jesse, who was, evidently, the weaker brother--the poorer spirit--remained behind; deeming it easier, doubtless, to endure the continued suspicion and contempt of mankind, than to muster enough of energy, to rise and walk. Well nigh seven years, as I have stated, had passed, since the disappearance of Colvin. A discovery was made, at this period, which left very little doubt, upon the minds of the good people of Manchester, that the Boorns were guilty of the murder of this unhappy man, and of attempting to conceal his remains, by cremation. No. LXXX. At this period, about seven years after the disappearance of Russell Colvin, a lad, walking near the house of Barney Boorn, was attracted, by the movements of a dog, that seemed to have discovered some object of interest, near the stump of an ancient tree, upon the banks of the Battenkill river. This stump was about sixty rods from the hole, in which, upon the suggestion of the ghost, the uncle of the Boorns, and his curious neighbors had sought for the body of Colvin. The lad examined the stump, and discovered the cavity to be filled with bones! Had the magnetic been then in operation, the tidings could not have been telegraphed more speedily. The affair was definitively settled--the bones of Colvin were discovered; and the ghost appeared to have been only sixty rods out of the way, after all. Murder will find a tongue. Manchester found thousands. The village was on fire. Young men and maidens, old men and children came forth, to gaze upon the bones of the murdered Colvin; and to praise the Lord, for this providential discovery! Whatever the value of it might be--the merit seemed clearly to belong, in equal moieties, to the dog and the ghost. How prone we are--the children of this generation--to reason upon the philosophy, before we weigh the fish! This was a case, if there ever was a case, for the recognition of the principle, _cuique in sua arte credendum est_. Accordingly the medical magi of Manchester and of its highly excited neighborhood were summoned, to sit in judgment, upon these bones. The question was not--"_can these dry bones live?_"--but are they the bones of the murdered Colvin? One, thoughtful practitioner believed there was a previous question, entitled to some little consideration--are these bones the bones of a man, or of a beast? Never were scruples more entirely out of place. Imagine the indignation of the good people of Manchester, at the bare suggestion, that they had wasted so much excellent sympathy, upon the bones, peradventure, of a horse or a heifer! The doubter, as might have been expected, stood alone: but he sturdily persisted. The regular faculty, with the eyes of their well-persuaded patients riveted, encouragingly, upon theirs, expressed their clear conviction, that the bones were human bones, and, if human bones, whose--aye whose--but the murdered Colvin's! This gave universal satisfaction, of course. It was evident, that some of these bones had been broken and pounded--the quantity was small, for an entire skeleton--some few bones had been found, beneath a barn, belonging to the father of the Boorns, which had been, previously, consumed by fire--and some persons may have supposed, that the murderers, having deposited the dead body there, had destroyed the barn, to conceal their crime--and, finding a part of the body unconsumed, after the conflagration, had deposited that part, in the hollow stump, to be disposed of, at some future moment of convenience. A very plausible theory, beyond all doubt. But the doubting doctor continued to turn over these bones, with an air of provoking unbelief; now and then, perhaps, holding aloft, in significant silence, the fragment of a cranium, of remarkably sheepish proportions. This was not to be endured. Anatomical knowledge appears not to have made uncommon strides, in that region, in 1819; for, when it was finally decided to compare these bones with those of the human body, there actually seems to have been nothing in that region, which would serve the purpose of the faculty, but the leg of a citizen, long before amputated, and committed to the earth. I will here adopt the words of the Rev. Mr. Haynes--"_A Mr. Salisbury, about four years ago, had his leg amputated, which was buried, at the distance of four or five miles. The limb was dug up, and, by comparing, it was universally determined that the bones were not human._" This was a severe disappointment, undoubtedly; but not absolutely total: for two nails, or something, in the image thereof, were found, amid the mass, which nails, says Mr. Haynes, "_were human, and so appeared to all beholders_." Let us now turn to the murderers, or rather to Jesse, for Stephen was two hundred miles away, entirely unsuspicious of the gathering cloud, which was destined, ere long, to burst upon his devoted head. When the discovery of these bones had excited the feelings and suspicions of the people, to the utmost, it was deemed proper to take Jesse into custody. An examination took place, on Tuesday, May 27, 1819, and continued, till the following Saturday. This examination was conducted, in the meeting-house, as it appears, from the testimony of Truman Hill, upon the subsequent trial; who says of Jesse, that--"when the knife was presented to him, in the meeting-house, and also when the hat was presented to him, his feelings were such, as to oblige him to take hold of the pew, to steady himself--he appeared to be much agitated--I asked him what was the matter--he answered there was matter enough--I asked him to state--he said he feared, that Stephen had killed Colvin--that he never believed so, till the spring or winter, when he went into William Boorn's shop, where were William and Stephen Boorn--at which time he gained a knowledge of the manner of Colvin's death; and that he thought he knew, within a few rods, where Colvin was buried." Such was the evidence of Truman Hill, upon the trial; and he related the facts, very naturally, at the time, to his neighbors. The statement was considered, by the community, as tantamount to a confession. At this time, the examination of Jesse Boorn had nearly closed--no ground for detention appeared against him--the bones, discovered in the stump, were acknowledged to have belonged to some brute animal--it was the general opinion, that Jesse should be released; when this declaration of his to Truman Hill, turned the tide of popular sentiment entirely; and Jesse Boorn was remanded to prison. Truman Hill was the jailer; or, in his own conservative phraseology, he "_kept the keys of the prison_." Jailers are rather apt to look upon their prisoners, as great curiosities, in proportion to the crimes, with which they are charged, and themselves as showmen. Most men are sufficiently willing to be distinguished, for something or other:--to see Jesse Boorn--to catechise the wretched man--to set before him the fear of death, and the hope of pardon--to beg him to confess--nothing but the truth, of course--these were privileges--favors--and Truman Hill had the power of granting them. Thus he says--he "_let in_" Mr. Johnson; and, when Mr. Johnson came out, he went in himself, and found Jesse "in great agitation"--and then he, himself, urged Jesse to confess--the truth of course--if he said anything--assuring him, that every falsehood he told, would sink him deeper in trouble. It must have been evident to the mind of Jesse, that a confession of the murder would be particularly agreeable to the public, and that a continued protestation of his innocence would disappoint the reasonable expectations of his fellow-citizens. Jesse confessed to Judge Skinner, that Stephen had, probably, buried Colvin's body in the mountain; and that the knife, found with the button, in the hole, indicated to his uncle by the ghost, was, doubtless, Colvin's; for he had often seen Colvin's mother use it, to cut her tobacco. Judge Skinner and Jesse took an edifying walk up the mountain, in search of the body--they did not find it, which is very surprising. About the middle of the month of May, 1819, Mr. Orange Clark, a neighbor of Stephen Boorn, in the town of Denmark, some two hundred miles from Manchester, entered his dwelling, in the evening. He took a chair, and commenced a friendly conversation with Stephen and his wife--for Stephen had married a wife--the sharer of all his sorrows--his joys, probably, were few, and far between, and not worth the partition. Shortly after, a Mr. Hooper, another neighbor, dropped in. He had scarcely taken his seat, before another entered the apartment, Mr. Sylvester, the innkeeper, who, upon some grave testimony, then recently imported into Denmark, had arrived at the solemn conclusion, that there was something rotten there. Stephen and his helpmate were, doubtless, somewhat surprised, at this unusual gathering, in their humble dwelling. Their surprise was greatly increased, of course, by the appearance, almost immediately after, of Messieurs Anderson and Raymond, worthy men of Manchester. If the ghost of Russell Colvin had stalked in, after them, Stephen Boorn could not have been more astonished, than he was, when he beheld, closing up the rear of all this goodly company--no less a personage, than Captain Truman Hill, the jailer of Manchester--the gentleman, I mean, who "_kept the keys of the prison_." To Stephen there must have been something not wholly incomprehensible in this. His ill-starred partner was not long left in doubt. The very glances of the party were of evil omen. Their business was soon declared. The gentleman, that _kept the keys_, kept also the _handcuffs_. They were speedily produced. Stephen Boorn must go back to the place, from whence he came--and from thence--so opined the men, women and children of Manchester--to the place of execution. But, when the process commenced, of putting the irons upon that wretched man--the poor woman--the wife of his bosom--for he had a bosom, and a human heart therein, full of tenderness, as the sequel will demonstrate, for her; however inconceivable to the gentleman, that "_kept the keys_"--and to those learned judges, who, in the very teeth, and in utter contempt, of the law, so clearly laid down by Sir Matthew Hale, of glorious memory, would have hanged this miserable man, but for the signal Providence of Almighty God--this poor woman was completely overwhelmed with agony. The estimate of many things, in this nether world, is a vastly relative affair. That, which would be in excellent taste, among a people, without refinement, however moral, will frequently appear to the enlightened portion of mankind, as absolutely barbarous. The idea of allaying the anguish of a wife, produced by the forcible removal of her husband, in chains, on a charge of murder, by _making her presents_, hurries one's imagination to the land of the Hottentots, or of the Caffres; where the loss of a child is sometimes forgotten, in the contemplation of a few glass beads--and no consolation proves so effectual for the loss of wife, as a nail or a hatchet. And yet it is impossible--and it ought to be--to read the short and simple statement of that good man, the Rev. Mr. Haynes, without emotion--"_The surprise and distress of Mrs. Boorn, on this occasion, are not easily described: they excited the compassion of those, who came to take away her husband; and they made her some presents_." "The prisoner," continues Mr. Haynes, "was put in irons, and brought to Manchester, on the 15th of May. He peremptorily asserted his innocence, and declared he knew nothing about the murder of his brother-in-law. The prisoners were kept apart, for a time. They were afterwards confined in one room. Stephen denied the evidence, brought against him by Jesse, and treated him with severity." These men, imprisoned in May, 1819, were not tried, until October of that year. The _evidence_, upon which they were convicted of murder, in the first degree, lies now before me, _certified up to the General Assembly of the State of Vermont, upon their request, by Judge Dudley Chace, Nov. 11, 1819_. Let us now turn from _on dits_, and dreams, and ghosts, and doubtful relics, to the _duly certified testimony, upon which these men were sentenced to be hung_. No. LXXXI. The grand jurors of Bennington County found a bill of indictment, against Stephen and Jesse Boorn, September 3, 1819, for the murder of Russell Colvin, May 10, 1812, charging Stephen, as principal, in the first count, and Jesse, in the second. The facts, proved, upon the trial, by witnesses, whose testimony was unimpeached, and which facts appear, in the minutes of evidence, certified by Judge Dudley Chace to the General Assembly, November 11, 1819, were, substantially, these. Before the time of the alleged murder, Stephen had complained that his brother-in-law, Colvin, was a burden to the family; and Stephen had said, if there was no other way of preventing him from multiplying children, for his father-in-law, Barney Boorn, to support, he would prevent him himself. At the time of the alleged murder, Stephen and Jesse Boorn had a quarrel with Colvin. The affair, in part, was seen and heard, by a neighbor, from a distance. Lewis Colvin, then ten years old, the son of Russell, was present; and, when seventeen, testified at the trial, that the last time he saw his father was, when the quarrel took place, which arose, at the time they were all engaged, in picking up stones--that Colvin struck Stephen first, with a small stick--that Stephen then struck Colvin, on his neck, with a club, and he fell--that Colvin rose and struck Stephen again--that Stephen again struck Colvin with the club, and knocked him down--whereupon the witness, being frightened, ran away; and was afterwards told, by Stephen, that he would kill him, if he ever told of what had happened. The witness further stated, that he ran, and told his grandmother. Stephen appears to have been gifted with a lively fancy. It was testified, that, before this occurrence, speaking of his sister and her husband, he had said he wished Russell and Sal were both dead; and that he would _kick them into hell if he burnt his legs off_. This piece of evidence, after having produced the usual effect upon the jury, was rejected. Upon another occasion, four years after the alleged murder, Stephen stated to Daniel D. Baldwin, and Eunice, his wife, that Colvin went off very strangely; that the last he saw of him was when he, Stephen, and Jesse were together, and Colvin went off to the woods; that Lewis, the son of Colvin, upon returning with some drink, for which he had been sent, asked where his father was, and that he, Stephen, replied, that Colvin had gone to hell; and Jesse, that they had put him where potatoes would not freeze; and Stephen added, while making this statement to the Baldwins, that it was not likely he or Jesse would have said this to the boy, if they had killed his father. When the body was sought for, before the bones were discovered, which were mistaken for human remains, a girl said to Stephen, "they are going to dig up Colvin for you; aren't they?" He became angry, and said, that Colvin often went off and returned--and that, when he went off, the last time, he was crazy; and went off without his hat. About four years after his disappearance, an old mouldy hat was discovered, in the field, where the quarrel took place; and was identified, positively, as the hat of Colvin, by the witness who had seen the quarrel, from a distance, as I have stated. Stephen denied, to Benjamin Deming, that he, Stephen, was present, when Colvin went off, and stated, that he was then, at a distance. To Joseph Lincoln he said, that he never killed Colvin--that he, and Colvin, and Jesse were picking up stones, and that Colvin was crazy, and went off into the woods, and that they had not seen nor heard from him since. To William Wyman, Stephen reäffirmed his statement, made to Benjamin Deming--called on Wyman to clear up his statement, that he, Stephen, had killed Colvin--asserted, that he knew nothing of what had become of Colvin; and that he had never worked with him an hour. The minutes of the Judge furnish other examples of similar contradiction and inconsistency, on the part of Stephen Boorn. But the reader will bear constantly in mind, that, through a period of seven years, during which the suspicion of the vicinage hung over them, like an angry cloud, sending forth occasional mutterings of judgment to come, and threatening to burst upon their heads, at any moment; _neither of these miserable men attempted flight or concealment_. Two years before his arrest, Stephen removed from Manchester, as I have related; but, in an open manner. There was not the slightest disguise, in regard to his abode; and there, when it was thought proper to arrest him, he was readily found, in the bosom of his family. In 1813, Jesse Boorn was asked, by Daniel Jacobs, where Russell Colvin was; and replied, that he had enlisted, as a soldier in the army. Thus far, the evidence, certified by Judge Chace, appears to have proceeded from perfectly credible witnesses. Silas Merrill, _in jail, on a charge of perjury_, testified to the following confession--that, when Jesse returned to prison, after his examination, he told Merrill, that "_they_" had encouraged him to confess, _with promise of pardon_, and that he, Merrill, had told him, that, perhaps, he had better confess the whole truth, and _obtain some favor_. In June, 1819, Jesse's father visited him in jail--after he went away, Jesse seemed much afflicted. After falling asleep, Jesse awoke, and shook the witness, Merrill--told him that he, Jesse, was frightened--had seen a vision--and wished the witness to get up, for he had something to tell him. They both arose; and Jesse made the following disclosure. He said it was true, that he, and Stephen, and Colvin, and Lewis were in the lot, picking stones--that Stephen struck Colvin with a club--that the boy, Lewis, ran--that Colvin got up--that Stephen struck him again, above the ear, and broke his skull--that his, Stephen's father came up, and asked if Colvin was dead; and that he repeated this question three times--that all three of them carried Colvin, not then dead, to an old cellar, where the father cut Colvin's throat, with a small penknife of Stephen's--that they buried him, in the cellar--that Stephen wore Colvin's shoes, till he, Jesse, told him it would lead to a discovery. Jesse, as the witness stated, informed him, that he had told his brother Stephen, that he had confessed. When Stephen came into the room, witness asked him, if he did not take the life of Colvin; to which he replied, that "_he did not take the main life of Colvin_." Stephen, as the witness stated, said, that Jesse's confession was true; and that he, Stephen, had made a confession, which would only make manslaughter of it. The witness, Merrill, then proceeded to say, that Jesse further confessed, that, eighteen months after they had buried the body, they took it up, and placed it under the floor of a barn, that was afterwards burnt--that they then pounded the bones, and put them in the river; excepting a few, which their father gathered up, and hid in a hollow stump. At this stage of the trial, the prosecuting officer offered the written confession of Stephen Boorn, dated Aug. 27, 1819. The document was authenticated. An attempt was made by the prisoners' counsel, to show, that this confession was made, under the fear of death and hope and prospect of pardon. Samuel C. Raymond testified, that he had often told the prisoner to confess, _if guilty_, but not otherwise. Stephen said he was _not guilty_. The witness then told him _not to confess_. The witness said he had heard Mr. Pratt, and Mr. Sheldon, the prosecuting officer, tell Jesse, that, if he would confess, _in case he was guilty_, they would petition the legislature in his favor. The witness had made the same proposition to Stephen himself, and _always told him he had no doubt of his guilt; and that the public mind was against him_. The court, of course, rejected the _written confession_ of Stephen, made, obviously, under the fear of death, and the hope and prospect of pardon. William Farnsworth was then produced, to prove the _oral confession_ of Stephen, much to the same effect. To this the prisoners' counsel objected, very properly, as it occurred after the very statement and proposal, made to the prisoner, by Mr. Raymond. _The court, nevertheless, permitted the witness to proceed._ Mr. Farnsworth then testified, that, about two weeks _after_ the date of the written confession, Stephen confessed, that he killed Russell Colvin--that Russell struck at him; and that he struck Russell and killed him--hid him in the bushes--buried him--dug him up--buried him again, under a barn, that was burnt--threw the unburnt bones into the river--scraped up some few remains, and hid them in a stump--and that the nails found he knew were Russell Colvin's. The witness told him his case looked badly; and, probably, gave him no encouragement. Stephen then said they should have done well enough, had it not been for Jesse, and wished he "_had back that paper_," meaning the written confession. After Mr. Farnsworth had been, thus absurdly, permitted to testify, there was no cause for withholding the written confession; and the prisoners' counsel called for its production. This confession embodies little more, with the exception of some particulars, as to the manner of burying the body; but is entirely inconsistent with the confession of Jesse. It is a full confession, that he killed Russell Colvin, and buried his remains. But, unlike the confession of Jesse, there is not the slightest implication of their father. The evidence, in behalf of the prisoners, was of very little importance, excepting in relation to the fact, that _they were persuaded, by divers individuals, that the only chance of escaping the halter was, by an ample confession of the murder_. They were told to confess _nothing but the truth_--but this was accompanied, by ominous intimations, that their case "_looked dark_"--that they were "_gone geese_"--or, by the considerate language of _Squire Raymond_--as he is styled in the minutes--that he "_had no doubt of their guilt_;" and if they would confess _the truth_--that is, _what the Squire had no doubt of_--he would petition the legislature in their favor! What atrocious language to a prisoner, under a charge of murder! It would be quite interesting to read the instructions of Judge Dudley Chace, while submitting the case of Stephen and Jesse Boorn to the jury; that we might be able to comprehend the measure of his respect, for the law, touching the inadmissibility of such extra judicial confessions, and for the solemn, judicial declaration of Sir Matthew Hale, that _no conviction ought ever to take place in trials, for murder or manslaughter, until the fact was clearly proven, or the dead body of the person, alleged to have been killed, was discovered_. In "_about an hour_," the jury returned a verdict of guilty, against Stephen and Jesse Boorn. And, in "_about an hour_" after, the prisoners were brought into court again, and sentenced to be hung, on the twenty-eighth day of January, 1820. Judge Chace is said to have been "_quite moved_," while passing sentence on Stephen and Jesse Boorn. It would have been well, for the cause of humanity, and not amiss, for the honor of his judicial station, if he had shed tears of blood, as the reader of the sequel will readily admit. No. LXXXII. Sentenced, on the last day of October, 1819, to be hung, on the 28th of January following, the Boorns were remanded to their prison, and put in irons. From this period, their most authentic and interesting prison history is obtained, from the written statement of the clergyman, who appears to have performed his sacred functions, in regard to these men, with singular fidelity and propriety. This clergyman, the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, belonged to that class of human beings, commonly denominated _colored people_--a term, to which I have always sturdily objected, because drunkards, who are often a highly-colored people, may thus be confounded with temperate and respectable men of African descent. [2]Mr. Haynes was, in part, of African parentage; and the author of the narrative, and occasional sermon, to which I have referred, at the commencement of these articles. There flourished, in this city, some five and thirty years ago, a number of very respectable, negro musicians, associated, as a band; and Major Russell, the editor of the Centinel, was in the habit of distinguishing the music, by the color of the performers. He frequently remarked, in his journal, that the "_black music_" was excellent. If this phraseology be allowable, I cannot deny, that the black, or colored, narrative of Mr. Haynes is very interesting; and that I have seldom read a black or colored discourse, with more satisfaction; and that I have read many a white one, with infinitely less. [2] The editor of the New York Sun, _under date, Jan. 25, 1850_, says--"Yesterday, we were waited on, by the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, of this city, the person, who, convinced of the innocence of the condemned parties, aided in finding the man, supposed to be murdered."--The Sun must have been under a total eclipse. This very worthy man, the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, who figured, honorably for himself, in the affair of the Boorns, was born July 18, 1753, and died Sept. 28, 1833, at the age of 80--as the gentleman, who conducts the chariot of the Sun, will discover, by turning to Cooley's "Sketches of the life and character of the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, N. Y. 1839," p. 312. Some dark object must have passed before the editor's eye. Previously to their trial, and after the arrest of Stephen, the Rev. Mr. Haynes expressly states, that Jesse, having had an interview with Stephen, positively denied his own former statement, that Stephen had admitted he killed Colvin. These are the words of Mr. Haynes--"During the interval, the writer frequently visited them, in his official capacity; and did not discover any symptoms of compunction; but they persisted, in declaring their innocence, with appeals to Heaven. Stephen, at times, appeared absorbed in passion and impatience. One day, I introduced the example of Christ, under sufferings, as a pattern, worthy of imitation: he exclaimed--'I am as innocent, as Jesus Christ!' for which extravagant expression I reproved him: he replied--'I don't mean I am guiltless, as he was, I know I am a great sinner; but I am as innocent of killing Colvin, as he was.'" The condition of the Boorns, immediately after sentence, cannot be more forcibly exhibited, than in the language of this worthy clergyman--"None can express the confusion and anguish, into which the prisoners were cast, on hearing their doom. They requested, by their counsel, liberty to speak, which was granted. In sighs and broken accents, they asserted their innocence. The convulsion of nature, attending Stephen, at last, was so great, as to render him unable to walk, and he was supported to the prison." Compassion was excited, in the hearts of some--doubts, peradventure, in the minds of others. A petition was presented to the General Assembly; and the punishment of Jesse was changed to imprisonment, for life. Ninety-seven deadly noes, against forty-two merciful ayes, decided the fate of Stephen. On the 29th of October, 1819, Jesse bade Stephen a last farewell; and was transferred to the State prison, at Windsor. "I visited him--Stephen"--says Mr. Haynes, "frequently, with sympathy and grief; and endeavored to turn his mind upon the things of another world; telling him, that, as all human means had failed, he must look to God, as the only way of deliverance. I advised him to read the Holy Scriptures; to which he consented, if he could be allowed a candle, as his cell was dark. This request was granted; and I often found him reading. He was at times calm, and again impatient." Upon another occasion, still nearer the day of the prisoner's doom--"the last of earth"--Mr. Haynes remarks, that Stephen addressed him thus--"_'Mr. Haynes, I see no way but I must die: everything works against me; but I am an innocent man: this you will know, after I am dead.' He burst into a flood of tears, and said--'What will become of my poor wife and children; they are in needy circumstances; and I love them better than life itself.'_--I told him, God would take care of them. He replied--'_I don't want to die. I wish they would let me live, even in this situation, somewhat longer: perhaps something will take place, that will convince people I am innocent._' I was about to leave the prison, when he said--'_will you pray with me?_'--He arose with his heavy chains on his hands and legs, being also chained down to the floor, and stood on his feet, with deep and bitter sighings." On the 26th day of November, 1819--two brief months before the time, appointed, for the execution of Stephen Boorn, the following notice appeared in the Rutland Herald--"MURDER.--_Printers of Newspapers, throughout the United States, are desired to publish, that Stephen Boorn of Manchester, in Vermont, is sentenced to be executed for the murder of Russell Colvin, who has been absent about seven years. Any person, who can give information of said Colvin, may save the life of the innocent, by making immediate communication. Colvin is about five feet five inches high, light complexion, light hair, blue eyes, about forty years of age. Manchester, Vt., Nov. 26, 1819._" This notice, published by request of the prisoner, was, doubtless, prepared, by one of his counsel:--by whomsoever prepared, it bears, in its very structure, unmistakable evidence of the writer's entire confidence, in the innocency, of Stephen Boorn, of the _murder_ of Russell Colvin. No man, who had a doubt upon his mind, could have put these words together, in the very places, where they stand. Had it been otherwise, some little hesitancy of expression--some conservative syllable--one little if, _ex abundanti cautela_, to shelter the writer from the charge of a most miserably weak and merciful credulity, would have characterized this last appeal--this short, shrill cry for mercy--as the work of a doubter, and a hireling. There may have been a few, whose strong confidence, in the bloodguiltiness of Stephen Boorn, had become slightly paralyzed, by his entire and absolute retractation of all his confessions, made before trial. There may have been a few, who believe, that they, themselves, might have confessed, though innocent, in the same predicament--assured by the _squires_, the _magnates_ of the village, whom they supposed powerful to save, that _no doubt existed of their guilt_--that they were _gone geese_--and who proffered an effort in their favor--to save them from the gallows--if they would confess _the truth_, which _truth_ could, of course, be nothing, but their _guilt_. If they would confess a crime, though innocent, they might still live! If not, they must be deemed liars, and murderers, and die the death! The prisoner, Stephen Boorn, even supposing him to be innocent, but of humble station in society, and of ordinary mental powers--oppressed by the chains he wore, and, more heavily, by the dread of death--clinging to life--not only because it is written, by the finger of God, in the members of man, that all a man hath will be given for his life--but because, as the statement of Mr. Haynes convincingly shows, poor degraded outcast as Stephen was, he was deeply and tenderly attached to his wife and children--might well fall under the temptation, so censurably spread before him. There may have been a few, who were compelled to doubt, if Stephen were a murderer, upon hearing the simple narrative, spread through the village, by the worthy clergyman, of the fervent and awful declaration of Stephen Boorn, in a moment of deep and energetic misery--"I am as innocent of the murder of Russell Colvin, as Jesus Christ." But the strong current of popular indignation ran, overwhelmingly, against him. By a large number, the brief notice, published in the Rutland Herald, was, undoubtedly, accounted a mere personal, or professional attempt, to produce an impression of the murderer's innocence, in the hope of commutation, or of pardon--and, with many, it certainly tended to confirm the prejudice against him. Days of unutterable anguish were succeeded, by nights of frightful slumber. The cell was feebly lighted, by the taper allowed him--with unpractised fingers, the prisoner turned over the pages of God's holy word--but a kind, faithful guide was at his elbow--the voice of fervent prayer, amid the occasional clanking of the prisoner's fetters, went up to that infallible ear, that is ever ready to hear.--The Judicial power had consigned this victim to the gallows--the general sense had decided, that Stephen Boorn ought not to live--to prepare him to die was the only remaining office, for the man of God. No. LXXXIII. In April, 1813, about a year after poor Colvin was murdered, by the Boorns, according to the indictment--there came to the house of a Mr. Polhamus, in Dover, Monmouth County, New Jersey, a wandering man--he was a stranger, and Mr. Polhamus was a good man, and took him in--he was hungry, and he fed him--he was ragged, if not absolutely naked, and he clothed him. He was a man of mean appearance, rapid utterance, and disordered understanding. He was harmless withal, perfectly tractable, capable of light service, and grateful for kindness. In the family of Mr. Polhamus, this poor vagrant had continued, to the very time, when the Boorns were convicted of the murder of Russell Colvin. Not far from Dover, lies the town of Shrewsbury, near Long Branch, the Baiæ of the Philadelphians. There dwelt in Shrewsbury, in the year 1819, Mr. Taber Chadwick, the brother-in-law of Mr. Polhamus, and familiarly acquainted with the domestic affairs of his relative. He also was a man of kind and generous feelings. He had accidentally read in the New York Evening Post, a paper which he rarely met with, the account of the conviction of the Boorns, for the murder of Colvin. The notice in the Rutland Herald, he had never seen. He was firmly persuaded, that the stranger, who arrived at the house of his brother-in-law, some six years before, was Russell Colvin. What reasons he had, for this conviction, the reader will gather from a perusal of the following letter, which appeared in the Evening Post:-- "SHREWSBURY, Monmouth, N. J., Dec. 6, 1819. To the Editor of the New York Evening Post: Sir. Having read in your paper of Nov. 26th last, of the conviction and sentence of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, of Manchester, Vermont, charged with the murder of Russell Colvin, and from facts, which have fallen within my own knowledge, and not knowing what facts may have been disclosed on their trial, and wishing to serve the cause of humanity, I would state as follows, which may be relied on. Some years past, (I think between five and ten), a stranger made his appearance in this county: and, upon being inquired of, said his name was Russell Colvin, (which name he answers to at this time)--that he came from Manchester, Vermont--he appeared to be in a state of mental derangement; but, at times, gave considerable account of himself--his connections, acquaintances, &c.--He mentions the names of Clarissa, Rufus, &c.--Among his relations he has mentioned the Boorns above--Jesse as Judge (I think,) &c., &c. He is a man rather small in stature--round favored--speaks very fast, and has two scars on his head, and appears to be between thirty and forty years of age. There is no doubt but that he came from Vermont, from the mention that he has made of a number of places and persons there, and probably is the person supposed to have been murdered. He is now living here, but so completely insane, as not to be able to give a satisfactory account of himself, but the connections of Russell Colvin might know, by seeing him. If you think proper to give this a place in your columns, it may possibly lead to a discovery, that may save the lives of innocent men--if so, you will have the pleasure, as well as myself, of having served the cause of humanity. If you give this an insertion in your paper, pray be so good as to request the different editors of newspapers, in New York, and Vermont, to give it a place in theirs. I am, sir, with sentiments of regard, yours, &c., TABER CHADWICK." To render a certain part of this letter intelligible to the reader, it is proper to state, that Clarissa and Rufus, as it appeared from the evidence, were the names of Colvin's children; and that "_the judge_" was a title, or sobriquet, frequently bestowed upon Jesse, by Stephen. Upon the arrival of a printed copy of Mr. Chadwick's letter, in Manchester, it produced little or no effect. Very few of the inhabitants gave any credit to the story; and it might have been very reasonably supposed, that St. Thomas had begotten a large majority of the population. Squire Raymond was certain of Stephen's guilt; and to differ from Squire Raymond, was probably accounted, by the villagers, as one of the presumptuous sins. Besides, if a doubt of their guilt had existed, would not those most learned judges have given the prisoners the full advantage of that doubt! How little the good people of Manchester imagined, that, upon the trial of the Boorns, the well established rules of evidence had been outrageously violated, and a great fundamental principle of criminal jurisprudence shamefully disregarded, by the court! Such, however painful and disgraceful the admission, was manifestly the fact. Judges, who sit thus, in judgment, upon the lives of men, would do well to doff their ermine, and assume the robe, commended by Faulconbridge to Austria. To the enforcement of this simple truth I shall turn hereafter. Let us now go to the dungeon, taking with us, of course, the newspaper, containing these living lines--these tidings of exceeding great joy. But the details of all that occurred within the prison, are related with great simplicity and power, by the good clergyman, who stood by Stephen Boorn, in his deepest need. Let Mr. Haynes, himself, describe in a few words, the effect of this communication, upon the prisoner--"Mr. Chadwick's letter was carried to the prison, and read to Stephen. The news was so overwhelming, that, to use his own language, nature could scarcely sustain the shock; but, as there was some doubt as to the truth of the report, it tended to prevent an immediate dissolution. He observed to me, that, if Colvin had then made his appearance before him, he believed it would have caused immediate death. Even now a faintness was created, that was painful to endure." Not a few very charitable people, who shrink, instinctively, from the very thought of giving pain, marvelled at the cruelty of those, who presumed to raise the poor prisoner's hopes, upon such frail and improbable grounds. Soon, intelligence arrived in Manchester, that a Mr. Whelpley, of New York, formerly of Manchester, who knew Colvin well, having seen Mr. Chadwick's letter, had gone to New Jersey, to settle the question of identity. This, according to Mr. Deming's account, was done, at the instance of the city authorities of New York. Doubt fell, fifty per cent., in the market of Manchester, when a brief letter, in the well known handwriting of Mr. Whelpley, was received, in that village, immediately upon his return to New York, containing these vital words--"I HAVE COLVIN WITH ME!" This letter was immediately followed by another from a Mr. Rempton, who knew him well, in which he says--"_while writing, Russell Colvin is before me_!" The New York journals now published the notice, that _Colvin had arrived, and would soon proceed to Vermont_. Doubt dies hard, in the bosoms of those, whose pride of opinion forbids them to recant. Squire Raymond, and his tail, as the Scotch call a great man's followers, could not believe the story. Their honors, who sentenced the Boorns to death, in one hour, after the verdict had been delivered--were very naturally inclined to take a longer time, for consideration, before they sentenced themselves to merited reproach, for their rash and unjustifiable conduct. Bets were made, says Mr. Haynes, that the man, on his way to Vermont, notwithstanding the positive averments of Whelpley and Rempton, was not the true Colvin, but an impostor. Whoever he was, he was soon upon his way. He passed through Albany. The streets, says Mr. Deming, were literally crowded to get a glimpse of the man, who was dead and alive again. He passed through Troy. The Trojan horse could not have produced a greater measure of amazement, in the days of Priam. Dec. 22, he arrived with Mr. Whelpley, at Bennington. The court then in session, suspended business, to look upon him, for several hours. Towards evening, upon that memorable day, Dec. 22, 1819, the stage was seen, driving into Manchester, and the driving was like the driving of Jehu, for it drove furiously. When the dust cleared away, sufficiently, to enable the excited population to obtain a clearer view, an unusual signal was observed floating above the advancing vehicle. A shout broke forth from the crowd--COLVIN HAS COME! Hundreds ran to their houses to communicate the tidings--_Colvin has come!_ The stage drove up to the tavern door; and a little man, of mean appearance, and wild, disordered look, came forth into the middle of the eager multitude. His bewildered eyes turned, rapidly and feverishly, in all directions, encountering eyes innumerable, that seemed to drink him in, with the strong relish of wonder and delight. Hundreds upon hundreds pressed forward, to grasp this poor, little, demented creature, by the hand; and enough of sense and memory remained, to enable him, feebly, to return the smiles of his former neighbors, and to call them, by their names. All was uproar and frantic joy. The people of Manchester believed it to be their bounden duty to go partially mad; and they did their duty to perfection. Guns were fired, amid wild demonstrations of excitement; and Colvin was tumultuously borne to the cell of the condemned. The meeting shall be described by Mr. Haynes--"_The prison door was unbolted--the news proclaimed to Stephen, that Colvin had come! The welcome reception, given it by the joyful prisoner, need not be mentioned. The chains, on his arms, were taken off, while those on his legs remained. Being impatient of an interview with him, who had come to bring salvation, they met. Colvin gazed upon the chains, and asked--'What is that for?'--Stephen answered--'Because, they say, I murdered you'--'You never hurt me'--replied Colvin._" Colvin recognized his children; but marvelled how they came in Manchester, asserting, that he left them, at the house of his kind benefactor, Mr. Polhamus, in New Jersey. Of his wife, who came to see him, he took little notice, asserting, that she did not belong to him. There may have been enough of method, in his madness, to enable him to appreciate, correctly, the value of his marital relation. The breath of Manchester may have blown the truth into his ear. An ingenious person may find some little resemblance between the wanderings of Ulysses and those of Colvin the _Oudeis_ of Manchester--but the testimony, upon the trial, peremptorily forbids the slightest comparison, between Penelope and Mrs. Colvin, who appears not to have embarrassed her suitors, with the preliminary ordeal of the bow. There is an admirable painting, in the Boston Athenæum, by Neagle, of Patrick Lyon, the blacksmith, who was long imprisoned, in Philadelphia, for the robbery of a bank, of which crime he was perfectly innocent, as it finally appeared, to the entire satisfaction of the government, by whom he was, consequently, discharged. Lyon is represented, at his forge; and he desired the artist to introduce the Walnut Street prison in the rear, where he had suffered, so unjustly, and so long. The graphic hand of a master might do something here. I would pay more than I can well afford, for a couple of illustrative paintings--I. The Judges, with tears in their eyes, sentencing Stephen and Jesse to be hanged, for the murder of Colvin--the best books on evidence, before them, and open at the pages where it is expressly stated that extra-judicial confession, under fear of death, and hope of pardon, shall never be received--and the leaf turned down, at the authority of Sir Matthew Hale, that no conviction ought ever to take place, upon trials for murder and manslaughter, till the fact be clearly proven, or the _dead body_ be discovered. II. The dungeon, Dec. 22, 1819, just thirty-six days, before the time, appointed for the execution of Stephen--the murderer and the murdered man, standing face to face, in full life--Squire Raymond still avowing his conviction of Stephen's guilt, and holding aloft his written confession--Judge Chace seen in the distance, burying the "_certified minutes of evidence_" in the very hole, pointed out, to Nathaniel Boorn, by Colvin's ghost--and Judge Doolittle evidently regretting, that he had not done less, in this unhappy transaction, which came so near the consummation of judicial murder. In the succeeding number, I shall endeavor to present a simple version of the motives and conduct of the parties--and some brief remarks, upon this extraordinary trial. No. LXXXIV. After a little reflection, the true explanation of this apparent mystery appears to be exceedingly simple. Colvin had become an object of contempt and hatred to the Boorns; and especially to Stephen. His mental feebleness had produced their contempt--the burdensomeness of himself and his family had begotten their hatred. The poor, semi-demented creature happened, in a luckless hour, to boast, most absurdly, no doubt, of his great importance and usefulness, as a member of this interesting family. This gave a doubly keen edge to the animosity of Stephen; and he berated his brother-in-law, in terms, almost as vulgar and abusive, as those we daily meet with, in so many of our leading political journals, of all denominations. Forgetful of his inferiority, this miserable worm exemplified the proverb, and turned upon his oppressor, in a feeble way. He struck Stephen with "_a small riding stick_." This was accounted sufficient provocation by Stephen; and, in the language of the witness, "_Stephen then struck Russell on his neck with a club, and knocked him down_." He rose, and made a slight effort to renew the battle, and then Stephen again knocked him down. Upon this, Colvin rambled off, towards the mountain, and was seen in that region, no more, till he was brought back, after the expiration of seven years, in December, 1819. He went off without his hat and shoes; whether, in his effort to shake off the dust of that city, he unconsciously shook off his shoes, is unknown. The discovery of the hat, some years after, formed a part of that wretched _rope of sand_, for it is not worthy of being called a _chain of evidence_, upon which Stephen and Jesse were sentenced to death. Colvin had, doubtless, long been aware, that he was an object of hatred to the Boorns. The blows, inflicted upon this occasion, undoubtedly, aggravated his insanity; yet enough remained of the instinctive love of life, to teach him, that his safety was in flight. How he found his way to that part of New Jersey, which lies near the Atlantic Ocean, is of little importance. He was, notoriously, a wanderer. It was the spring of the year. He moved onward, without plan, camping out, among the bushes, or sleeping in barns; the world before him, and Providence his guide. He, probably, rambled from Manchester, which is in the southwest corner of Vermont, into the State of New York, which lies very near; and, wandering, in a southerly direction, along the westerly boundary lines of Massachusetts and Connecticut, he would, before many days, have entered the northerly part of New Jersey. Accustomed to his occasional absences, the Boorns, undoubtedly, expected his return, for weeks and months, even though the summer had past, and the harvest had ended. But, after the snows of winter had come, and covered the mountains; and the spring had returned, and melted them away; and Colvin came not; then Stephen Boorn, doubtless, began to fear, that he had, unintentionally, killed him--that he had wandered away, and died of the effects of the blows he had received--and that his bones were bleaching, in some unknown part of the mountain, whither he had wandered, immediately after the occurrence. Upon this hypothesis, alone, can we explain one remarkable word, in the answer of Stephen to Merrill's question, in the jail, as certified, by Judge Chace, in his minutes--"_I asked him, if he did take the life of Colvin.--He said he did not take the_ main _life of Colvin. He said no more at that time._" Does any reflecting man inquire--what could have induced these men to confess the crime, with such a particular detail of minute, and extraordinary, circumstances? The answer has already been given, in part.--Stephen, doubtless, believed it to be quite probable, that he had been the means of Colvin's death. To explain the motive for confession, more fully, it is only necessary to stand, for one moment, in the prisoner's shoes. He was assured, by "Squire Raymond," and others, in whom he confided, that no doubt was entertained of his guilt--that his case was dark--and that his only hope lay in confession. His mind was brought to the full and settled belief, that he should be hung, before many days, _unless he confessed_. If he had confessed the simple truth--the quarrel--the blows--the departure of Colvin--all this would have availed him nothing. It was not this, of which "Squire Raymond," and others, had _no doubt he was guilty_. They had no doubt he was guilty of the _murder_ of Colvin. No confession of anything, short of _the murder of Colvin_, would satisfy "Squire Raymond," and induce him to "petition the legislature in favor" of the prisoner! Stephen well knew, that, if he confessed the murder of Colvin, it would be immediately asked--where he had buried the body--a puzzling question, it must be confessed, for one, who had committed no murder. But it was a delicate moment, for Stephen. It was necessary for him to stand, not only _rectus in curia_--but _rectus_ with "Squire Raymond," and all his other attentive patrons. He therefore, to save his life, and secure the patronage of the "Squire," strung together a terrible tissue of lies, too manifestly preposterous and improbable, even for the credulous brain of Cotton Mather, in 1692. He relieved himself of all embarrassment, in regard to the dead body of the _living_ Colvin, by _confessing_, that he first buried it, in the earth--then took it up and reburied it, under a barn--and, after the barn had been burnt, took up the bones again, and cast them into the Battenkill river. The confession of Jesse was made, when he was aroused from sleep, at midnight, under the impression, as he stated, at the time, that "_something had come in at the window, and was on the bed beside him_"--somewhat extra-judicial, this confession, to be sure. This Jesse appears to have been a most unfilial scoundrel; for, instead of _confessing_, as Stephen had _confessed_, that Stephen himself killed Colvin, single-handed and alone; Jesse catered, more abundantly, to the popular appetite for horrors, by _confessing_ that his old father, Barney Boorn, "_damned_" his son-in-law, Colvin, very frequently, and "_cut his throat with a small penknife_." All this clotted mass of inconsistent absurdity, extorted by hope and fear, his honor, Judge Chace, received, as legal evidence, and gravely certified up to the General Assembly of Vermont. It is true, Judge Chace, as we have stated, rejected the written confession of Stephen, because Raymond swore, as follows--"_I have heard Mr. Pratt and Mr. Sheldon tell Jesse Boorn, that if he would confess, in case he was guilty, they would petition the legislature for him--I have made the same proposition to Stephen myself, and always told him I had no doubt of his guilt, and that the public mind was against him._" It is needless to expatiate on the gross impropriety of addressing such language to a prisoner, under such circumstances. But the witness, Farnsworth, was then produced to prove Stephen's oral confession, that he killed Colvin. It appears, by the minutes, certified by Judge Chace, that he put the preliminary questions, and that the witness swore, "that neither he nor anybody else, _to his knowledge_, had done anything, directly or indirectly, to influence the said Stephen to the _talk_ he was about to communicate." In vain, the prisoners' counsel protested, that the evidence was inadmissible, because the "_talk_" between Stephen and Farnsworth was subsequent to the proposition made to Stephen by Raymond. In vain they pressed the consideration, that if, on this ground, the written confession had been rejected, the oral confession should also be rejected. In vain they offered to prove other proposals and promises, made to the prisoners, at other times, _before_ the conversation, now offered to be proved. Nothing, however, would stay their honors, from gibbetting their judicial reputation, in chains, which no time will ever knock off. They suffered Farnsworth to testify; and he swore, that Stephen told him, "about two weeks _after_ the written confession, that he killed Colvin," &c. This must have been about September 10, 1819, and, of course, before the trial, when he was still relying on the promises of Squire Raymond, and others. The prisoners' counsel very judiciously moved, for the reception of the written confession, and it was read accordingly. Unable to restrain the judicial antics of the Court, it appeared to be the only course, for the prisoners' counsel, to throw the whole crude and incongruous mass before the jury, and leave its credibility, or rather, its palpable incredibility, to their decision. It would be desirable, as a judicial curiosity, to possess a copy of Judge Chace's charge. Of his instructions to the jury he says nothing, in his certified statement to the General Assembly. Now, apart from the confessions of these men, extorted, so clearly, by the fear of death, and the hope of pardon, there was evidence enough to excite _suspicion_, and there was no more: but, the law of our country convicts no man of murder, or manslaughter, upon _suspicion_. I shall conclude my remarks, upon this interesting case, in the following number. No. LXXXV. The chains of Stephen Boorn were stricken off, and Jesse was liberated from prison. They were men of note. If there were not _giants_, there were _lions_, in those days. Colvin soon became weary of standing upon that dizzy eminence, where circumstances had placed him. He had a painful recollection, no doubt, more or less distinct, of the past: and, after he had served the high purpose, for which he had been brought from New Jersey, he expressed an earnest wish to return to the home of his adoption; where he had found, in the good Mr. Polhamus, a friend, who had considered the necessities and distresses of his body and mind; and, who had been willing, in return for his feeble services, to give him shelter and protection. The Boorns had, undoubtedly, a fortunate, and, almost a miraculous, escape. So had their honors, the Judges, Chace and Doolittle. Their first meeting, after the _denouement_, must have been perfectly tragi-comical. Their escape from an awful precipice may admonish all, who sit, in judgment, upon the lives of their fellow-men, to administer the law, with extreme caution, and with a high and holy regard, for those well-established principles, and rules, which can never be disregarded, with impunity. God forbid, that any humble phraseology of mine should, for an instant, be perverted, to mislead the meanest understanding--to foster those principles, which, for the purpose of extending mercy, undeserved, to the murderer, would heap gross injustice and cruelty, upon the whole community--to break down the positive law of God, which Jesus Christ declared, that he came to confirm; and, in its place and stead, to erect the sickly decrees of a society of philandering puppets, whose wires are notoriously pulled, by certain professional and political managers. In the commencement of my remarks, upon this romance of real life, I endeavored to forefend, against the suspicion of undervaluing that species of evidence, which is called presumptive, or circumstantial. It is accounted, by the most able writers, on this branch of jurisprudence, of the highest quality. Thus, in his admirable work, on Evidence, vol. i. sec. 13, Professor Greenleaf remarks, that, in both civil and criminal cases, "_a verdict may well be founded on circumstances alone; and these often lead to a conclusion, far more satisfactory than direct evidence can produce_." The errors, committed by the Judges, upon the trial of the Boorns--and those errors were egregious--were twofold--the admission of extra-judicial confessions, manifestly extorted by hope and fear--and suffering a conviction to take place, before the dead body of the person, alleged to have been murdered, had been discovered. The rule, on the subject of confessions, is sufficiently plain. "_Deliberate confessions of guilt_," says Mr. Greenleaf, ibid. sec. 215, "are among the most effectual proofs in the law." But they should be received and weighed with caution; for, as he remarks, sec. 214--"it should be recollected, that the mind of the prisoner himself, is oppressed by the calamity of his situation, and that he is often influenced by motives of hope or fear, to make an untrue confession." Mr. Greenleaf then proceeds to say, in a note on this passage--"of this character was the remarkable case of the two Boorns," &c., and proceeds to give a summary of the case. "In the United States," says Mr. Greenleaf, ibid. sec. 217, "the prisoner's confession, when the _corpus delicti_ is not otherwise proved, has been held insufficient, for his conviction; and this opinion, certainly, best accords with the humanity of the criminal code, and with the great degree of caution, applied in receiving and weighing the evidence of confessions, in other cases; and it seems countenanced by approved writers, on this branch of the law." Again, ibid. sec. 219, he remarks--"Before any confession can be received, in evidence, in a criminal case, it must be shown, that it was _voluntary_. * * * * 'A free and voluntary confession,' said Eyre, C. B., 'is deserving of the highest credit, because it is presumed to flow from the strongest sense of guilt, and therefore it is admitted as proof of the crime, to which it refers; but a confession forced from the mind, by the flattery of hope, or by the torture of fear, comes in so questionable a shape, when it is to be considered as the evidence of guilt, that no credit ought to be given to it; and therefore it is rejected.'" Unfortunately, Judges Chace and Doolittle thought otherwise; and brought themselves and the condemned, upon the very threshold of a terrible catastrophe. Mr. Greenleaf, in the note, above referred to, alludes to an article, in the North American Review, vol. 10, p. 418, in which this case of the Boorns is examined. It was from the pen of a gentleman, whose high professional prospects were blasted, by an early death. This writer had seen nothing, however, but "_a very imperfect report of the trial_." His article was published, in April, 1820, about four months after the discovery of Colvin. The conclusions, at which he arrives, that the confessions ought not to have been admitted, would have gained additional strength, had he inspected the _certified minutes_, taken on the trial, by the Chief Justice. Had he seen those certified minutes of the evidence, he would scarcely have described the utter inconsistency of the two confessions, by the inadequate phrase--"_there are differences between them_:" for Stephen's claims the whole act of killing to himself--while Jesse's charges the father, who was notoriously not present, with cutting Colvin's throat, while he was yet living, and after Stephen had given him a blow. This writer relies strongly, upon the humane caution of Sir Matthew Hale, to which I have alluded, that no conviction in case of murder or manslaughter should ever take place, till the fact were proved--or the dead body had been discovered. A perfect horror of induction seems to have settled down, like a dense cloud, upon the southwestern corner of Vermont. Judges and jurymen appear to have been stupefied, by its power. The important _consequence_, vital to the whole, they assumed to be true, without trial or experiment. I have looked, attentively, into every document, that I could lay my hands upon, connected with this subject; and I cannot discover, that any effort whatever was made, by any one, _till after the trial_, to discover the _living_ body of Colvin. The interesting ramble of Jesse and Judge Skinner, upon the mountain, was in search of Colvin's _dead_ body! But, upon the publication of the notice, in the Rutland Herald, Nov. 26, 1819, stating the facts, and calling for information, in regard to Colvin, and a similar notice, of the same date, in the New York Evening Post--in ten days, that is, Dec. 6, the most ample and satisfactory information was published, by Mr. Taber Chadwick, in regard to the _living_ body of Russell Colvin! The great caution of Sir Matthew Hale was meant, not less for the prisoner, than for the whole community; no one of whom can be sure, through a long life, of escaping from the oppressive influence of circumstances, accidentally, or purposely, combined against him. His _discreet_ humanity spread no mantle of imitation charity or morbid philanthropy over the guilty. He was a bold practitioner--too bold, by far, occasionally, as in the case of Cullender and Duny. But this great, good man, well knew, that prisoners, charged with murder, were entitled to all the benefit of _reasonable_ doubt. He well knew, that no judicial caution could go farther, to save, than the fierce suspicion of an excited community would go, to destroy. He well knew, that, with not a small number, the very enormity of the crime seems to supply the want of legal evidence; and, that, in many cases, to be suspected is to be condemned. We have all heard of the jury, who, having convicted a prisoner of murder, in direct opposition to the Judge's instructions, and being questioned and reproved--replied, that an enormous crime had been committed, and ought to be atoned for; and they saw no good reason, why the prisoner, the only person _suspected_, should not be selected, as the victim! Sir Matthew Hale's forbearance extended to cases of reprieve, after conviction, before another judge. Thus in H. P. C., vol. ii. ch. lvi., he says--"I have generally observed this rule, that I would never give judgment, or award execution, upon a person, reprieved by any other judge but myself, because I could not know, upon what ground or reason he reprieved him." Upon this, there is the following pertinent note--"The usefulness of this caution may be seen, from what is observed, by Sir John Hawles, in his remarks on Cornish's trial, where he relates the case of some persons, who had been convicted of the murder of a person absent, barely by inferences from foolish words and actions; but the judge, before whom it was tried, was so unsatisfied in the matter, because the body of the person, supposed to be murdered, was not to be found, that he reprieved the persons condemned; yet, in a circuit afterwards, a certain unwary judge, without inquiring into the reasons of the reprieve, ordered execution, and the persons to be hanged in chains, which was done accordingly; and afterwards, to his reproach, the person, supposed to be murdered, appeared alive." The death of the person, alleged to have been murdered, is, manifestly, not less a constituent part of the crime, than the malice prepense, or the employment of the means. These three things are necessary to constitute murder, in the eye of the law. Thus, an acquittal has taken place, where the _murder_ was alleged to have been committed, _on the high seas_; and the _malice_ and the _blow_ only were proved to have occurred _on the high seas_--and the _death_, in the harbor of Cape François. Such was the case of the U. S. against McGill, reported in Dallas. This extreme particularity appears, to some persons, exceedingly ridiculous; but not quite as much so, as certain commentaries, upon legal proceedings which we sometimes meet with, in the ordinary journals of the day. Aaron Burr, whom I desire not to quote, too frequently, once shrewdly remarked--"_he, who despises forms, knows not what he despises_." To infer the death, from the malice, and the employment of the means, in all cases, would be absurd. If one man maliciously knocks another into the sea, here is, certainly, a violent assault and battery--perhaps an assault with intent to kill. But, before we join, in the popular _hutesium et clamor_, we have two important points to settle, beyond all _reasonable_ doubt--first, if the person, knocked overboard, be dead, for he may have swum to land, or have been picked up, at sea, alive, in which case, unless he die of the blow, within the time prescribed, there can be neither murder nor manslaughter. And, secondly, if he be proved to have died of the injury within that time, we must duly weigh the previous circumstances and the provocation, to ascertain, if the act done be manslaughter or murder. Those, who vociferate, most loudly, against the law, for its hesitancy, and demand the immediate descent of the executioner's axe, upon the neck of the victim, will be the very first fervently to supplicate, for the law's most merciful carefulness of life, should a father, a brother, or a son be charged with crime, and involved in the complicated meshes of presumptive evidence. No. LXXXVI. The transition state, when the confidence of youth begins to give place to that wholesome distrust, which is the usual--by no means, the invariable--accompaniment of riper years, is often a state of disquietude and pain. It is no light matter to look upon the visions of our own superiority, and imaginary importance, as they break, like bubbles, one after another, and leave us abundantly convinced, that we are of yesterday, and know nothing. The confidence of ignorance, however venial in youth, is not altogether so excusable, in full grown men. Its exhibitions, however ridiculous and absurd, are daily manifested, by mankind, in relation to those arts and sciences, which have little or nothing in common with their own respective vocations. The physician, the lawyer, the clergyman, the deeper they descend into their respective, professional wells, where truth is proverbially said to abide, proceed with increasing caution. Yet it is quite amazing, to witness the boldness, with which they dive into the very depths, that lie entirely beyond their professional precincts. The physician, who proceeds, in the cure of bodies, with the extremest caution, seems to be quite at home, in the cure of souls; and has very little doubt or difficulty, upon points, which have perplexed the brains of Hale and Mansfield. The lawyer, who, in his own department, moves warily; weighs evidence with infinite care; and consults authorities, with great deliberation--looks upon physic and theology, as rather speculative matters, and of easy acquirement. The clergyman frequently practises physic gratuitously; and holding the doctrine in perfect contempt, that the _viginti studia annorum_ are necessary to make a tolerable lawyer, he rather opines, that, as _majus implicat minus_, so his knowledge of the Divine law necessarily comprehends a perfect knowledge of mere human jurisprudence. This confidence of ignorance is nowhere more perfectly, or more briefly, expressed, than in four oft-repeated lines, in Pope's Essay on Criticism: "A _little_ learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: These shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again." The editors of public journals are, in many instances, men of education and highly respectable abilities--men of taste and learning--men of integrity, and refinement, cherishing a just regard for the rights of individuals, and of the community. There is a very different class of men, who, however incompetent to improve the minds or the manners of the public, have a small smattering of knowledge; hold a reckless, rapid pen; and, by the aid of the scavengers, whom they employ, to rake the gutters for slander and obscenity, cater, daily, to the foulest appetites of mankind. There are some, who descend not thus, to the very nadir of all filth and corruption, but whose columns, nevertheless, are ever open, like the mouths of so many _cloacæ_, for the filthy contributions of every dirty depositor; and who are ever on hand, like the Scotch cloak-man, in _Auld Reekie_, to serve the occasions of a customer. The very phraseology of the craft has a tendency to the amplification of an editor; and to give confirmation to the confidence of ignorance. The broken merchant, the ambitious weaver, the briefless lawyer, the literary tailor are speedily sunk, in "_we_," and "_our sheet_," and "_our columns_," and "_our-self_." This confidence of ignorance has rarely been manifested, more extensively, upon any occasion, than in connection with the indictment, trial, and condemnation of Dr. Webster, for the murder of Dr. George Parkman. The indictment was no sooner published, than three _religious_ journals began to criticise this _legal_ instrument, which had been carefully, and, as the decision of the learned Chief Justice and of the Court has decided, sufficiently, prepared, by the Attorney General of the Commonwealth. This indictment contained several counts, a thing by no means unusual, the object of which is well understood, by professional men. "If the crime was committed with a knife, or with the fists, how could it be committed with a hammer?" It would not be an easy task to convince these worthy ministers of the Gospel, how exceedingly ridiculous such commentaries appear, to men of any legal knowledge. Judge, Jurymen, and Counsellors are severely censured, for the parts they have borne, in the trial and condemnation of Dr. Webster. By whom? By the editors of certain far-away journals, upon the evidence, _as it has reached them_. The evidence has been very variously reported. A portion of the evidence, however deeply graven upon the hearts, and minds, and memories of the highly respectable jury, and of the court, and of the multitude, present at the trial, is, from its peculiar nature, not transferable. I refer to the appearance, the air, the manner, the voice of the prisoner, especially, when, in opposition to the advice of his counsel, he fatally opened his mouth, and said precisely nothing, that betokened innocence. I do not believe there was ever, in the United States, a more impartial trial, more quietly conducted, than this trial of Dr. Webster. Party feeling has had no lot, nor share, in this matter. The whole dealing has been calmly and confidingly surrendered to the laws of the land. With scarcely an exception, from the moment of arrest to the hour of trial, the public journals, in this vicinity, have borne themselves, with great forbearance to the prisoner. The family connexions of Dr. Parkman have held themselves scrupulously aloof, unless summoned to bear witness to facts, within their knowledge. It has been asserted, in one or more journals, that even the body of Dr. Parkman has not been discovered. The reply is short, and germain--the coroner's jury, twenty-four grand jurors, and twelve jurors in the Supreme Judicial Court have decided, that the mutilated remains were those of the late George Parkman; and that John White Webster was his murderer; and the Court has gravely pronounced the opinion, that the verdict is a righteous verdict, and in accordance with the law and the evidence. This opinion appears to meet with a very general, affirmative response, in this quarter. The jury--and the members of that panel, one and all, after twelve days' concentration of thought, upon this solemn question of life and death, appear to have been conscientious men--the jury have not recommended the prisoner, as a person entitled to mercy. In view of all this, the editor of a distant, public journal may be supposed to entertain a pretty good opinion of his qualifications, who ventures to pronounce his ex-cathedral decree, either that Dr. Webster is innocent, or, if guilty, that, on technical grounds, he has been illegally convicted. There is something absolutely melancholy in the contemplation of such presumption as this. But, under all the circumstances of this heart-sickening occurrence, it is impossible to behold, without a smile, the extraordinary efforts of some exceedingly benevolent people, in the city of New York, who are circulating a petition to the Governor of Massachusetts, not merely for a commutation of punishment, but for a pardon. This, to speak of it forbearingly, may be safely catalogued among the works of supererogation. If the Governor of Massachusetts needs any guidance from man, upon the present occasion, his Council is at hand. The highest judicial tribunal of the Commonwealth, entirely approving the verdict of an impartial and intelligent jury, has sentenced Dr. Webster to be hung, for a murder, as foul and atrocious, as was ever perpetrated, within the borders of New England. Talents, education, rank aggravate the criminality of the guilty party. "To kill a man, upon sudden and violent resentment, is less penal than upon cool deliberate malice." If there be any substantial reasons, for pardon or commutation of punishment--any new matter, which has not been exhibited, before the court and jury--those reasons will be duly weighed--that matter will be gravely considered, by the Governor and Council. But, if the objections to the execution of the sentence, upon the present occasion, rest upon any imaginary misdirection, on the part of the Court, or any misunderstanding, on the part of the jury, those objections must be unavailing. After a careful comparison of the evidence, in the case of Dr. Webster, with the evidence, in the case of Jason Fairbanks, who was executed, for the murder of Betsy Fales, the _concatena_--the chain of circumstances--seems even less perfect in the latter case. Yet, after sentence, in that memorable trial, Chief Justice Dana, who sat in judgment, upon that occasion, was reported to have said, that he believed Fairbanks to be the murderer, more firmly, upon the evidence before the court, than he should have believed the very same thing, upon the evidence of his own eyesight, in a cloudy day--the first could not have deceived him--the latter might. If an application, for pardon or commutation, be grounded, on the objection to all capital punishment, that objection has been too recently disposed of, in the case of Washington Goode. The majesty of the law, the peace of society, the decree of Almighty God call for impartial justice--WHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED! With the eye of mercy turned upon all--aye upon all--who have any relation to the murderer, the better course is Christian submission to the decrees of God and man. What may be the value of a few more years of misery and contempt! God's high decree, that the murderer shall die, is merciful and just. His judgment upon Cain was far more severe--not that he should die--but _that he should live_!--that he should walk the earth, and wear the brand of terrible distinction forever--"_And now thou art cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be upon the earth. And Cain said unto the Lord, my punishment is greater than I can bear. Behold thou hast driven me out, this day, from the face of the earth; and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. And the Lord said unto him, therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him seven fold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any one finding him should slay him._" No. LXXXVII. It may be said of a proud, poor man--especially, if he be a fearless, godless man, as Dirk Hatteraick said of himself, to Glossin--that he is "_dangerous_." It is quite probable, there are men, even in our own limited community, of an hundred and thirty thousand souls, who would rather die an easy death, than signify abroad their inability to maintain, any longer, their expensive relations to the fashionable world. What will not such a man occasionally do, rather than submit gracefully, under such a trial, to the will of God? He will beg, and he will borrow--he will lie, and he will steal. Is there a crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, which he will not, occasionally, perpetrate, if its consummation be likely to save him from a confession of his poverty, and from ceasing to fill his accustomed niche, in the _beau monde_? Not one--_no, not one_! Well may we, who profess to be Republicans, adopt the wisdom and the words of Montesquieu--"_The less luxury there is in a Republic, the more it is perfect. * * * * Republics end with luxury._" A significant illustration of these remarks will readily occur, to every reader of American History, in the conduct and character of Benedict Arnold. Among the dead, who, with their own hands, have prepared themselves graves of infamy, there are men of elevated rank, who have made shipwreck of the fairest hopes, in a similar manner. But, far in advance of them all, Arnold is entitled to a terrible preëminence. The last turn of the screw crushes the victim--it is the last feather, say the Bedouins, that breaks the camel's back--and the train, which has been in gradual preparation for many years, may be exploded, in an instant, by a very little spark, at last. There are periods, in the lives of certain individuals, when, upon the approach of minor troubles--baleful stars, doubtless, but of the third or fourth magnitude--it may be said, as Rochefoucault said of the calamities of our friends, that there is something in them, not particularly disagreeable to us. A man, whose afflictions, especially when self-induced, are chafing, at every turn, against his already lacerated pride, and who is seeking some apology, for deeds of desperation, often discovers, with a morbid satisfaction, in some petty offence, or imaginary wrong, ample excuse, for deeds, absolutely damnable. Such were the influences, at work, in the case of Benedict Arnold. In 1780, in obedience to the sentence of a court martial, he was reprimanded by the Commander-in-Chief; but in terms so highly complimentary, that it is impossible to read them, without a doubt, whether this official reprimand were a crown of thorns, or a crown of glory. At that very time, Arnold's pecuniary embarrassments were overwhelming. Without the rightful means of supporting a one-horse chaise, he rattled up and down, in the city of Philadelphia, in a chariot and four. The splendid mansion, which he occupied, had, in former times, been the residence of the Penns. Here he gave a sumptuous repast to the French ambassador, and entertained the minister and his suite, for several days. Hunger, it is said, will break through stone walls; even this is a feeble illustration of that force and energy, which characterized Arnold's _passion_ for parade. To support his career of unparalleled extravagance and folly, he resorted to stratagems, which would have been contemptible, in a broker of the lowest grade--petty traffic and huckstering speculation--the sale of permits, to do certain things, absolutely forbidden--such were among the last, miserable shifts of this "brave, wicked" man, when his conscience came between the antagonist muscles of poverty and pride. For some of these very offences, he had been condemned, by the court martial. Even then, he had secretly become, at heart, a scoundrel and a renegade; and, covertly, under a feigned name, had already tendered his services to the enemy. The sentence of the court, sheer justice, but so graciously mingled with mercy, as scarcely to wear the aspect of punishment, supplied him with the very thing he coveted--a pretence, for complaining of injustice and oppression. He sought the French ambassador; and, after a plain allusion to his own needy condition, shadowed forth, in language, not to be mistaken, his willingness to become the secret servant of France. The prompt reply of the French minister is of record, most honorable for himself, and sufficiently humiliating to the spirit of the applicant. The result is before the world--Arnold became a traitor, detested by those, whose cause he had forsaken, and utterly despised by those, whose cause he affected to espouse--trusted by them, only, because they well knew he might safely be employed against an enemy, who would deal with him, if captured, not as a prisoner of war, but as a traitor. I have, thus briefly, alluded to the career of Arnold, only for the purpose of illustration. No truth is more simple--none more firmly established by experience--none more universally disregarded--than, that the growth of luxury must work the overthrow of a republic. As the largest masses are made up of the smallest particles, so the characteristic luxury of a whole people consists of individual extravagance and folly. The ambition to be foremost becomes, ere long, the ruling, and almost universal, passion--in still stronger language, "_it is all the rage_." In a certain condition of society, talent takes precedence of virtue, and men would rather be called knaves than fools: and, where luxury abounds, as the poorer and the middling classes will imitate the wealthier, there must be a large amount of indebtedness, and many men and women of desperate fortunes. We cannot strut about, in unpaid-for garments, nor ride about, in unpaid-for chariots, nor gather the world together, to admire unpaid-for furniture, without an inward sense of personal degradation. It would be a poor compliment to our race, to deny the truth of this assertion. True or false, the argument goes steadily forward--for, if not true, then that callous, case-hardened condition of the heart exists, which takes off all care for the common weal, and turns it entirely upon one's self, and one's own aggrandizement. Nothing can be more destructive of that feeling of independence, which ever lies, at the bottom of republican virtue. This condition of things is the very hot-bed of hypocrisy,--and it makes the heart a forcing-house, for all the evil and bitter passions, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Pastors, of all denominations, may well unite, in the chorus of the churchman's prayer, and cry aloud--_Good Lord deliver us!_ A very fallacious and mischievous estimate of personal array, equipage, and furniture has always given wonderful preëminence to this species of emulation. It is perfectly natural withal. Distinction, of some sort, is uppermost, in most men's minds. It is comforting to many to know there is a _tapis_--"_the field of the cloth of gold_"--on which the wealthy fool is more than a match, for the poor, wise man; and, as this world contains such an overwhelming majority of the former class, the ayes have it, and luxury holds on, _vires acquirens eundo_. None but an idiot will cavil, because a rich man adorns his mansion, with elegance and taste, and receives his friends in a style of liberal hospitality. Even if he go beyond the bounds of republican simplicity, and waste his substance, it matters not, beyond the circle of his creditors and heirs; if the example be not followed by thousands, who are unable, or unwilling, to be edified, by �sop's pleasant fable of the ox and the frog. But it never can be thus. The machinery is exceedingly simple, in these manufactories, from which men of broken fortunes are annually turned out upon the world. When once involved in the whirl of fashion, extrication is difficult and painful--the descent is wonderfully easy--_sed revocare gradum_! The maniac hugs not his fetters, more forcibly, than the devotee of fashion clings, with the assistance, occasionally, of his better half, to his _position in society_. These remarks are, by no means, exclusively applicable to those, who move in the higher circles. This is a world of gradation, and there are few so humble, as to be entirely without their imitators. What shall we do to be saved? This anxious inquiry is not always offered, I apprehend, in relation to the concerns of a better world. How often, and how oppressively, the spirit of this interrogatory has agitated the bosom of the impoverished man of fashion! What shall I do to be saved, from the terrible disgrace of being exposed, in the court of fashion, as being guilty of the awful crime of _poverty_, and disfranchised, as one of the _beau monde_? And what will he not do, to work out this species of salvation, with fear and trembling? We have seen how readily, under the influence of pride and poverty, treason may be committed by men of lofty standing. It would be superfluous, therefore, to inquire, if there be any crime, which men, heavily oppressed by their embarrassments, and restrained thereby, from drinking more deeply of that luxury, with which they are already drunk, will hesitate to commit. No. LXXXVIII. There is a popular notion, that sumptuary laws are applicable to monarchies--not to republics. The very reverse is the truth. Montesquieu says, Spirit of Laws, book vii. ch. 4, that "_luxury is extremely proper for monarchies, and that, under this government, there should be no sumptuary laws_." Sumptuary laws are looked upon, at present, as the relics of an age gone by. These laws, in a strict sense, are designed to restrain pecuniary extravagance. It has often been attempted to stigmatize the wholesome, prohibitory laws of the several States, in regard to the sale of intoxicating liquor, by calling them _sumptuary laws_. The distinction is clear--sumptuary laws strike at the root of extravagance--the prohibitory, license laws, as they are called, strike, not only at the root of extravagance, but at the root of every crime, in the decalogue. The _leges sumptuariæ_ of Rome were numerous. The Locrian law limited the number of guests, and the Fannian law the expense, at festivals. The Didian law extended the operation of all these laws over Italy. The laws of the Edwards III., and IV., and of Henry VIII., against shoes with long points, short doublets, and long coats, were not repealed, till the first year of James I. Camden says, that, "in the time of Henry IV., it was proclaimed, that no man should wear shoes, above six inches broad, at the toes." He also states, "that their other garments were so short, that it was enacted, 25 Edward IV., that no person, under the condition of a lord, should wear any mantle or gown, unless of such length, that, standing upright, it might cover his buttocks." Diodorus Siculus, lib. xii. cap. 20, gives an amusing account of the sumptuary laws of Zeleucus, king of the Locrians. His design appears to have been to accomplish his object, by casting ridicule upon those practices, against which his laws were intended to operate. He decreed, that no free woman should have more than one maid to follow her, unless she was drunk; nor should she stir out of the city by night, nor wear jewels of gold, or an embroidered gown, unless she was a professed strumpet. No men, but ruffians, were allowed to wear gold rings, nor to be seen, in one of those effeminate vests of the manufacture of Miletum. The very best code of sumptuary laws is that, which may be found in the common sense of an enlightened community. Nothing, that I have ever met with, upon this subject, appears more just, than the sentiments of Michael De Montaigne, vol. i. ch. 43--"The true way would be to beget in men a contempt of silks and gold, as vain and useless; whereas we add honor and value to them, which sure is a very improper way to create disgust. For to enact, that none but princes shall eat turbot, nor wear velvet or gold lace, and interdict these things to the people, what is it, but to bring them into greater esteem, and to set every one more agog to eat and wear them?" No truth has been more amply demonstrated, than that a republic has more to fear from internal than from external causes--less from foreign foes, than from enemies of its own household. To the ears of those, who have not reflected upon the subject, it may sound like the croaking note of some ill boding _ab ilice cornix_--but I look upon extravagant parade, and princely furniture of foreign manufacture, the introduction of courtly customs, transatlantic servants in livery, _et id genus omne nugarum_, as so many premonitory symptoms of national evil--as part and parcel of that luxury, which may justly be called the gangrene of a republic. But does any one seriously fear, that an extravagant fandango, now and then, will lead to revolution, or produce a change in our political institutions? Probably not. But it will provoke a spirit of rivalry--of emulation, not unmingled with bitterness, and which will cost many an aspirant a great deal more, than he can afford. It will lead the community to turn their dwellings into baby houses, and to gather vast assemblies together, not for the rational purposes of social intercourse, but for the purpose of exhibiting their costly toys and imported baubles. It will tend to harden the heart; and render us more and more insensible to the cries of the poor; for whose keen occasions we cannot afford one dollar, having, just then, perhaps, invested a thousand, in some glittering absurdity. It will, ultimately, produce numerous examples of poverty, and fill the community with desperate men. The line of distinction, between the liberality of a patrician and the flashy, offensive ostentation of a parvenu, at Rome, or at Athens, was as readily perceived, as the difference between the manners of a gentleman, and those of a clown. Every rank of society, like the troubled sea, casts forth upon the strand, from year to year, its full proportion of wrecked adventurers--men, who have gone beyond their depth; lived beyond their means; and who cherish no care, _ne quid detrimenti Respublica caperet_; but, on the contrary, who are quite ready for oligarchy, or monarchy; and some of whom would prefer even anarchy, to their present condition of obscurity and poverty. Law and order are of the first importance to every proprietor; for, on their preservation, the security of his property depends; but they are of no importance to those, who are thus, virtually, denationalized, through impoverishment, produced by a career of luxury. Such, if not already the component elements of Empire clubs, are always useless, and often dangerous men. It was a well known saying of Jefferson's, that _great cities_ were _great sores_. "In proportion," says Montesquieu, "to the populousness of towns, the inhabitants are filled with notions of vanity, and actuated by an ambition of distinguishing themselves, by trifles. If they are very numerous, and most of them strangers to one another, their vanity redoubles, because there are greater hopes of success." According to the apothegm of Franklin, it is the eyes of others, and not our own, that destroy us. "Every body agrees," says Mandeville in his Fable of the Bees, i. 98, "that, as to apparel and manner of living, we ought to behave ourselves suitable to our conditions, and follow the example of the most sensible and prudent, among our equals in rank and fortune; yet how few, that are not either universally covetous, or else proud of singularity, have this discretion to boast of? We all look above ourselves, and, as fast as we can, strive to imitate those that, some way or other, are superior to us." "The poorest laborer's wife in the parish, who scorns to wear a strong wholesome frize, will half starve herself and her husband, to purchase a second-hand gown and petticoat, that cannot do her half the service, because, forsooth, it is more genteel. The weaver, the shoemaker, the tailor, the barber, has the impudence, with the first money he gets, to dress himself like a tradesman of substance; the ordinary retailer, in the clothing of his wife, takes pattern from his neighbor, that deals in the same commodity by wholesale, and the reason he gives for it is, that, twelve years ago, the other had not a bigger shop than himself. The druggist, mercer, and draper, can find no difference, between themselves and merchants, and therefore dress and live like them. The merchant's lady, who cannot bear the assurance of those mechanics, flies for refuge to the other end of the town, and scorns to follow any fashion, but what she takes from thence. This haughtiness alarms the court--the women of quality are frightened to see merchants' wives and daughters dressed like themselves. This impudence of the city, they cry, is intolerable; mantua-makers are sent for; and the contrivance of fashions becomes all their study, that they may have always new modes ready to take up, as soon as those saucy cits shall begin to imitate those in being. The same emulation is contrived through the several degrees of quality, to an incredible expense; till, at last, the prince's great favorites, and those of the first rank, having nothing else left, to outstrip some of their inferiors, are forced to lay out vast estates in pompous equipages, magnificent furniture, sumptuous gardens, and princely palaces." Like an accommodating almanac, the description of Mandeville is applicable to other meridians, than that, for which it was especially designed. The history of all, that passes in the bosom of a proud man, unrestrained by fixed religious and moral principles, during his transition from affluence to poverty, must be a very edifying history. With such an individual the fear of God is but a pack-thread, against the unrelaxing, antagonist muscle of pride. The only _Hades_, of which he has any dread, is that abyss of obscurity and poverty, in which a man is condemned to abide, who falls from his high estate, among the upper ten thousand. What plans, what projects, what infernal stratagems occasionally bubble up, in the overheated crucible! Magnanimity, and honor, and humanity, and justice are unseen--unfelt. The dust of self-interest has blinded his eyes--the pride of life has hardened his heart. If the energies of such men are not mischievously employed, they are, at best, utterly lost to the community. No. LXXXIX. I noticed, in a late, English paper, a very civil apology from Sheriff Calcraft, for not hanging Sarah Thomas, at Bristol, as punctually as he ought, on account of a similar engagement, with another lady, at Norwich. The hanging business seems to be _looking up_ with us, as the traders say of their cotton and molasses; though, in England, it has fallen off prodigiously. According to Stowe, seventy-two thousand persons were executed there, in one reign, that of Henry VIII. That, however, was a long reign, of thirty-eight years. Between 1820 and 1830, there were executed, in England alone, seven hundred and ninety-seven convicts. But we must remember, for what trifles men were formerly executed _there_, which _here_ were at no time, capital offences. According to authentic records, the decrease of executions in London, since 1820, is very remarkable. Haydn, in his Dictionary of Universal Reference, p. 205, gives the ratio of nine years, as follows--1820, 43--1825, 17--1830, 6--1835, none--1836, none--1837, 2--1838, none--1839, 2--1840, 1. There is a solution for this riddle--a key to this _lock_, which many readers may find it rather difficult to pick, without assistance. Before the first year, named by Haydn, 1820, Sir Samuel Romilly, who fell, by his own hand, in a fit of temporary derangement, in 1818, occasioned by the death of his wife, had published--not long before--his admirable pamphlet, urging a revision of the criminal code, and a limitation of capital punishment. In consequence of his exertions, and of those of Sir James Mackintosh afterwards, and more recently of Sir Robert Peel and others, a great change had taken place, _in the mode of punishment_. _Crime had not diminished_, in London--it was _differently dealt with_. I advise the reader, who desires light, upon this highly important and interesting subject, to read, with care, the entire article, from which I transcribe the following short passage-- "_The enormous number of our transported convicts--five thousand annually, for many years past--accompanied, at the same time, with a large increase of crime in general, would seem, prima facie, to be no very conclusive argument, in favor of the efficiency of the present system._" Ed. Rev., v. 86, p. 257, 1847. "WHAT SHALL BE DONE WITH OUR CRIMINALS?" Such is the caption of the able article, to which I refer. Lord Grey, and the most eminent statesmen of Great Britain have been terribly perplexed, by this awful interrogatory.--Well: _we_ are a very great people.--Dr. Omnibus, Squire Farrago, and Mrs. Negoose have no difficulty upon this point; and there is some thought in our society, of sending out Mrs. Negoose, in the next steamer, to have a conference with Lord Brougham. Lord Grey's plan was, after a short penitentiary confinement, to distribute the malefactors, among their own colonies, and among such other nations, as might be willing to receive them. Sending them to Canada, therefore, would be sending them, pretty directly, to the States. Dr. Omnibus is greatly surprised, that Lord Grey has never thought of building prisons of sufficient capacity to hold them all, since there are no more than five thousand transported, per annum, in addition to those, who have become tenants of prisons, for crimes, which are yet capital, in England, and for crimes, whose penalty is less than transportation. It seems to be the opinion of the writer in the Edinburgh Review, whom I last quoted, that, under the anti-capital punishment system, there has been "_a large increase of crime in general_." This he states _as a fact_. Facts are stubborn things--so are Mrs. Negoose--Dr. Omnibus--and Squire Farrago. They contend, that our habits of life and education, and the great difference of our political institutions entirely nullify the British example. They show, with great appearance of truth, that the perpetrators of murder, rape, and other crimes, in our own country, are more religiously brought up, than the perpetrators of similar crimes, in Great Britain. The statistics, on this point, are curious and interesting. They present an imposing array of educated laymen, physicians, lawyers, bishops, priests, deacons, ruling elders, professors, and candidates, in the United States, who have been tried, for various crimes, by civil or ecclesiastical courts; deposed, or acquitted, on purely technical grounds; or sentenced to imprisonment, for a shorter or longer term, or to the gallows, and duly executed. Now we contend, that the ignorant felon, and such he is apt to be, in all countries, where there is but little diffusion of knowledge, and especially of religious knowledge, when again let loose upon the community, whether by a full pardon, or by serving out his term, returns, commonly, to his evil courses, as surely as the dog to his vomit, or the sow to her wallowing in the mire. But we find, that men of talent and education, and particularly men, who have figured, as preachers, and professors of religion, who commit any crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, become objects of incalculably deeper and stronger interest, with a certain portion of the community--after they repent, of course--which they invariably do, in an inconceivably short space of time. Thus, when strong liquor, and lust, and prelatical arrogance turn bishops, priests, and deacons, into brutes, and prodigals, and sometimes into murderers, they, _invariably_, excite an interest, which they never could have excited, by preaching their very best, to the end of their lives. I have sometimes thought, that, in the matter of temperance, for which I cherish a cordial respect, a lecturer, as the performer is called, though the thing is not precisely an abstract science, cannot do a better thing, for himself and the cause, when he finds, that he is wearing out his welcome with the public, than to get pretty notoriously drunk. Depend upon it, he will come forth, purified from the furnace. He will take a new departure, for his temperance voyage. His deep-wrought penitence will enlist a very large part of the army of cold-water men, in his favor. A small sizzle will be of no use; but the drunker he gets, the more marvellous the hand of God will appear, in his restoration. From these considerations, our Anti-Punishment Society reason onward, to the following conclusions: that, whatever the penalty imposed may be, deposition, imprisonment, or death, it is all wrong, radically wrong. For, thereby, the community is deprived, for a time, or forever, of the services of a true penitent. They all become penitent, if a little time be allowed, or they are persecuted innocents, which is better still. Besides, how audacious, for mere mortals to lessen the sum total of joy, among the immortals! As religious men, who, when _misguided_, commit rape or murder, invariably repent, if there is any prospect of pardon; hanging may be supposed, in many cases, to prevent that great joy, which exists in Heaven--rather more than ninety-nine per cent.--over one sinner that repenteth. To be convicted of some highly disgraceful or atrocious crime, or to be acquitted, upon some technical ground, though logically convicted, in the impartial chancel of wise and good men's minds, is not such a terrible thing, after all, for a vivacious bishop, priest, or deacon; provided, in the former case, he can contrive to escape the penalty. Such an one is sometimes more sure of a parish, than a candidate, of superior talents, and unspotted reputation. It is manifest, therefore, that a serious injury is done to society, by shutting up, for any great length of time, these penitent, misguided murderers, ravishers, &c., and, especially, by hanging them by the neck, till they are dead. This phrase, _hanging by the neck, till they are dead_, imports something more, than some readers are aware of. It was not uncommon, in former times, for culprits to come--_usque ad_--to the gallows, and be there pardoned, with the halter about their necks. Occasionally, also, criminals were actually hung, the halter having been so mercifully adjusted, as not to break their necks, and then cut down, and pardoned. Of thirty-two gentlemen, traitors, who were taken, in the reign of Henry VI., 1447, after Gloucester's death, five were drawn to Tyburn on a hurdle, hanged, cut down alive, marked with a knife for quartering, and then spared, upon the exhibition of a pardon. This matter is related, in Rymer's Foedera, xi. 178; also by Stowe, and by Rapin, Lond. ed. 1757, iv. 441. We are a cruel people. Our phraseology has become softened, but our practice is merciless, and our lawgivers are Dracos, to a man. When a poor fellow, urged by an impulse, which he cannot resist, seizes upon the wife or the daughter of some unlucky citizen, commits a rape upon her person, and then takes her life to save his own--and what can be more natural, for all that a man hath will he give for his life--with great propriety, we call this poor fellow a _misguided man_. This is as it should be. He certainly committed a mistake. No doubt of it. But are we not all liable to mistakes? We call him a _misguided man_, which is a more Christian phrase than to say, in the coarser language of the law, that he was _instigated by the devil_. But, nevertheless, we hang this _misguided_ man by the neck, till he is dead. How absurd! How unjust! A needy wanderer of the night breaks into the house of some rich, old gentleman; robs his dwelling; breaks his skull, _ex abundanti cautela_; and sets fire to the tenement; thus combining burglary, murder, and arson. He well knew, that ignorance was bliss; and that the neighborhood would be happier, in the belief, that accident was at the bottom of it all, than that such enormities had been committed, in their midst. Instead of calling this individual, by all the hard names in an indictment, we charitably style him an _unfortunate person_--provided he is caught and convicted--if not, he deems himself a _lucky fellow_, of course. Now, can anything be more barbarous, than to hang this _unfortunate person_, upon a gallows! A desperate debtor rouses the indignation of a disappointed creditor, by selling to another, as unincumbered, the very property, which had been transferred, as collateral security, to himself. Irritated by the creditor's reproaches, and alarmed by his menaces of public exposure, the debtor decides to escape, from these compound embarrassments, by taking the life of his pursuer. He affects to be prepared for payment; and summons the creditor, to meet him, at a _convenient_ place, where he is _quite at home_, and at a _convenient_ hour, when he is _quite alone--bringing with him the evidences of the debt_. He kills this troublesome creditor. He is suspected--arrested--charged with murder--indicted--tried--defended, as ably as he can be, by honorable men, oppressed by the consciousness of their client's guilt--and finally convicted. He made no attempt, by inventing a tale of angry words and blows, to merge this murder, in a case of manslaughter: for, before his arrest, and when he fancied himself beyond the circle of suspicion, he had _framed the tale_, and reduced it to writing, in the form of a brief, portable memorandum, found upon his person. _He had paid the creditor, who hastily grasped the money and departed--returning to perform the unusual office of dashing out the debtor's name from a note delivered up, on payment, into the debtor's possession!_ Thus he cut short all power to fabricate a case of manslaughter. Why charge such a man with _malice prepense_? Why say, that he was _instigated by the devil_? Not so; he was an _unfortunate, misguided, unhappy_ man. And yet the judges, with perfect unanimity, have sentenced this unhappy man to be hanged! The liberties of the people appear to be in danger; and it is deeply to be deplored, that those gentlemen of various crafts, who are sufficiently at leisure, to sit in judgment, upon the judges themselves, have not appellate jurisdiction, in these high matters, with power to invoke the assistance of the Widow's society, or some other male, or female, auxiliary _ne sutor ultra crepidam_ society. 
33524	----	file was made using scans of public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital Libraries.) THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY VOL. II MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AND THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD BY SIR JAMES GEORGE FRAZER, F.R.S., F.B.A. FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE HON. D.C.L., OXFORD; HON. LITT.D., CAMBRIDGE AND DURHAM; HON. LL.D., GLASGOW; DOCTOR HONORIS CAUSA OF THE UNIVERSITIES OF PARIS AND STRASBOURG VOL. II THE BELIEF AMONG THE POLYNESIANS MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 1922 COPYRIGHT PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN PREFACE The first volume of this work, which comprised the Gifford Lectures given by me at St. Andrews in the years 1911 and 1912, dealt with the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead, as these are found among the aborigines of Australia, the Torres Straits Islands, New Guinea, and Melanesia. In the present volume I take up the subject at the point at which I broke off, and describe the corresponding belief and worship among the Polynesians, a people related to their neighbours the Melanesians by language, if not by blood. The first chapter formed the theme of two lectures delivered at the Royal Institution in 1916; the other chapters have been written for lectures at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1921 and 1922. But in the book the lecture form has been discarded, and the treatment of the subject is somewhat fuller than comports with the limits imposed by oral delivery. Should circumstances allow me to continue the work, I propose in the next volume to treat of the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the Micronesians and Indonesians. J. G. FRAZER. NO. 1 BRICK COURT, TEMPLE, LONDON, _19th July 1922_. CONTENTS PAGES PREFACE v TABLE OF CONTENTS vii-ix CHAP. I. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE MAORIS 1-51 § 1. The Polynesians 1-5 § 2. The Maoris of New Zealand 5-10 § 3. The Beliefs of the Maoris concerning the Souls of the Living 10-19 § 4. The Beliefs of the Maoris concerning the Souls of the Dead 19-37 § 5. Taboo among the Maoris 37-50 § 6. Conclusion 51 II. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE TONGANS 52-147 § 1. The Tonga or Friendly Islands 52-57 § 2. The Tonga Islanders, their Character, Mode of Life, and Government 57-63 § 3. The Tongan Religion: its General Principles 64-68 § 4. The Primary or Non-human Gods 68-73 § 5. The Temples of the Gods 73-77 § 6. Priests and their Inspiration 77-79 § 7. The Worship of the Gods, Prayers, and Sacrifices 79-84 § 8. The Doctrine of the Soul and its Destiny after Death 84-91 § 9. The Souls of the Dead as Gods 91-98 § 10. Temples and Tombs: Megalithic Monuments 99-132 § 11. Rites of Burial and Mourning 132-146 § 12. The Ethical Influence of Tongan Religion 146-147 III. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE SAMOANS 148-218 § 1. The Samoan Islands 148-156 § 2. The Samoan Islanders, their character 156-163 § 3. Houses, Agriculture, and Industries 163-169 § 4. Rights of Property 169-171 § 5. Government, Social Ranks, Respect for Chiefs 171-181 § 6. Religion: Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts 181-192 § 7. Priests and Temples 192-200 § 8. Origin of the Samoan Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts: Relation to Totemism 200-202 § 9. The High Gods of Samoa 202-205 § 10. The Samoan Belief concerning the Human Soul: Funeral Customs 205-213 § 11. The Fate of the Human Soul after Death 213-218 IV. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE HERVEY ISLANDERS 219-245 § 1. The Hervey or Cook Islands 219-220 § 2. The Islanders and their Mode of Life 220-223 § 3. Social Life: the Sacred Kings 223-225 § 4. Religion, the Gods, Traces of Totemism 225-229 § 5. The Doctrine of the Human Soul 229-231 § 6. Death and Funeral Rites 231-237 § 7. The Fate of the Human Soul after Death 238-245 V. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE SOCIETY ISLANDERS 246-327 § 1. The Society Islands 246-248 § 2. The Islanders and their Mode of Life 248-256 § 3. The Religion of the Society Islanders 256-278 § 4. The Temples and Images of the Gods 278-291 § 5. The Sacrifices, Priests, and Sacred Recorders 291-296 § 6. The Doctrine of the Human Soul 297-299 § 7. Disease, Death, and Mourning 299-308 § 8. The Disposal of the Dead 308-313 § 9. The Fate of the Soul after Death 313-321 § 10. The Worship of the Dead 322-327 VI. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE MARQUESANS 328-374 § 1. The Marquesas Islands 328-331 § 2. Physical Appearance of the Natives 331-333 § 3. Food, Weapons, Tools, Houses, Canoes, Fishing 333-337 § 4. Polyandry, Adoption, Exchange of Names 337-339 § 5. Amusements, Dancing-places, Banqueting-halls 339-344 § 6. Social Ranks, Taboo 344-347 § 7. Religion and Mythology 348-352 § 8. The Soul, Death, and Funeral Customs 352-363 § 9. Fate of the Soul after Death 363-374 VII. THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE HAWAIIANS 375-431 § 1. The Sandwich or Hawaiian Islands 375-377 § 2. The Natives and their Mode of Life 377-380 § 3. Houses, Mechanical Arts 380-383 § 4. Government, Social Ranks, Taboo 383-390 § 5. Religion, the Gods 390-404 § 6. Priests, Sorcerers, Diviners 404-406 § 7. Temples, Images, Human Sacrifices 406-414 § 8. Festivals 414-416 § 9. Death and Funeral Rites 417-427 § 10. Fate of the Soul after Death 427-431 INDEX 433-447 CHAPTER I THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE MAORIS § 1. _The Polynesians_ The Polynesians are the tall brown race of men who inhabit the widely scattered islands of the Pacific, from Hawaii on the north to New Zealand on the south, and from Tonga on the west to Easter Island on the east.[1] Down to the eighteenth century they remained practically unknown to Europe; the first navigator to bring back comparatively full and accurate information concerning them was our great English explorer, Captain James Cook. Thus at the date of their discovery the natives were quite unaffected by European influence: of our civilisation they knew nothing: of Christianity, though it had existed in the world for nearly eighteen hundred years, they had never heard: they were totally ignorant of the metals, and had made so little progress in the arts of life that in most of the islands pottery was unknown,[2] and even so simple an invention as that of bows and arrows for use in war had not been thought of.[3] Hence their condition was of great interest to students of the early history of man, since it presented to their observation the spectacle of a barbaric culture evolved from an immemorial past in complete independence of those material, intellectual, and moral forces which have moulded the character of modern European nations. The lateness of their discovery may also be reckoned a fortunate circumstance for us as well as for them, since it fell at a time when scientific curiosity was fully awakened among us, and when scientific methods were sufficiently understood to allow us to study with profit a state of society which differed so widely from our own, and which in an earlier and less enlightened age might have been contemplated only with aversion and disgust. [1] Horatio Hale, _The United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp. 4 _sqq_., 9 _sqq._; J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_ (London, 1900), pp. 500 _sqq._ [2] J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_ (London, 1900), pp. 154, 501; _British Museum, Handbook to the Ethnographical Collections_ (1910), p. 147. [3] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_ (London, 1809), v. 416; W. Mariner, _Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands_, Second Edition (London, 1818), i. 67; W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, Second Edition (London, 1832-1836), i. 220; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, Second Edition (London, 1856), p. 212; J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_, p. 501. In Polynesia "the bow was not a serious weapon; it was found in some islands, _e.g._ in Tahiti and Tonga, but was principally used for killing rats or in shooting matches" (_British Museum, Handbook to the Ethnographical Collections_, p. 153). As to the limited use of bows and arrows in Polynesia, see further E. Tregear, "The Polynesian Bow," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. i. no. 1 (April 1892), pp. 56-59; W. H. R. Rivers, _The History of Melanesian Society_ (Cambridge, 1914), ii. 446 _sqq._ The question of the origin of the Polynesian race is still unsettled, but the balance both of evidence and of probability seems to incline in favour of the view that the people are descended from one of the yellow Mongoloid races of South-Eastern Asia, who gradually spread eastward over the Indian Archipelago and intermingling to some extent with the black aboriginal inhabitants of the islands formed the lighter-tinted brown race which we call the Polynesian.[4] A strong argument in favour of this theory is drawn from the Polynesian language, which belongs essentially to the same family of speech as the Melanesian and Malay languages spoken by the peoples who occupy the islands that intervene between Polynesia and the south-eastern extremity of the Asiatic continent.[5] The black Melanesian race occupies the south-eastern portion of New Guinea and the chain of islands which stretches in a great curve round the north-eastern coasts of New Guinea and Australia. The brown Malays, with the kindred Indonesians and a small admixture of negritoes, inhabit the islands westward from New Guinea to the Malay Peninsula.[6] Of the two kindred languages, the Polynesian and the Melanesian, the older in point of structure appears unquestionably to be the Melanesian; for it is richer both in sounds and in grammatical forms than the Polynesian, which may accordingly be regarded as its later and simplified descendant.[7] [4] Compare (Sir) E. B. Tylor, _Anthropology_ (London, 1881), p. 102; R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesian Languages_ (Oxford, 1885), pp. 33 _sqq._; S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki, the Original Home of the Maori_ (Christchurch, etc., New Zealand, 1910), pp. 85 _sqq._; A. C. Haddon, _The Wanderings of Peoples_ (Cambridge, 1919), pp. 34 _sqq._; A. H. Keane, _Man Past and Present_, revised by A. Hingston-Quiggin and A. C. Haddon (Cambridge, 1920), p. 552. [5] On the affinity of the Polynesian, Melanesian, and Malay languages, see R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesian Languages_ (Oxford, 1885), pp. 10 _sqq._; S. H. Ray, "The Polynesian Language in Melanesia," _Anthropos_, xiv.-xv. (1919-1920), pp. 46 _sqq._ [6] J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_, pp. 482 _sqq._ [7] _Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vol. iii. _Linguistics_, by Sydney H. Ray (Cambridge, 1907), p. 528 (as to the relation of the Polynesian to the Melanesian language). As to the poverty of the Polynesian language in sounds and grammatical forms by comparison with the Melanesian, see R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesian Languages_, p. 11. But whereas the three peoples, the Polynesians, the Melanesians, and the Malays speak languages belonging to the same family, their physical types are so different that it seems impossible to look on the brown straight-haired Polynesians and Malays as pure descendants of the swarthy frizzly-haired Melanesians. Accordingly in the present state of our knowledge, or rather ignorance, the most reasonable hypothesis would appear to be that the Melanesians, who occupy a central position in the great ocean, between the Polynesians on the east and the Malays on the west, represent the original inhabitants of the islands, while the Polynesians and Malays represent successive swarms of emigrants, who hived off from the Asiatic continent, and making their way eastward over the islands partially displaced and partially blent with the aborigines, modifying their own physical type in the process and exchanging their original language for that of the islanders, which, through their inability to assimilate it, they acquired only in corrupt or degenerate forms.[8] Yet a serious difficulty meets us on this hypothesis. For both the Polynesians and the Malays, as we know them, stand at a decidedly higher level of culture, socially and intellectually, than the Melanesians, and it is hard to understand why with this advantage they should have fallen into a position of linguistic subordination to them, for as a rule it is the higher race which imposes its language on its inferiors, not the lower race which succeeds in foisting its speech on its superiors. [8] This seems to be the hypothesis favoured by Dr. R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesian Languages_, pp. 33 _sqq._ Compare J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_, p. 505. On the other hand Sir E. B. Tylor says (_Anthropology_, pp. 163 _sq._), "The parent language of this family may have belonged to Asia, for in the Malay region the grammar is more complex, and words are found like _tasik_ = sea and _langit_ = sky, while in the distant islands of New Zealand and Hawaii these have come down to _tai_ and _lai_, as though the language became shrunk and formless as the race migrated further from home, and sank into the barbaric life of ocean islanders." Dr. W. H. R. Rivers suggests that the Polynesian language "arose out of a pidgin Indonesian" (_The History of Melanesian Society_, ii. 584). But these are intricate questions which await future investigation. I cannot enter into them now, but must confine myself to my immediate subject, the beliefs of the Polynesians concerning the human soul and the life after death. In spite of their diffusion over a multitude of islands separated from each other by hundreds and even thousands of miles of ocean, the Polynesians are on the whole a remarkably homogeneous race in physical type, language, and forms of society and religion. The differences of language between them are inconsiderable, amounting to little more than some well-marked dialectical variations: all dwell in settled homes and subsist partly by fishing partly by the fruits of the earth, tilling the soil and gathering coconuts and bread-fruit from the trees:[9] all are bold and expert mariners, making long voyages in large well-built canoes: all possess a copious and comparatively well developed mythology; and all at the time of their discovery enjoyed, or perhaps we should rather say suffered from, a singular institution, half social, half religious, which may be summed up in the single Polynesian word taboo. Hence it would no doubt be possible to give a general account of the belief in human immortality which would hold good in outline for all the different branches of the Polynesian race; but such an account would necessarily be somewhat meagre, inexact in detail, and liable to many exceptions. Accordingly I shall not attempt it, but shall describe the creed of each group of islanders separately. As the beliefs of the various islanders on this momentous topic are characterised by a general similarity, the method I have adopted will no doubt involve a certain sameness and repetition, but for the serious student of comparative religion I hope that these disadvantages may be more than outweighed by the greater accuracy and fulness of detail which this mode of treating the subject renders possible. [9] J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_, p. 501. On the apparent homogeneity of the Polynesian race see W. H. R. Rivers, _The History of Melanesian Society_ (Cambridge, 1914), ii. 280, who, however, argues (ii. 280 _sqq._) that the race has been formed by the fusion of two distinct peoples. The principal groups of islands included in Polynesia are New Zealand, the Friendly or Tonga Islands, the Samoan or Navigators Islands, the Hervey or Cook Islands, the Society Islands, including Tahiti, the Marquesas Islands, and Hawaii or the Sandwich Islands.[10] All of them, except New Zealand, are within the tropics; and all of them, except Hawaii, lie to the south of the equator. I shall deal with them in the order I have mentioned, beginning with New Zealand. [10] Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp. 4 _sqq._ § 2. _The Maoris of New Zealand_ The Maoris of New Zealand are not aborigines of the islands which they inhabit: they possess long and apparently in the main trustworthy traditions of their migration to New Zealand many generations ago. The circumstances which led to the migration, the names of the canoes in which it was accomplished, the names and genealogies of the chiefs who conducted it, are all recorded, having been handed on by word of mouth from generation to generation, till they were finally written down from the lips of the natives by English enquirers.[11] The place from which the Maoris came is unanimously designated as Hawaiki, an island or group of islands lying far to the north or north-east of New Zealand. Among English scholars there is some difference of opinion whether Hawaiki is to be identified with Hawaii, that is, the Sandwich Islands, or with Savaii, one of the Samoan or Navigators Islands, since Hawaii and Savaii are both dialectical variations of the New Zealander's pronunciation of Hawaiki.[12] Though Hawaii is more than twice as far as Savaii from New Zealand, being separated from it by almost the whole breadth of the tropics and a great stretch of ocean besides, some good authorities have inclined to regard it as the original home of the Maoris, but the balance of opinion appears now to preponderate in favour of the view that Savaii was the centre from which the Polynesians dispersed all over the Pacific.[13] However, the question is one that hardly admits of a positive answer. [11] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_ (London, 1843), ii. 85 _sqq._; Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp. 146 _sqq._; Sir George Grey, _Polynesian Mythology_ (London, 1855), pp. 123 _sqq._, 136 _sqq._, 162 _sqq._, 202 _sqq._; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, Second Edition (London, 1856), pp. 1 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, Second Edition (London, 1870), pp. 26, 27, 289 _sqq._; John White, _The Ancient History of the Maori, his Mythology and Traditions_ (London, 1887-1889), ii. 176 _sqq._; Elsdon Best, "The Peopling of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) pp. 73-76. The number of generations which have elapsed since the migration to New Zealand is variously estimated. Writing about the middle of the nineteenth century Shortland reckoned the number at about eighteen; Mr. Elsdon Best, writing in 1914, variously calculated it at about twenty-eight or twenty-nine (on p. 73) and from eighteen to twenty-eight (on p. 74). [12] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 33. [13] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the U.S. Exploring Expedition_, pp. 119 _sq._; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_ (London, 1843), ii. 85 _sqq._; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 33 _sqq._; A. S. Thomson, _The Story of New Zealand_ (London, 1859), i. 57 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 26; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_ (Wellington, N.Z., 1891), pp. 56 _sqq._, _s.v._ "Hawaiki"; A. C. Haddon, _The Wanderings of Peoples_ (Cambridge, 1919), p. 36. Of these writers, Dieffenbach, Shortland, and Taylor decide in favour of Hawaii; Thomson, Hale, and Haddon prefer Savaii; Tregear seems to leave the question open, pointing out that "the inhabitants of those islands themselves believe in another Hawaiki, neither in Samoa nor Hawaii." The Maoris are not a pure-blooded Polynesian race. Among them even at the present day two distinct racial types may be distinguished, one of them the comparatively fair Polynesian type with straight nose and good features, the other the swarthy, thick-lipped, flat-nosed, frizzly-haired Melanesian type. They have a tradition that on their arrival in New Zealand they found the country in the possession of a dark-skinned folk of repulsive appearance, tall, spare, and spindle-shanked, with flat faces, overhanging brows, and noses of which little but the upturned nostrils could in some cases be discerned. These savages wore little clothing and built no good houses, nothing but rude shelters against the inclemency of the weather. They were ignorant and treacherous, and the Maoris regarded them with dislike and contempt; but their women looked with favour on the handsome Maori men, and a mixture of the two races was the result. This tradition both explains and is confirmed by the two different racial types which still exist side by side or blent together among the Maoris. It seems, therefore, highly probable that before the advent of the Maoris the North Island of New Zealand was occupied by a people of inferior culture belonging to the Melanesian stock, who may themselves have had a strain of Polynesian blood in their veins and some Polynesian words in their language. This at least is suggested by some features in the Maori traditions about them. For these savages told the Maoris that they were the descendants of the crews of three fishing canoes which had been driven to sea from their own land in past times, and that their original home was a much warmer country than New Zealand. All these various indications may perhaps be reconciled by supposing that the dark predecessors of the Maoris in New Zealand were a Melanesian people, who had accidentally drifted from Fiji, the inhabitants of which have long been in contact with their Polynesian neighbours on the east, the Tongans.[14] They received from the Maoris the name of Maruiwi,[15] and were perhaps of the same stock as the Moriori of the Chatham Islands; for two skulls of the Moriori type have been found in an old deposit at Wanganui, near the south end of the North Island of New Zealand.[16] [14] Elsdon Best, "The Peopling of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) pp. 73-76. The Melanesian strain in the Maoris was recognised by previous writers. See J. S. Polack, _Manners and Customs of the New Zealanders_ (London, 1840), i. 6, "The nation consists of two aboriginal and distinct races, differing, at an earlier period, as much from each other as both are similarly removed in similitude from Europeans. A series of intermarriages for centuries has not even yet obliterated the marked difference that originally stamped the descendant of the now amalgamated races. The first may be known by a dark-brown complexion, well formed and prominent features, erect muscular proportions, and lank hair, with a boldness in the gait of a warrior, wholly differing from that of the second and inferior race, who have a complexion brown-black, hair inclining to the wool, like the Eastern African, stature short, and skin exceeding soft." The writer rightly connects the latter people with the stock which we now call Melanesian. Compare also R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 13 _sqq._, who says (p. 13), "The Melanesian preceded the Polynesian.... The remains of this race are to be seen in every part of New Zealand, especially among the Nga-ti-ka-hunu, to which the derisive name of Pokerekahu--Black Kumara--is applied. The Maori traditions preserve both the names of the canoes which brought them to New Zealand, as well as of the chiefs who commanded them; several of these records make mention of their having found this black race in occupation of the country on their arrival." The blending of two distinct races, a light-brown and a dark race, among the Maoris is clearly recognised by E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 8-11. The dark race, he says (pp. 9 _sq._), "has undoubtedly a different origin. This is proved by their less regularly shaped cranium, which is rather more compressed from the sides, by their full and large features, prominent cheek-bones, full lips, small ears, curly and coarse, although not woolly, hair, a much deeper colour of the skin, and a short and rather ill-proportioned figure. This race, which is mixed in insensible gradations with the former, is far less numerous; it does not predominate in any one part of the island, nor does it occupy any particular station in a tribe, and there is no difference made between the two races amongst themselves; but I must observe that I never met any man of consequence belonging to this race, and that, although free men, they occupy the lower grades; from this we may perhaps infer the relation in which they stood to the earliest native immigrants into the country, although their traditions and legends are silent on the subject." [15] Elsdon Best, "The Peopling of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) pp. 73 _sq._ [16] (Sir) Arthur Keith, "Moriori in New Zealand," _Man_, xiii. (1913) pp. 171 _sq._ At the time of their discovery the Maoris had attained to a fair level of barbaric culture. They lived in comfortable houses ornamented with carved work and with scrolls painted in red and white on the posts and beams. Their villages were fortified with earthworks, palisades, and trenches, and surrounded by large gardens planted with sweet potatoes, taro, and melons.[17] "They excel in tillage," says Captain Cook, as might naturally be expected, where the person that sows is to eat the produce, and where there is so little besides that can be eaten: when we first came to Tegadoo, a district between Poverty Bay and East Cape, their crops were just covered, and not yet begun to sprout; the mould was as smooth as in a garden, and every root had its small hillock, ranged in a regular quincunx, by lines, which with the pegs were still remaining in the field.[18] They understood the arts of irrigating their gardens[19] and of manuring them so as to render the soil light and porous and therefore better suited for the growth of the sweet potato, their favourite food. For this purpose they used sand, and in the Waikatoo district, where the root was formerly much cultivated, deep excavations, like the gravel pits of England, may still be seen, from which the natives extracted sand to fertilise their gardens.[20] Moreover, they cultivated various species of native flax and used the fibre for the manufacture of garments, first scraping it and drying it in the sun, then steeping it in water, and afterwards beating it with wooden mallets. Thus prepared the flax was dyed black or reddish brown and woven into cloth with broad borders of neat and varied patterns. The stronger and coarser fibres were made into string, lines, and cordage of all sorts.[21] The Maoris also built large and magnificently adorned canoes,[22] in which they made long voyages; for example, they invaded and conquered the Chatham Islands, which lie to the eastward across the open sea about five hundred miles distant from the nearest coast of New Zealand.[23] In hunting they had little opportunity to shine, for the simple reason that in their country there were no beasts to hunt except rats;[24] even birds they could not shoot, because they had no bows and arrows to shoot them with,[25] but they made some amends by catching them in ingeniously constructed snares.[26] They caught fish both with nets, some of which were of enormous size, and with hooks made of bone or shell.[27] They displayed great skill and infinite patience in fashioning, sharpening, and polishing their stone implements and weapons.[28] In council they were orators, and in the battlefield warriors whose courage has merited the respect, and whose military skill has won the admiration of the British troops opposed to them.[29] In short, the Maoris were and are one of the most highly gifted among the many uncivilised peoples which the English race, in its expansion over the world, has met and subdued. It is therefore of peculiar interest to learn what conceptions they had formed of man's spiritual nature and his relations to the higher powers. [17] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the Maoris_, p. 202. The elaborate system of fortification employed by the Maoris, of which the remains may be seen by thousands, seems to have no exact parallel in Polynesia. See Elsdon Best, "The Peopling of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) p. 75. These native forts or _pas_, as they were called, had often a double or even quadruple line of fence, the innermost formed by great poles twenty or thirty feet high, which were tightly woven together by the fibrous roots of a creeper. They were built by preference on hills, the sides of which were scarped and terraced to assist the defence. Some of them were very extensive and are said to have contained from one to two thousand inhabitants. Many of them were immensely strong and practically impregnable in the absence of artillery. It is believed that the habit of fortifying their villages was characteristic of the older race whom the Maoris, on landing in New Zealand, found in occupation of the country. See W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_ (London, 1835), pp. 122 _sqq._; G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_ (London, 1847), i. 332 _sq._; Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maoris of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xii. no. 4 (December 1903), pp. 204 _sqq._; W. H. Skinner, "The Ancient Fortified _Pa_," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xx. no. 78 (June 1911), pp. 71-77. [18] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_ (London, 1809), ii. 50. [19] The ruins of native irrigation works are to be found in New Zealand as well as in other parts of Polynesia (J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_, p. 501). [20] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 202 _sq._ [21] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, ii. 30 _sq._, 40 _sq._; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_ (London, 1835), pp. 157 _sqq._; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 204 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 5. [22] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, ii. 47 _sq._; W. Yate, _op. cit._ pp. 161 _sqq._ [23] A. Shand, "The Occupation of the Chatham Islands by the Maoris in 1835," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. i. no. 2 (July 1892), pp. 83 _sqq._ [24] R. Taylor, _op. cit._ p. 496; A. R. Wallace, _Australasia_ (London, 1913), pp. 442 _sq._ [25] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 212; Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xi. no. 4 (December 1902), p. 240. [26] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 212 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 442 _sq._ [27] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, i. 49 _sq._; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 160. [28] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, ii. 49; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 4. [29] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 4. The Maoris delivered set speeches composed according to certain recognised laws of rhetoric, and their oratory was distinguished by a native eloquence and grace. See E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 186 _sqq._ § 3. _The Beliefs of the Maoris concerning the Souls of the Living_ Like most other peoples, whether savage or civilised, the Maoris explained the mystery of life in man by the presence of an invisible spirit or soul, which animates his body during life and quits it at death to survive the separation for a longer or shorter time either in this world or another. But like many others who have sought to fathom this profound subject, the Maoris would seem to have experienced some difficulty in ascertaining the precise nature of the human soul. When the natural man, on the strength of his native faculties, essays to explore these dark abysses and to put his vague thoughts into words, he commonly compares his soul either to his breath or to his shadow and his reflection, and not content with a simple comparison he is led, by a natural confusion of thought, to identify more or less closely the imperceptible entity which he calls his soul with one or both of these perceptible objects. To this general rule the Maori is apparently no exception. He has two words which he specially uses to designate the human spirit or soul: one is _wairua_, the other is _hau_.[30] Of these words, _wairua_, the more usual name, is said to mean also a shadow, an unsubstantial image, a reflection, as of a person's face from a polished surface;[31] and we may surmise that these were the original and proper meanings of the term. Similarly _hau_, which is described as "the vital essence or life principle" in man,[32] appears primarily to mean "wind,"[33] from which we may infer that in its application to man it denotes properly the breath. The idea of the soul as a breath appears in the explanation which was given to Dumont d'Urville of the Maori form of salutation by rubbing noses together. The French traveller was told that the real intention of this salute was to mingle the breath and thereby the souls of the persons who gave each other this token of friendship. But as his informant was not a Maori but a certain Mr. Kendall, the truth of the explanation remains doubtful, though the Frenchman believed that he obtained confirmation of it from his own observation and the testimony of a native.[34] On the other hand the comparison of the soul to a shadow comes out in the answer given by a Maori to an Englishman who had asked him why his people did not prevent their souls from passing away to the nether world. The Maori replied by pointing to the Englishman's shadow on the wall and asking him whether he could catch it.[35] [30] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), pp. 177 _sqq._, 189 _sqq._ [31] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 591 _sq._, _s.v._ "wairua." [32] Elsdon Best, _op. cit._ p. 189. [33] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 52, _s.v._ "hau"; Elsdon Best, _op. cit._ p. 190. [34] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 558 _sq._ [35] William Brown, _New Zealand and its Aborigines_ (London, 1845), p. 81. Thus far the Maori conception of the soul does not perhaps differ very materially from the popular notion of it current among ourselves. But we come now to a marked difference between the Maori idea of the soul and our own. For whereas the European commonly believes his soul to be fixed during life immovably in his body, and only to depart from it once for all at death, the soul of the Maori is under no such narrow restrictions, but is free to quit its bodily mansion at pleasure and to return to it without prejudice to the life and health of its owner. For example, the Maori explains a dream by supposing that the soul of the sleeper has left his body behind and rambled away to places more or less distant, where it converses with the spirits of other people, whether alive or dead. Hence no well-bred Maori would waken a sleeper suddenly by shaking him or calling out to him in a loud voice. If he must rouse him, he will do it gradually, speaking to him at first in low tones and then raising his voice by degrees, in order to give the truant soul fair warning and allow it to return at leisure.[36] Believing in the power of the soul to wander far away and converse with other spiritual beings in sleep, the Maoris naturally paid great attention to dreams, which they fancied were often sent them by the gods to warn them of coming events. All dreams were supposed to have their special significance, and the Maoris had framed a fanciful system for interpreting them. Sometimes, as with ourselves, the interpretation went by contraries. For example, if a man dreamed that he saw a sick relative at the point of death, it was a sign that the patient would soon recover; but if, on the contrary, the sufferer appeared in perfect health, it was an omen of his approaching end. When a priest was in doubt as to the intentions of the higher powers, he usually waited for his god to reveal his will in a dream, and accepted the vagaries of his slumbering fancy as an infallible intimation of the divine pleasure. Spells were commonly recited in order to annul the effect of ill-omened dreams.[37] [36] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), pp. 177 _sq._ [37] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 333-335. As to omens derived from dreams see Elsdon Best, "Omens and Superstitious Beliefs of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. vii. no. 27 (September 1898), pp. 124 _sqq._ But the departure of the soul from the body in life was not always voluntary; it might take place under the compulsion of a hostile sorcerer or magician. In a Maori legend called _The curse of Manaia_ we read that "the priests next dug a long pit, termed the pit of wrath, into which by their enchantments they might bring the spirits of their enemies, and hang them and destroy them there; and when they had dug the pit, muttering the necessary incantations, they took large shells in their hands to scrape the spirits of their enemies into the pit with, whilst they muttered enchantments; and when they had done this, they scraped the earth into the pit again to cover them up, and beat down the earth with their hands, and crossed the pit with enchanted cloths, and wove baskets of flax-leaves to hold the spirits of the foes which they had thus destroyed, and each of these acts they accompanied with the proper spells."[38] [38] Sir George Grey, _Polynesian Mythology_ (London, 1855), pp. 168 _sq._ This mode of undoing an enemy by extracting and killing his soul was not with the Maoris a mere legendary fiction; it was practised in real life by their wizards. For we are told that when a priest desired to slay a person by witchcraft, he would often dig a hole in the ground, and standing over it with a cord in his hand would let one end of the cord hang down into the hole. He then recited an incantation which compelled the soul of the doomed man to swarm down the cord into the pit, whereupon another potent spell chanted by the magician speedily put an end to the poor soul for good and all.[39] [39] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), p. 187. It seems obvious that spells of this sort may be used with great advantage in war, for if you can only contrive to kill the souls of your foes, their mere bodies will probably give you little or no trouble. Nor did this practical application of the magic art escape the sagacity of the Maoris. When they marched to attack an enemy's stronghold, it was an ancient custom to halt and kindle a fire, over which the priest recited certain spells to cause the souls of his adversaries to be drawn into the fire and there to perish miserably in the flames. In theory the idea was admirable, but unfortunately it did not always work out in practice. For magic is a game at which two can play, and it sometimes happened that the spells of the besieged proved more powerful than those of the besiegers and enabled the garrison to defy all the attempts of the enemy to filch their souls from their bodies.[40] But even when the assailants were obliged to retire discomfited, they did not always lose heart, the resources of the magic art were not yet exhausted. On their return home the priest, nothing daunted by a temporary discomfiture, might betake himself again to his spells, and by crooning his incantations over a garment or a weapon belonging to one of his party, might dash in pieces the arms of the enemy and cause their souls to perish. Thus by his ghostly skill would he snatch victory from defeat, and humble the pride of the insolent foe in the very moment of his imaginary triumph.[41] One way in which he effected his purpose was to take a bag or basket containing some sacred food, hold it to the fire, and then opening the bag point the mouth of it in the direction of the enemy. The simple recitation of a spell then sufficed to draw the souls of the adversaries into the bag, after which nothing was easier for him than to destroy them utterly by means of the appropriate incantation.[42] [40] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), p. 181. [41] Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xi. no. 3 (September 1902), p. 141. [42] Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xii. no. 2 (June 1903), p. 72. But valuable as are these applications of magic to practical life, the art, like every good thing, is liable to abuse; and even where it is employed with the best intentions, the forces which it controls are so powerful that in spite of all precautions an accident will sometimes happen. For example, in sickness the patient often had recourse to a priest, who would lead him down to the nearest water, whether a pool or a stream, and there perform the magical rites necessary for the relief of his particular malady. While the wizard was engaged in this beneficent task, all the people in the village kept strictly indoors, lest their souls should wander forth to the water-side and there colliding, if I may be allowed the expression, with the mystic forces of the priest's spells be damaged or even annihilated by the collision.[43] In such a case the fatal consequences were the result of a pure accident, but sometimes they were intentional. For this fell purpose a malignant wizard would dig a hole, invoke the spirit of the man against whom he had a grudge, and when the spirit appeared over the hole in the form of a light, he would curse it, and the man whose soul was cursed would be sure to die, sooner or later; nothing could save him. The Uriwera, who dwelt dispersed among the forests and lonely hills of a wild mountainous region in the North Island, were reputed to be the greatest warlocks in all New Zealand. When they descended from their mountains to the coast, the lowlanders scarcely dared refuse them anything for fear of incurring their displeasure. It is said that in their magical rites they made a special use of the spittle of their destined victims; hence all visitors to their country were careful to conceal their spittle lest they should give these wicked folk a handle against them.[44] Another mode in which a Maori wizard could obtain power over a man's soul was by working magic on the footprints of his intended victim. The thing was done in this way. Suppose you are walking and leave your footprints behind you on the ground. I come behind you, take up the earth from your footprints, and deposit it on the sacred _whata puaroa_, that is, a post or pillar set up in the holy place of a village and charged in a mysterious manner with the vitality both of the people and of the land. Having laid the earth from your footprints on the sacred post, I next perform a ceremony of consecration over it, and then bury it with a seed of sweet potato in the ground. After that you are doomed. You may consider yourself for all practical purposes not only dead but buried, like the earth from your footprints.[45] [43] Elsdon Best, "Maori Medical Lore," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xiii. no. 4 (December 1904), p. 225. [44] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_ (London, 1843), ii. 58 _sq._; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 116 _sq._; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_ (London, 1882), p. 31. [45] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), pp. 194 _sq._, 196. From some of the foregoing facts it seems to follow that the souls of the Maoris are not, so to say, constitutionally immortal, but that they are of a brittle and perishable nature, and that in particular they are liable to be cut short in their career and totally exterminated by the insidious arts of magicians. So frequently, indeed, did this happen in former days that the Maoris of old apparently recognised no other cause of death, but imagined that every man and woman would naturally live for ever, if the thread of his or her life were not prematurely snipped by the abhorred shears of some witch or wizard. Hence after every death it was customary to hold an inquest in order to discover the wretch who had brought about the catastrophe by his enchantments; a sage presided at the solemn enquiry, and under his direction the culprit was detected, hunted down, and killed.[46] [46] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 51. The Maoris tell a story to explain how death first came into the world, or at least how men were prevented from enjoying the boon of immortality. The story runs as follows. The great mythical hero of Polynesia is Maui, a demigod or man of marvellous powers, who lived in the early ages of the world, and whose mighty deeds are the theme of tales of wonder told far and wide among the islands of the Pacific.[47] In his childhood his mother prophesied that he should thereafter climb the threshold of his great ancestress Hine-nui-te-po, and that death should have no more dominion over men. A happy prediction, but alas! never destined to be fulfilled, for even the would-be saviour Maui himself did not escape the doom of mortality. The way in which he became subject to death was this. His father took him to the water to be baptized, for infant baptism was a regular part of Maori ritual.[48] But when the baptism was over and the usual prayers had been offered for making the lad sacred and clean from all impurity, his father bethought him that through haste or forgetfulness he had omitted some of the prayers and purifications of the baptismal service. It was a fatal oversight, and the anxious father was struck with consternation at the thought, for too well he knew that the gods would punish the omission by causing his son Maui to die.[49] Yet did his son make a brave attempt to rescue all men from the doom of death and to make them live for ever. One day, after he had performed many feats and returned to his father's house, his father, heavy at heart and overcome with a foreboding of evil, said to him, "Oh, my son, I have heard from your mother and others that you are very valiant, and that you have succeeded in all feats that you have undertaken in your own country, whether they were small or great; but now that you have arrived in your father's country, you will perhaps be overcome." Then Maui asked his father, "What do you mean? what things are there that I can be vanquished by?" And his father answered him, "By your great ancestress, by Hine-nui-te-po, who, if you look, you may see flashing, and, as it were, opening and shutting there, where the horizon meets the sky." And Maui answered, "Lay aside such idle thoughts, and let us both fearlessly seek whether men are to die or live for ever." And his father said, "My child, there has been an ill omen for us; when I was baptizing you, I omitted a portion of the fitting prayers, and that I know will be the cause of your perishing." Then Maui asked his father, "What is my ancestress Hine-nui-te-po like?" and he answered, "What you see yonder shining so brightly red are her eyes, and her teeth are as sharp and hard as pieces of volcanic glass; her body is like that of a man, and as for the pupils of her eyes, they are jasper; and her hair is like the tangles of long sea-weed, and her mouth is like that of a barracouta." [47] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 233 _sqq._, _s.v._ "Maui"; Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_ (Philadelphia, 1846), p. 23. [48] J. L. Nicholas, _Narrative of a Voyage to New Zealand_ (London, 1817), i. 61 _sq._, "The New Zealanders make it an invariable practice, when a child is born among them, to take it to the _Tohunga_, or priest, who sprinkles it on the face with water, from a certain leaf which he holds in his hand for that purpose; and they believe that this ceremony is not only beneficial to the infant, but that the neglect of it would be attended with the most baneful consequences. In the latter case, they consider the child as either doomed to immediate death, or that, if allowed to live, it will grow up with a most perverse and wicked disposition." Before or after sprinkling the child with water the priest bestowed on the infant its name. See W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_ (London, 1835), pp. 82-84; A. S. Thomson, _The Story of New Zealand_ (London, 1859), i. 118 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, Second Edition (London, 1870), pp. 184 _sqq_. Compare J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 443 _sq_. (who says that the baptism was performed by women); E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_ (London, 1843), ii. 28-30 (who, in contradiction to all the other authorities, says that the naming of the child was unconnected with its baptism). [49] Sir George Grey, _Polynesian Mythology_ (London, 1855), p. 32. Now Hine-nui-te-po was the Great Woman of Night, the Goddess of Death, who dwelt in the nether world and dragged down men to herself. But Maui was not afraid, for he had caught the great Sun himself in a snare and beaten him and caused him to go so tardily as we now see him creeping across the sky with leaden steps and slow; for of old the Sun was wont to speed across the firmament like a young man rejoicing to run a race. So forth fared the hero on his great enterprise to snatch the life of mortals from the very jaws of death. And there came to him to bear him company the small robin, and the large robin, and the thrush, and the yellow hammer, and the pied fantail (_tiwakawaka, Rhipidura flabellifora_), and every kind of little bird; and these all assembled together, and they started with Maui in the evening, and arrived at the dwelling of Hine-nui-te-po, and found her fast asleep. Then Maui addressed them all, and said, "My little friends, now if you see me creep into this old chieftainess, do not laugh at what you see. Nay, nay, do not, I pray you, but when I have got altogether inside her, and just as I am coming out of her mouth, then you may shout with laughter if you please." But his little friends were frightened at what they saw, and they answered, "Oh, sir, you will certainly be killed." And he answered them again, saying, "If you burst out laughing at me as soon as I get inside her, you will wake her up, and she will certainly kill me at once; but if you do not laugh until I am quite inside her, and am on the point of coming out of her mouth, I shall live, and Hine-nui-te-po will die." And his little friends answered, "Go on then, brave sir, but pray take good care of yourself." Then the young hero started off, and twisted the strings of his weapon tight round his wrist, and went into the house, and stripped off his clothes, and the skin on his hips was as mottled and beautiful as the skin of a mackerel by reason of the tattoo marks cut on it with the chisel of Uetongo, and he entered the old chieftainess. The little birds now screwed up their little mouths to keep back their laughter when they saw him disappearing into the body of the giantess; their cheeks swelled up and grew purple, and they almost choked with suppressed emotion. At last the pied fantail could bear it no longer, and he suddenly exploded with a loud guffaw. That woke the old woman, she opened her eyes, and shut her jaws with a snap, cutting the hero clean through the middle, so that his legs dropped out of her mouth. Thus died Maui, but before he died he begat children, and sons were born to him, and some of his descendants are alive to this day. That, according to Maori tradition, is how death came into the world; for if only Maui had passed safely through the jaws of the Goddess of Death, men would have died no more and death itself would have been destroyed. Thus the Maoris set down human mortality at the door of the pied fantail, since but for his unseasonable merriment we might all have lived for ever.[50] [50] Sir George Grey, _Polynesian Mythology_, pp. 56-58; John White, _The Ancient History of the Maori_ (Wellington and London, 1887-1889), ii. 98, 105-107. For another version of the myth, told with some minor variations, see S. Percy Smith, _The Lore of the Whare-w[=a]nanga_, Part I. (New Plymouth, N.Z., 1913), pp. 145 _sq._, 176-178. For the identification of the bird _tiwakawaka_ see E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 519, _s.v._ "Tiwaiwaka." § 4. _The Beliefs of the Maoris concerning the Souls of the Dead_ When a chief died, a loud howl or wail announced the melancholy event, and the neighbours flocked to the scene of death to testify their sorrow. The wives and near relations, especially the women, of the deceased displayed their anguish by cutting their faces, arms, legs, and breasts with flints or shells till the blood flowed down in streams; it was not wiped off, for the more the person of a mourner was covered with clotted gore, the greater was esteemed his or her respect for the dead. Sometimes relatives would hack off joints of their fingers as a token of grief. Mourners likewise cut their hair, the men generally contenting themselves with clipping or shaving it on one side only, from the forehead to the neck. The eyes of the dead were closed by the nearest relative; and the body dressed in the finest mats, decked with feathers, and provided with weapons, lay in state for a time. After the first day a brother of the deceased used to beat the body with fresh flax gathered for the purpose; this he did to drive away any evil thing that might be hovering about the corpse. In the olden time one or more of the chief's wives would strangle themselves, that their souls might accompany their dead lord and wait upon him in the other world, and with the same intentions slaves were killed, lest the great man should lack attendants in the spirit land.[51] [51] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 135 _sqq._; J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 541 _sq._; Servant, "Notice sur la Nouvelle-Zélande," _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xv. (1843) p. 25; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 62, 118; W. Brown, _New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, pp. 15 _sqq._; G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, i. 331; A. S. Thomson, _The Story of New Zealand_, i. 185 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, Second Edition (London, 1870), pp. 217 _sq._; E. Tregear, "The Maoris of New Zealand," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xix. (1890) pp. 104 _sq._ The body was kept for three days because, we are told, the soul was believed not to quit its mortal habitation till the third day.[52] The mode of disposing of the corpse differed in different districts and according to the rank of the deceased. In some places a grave was dug in the house and the body buried in a sitting posture, the legs being kept in that position by bandages or doubled up against the chest. In the grave the dead man retained the fine garments in which he had been dressed together with the family ornaments of jade and shark's teeth. With him also was usually interred his property, especially the clothes which he had worn and everything else that had touched him during his last illness. The weapons of a warrior were laid near him that he might be able to fight his battles in the spirit land. In other places the corpse was laid in a box on a stage; or two pieces of an old canoe were set upright in the earth, and in the hollow between them the body was seated on a grating so as to allow the products of decomposition to drip through on the ground. In other places again, the corpse was laid in a sort of canoe-shaped coffin and deposited among the branches of a tree in a grove, where it remained for several months. This burial in the branches of a tree seems to have been usually adopted for the bodies of commoners; the corpses of chiefs, enclosed in coffins, were placed in mausoleums, carved and painted red, which were raised on pillars. Whether buried in the earth or placed in a tree or on a stage, the body was left until the flesh had so far decayed as to permit of the bones being easily detached; there was no fixed time allowed for decomposition, it might vary from three months to six months, or even a year. When decay was thought to have proceeded far enough, the bones were dug up or taken down from the stage or tree and scraped; the ornaments also were removed from the skeleton and worn by the relatives. In the south, where the custom was to bury the dead in the ground, this disinterment took place four weeks after the burial; the bones were then buried again, but only to be dug up again after a longer interval, it might be two years, for the final ceremony. When this took place, all the friends and relatives of the dead were summoned to assist, and a great feast was given: the bones were scraped, painted red, decked with feathers, and wrapped up in mats. The precious bundle was then deposited in a small canoe or a miniature house elevated on a pole; or it was carried to the top of some sacred tree and there left on a small stage. Sometimes the bones were concealed in a hollow tree in a secret place of the forest, or hidden away in one of the numerous limestone caverns or in some lonely and inaccessible chasm among the rocks. The motive for secret burial was a fear lest an enemy should get possession of the bones and profane them by making fish-hooks out of them or converting the skull into a baler for his canoe. Such a profanation was deemed a deadly insult to the surviving relatives. After a burial the persons who had dressed or carried the corpse, and all indeed who had had anything to do with it, repaired to the nearest stream and plunged themselves several times over head in the water.[53] [52] J. Dumont d'Urville, _op. cit._ ii. 541. [53] J. Dumont d'Urville, _op. cit._ ii. 543 _sq._; W. Yate, _op. cit._ p. 137; Servant, "Notice sur la Nouvelle-Zélande," _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xv. (1843) p. 25; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 62 _sqq._; G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, i. 331; A. S. Thomson, _The Story of New Zealand_, i. 188; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 218 _sqq._; E. Tregear, "The Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xix. (1890) p. 105; Elsdon Best, "Cremation among the Maori Tribes of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) p. 110. In some districts the removal of the bones from their temporary to their final resting-place was the occasion of a grand annual festival in which several neighbouring tribes took part. The bones of all members of the tribes who had died within the year were taken down from the stages or trees where the bodies had been temporarily deposited. The grave-clothes having been removed, the mouldering remains were wrapped in new blankets and carried in procession, attended by the crowd, to a place where they were deposited on a carpet of leaves. Should any putrid flesh be found still adhering to the bones, it was scraped off and buried on the spot. A few old women, dressed in their best, oiled from head to foot, and plastered with raddle, received the skulls into their laps. While they held them thus, a funeral ode was sung and speeches, loud and long, were delivered. Then the bones were tied up, decked with feathers of the gannet, rolled up in blankets, and carried to their last place of rest in a sacred grove, where they were left, securely fastened up and gaudily decorated with red and white. Having thus discharged their duty to the dead, the living gave themselves up to festivity; they ate and drank, danced, sang, whistled, wrestled, quarrelled, bought and sold. This Holy Fair, which went by the name of Hahunga, lasted several days. At the end of it the mourners, or revellers, dispersed and returned to their homes, laden with food which had been made ready for them by their hosts.[54] Great importance was attached to the final disposal of the remains of the dead. According to one account, the soul of the dead man could not rest till his bones were laid in the sepulchre of his ancestors, which was often a natural cave or grotto. There they were deposited on a shelf or platform a few feet above the floor of the cavern.[55] [54] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 137-139; Servant, "Notice sur la Nouvelle-Zélande," _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xv. (1843) pp. 26 _sq._ The name _Hahunga_ is doubtless connected with the verb _hahu_ which means "to exhume the bones of dead persons before depositing them in their final resting-place." See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 42, _s.v._ "hahu." [55] J. Dumont d'Urville, _op. cit._ ii. 543, 545. Not uncommonly the bones of the dead, instead of being preserved, were burned.[56] But cremation, though not unusual, seems never to have been a general custom with the Maoris. They resorted to it only in exceptional circumstances, for example, in order to stay the spread of disease, or in cases where a tribe occupied open country and found no suitable place where to lay the bones of their dead after exhumation. Cremation for the latter reason is said to have been practised by the Ngati-apa tribe in the Rangatikikei District, and also by the tribes who occupied the Waimate Plains. An old earthwork fort near the present township of Manaia was the scene of many cremations of the Maori dead in former days. Again, it was a common custom for a raiding party to cremate their dead in the enemy's country, when there was no time to carry them home for the usual obsequies. The intention of burning them was to prevent the enemy from eating the bodies and making fish-hooks out of the bones. For a similar reason even the wounded, whom they could not carry with them, were sometimes thrown into great fires and burnt alive. If the slain man was a chief, only his body would be consumed in the flames; his head would be cut off, steamed, cured, and carried home, to be wept over by his friends. In the Bay of Plenty district the bodies of persons who died of a certain disease called _Kai uaua_, apparently consumption, used to be burnt to prevent the spread of the malady, and all the ashes were carefully buried.[57] [56] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 220. This was called _tahunga_, "burning," a word no doubt derived from _tahu_, "to set on fire, kindle." See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 444, _s.v._ "tahu." [57] Elsdon Best, "Cremation amongst the Maori tribes of New Zealand," _Man_, xiv. (1914) pp. 110 _sq._ Often enough the heads of dead relatives were cut off, dried, and preserved by the family for many years in order to be occasionally brought forth and mourned over. Sometimes a widow would sleep with her husband's severed head at her side. After a victory, too, it was customary to decapitate the slain foes and dry their heads, which were then carried home and used as scarecrows or stuck on short stakes in the village, where they were jeered at and reviled. When the time came to plant the sweet potatoes, and the priests recited their spells for the sake of the crops, the dried heads were sometimes brought out and placed at the edge of the field, for this was believed to promote the growth of the sweet potatoes.[58] Apparently the spirits of the dead were thought able to quicken the fruits of the earth. [58] Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xii. no. 4 (December 1903), pp. 195-197. Compare W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 130 _sqq._; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 66. At all events the Maoris undoubtedly believed that the souls of the departed survive the death of their bodies for a longer or shorter time and in their disembodied state can influence the living for weal or woe. The belief in the survival of the soul is strikingly manifested in their old custom of killing widows and slaves to serve dead chiefs in the other world. It found expression in the more harmless custom of laying food beside a dead person or burying it with him in the grave; but, as usually happens in such cases, the ghost only consumed the spiritual essence of the victuals, considerately leaving the gross material substance to be despatched by the priest.[59] A dying Maori, unable to eat a loaf which a missionary had offered to him, begged that it might be kept for his ghost, who, after his death, would come and fortify himself with it for the journey to his long home.[60] At Tanaraki the child of a chief was buried in its father's house, grasping in each of its little fists a taro for consumption in the other world. Over the grave were laid boards, and the family slept on them. When they thought that the child's body was sufficiently decayed, they dug it up, scraped the bones, and hung them in the verandah, where from time to time the priest recited spells to assist the soul in its ascent to heaven. Every spell was supposed to raise the soul one stage nearer to the abode of bliss. But the ascent was long and tedious, for there were no less than ten heavens one above the other; the tenth was believed to be the principal abode of the gods. When the parents of the child who had been despatched to the happy land with taro in each hand were asked, "Why taro, if the little one is gone to heaven?" they answered that they were not quite sure whether it went up or down, and therefore as an additional precaution they planted a seed of taro in the grave, so that their offspring might find something to eat either above or below.[61] [59] J. Dumont d'Urville, _op. cit._ ii. 542; G. F. Angas, _op. cit._ ii. 71; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 220. [60] J. Dumont d'Urville, _l.c._ [61] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 220. Similar ceremonies were performed to facilitate the ascension of the souls of chiefs and priests. Before the body was taken to the place of burial, it was laid out with its feet towards the north, and all the blood-relations of the deceased, men, women, and children, assembled round it. Then the priest, standing at the head of the corpse, between the rows of the people, chanted two incantations, of which the second was supposed to assist the soul to ascend to heaven. The priest next put a bulb of taro in the left hand of the corpse and chanted another incantation. After that, flaxen cords were tied with a slip-knot to a tassel of the mat in which the body was enshrouded, and a cord was placed in the hand of each child, boy and girl, present at the ceremony. When the priest had chanted one more incantation, each child pulled the cord with a jerk, to disconnect the soul from the body, lest it should remain and afflict the relatives.[62] This last rite, with the reason assigned for it, is significant at once of the dread which the Maoris felt for departed spirits, and of the very materialistic conception which they entertained of the human soul, since they appear to have imagined that it could be detached from the body by jerking at a cord. [62] John White, "A Chapter from Maori Mythology," _Report of the Third Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Christchurch, New Zealand, in January 1891_, pp. 362 _sq._ The wish to raise the soul to heaven was perhaps the motive for another curious rite performed at the obsequies of a chief. When the body had been buried, the chief returned to the village; but the men who had carried the body went to the nearest swamp, and having caught a swamp-sparrow (_matata_) sent word to the priest, who forthwith rejoined them. Each of the bearers was then provided with a stick to which certain of the feathers of the bird were tied. Then, holding the sticks in their hands, they sat on their heels in a row opposite the priest, who stood facing the east with a stick similarly adorned in his left hand. Next he moved to the south end of the row of men and chanted, and as he chanted he gradually raised his stick, while at the same time all the bearers, holding their sticks at arm's length, gradually raised them and their bodies simultaneously, keeping perfect time, till the priest had concluded his chant, when they all stood erect with outstretched arms. After that the priest collected the sticks and threw them down in front of the _mua_, which seems to have been a kind of altar.[63] We may surmise that the ceremony was intended to waft the soul of the dead chief upward, the feathers of the bird being naturally fitted to facilitate its heavenward flight. [63] John White, "A Chapter from Maori Mythology," _op. cit._ p. 363. As to the meaning of _mua_, see E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 267, _s.v._ "mua." At other times, however, with the inconsistency so common in such matters, it appears to have been supposed that the soul set out on its far journey across the sea, and steps were accordingly taken to equip it for the voyage. Thus we hear of a _wahi tapu_ or sacred repository of the property of a deceased chief, which contained, among other things, a little canoe with sail and paddles, "to serve as a ferry-boat for the spirit to enter in safety into the eternal abodes." Nevertheless in the same enclosure, which was fenced with a double set of palings, "calabashes of food and water, and a dish prepared from the pigeon, were placed for the ghost to regale itself when visiting the spot; and the heathen natives aver that at night the spirit comes and feeds from the sacred calabashes."[64] [64] G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, ii. 70 _sq._ Many people in the Taranaki district thought that souls went neither up nor down, but always stayed near their mouldering bodies. Hence the sacred grove in which their remains were buried was full of disembodied spirits; and when a man died a violent death his soul wandered about disconsolate, till a priest by his spells and enchantments had brought the poor ghost within the spiritual fold.[65] [65] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 220 _sq._ When a chief was killed in battle and eaten by his foes, as often happened, his departed spirit entered the stones of the oven in which his body had been cooked, and the stones retained their heat so long as the ghost was in them. Meanwhile his sorrowing friends at home recited their most potent spells to draw his soul out of the oven and back to the sacred grove (_wahi tapu_) the burial-place of his people; for otherwise the soul could find no repose, but must roam about for ever, wreaking its spite on the living, for all disembodied spirits were deemed malicious. Hence after a battle, if people could not obtain the body of a slain friend, they sought to procure at least some drops of his blood or shreds of his raiment, that by crooning over them the appropriate spell they might draw home the vagrant spirit to his place of rest. The burial-grounds were regarded with awe and fear, for sometimes a restless ghost would break bounds and spread sickness among the inhabitants of the neighbourhood. Within their sacred precincts stood altars or stages for offerings to the gods, and any living man who entered them did so at his peril. For the same reason no one would set foot in a house where a dead man or woman had been buried. Hence in nearly every village half the houses stood empty and deserted, falling into decay, tenanted only by ghosts. The living had constantly before their eyes the mansions of the dead.[66] [66] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 221. The common belief of the Maoris seems to have been that the souls of the dead pass away to a region of the underworld, which was sometimes called Po and sometimes Reinga. Properly speaking, Po was night or the primaeval darkness out of which all forms of life and light were evolved or created;[67] and Reinga was not so much the spirit land itself as the leaping-off place where the souls bade good-bye to earth and took their departure for the far country. This leaping-off place was at the North Cape, the Land's End of New Zealand. The cape terminates in a steep cliff with a sea-cave at its foot, into which the tide rushes with a thunderous roar. There the evil spirit Wiro is thought to dwell, lurking for his prey; for he battens on such of the passing souls of the dead as he can get into his clutches. On their passage to the North Cape the ghosts stop by the way at two hills; at the first, which is called Wai-hokimai, they wail, cut themselves, and strip off their clothes; at the second, which is called Wai-otioti, they turn their backs on the land of the living and set their faces to the land of the dead. Arrived at the cape they pass outward over a long narrow ledge of rock and then leap down on a flat stone. There they see a mass of sea-weed floating on the water, its roots hidden in the depth, its upper branches clinging to a _pohutukawa_ tree. When they perceive an opening in the sea-weed they dive and soon find themselves in the lower world. But before they reach the abode of spirits they must cross a river by a plank; the river is called Waiorotane or the River of the Water of Life; and sometimes the warden of the plank will not suffer the ghosts to pass the river, but drives them back with friendly violence and bids them return to their friends on earth. Such souls come back to the bright world of light and life, and tell their friends what they have seen and heard on the journey to that bourne from which so many travellers return no more. Hence when any one has recovered from a dangerous sickness or escaped some great peril, they say of him that he has come back from the River of the Water of Life. Even if a soul has crossed that sombre stream, he may still return to the land of the living, if only he refuses to partake of the food set before him by the ghosts; but should he taste of it, he cannot come back. They say that people living near the North Cape can hear the spirits of the dead passing through the air on their way to the spirit land; and in the old days, when a battle had been fought and before the news of it could reach them by word of mouth, the natives near the cape were made aware of what had happened by the rushing sound of a great multitude flitting by overhead in the darkness.[68] Perhaps the sighing of the night-wind or the clangour of birds of passage winging their way out to sea may have contributed to create or foster these fancies. [67] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 342, _s.v._ "Po." [68] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 150 _sqq._; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, p. 45; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 52, 231; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 140; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 66 _sq._; E. Tregear, "The Maoris of New Zealand," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xix. (1890) pp. 118 _sq._; _id._, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 407 _sq._, 591, _s.vv._ "Reinga" and "Waiora"; John White, "A Chapter from Maori Mythology," _Report of the Third Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Christchurch, New Zealand, in January 1891_, pp. 361 _sq._ On the day after a burial the priest used to perform a ceremony to facilitate the passage of the soul to its final rest. For this purpose some men would go out in the morning and kill a small bird of the swamps called _kokata_ and pluck up some reeds of a certain sort (_wiwi_). These they brought to the priest at the grave. He asked them, "Whence came ye?" They answered, "From the seeking, from the searching." He asked them again, "Ah! what have you got? ah! what have you gained?" Then the men threw the bird and the reeds on the ground. Next the priest chose a stalk of grass or fern and put it near the grave in a direction pointing towards Hawaiki, the land far away from which the forefathers of the Maoris came long ago. Another stalk of grass or fern was laid near the place of death, and along these stalks the soul of the dead man travelled to rejoin his friends and kinsfolk who had gone before.[69] [69] E. Shortland, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, p. 44. Such a stalk to aid the spirit on its passage was called a _tiri_. Compare E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 517, _s.v._ "Tiri." The ceremony described in the text resembles in some points the one which seems intended to raise the soul of the deceased to heaven. See above, p. 25. As might be anticipated, the accounts which the Maoris gave of the spirit world and of life in it were neither clear nor consistent. According to one account, while the heavens increase in beauty as they ascend one above the other, the lower regions increase in darkness and horror as they descend, each being darker and worse than the one above it, till in the lowest of all complete darkness reigns. There the souls, deprived alike of light and food, wasted away and ultimately ceased to exist; or according to another account they assumed the shape of worms and in that guise returned to earth, where they died a second death and so finally perished. But it was only the souls of common folk which came to this melancholy end. Chiefs and priests were believed to be descended from the gods, and at death their souls ascended to heaven, there to live for ever.[70] [70] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 232; John White, "A Chapter from Maori Mythology," _Report of the Third Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Christchurch, New Zealand, in January 1891_, pp. 361 _sq._ Other reports, however, paint the nether world in more cheerful colours. We are told that the souls of the dead live there very much as people do on earth, but all good things are more plentiful there than here. The staple food of the ghosts is sweet potatoes, and the quality of the potatoes appears to be remarkably fine; for once a woman, who had the good fortune to go to the spirit land and come back, received from her dead father in the nether regions two roots of sweet potatoes of a most prodigious size. These the ghost told her to take back to earth and plant for the benefit of his grandchild. So she hurried away with them and arriving at the foot of the North Cape had begun to clamber up the face of the cliff, when two infant spirits overtook her and attempted to drag her back to dead land by tugging at her cloak. To divert their attention she threw the two roots of sweet potato behind her, and while the sprites were munching them she made good her escape up the cliff and succeeded in reaching home. Her friends were very glad to see her again, but they always lamented that she had not brought back at least one of those gigantic roots of sweet potato, since it would unquestionably have done much to improve the quality of sweet potatoes grown here on earth.[71] [71] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 48 _sq._, 67, 118; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 153 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 233 _sq._ But the spirits of the dead are by no means strictly confined to the lower world; they can quit it from time to time and return to earth, there to influence the actions and fortunes of the living and to communicate with them through the priest, who can hear their voices. They speak in whistling tones, which even common folk can sometimes distinguish as they walk about in the dark. Often their communications are made to the priest or chief in dreams, and he announces the glad or mournful tidings to other people in the morning. Any commands conveyed in this manner from the other world are, or used to be, implicitly obeyed and might decide the course to be pursued in the most important affairs of life.[72] In some tribes, especially among the natives of Wangunui, it used to be customary to keep in the houses small carved images of wood, each of them dedicated to an ancestor of the family, who was believed occasionally to enter into the image in order to hold converse with his living descendants.[73] But even without the intervention of such images the priest could summon up the spirits of the dead and converse with them in the presence of the relatives or of strangers; at these interviews, which were held within doors and in the dark, the voices of the ghosts, or perhaps of the priestly ventriloquist, were sometimes distinctly audible even to sceptical Europeans. Nor was the art of necromancy confined to men; for we read of an old woman who, like the witch of Endor, professed to exercise this ghostly office, and treated an English visitor to an exhibition of her powers.[74] [72] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 67, 118; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, ii. 83, 84. [73] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 83. [74] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 84 _sqq._; _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori (London, 1884), pp. 122 _sqq._ As to the belief in the reappearance of the dead among the living compare R. A. Cruise, _Journal of a Ten Months' Residence in New Zealand_ (London, 1823), p. 186: "The belief in the reappearance of the dead is universal among the New Zealanders: they fancy they hear their deceased relatives speaking to them when the wind is high; whenever they pass the place where a man has been murdered, it is customary for each person to throw a stone upon it; and the same practice is observed by all those who visit a cavern at the North Cape, through which the spirits of departed men are supposed to pass on their way to a future world." The spirits of the dead were sometimes useful to the living, for commonly enough they would appear to their kinsfolk in dreams and warn them of approaching foes or other dangers. Again, they might be and were invoked by spells and enchantments to avenge a murder or even to slay an innocent person against whom the enchanter had a grudge.[75] But for the most part the ghosts were greatly dreaded as malicious demons who worked harm to man.[76] Even the nearest and dearest relations were believed to have their natures radically changed by death and to hate those whom they had loved in life.[77] And so powerful were these malignant beings supposed to be that they were confused with the gods, or rather the spirits of the dead became themselves gods to all intents and purposes, and played a much more important part in the religious life of the Maoris than the high primaeval deities, the personifications of nature, who figured in Maori mythology and cosmogony.[78] The gods whom the Maoris feared, we are told, were the spirits of the dead, who were believed to be constantly watching over the living with jealous eyes, lest they should neglect any part of the law relating to persons or things subject to the sacred restriction called taboo (_tapu_). These spirits, however, confined their care almost exclusively to persons among the living with whom they were connected by ties of relationship, so that every tribe and every family had its own worshipful ancestral spirit or god, whom members of the tribe or family invoked with appropriate prayers or spells (_karakias_). Ancestral spirits who lived in the flesh before the Maoris emigrated to New Zealand were invoked by all the tribes in New Zealand without distinction, so far as their names and memories survived in tradition. Thus the worship of these remote ancestors constituted what may be called the national religion of the Maoris as distinguished from the tribal and family religions, which consisted in the worship of nearer and better remembered progenitors. The great importance attached by the Maoris to the worship of ancestors may account, we are told, for the care with which they preserved their genealogies; since the names of ancestors often formed the groundwork of their religious formulas (_karakias_), and any error or even hesitation in repeating these prayers or incantations was deemed fatal to their efficacy.[79] "Ancestor worship, or rather the deification of ancestors, was essentially a Maori cult. It was a form of necrolatry, or hero worship. A man would placate the spirit of his father, grandfather, or ancestor, and make offerings to the same, that such spirit might protect his life principle, warn him of approaching danger, and give force or effectiveness to his rites and charms of black or white magic."[80] [75] Elsdon Best, "Spiritual Concepts of the Maori," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. ix. no. 4 (December 1900), p. 182. [76] Elsdon Best, _op. cit._ p. 184. [77] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 104. [78] E. Shortland, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_ (London, 1851), p. 294; _id._, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 80, 81; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, pp. 10 _sq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 108, "Maori gods are so mixed up with the spirits of ancestors, whose worship entered largely into their religion, that it is difficult to distinguish one from the other." [79] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 81; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, p. 11. As to the _karakias_, which were prayers or invocations, spells or incantations, addressed to gods or ancestral spirits, see E. Shortland, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, pp. 28 _sqq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 128, _s.v._ "karakia." Apparently the _karakia_ partook of the nature of a spell rather than of a prayer, since it was believed to be so potent that the mere utterance of it compelled the gods to do the will of the person who recited the formula. See R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 180 _sq._: "The Maori, in his heathen state, never undertook any work, whether hunting, fishing, planting, or war, without first uttering a _karakia_; he would not even take a journey without repeating a spell to secure his safety; still he could not be said to pray, for, properly speaking, they had no such thing as prayer. As in war, they armed themselves with the most formidable weapons they could procure, and laid their plans with the greatest skill they possessed, so to secure the fruition of their desires, they used their most powerful means to compel the gods to be obedient to their wishes, whether they sought for victory over their foes, fruitful crops, successful fishings, or huntings, they called in the aid of potent incantations; when they planted their _kumara_ [sweet potatoes], they sought to compel the god who presided over them to yield a good increase; when they prepared their nets and their hooks, they must force the ocean god to let his fish enter them; as the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by storm, so the heathen Maori sought, by spells and incantations, to compel the gods to yield to their wishes; they added sacrifices and offerings at the same time, to appease as it were their anger, for being thus constrained to do what they wished them. Their ancestors were addressed as powerful familiar friends; they gave them offerings, and if it can be said that any prayers were offered up, it was to them they were made. The word _karakia_, which we use for prayer, formerly meant a spell, charm, or incantation." [80] Elsdon Best, "Maori Religion," _Report of the Twelfth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Brisbane, 1909_, p. 459. The ancestral spirits who particularly watched over the fortunes of a tribe were the souls of its dead warriors and great men. In war these powerful, though invisible, beings were thought to attend the army and direct its movements on the march by communicating advice or warning through some one or other of their nearest living kinsmen. In battle they hovered over the combatants and inspired courage into the hearts of their own tribe. Hence when, on the eve of battle, any young man showed signs of the white feather, recourse was immediately had to the family priest, who repeated a charm, invoking the aid of his friendly spirit; for the sensation of fear was ascribed to the baneful influence of a hostile spirit. If the friendly spirit prevailed, and the craven spirit was expelled, the young man would rush into the thickest of the fight and prove himself the bravest of the brave.[81] [81] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 81 _sq._ The interest taken by the spirits of the dead in mundane affairs seldom extended beyond the limits of the tribe to which they belonged. Hence a captive in war, who was carried away and enslaved by another tribe, ceased from that moment to be under the protection and care of any ancestral spirit or god. For the ancestral spirits of his own tribe did not trouble themselves to follow him among a hostile tribe and hostile spirits, and the ancestral spirits of the tribe whom he served as a slave would not deign to give him a thought. Hence being forsaken of god and left to their own devices, slaves were relieved from many of the burdensome restrictions which the Maori gods laid upon their worshippers; they were therefore free to perform many menial offices, particularly in regard to carrying and cooking food, which no free Maori could discharge without sinning against the sacred law of taboo and incurring the wrath of the ancestral spirits, who for such a transgression might punish the sinner with sickness or death.[82] [82] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 82 _sq._; _id._, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_, pp. 296 _sq._ In addition to their deified ancestors, who had lived as men of flesh and blood on earth, the Maoris believed in certain great primaeval deities, who had existed before the human race came into being, and whose doings were the theme of many mythical stories. These mighty beings appear to have been personifications of the various forces or elements of nature, such as the sky and the earth. But though fancy wove round them a glistering web of myth and fable, they were apparently believed to stand aloof in cold abstraction from human affairs and to take no interest in the present race of men. The practical religion of the Maori was concentrated on the souls of his deceased kinsfolk and forefathers: "neither in any existing superstition nor tradition, purely such, is there to be found internal evidence that an idea of God existed more exalted than that of the spirit of a dead ancestor."[83] [83] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 80. Compare _id._, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 81; _id._, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_, p. 294; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, pp. 10 _sq._ In Maori mythology Rangi is the personification of the sky, and Papa of earth. They were the primal parents, and the other great gods were their offspring. See Elsdon Best, "The Maori Genius for Personification," _Transactions of the New Zealand Institute_, liii. (1921) p. 2. Among the great primordial deities who were worshipped by all tribes of New Zealand may be mentioned Tane, Tu, Tangaroa, and Rongo. Of the four, Tane was the origin and tutelary deity of forests and birds: no tree might be felled and no bird caught till certain rites had been performed to placate him. Tu was the god of war. Tangaroa was the god of the ocean, the origin and tutelary deity of fish. Rongo was the god of peace, and presided over agriculture. See Elsdon Best, "Maori Religion," _Report of the Twelfth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Brisbane, 1909_, p. 458. The same four gods, with names only dialectically different, were, as we shall see later on, the principal deities of the Sandwich Islanders, the most distant geographically from the Maoris of all the Polynesians. The coincidence furnishes an example of the homogeneity of religion which prevailed among the various branches of the Polynesian race. The word which the Maoris applied to a god, whether a personification of nature or the spirit of a dead ancestor, was _atua_. The name is not confined to the Maori language, but is the common word for god throughout Polynesia.[84] When the Maoris attempt to define the nature of an _atua_, they have recourse to the same comparisons with a shadow and with breath which appear to underlie their conception of the human soul.[85] But though "god" is the nearest English equivalent of the word _atua_, we must beware of assuming that the Maori idea of godhead coincided with ours. On this subject one of our best authorities tells us that the term "god" is really not applicable to the _Atua Maori_, the so-called gods of the Maoris. For these beings, he says, "were, with few exceptions, malignant demons, to be feared and placated or conciliated, but not worshipped. Their principal task seems to have been the inflicting upon mankind of diverse evils, pains, and penalties. Of the few good offices performed by them, the warning of the people in regard to coming troubles, seems to have been the most important. The vast majority of the so-called gods of the Maori were simply deified ancestors."[86] [84] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 30 _sq._, _s.v._ "Atua." [85] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 516 _sq._ [86] Elsdon Best, "Notes on the Art of War as conducted by the Maori of New Zealand," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xi. no. 2 (June 1902). pp. 63 _sq._ In order to illustrate the difference between the Maori conception of deity and our own, I will quote the words of another eminent authority on the native religion of the New Zealanders. He says, "Before the mythology of the Maori is further considered, it will be necessary briefly to state what were the ideas of God entertained by the natives. The word _atua_, or spirit, which is used for God, formerly had various significations; a plague or disease was also _he atua_, or God; a thief was an _atua_, thus also a thievish dog was _he kuri atua_, a god-like dog, so also _he tangata atua ki te muru_, a man equal to a god in stealing; a child who pilfered was _he tamaiti atua_, a divine child; there were great spirits and small ones, a man's spirit was an _atua pore pore_, a little spirit, but Maru Rongomai and other gods were _Atua nui_, great gods; there were _atua ika_, reptile or fish gods; a great chief was called _He ika_, a fish, sea monster, or reptile, and was regarded as a malignant god in life, and a still worse one after death; there were likewise _Atua marau_, as the _toroa_, albatross, the _ruru_, owl; and _karu karu_, the film which shades its eye from the light, was also an _atua_; male and female spirits presided over dreams, and were regarded as _atuas, Ko nga atua moe moea o te poko_, the gods of dreams; _Tunui a rangi_, a male, _Pare kewa_, a female deity, both were prayed to as gods; the _atua kore_ and _atua kiko kiko_ were inferior gods. The _Atua ngarara_ or reptile gods were very abundant, and were supposed to be the cause of all diseases and death, being always ready to avail themselves of every opportunity of crawling down the throat during sleep, and thus preying upon the lives of unfortunate creatures. _Atuas_ or spirits of the deceased were thought to be able to revisit the earth and reveal to their friends the cause of their sickness. Everything that was evil or noxious was supposed especially to belong to the gods; thus a species of euphorbium, whose milk or juice is highly poisonous, is called _wai u atua_, the milk of the gods."[87] "In fact, in the accounts which the natives give of their gods and their exploits, we have but a magnified history of their chiefs, their wars, murders, and lusts, with the addition of some supernatural powers; they were cannibals; influenced by like feelings and passions as men, and were uniformly bad; to them were ascribed all the evils incident to the human race; each disease was supposed to be occasioned by a different god, who resided in the part affected; thus, Tonga, the god who caused headache, took up his abode in the forehead; Moko Titi, a lizard god, was the source of all pains in the breast; Tu-tangata-kino was the god of the stomach; Titihai occasioned pains in the ankles and feet; Rongomai and Tuparitapua were the gods of consumption, and the wasting away of the legs and arms; Koro-kio-ewe presided over childbirth, and did his worst to unfortunate females in that state. In fact, the entire human body appears to have been shared out amongst those evil beings, who ruled over each part, to afflict and pain the poor creatures who worshipped them."[88] [87] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 134 _sq._ [88] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 137. Anything, indeed, whether good or evil, which excited the fear or wonder of the Maoris would seem in the old days to have been dubbed by them an _atua_ and invested with the attributes of divinity. For example, when a traveller in the early years of the nineteenth century showed his watch to some Maoris, the ticking struck them with such astonishment that they deemed it nothing less than the voice of a god; and the watch itself, being looked upon as a deity (_atua_) in person, was treated by the whole of them with profound reverence.[89] Other travellers have had similar experiences among the Maoris,[90] and compasses and barometers have also been accorded divine honours by these ignorant savages.[91] [89] J. L. Nicholas, _Narrative of a Voyage to New Zealand_ (London, 1817), i. 254. [90] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 516. [91] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 118. § 5. _Taboo among the Maoris_ But the most momentous practical consequence which flowed from their belief in the spirits of the dead was the enormous influence which that creed wielded in establishing and maintaining the system of taboo, the most remarkable and characteristic institution in the life of the Maoris and of the Polynesians in general. I shall first give some account of the taboo or _tapu_, as the Maoris called it, and afterwards show how this extraordinary system of society and religion was directly based on a belief in the existence of ghosts and their mighty power over human destiny. First, then, as to taboo or _tapu_ itself. This curious institution, as I have said, prevailed throughout all the widely scattered islands of Polynesia, but nowhere to a greater extent than in New Zealand. It pervaded the whole life of the natives, affected their plans, influenced their actions, and in the absence of an efficient police provided a certain security both for their persons and their property. Sometimes it was used for political, and sometimes for religious purposes; sometimes it was the means of saving life, and at other times it was the ostensible reason for taking life away.[92] It may be defined as a system of consecration which made any person, place, or thing sacred either permanently or for a limited time.[93] The effect of this consecration was to separate the sacred person or thing from all contact with common (_noa_)[94] persons and things: it established a sort of quarantine for the protection not only of the sacred persons themselves, but of common folk, who were supposed to be injured or killed by mere contact with a tabooed person or object. For the sanctity which the taboo conferred on people and things was conceived of as a sort of dangerous atmosphere, charged with a spiritual electricity, which discharged itself with serious and even fatal effect on all rash intruders. A tabooed person might not be touched by any one, so long as the taboo or state of consecration lasted; he might not even put his own hand to his own head; and he was most stringently forbidden to touch food with his hands. Hence he was either fed like a child by another, who put the food into his mouth; or he had to lap up his victuals like a dog from the ground, with his hands held behind his back; or lastly he might convey the nourishment by means of a fern stalk to his mouth. When he wished to drink, somebody else poured water into his mouth from a calabash without allowing the vessel to touch his lips; for mere contact with the lips of the tabooed man would have rendered the vessel itself sacred or tabooed and therefore unfit for common use. Similarly, when he desired to wash his hands, water had to be poured on them from a distance by his attendant. This state of consecration or defilement, as we might be tempted rather to call it, was incurred by any person who had touched either a young child or a corpse or had assisted at a funeral. The taboo contracted by association with the dead was the strictest and most virulent of all. It extended not only to the persons who had handled the corpse or paid the last offices of respect to the departed; it applied to the place where the body was buried or the bones deposited. So sacred, indeed, was deemed the spot where a chief had died that in the old days everything upon it was destroyed by fire. Hence in order to avoid the destruction of a house, which a death in it would have entailed, it was customary to remove a sick or dying man to a temporary shed just large enough to shelter him from the sun or screen him from the rain; for if the man died in it, the destruction of the wretched hovel was no great loss to the survivors.[95] A widow was tabooed and had to observe the aforesaid restrictions from the death of her husband until his bones had been scraped and deposited in their last resting-place; and the same rule applied to a widower.[96] These taboos were temporary and could be removed by a priest, who performed certain rites and repeated certain spells (_karakias_), and thereby relieved the tabooed person from the state of sanctity or consecration under which he had laboured. The performance of the ceremony put an end to the spiritual quarantine; the man ceased to be sacred, he became common (_noa_) once more, and could mingle freely with his fellows. One of the ceremonies of desecration, as we may call it, was to pass a consecrated piece of wood over the right shoulder of the tabooed person, then round his loins, and back again over the left shoulder, after which the stick was broken in two and buried, burned, or cast into the sea.[97] Again, a temporary taboo was laid on all persons who were engaged in planting sweet potatoes, or in sorting the seed, or in digging and preparing the ground; they might not leave the fields where they were at work nor undertake any other labour. The fields themselves were sacred during these operations; none but the persons who were tabooed for the purpose might set foot on the ground or pluck up the weeds which grow rankly round the roots of the vegetable.[98] Similarly, in their great fishing-expeditions to catch mackerel, all concerned in making or mending the nets were under a taboo: the ground where the nets were made was sacred, and so was the river on the banks of which the work went on. No man but the tabooed persons might walk over the land or pass up or down the river in a canoe: no fire might be lighted within a prescribed distance: no food might be dressed while the taboo lasted. Not till the net had been finished and wetted with the sacred water, and the owner had caught and eaten a fish, did these burdensome restrictions come to an end by the removal of the taboo.[99] Once more, the men who took part in a warlike expedition were under a severe taboo and had to observe very strictly the customs which that mysterious state of consecration rendered obligatory.[100] Even after their return home they were not allowed to enter their houses or to hold any direct communication with their families who had remained there, till they had been rendered common (_noa_) by a ceremony of desecration. Before that ceremony took place, the warriors were obliged to throw away the remains of the bodies of their foes on which, as usual, they had been feasting; for being sacred food the flesh could only be touched by sacred or tabooed persons. One woman only, the _wahine ariki_, as she was called, that is the elder female of the elder branch of the stock from which the tribe traced their descent, was permitted to touch the sanctified meat; indeed, in order to carry out the ritual of desecration in due form she was expected and required to swallow an ear of the first enemy killed in battle.[101] A warlike expedition might lay even people at home under a taboo; for all who remained behind, including old men, women, and slaves, were often required to observe a rigid fast and to abstain from smoking till the return of the warriors.[102] [92] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 84 _sq._ [93] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 84; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 163. [94] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 268 _sq._, _s.v._ "Noa." [95] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 85 _sq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 163, 164. [96] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 40. [97] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), iii. 685; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 86; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 104 _sq._; Servant, "Notice sur la Nouvelle-Zélande," _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xv. (1843) p. 23; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 166 _sq._; _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 104 _sqq._ The taboo could be got rid of more simply by the tabooed man touching his child or grandchild and taking food or drink from the child's hands. But when that was done, the taboo was transferred to the child, who retained it for the rest of the day. See E. Dieffenbach, _op. cit._ ii. 105. [98] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 85; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 165 _sq._; _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 103 _sq._ [99] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 85. [100] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 96, 114 _sq._ [101] E. Shortland, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_, pp. 68 _sq._ [102] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 114 _sq._ But in contrast to the temporary taboos which affected common folk and debarred them for a time from familiar intercourse with their fellows, a perpetual and very stringent taboo was laid on the persons and property of chiefs, especially of those high hereditary chiefs who bore the title of _Ariki_ and were thought to be able at any time to hold visible converse with their dead ancestors.[103] Strictly speaking, "the _ariki_ of a Maori tribe is the senior male descendant of the elder branch of the tribe, that is, he is a descendant of the elder son of the elder son of each generation from the time of the original ancestor down to the present day. As such, he was of old regarded almost as a god, inasmuch as he represented all that there was of _m[)a]na_ and sacredness of his tribe. That he should have been regarded in this light is not astonishing, for the Maoris believed he was something more than human, in that he was the shrine of an hereditary _Atua_, the guardian spirit of the tribe, and could therefore at any time communicate with the tribal gods.... Such a man was not only _tapu_ in person but he made everything he touched so dangerously sacred as to be a source of terror to the tribe. To smoke his pipe, or drink from any vessel he had touched, was death speedy and certain at the hands of the gods, who avenge breaches of the _tapu_."[104] "The gods being no more than deceased chiefs, the _arikis_ were regarded as living ones, and thus were not to be killed by inferior men, but only by those who had more powerful _atuas_ in them; the victorious chief who had slain numbers, swallowed their eyes, and drunk their blood, was supposed to have added the spirits of his victims to his own, and thus increased his _mana_ or power; to keep up this idea, and hinder the lower orders from trying whether it were possible to kill such corporeal and living gods, was the grand work of the _tapu_."[105] The godhead of a chief was thought to reside in his eyes, especially in his left eye; that was why by swallowing the eye or eyes of a slain chief a living chief was believed to absorb the divine spirit of the dead man and thereby to strengthen his own divinity; the more eyes he swallowed, the greater god he became.[106] [103] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 40, 112 _sq._, 356; E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 104; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 149, 164, 212 _sq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 23 _sq._, _s.v._ "Ariki." The word _ariki_ signifies properly the first-born or heir, whether male or female, of a family. [104] Lieut.-Col. W. E. Gudgeon, "Maori Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xiv. no. 3 (September 1905), p. 130. Compare _id._, "The Tipua-Kura and other Manifestations of the Spirit World," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xv. no. 57 (March 1906), p. 38. [105] R. Taylor, _Te Ika a Maui_, p. 173. _Mana_ means authority, especially divine authority or supernatural power. See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 203, _s.v._ "Mana"; and for a full discussion of the conception see Lieut.-Col. W. E. Gudgeon, "Mana Tangata," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xiv. no. 2 (June 1905), pp. 49-66. "_Mana_ plays a leading part in the ability of a leader, or successes in war of celebrated warriors. When a man frequently undertakes daring deeds, which ought under ordinary circumstances to fail, but none the less prove successful, he is said to possess _mana_, and thereafter is regarded as one peculiarly favoured by the gods, and in such cases it is held that he can only be overcome by some act or default; such as a disregard or neglect of some religious or warlike observance, which has been shown by experience to be essential to success in war, but which our warrior, spoiled by a long career of good fortune, had come to regard as necessary to ordinary mortals only and of but little consequence to men of _mana_" (W. E. Gudgeon, _op. cit._ p. 62). "There were cases in which the _mana_ of a man depended upon the facility with which he could communicate with the spirits of departed ancestors, that is, upon his capacity to enforce the aid and attendance of these minor deities. To this end every man with any pretension to _mana_ had a knowledge of certain forms of invocation by which he could summon the spirits of long departed heroes and ancestors, but it must not be supposed that these invocations would necessarily have power in the mouths of all men, for such was not the case. The efficacy of a _karakia_ or invocation depended in part on its method of delivery, and in part on the _mana_ of the man who used it" (W. E. Gudgeon, _op. cit._ p. 50). Compare R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 172, 173; _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, p. 100. [106] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 147, 352. The soul was thought to reside especially in the left eye; accordingly it was the left eye of an enemy which was most commonly swallowed by a victorious chief who desired to increase his spiritual power. See J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 527; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 118, 128 _sq._ Every such divine chief was under a permanent taboo; he was as it were surrounded by an atmosphere of sanctity which attached to his person and never left him; it was his birthright, a part of himself of which he could not be divested, and it was well understood and recognised by everybody at all times. And the sanctity was not confined to his person, it was an infection which extended or was communicated to all his movable property, especially to his clothes, weapons, ornaments, and tools, indeed to everything which he touched. Even the petty chiefs and fighting men, everybody indeed who could claim the title of _rangatira_ or gentleman, possessed in some degree this mysterious quality.[107] However, in young people of rank the sanctity which appertained to them by virtue of their birth was supposed to be only latent; it did not develop or burst into full bloom till they had reached mature age and set up house on their own account. Hence noble boys and lads were under none of the irksome restrictions to which in their adult years they were afterwards bound to submit; they mixed freely with the profane vulgar and did not even disdain to carry fuel or provisions on their backs, a thing which no man of any standing could possibly do; at all events, if he did so demean himself, the food was thereby rendered taboo and could accordingly be used by nobody but himself. "If he went into the shed used as a kitchen (a thing, however, he would never think of doing except on some great emergency), all the pots, ovens, food, etc., would be at once rendered useless--none of the cooks or inferior people could make use of them, or partake of anything which had been cooked in them. He might certainly light a little fire in his own house, not for cooking, as that never by any chance could be done in his house, but for warmth; but that, or any other fire, if he should have blown upon it with his breath in lighting it, became at once _tapu_, and could be used for no common or culinary purpose. Even to light a pipe at it would subject any inferior person, or in many instances an equal, to a terrible attack of the _tapu morbus_, besides being a slight or affront to the dignity of the person himself. I have seen two or three young men fairly wearing themselves out on a wet day and with bad apparatus trying to make fire to cook with, by rubbing two sticks together, when on a journey, and at the same time there was a roaring fire close at hand at which several _rangatira_ and myself were warming ourselves, but it was _tapu_, or sacred fire--one of the _rangatira_ had made it from his own tinder-box, and blown upon it in lighting it, and as there was not another tinder-box amongst us, fast we must, though hungry as sharks, till common culinary fire could be obtained."[108] [107] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, p. 94. [108] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, p. 98. The head of a chief was always and at all times deemed most sacred, and in consequence he might not even touch it with his own hand; if he chanced to commit the sacrilege, he was obliged at once to apply his fingers to his sacred nose and to snuff up the odour of sanctity which they had abstracted, thus restoring the holy effluvium to the place from which it had been taken.[109] For the same reason the cutting of a chief's hair was a most difficult and delicate operation. While it lasted neither the great man himself nor the barber who operated on him was allowed to do anything or partake of any food except under the restrictions imposed on all sacred or tabooed persons; to use the scissors or the shell, with which the operation was performed, for any other purpose or any other person would have been a terrible profanation of sacred things, and would have rendered the rash sacrilegious wretch, who had dared so to appropriate it, liable to the severest punishment. The severed hair was collected and buried or hung up on a tree,[110] probably to put it out of the way of common folk, who might have been struck dead by contact with the holy locks. But apparently the dangers incident to hair-cutting were by no means confined to chiefs, but extended to any one who was bold enough to submit his head to the barber's shears; for one of the early writers on the Maoris tells us that "he who has had his hair cut is in the immediate charge of the _Atua_; 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."[111] The hair of the first-born of a family in particular, on account of his extreme sanctity, might be cut by nobody but a priest; and for many days after the operation had been performed the priestly barber was in a state of strict taboo. He could do nothing for himself, and might not go near anybody. He might not touch food with his hands, and no less than three persons were required to feed him. One of them prepared the food at a safe distance, took it to a certain place, and retired; a second came forward, picked up the victuals, carried them to another spot and left them; finally, a third, venturing into the danger zone, actually brought the food to the priest and put it into his mouth.[112] [109] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 87; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 165. [110] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 87; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 104. [111] Richard A. Cruise, _Journal of a Ten Months' Residence in New Zealand_ (London, 1823), pp. 283 _sq._ Compare J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 533. [112] Elsdon Best, "Maori Religion," _Report of the Twelfth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Brisbane, 1909_, p. 463. The atmosphere of taboo or sanctity which thus surrounded Maori chiefs and gentlemen not only imposed many troublesome and inconvenient restraints on the men themselves, it was also frequently a source of very real danger, loss, and annoyance to other people. For example, it was a rule that a chief should not blow on a fire with his mouth, because his breath being sacred would communicate its sanctity to the fire, and if a slave or a common man afterwards cooked food at the fire or merely took a brand from it, the chief's holiness would cause that man's death.[113] Again, if the blood of a high chief flowed on anything, though it were but a single drop, it rendered the thing sacred to him, so that it could be used by nobody else. Thus it once happened that a party of natives came in a fine new canoe to pay their respects to an eminent chief; the great man stepped into the canoe, and in doing so he chanced to strike a splinter into his foot, which bled. That sufficed to consecrate the canoe to him. The owner at once leaped out, drew the canoe ashore opposite to the chief's house and left it there.[114] Again, a Maori gentleman, visiting a missionary, knocked his head against a beam in the house, and his sacred blood was spilt. The natives present thereupon told the missionary that in former times his house would after such an accident have belonged to his noble visitor.[115] Even the cast garments of a chief had acquired, by contact with his holy body, so virulent a degree of sanctity that they would kill anybody else who might happen in ignorance to find and wear them. On a journey, when a chief found his blanket too heavy to carry, he has been known to throw it very considerately down a precipice where nobody would be likely to light on it, lest some future traveller should be struck dead by appropriating the sacred garment. Once a chief's lost tinder-box actually caused the death of several persons; for having found it and used it to light their pipes, they literally died of fright on learning the sacrilege which they had committed.[116] Such fatal effects consequent on the discovery of a breach of taboo were not uncommon among the Maoris. For instance, a woman once ate some peaches which, though she did not know it, had been taken from a tabooed place. As soon as she heard where the fruit had come from, the basket which she was carrying dropped from her hands, and she exclaimed in agony that the spirit (_atua_) of the chief whose sanctuary had thus been profaned would kill her. That happened in the afternoon, and next day by twelve o'clock she was dead.[117] Again, a slave, a strong man in the prime of life, once found the remains of a chief's dinner beside the road, and being hungry ate it up without asking any questions. No sooner, however, did he hear to whom the food had belonged than he was seized with the most extraordinary convulsions and cramps in the stomach, which never ceased till he died about sundown the same day. The English eyewitness who reports the case adds, that any European freethinker who should have denied that the man was killed by the chief's taboo would have been listened to by the Maoris with feelings of contempt for his ignorance and inability to understand plain and direct evidence.[118] [113] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 165. [114] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 101; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 164 _sq._ [115] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 165. [116] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, pp. 164 _sq._ [117] W. Brown, _New Zealand and its Aborigines_ (London, 1845), p. 76. [118] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 95-97. In order that a thing should be consecrated or tabooed to the exclusive use and possession of a chief, it was not necessary that his sacred blood should flow on it, or that he should merely touch it; he had only to call it his head, or his back-bone, or any other part of his body, and at once the thing, by a legal fiction, became his and might be appropriated by nobody else under pain of violating the taboo which the chief had laid upon it. For example, when a chief desired to prevent a piece of ground from being cultivated by any one but himself, he often resorted to the expedient of calling it his back-bone; after that if any man dared to set foot on the land so consecrated, the transgression was equivalent to a declaration of war. In this simple and easy fashion a chief might acquire anything that took his fancy from an axe or a canoe to a landed estate, and the rightful owner of the property dared not complain nor dispute the claim of his superior.[119] [119] E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, p. 111; _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, pp. 137 _sqq._; R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 168. Nevertheless in daily life even ordinary people used the taboo to secure their property or to acquire for themselves what had hitherto been common to all. For example, if a man found a piece of drift timber, he could make it his own by tying something to it or giving it a chop with his axe; he thereby set his taboo on the log, and as a general rule the taboo would be respected. Again, with a simple piece of flax he might bar the door of his house or his store of food; the contents of the house or store were thus rendered inviolable, nobody would meddle with them.[120] [120] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui_, p. 171. It is easy to see that this form of taboo must have greatly contributed to create and confirm respect for the rights of private property. The most valuable articles might, we are told, under ordinary circumstances be left to its protection in the absence of the owners for any length of time.[121] Indeed so obvious and so useful is this function of taboo that one well-informed writer supposes the original purpose of the institution to have been no other than the preservation of private property;[122] and another observer, after eulogising its beneficent effects, declares that "it was undoubtedly the ordinance of a wise legislator."[123] But to say this is greatly to overrate the wisdom and foresight of primitive man in general and of the Polynesians in particular; it implies a fundamental misconception of the real nature and history of taboo. That curious institution was not the creation of a prudent and sagacious legislator, who devised this system of checks and restrictions for the purpose of curbing the passions of a savage race and inducing them to submit to the salutary restraints of law and morality. It was in its origin, I believe, simply a crude and barbarous form of superstition, which, like many other superstitions, has accidentally led to good results that were never contemplated by its ignorant and foolish votaries. It is thus that in the long history of mankind things which to a contemporary spectator might seem to be almost unmitigated evils turn out in the end to be fraught with incalculable good to humanity. This experience, often repeated, enables students of the past to look forward, even in the darkest hours, with cheerful confidence to the future. [121] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, p. 97. [122] _Old New Zealand_, by a Pakeha Maori, p. 94. [123] E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 100, "Ridiculous as this custom of the _tapu_ has appeared to some, and as many of its applications really are, it was, notwithstanding, a wholesome restraint, and, in many cases, almost the only one that could have been imposed; the heavy penalties attached to the violation of its laws serving in one tribe, or in several not in actual hostility with each other, as moral and legal commandments. It was undoubtedly the ordinance of a wise legislator." Compare G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, i. 330, "Doubtless this law is the result of some wise regulation for the protection of property and individuals, and it has in many things a beneficial influence amongst a people who have no written or regularly established code of laws of their own." To the same effect another authority on the Maoris observes: "The most politic and useful of all the superstitious institutions of the Maori people is that which involves the rites of _tapu_. It has always seemed to me that this institution, with its far-reaching ramifications, must have been the conception of a very gifted mind, for, as a governing factor, it is very superior to the Hindu institution of caste. It must, moreover, have been initiated during a period of civilisation, to which the Polynesians have long been strangers, but with which at one period of their history they were sufficiently familiar." See Lieut.-Colonel Gudgeon, "The Tipua-Kura and other Manifestations of the Spirit World," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xv. no. 57 (March 1906), p. 49. The particular superstition which lies at the root of taboo and has incidentally exercised a beneficent influence by inspiring a respect for law and morality appears to be a belief in the existence of ghosts and their power to affect the fortunes of the living for good or evil. For the ultimate sanction of the taboo, in other words, that which engaged the people to observe its commandments, was a firm persuasion that any breach of these commandments would surely and speedily be punished by an _atua_ or ghost, who would afflict the sinner with a painful malady till he died. From youth upwards the Maori was bred in the faith that the souls of his dead ancestors, jealous of any infraction of the traditionary rites, would commission some spirit of their kin to enter into the transgressor's body and prey on a vital part. The visible signs of this hidden and mysterious process they fancied to be the various forms of disease. The mildest ailments were thought to be caused by the spirits of those who had known the sufferer on earth, and who accordingly were imagined to be more merciful and more reluctant to injure an old friend and relation. On the other hand the most malignant forms of disease were attributed to the spirits of dead infants, who having never learned to love their living friends, would rend and devour the bowels of their nearest kin without compunction. With these ideas as to the origin of disease the Maoris naturally did not attempt to heal the sick through the curative properties of herbs and other drugs; their remedies consisted not in medicine but in exorcism: instead of a physician they sent for a priest, who by his spells and incantations undertook to drive the dangerous sprite from the body of the patient and to appease the ancestral spirit, whose wrath was believed to be the cause of all the mischief. If the deity proved recalcitrant and obstinately declined to accept this notice to quit, they did not hesitate to resort to the most threatening and outrageous language, sometimes telling him that they would kill and eat him, and at others that they would burn him to a cinder if he did not take himself off at once and allow the patient to recover.[124] Curiously enough, the spirit which preyed on the vitals of a sick man was supposed to assume the form of a lizard; hence these animals, especially a beautiful green species which the Maoris called _kakariki_, were regarded with fear and horror by the natives.[125] Once when a Maori of Herculean thews and sinews was inadvertently shown some green lizards preserved in a bottle of spirits, his massive frame shrank back as from a mortal wound, and his face betrayed signs of extreme horror. An aged chief in the room, on learning what was the matter, cried out, "I shall die! I shall die!" and crawled away on hands and knees; while the other man gallantly interposed himself as a bulwark between the fugitive and the green gods (_atuas_) in the bottle, shifting his position adroitly so as to screen the chief till he was out of range of the deities.[126] An old man once assured a missionary very seriously that in attending to a sick person he had seen the god come out of the sufferer's mouth in the form of a lizard, and that from the same moment the patient began to mend and was soon restored to perfect health.[127] [124] E. Shortland, _The Southern Districts of New Zealand_, pp. 30 _sq._, 294 _sq._; _id._, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 114 _sqq._; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, 31 _sq._; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 141 _sq._ Most malignant and dangerous of all appear to have been thought the spirits of abortions or still-born infants. See Elsdon Best, "The Lore of the _Whare-Kohanga_," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xv. no. 57 (March 1906), pp. 12-15; _Reise der Oesterreichischen Fregatte Novara um die Erde, Anthropologischer Theil, Dritte Abtheilung, Ethnographie_, bearbeitet von Dr. Fr. Müller (Vienna, 1868), pp. 59 _sq._ Even more dangerous than the spirits of dead infants were supposed to be the spirits of human germs, which the Maoris imagined to exist in the menstrual fluid. See E. Shortland, _Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders_, pp. 115, 292; _id._, _Maori Religion and Mythology_, pp. 107 _sq._ As to disease inflicted by ancestral spirits (_atuas_) for breaches of taboo, see further J. L. Nicholas, _Narrative of a Voyage to New Zealand_ (London, 1817), i. 272 _sq._, ii. 176 _sq._; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 105, "The breaking of the _tapu_, if the crime does not become known, is, they believe, punished by the _Atua_, who inflicts disease upon the criminal; if discovered, it is punished by him whom it regards, and often becomes the cause of war." [125] Richard A. Cruise, _Journal of a Ten Months' Residence in New Zealand_ (London, 1823), p. 320; J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 517; W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, pp. 141 _sq._; E. Dieffenbach, _Travels in New Zealand_, ii. 117; Elsdon Best, "Maori Medical Lore," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. xiii. no. 4 (December 1904), p. 228. As to the superstitious veneration of lizards among the peoples of the Malay-Polynesian stock, see G. A. Wilken, _Verspreide Geschriften_ (The Hague, 1912), iv. 125 _sqq._ [126] G. F. Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_, ii. 67. [127] W. Yate, _An Account of New Zealand_, p. 142. § 6. _Conclusion_ If now we attempt to sum up the effects which the belief in human immortality exercised on the life of the Maoris we may perhaps conclude that these effects were partly good and partly evil. On the one hand by ascribing to the chiefs the special protection of the powerful spirits of the dead, it invested the governing class with a degree of authority to which on merely natural or rational grounds they could have laid no claim; hence it tended to strengthen the respect for government and to ensure the maintenance of law and order. Moreover, by lending a supernatural sanction to the rights of private property among all classes it further contributed to abolish one of the most fruitful sources of discord and crime in the community and thereby to foster economic progress, which cannot exist without some measure of peace and security for life and possessions. These were great gains, and so far as the faith in immortality helped to win them for the Maoris, it certainly ameliorated their condition and furthered the cause of civilisation among them. But on the other hand the belief in the essential malignancy of the spirits of the dead and in their great power to harm the living added a host of purely imaginary terrors to the real evils with which man's existence on earth is naturally and inevitably encompassed: it imposed a regular system of needless and vexatious restrictions on social intercourse and the simplest acts of daily life; and it erected an almost insuperable barrier to the growth of science, and particularly of that beneficent branch of science which has for its object the alleviation of human suffering, since by concentrating the whole attention of the people on a false and absurd theory of supernatural agency it diverted them from that fruitful investigation of natural causes which alone can strengthen and extend man's control over matter. This was a heavy toll to pay for the advantages incidental to a belief in immortality; and if we were asked to strike a balance between the good and the evil which that belief entailed on the Maoris, we might well hesitate to say to which side the scales of judgment should incline. CHAPTER II THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE TONGANS § 1. _The Tonga or Friendly Islands_ The Tonga or Friendly Islands form an archipelago of about a hundred small islands situated in the South Pacific, between 18° and 22° South latitude and between 173° and 176° East longitude. The archipelago falls into three groups of islands, which lie roughly north and south of each other. The southern is the Tonga group, the central is the Haabai or Haapai group, and the northern is the Vavau group. In the southern group the principal islands are Tongataboo and Eua; in the central group, Namuka and Lifuka (Lefooga); in the northern group, Vavau. The largest island of the archipelago, Tongataboo, is about twenty-two miles long by eight miles wide; next to it in importance are Vavau and Eua, and there are seven or eight other islands not less than five miles in length. The rest are mere islets. Most of the islands are surrounded by dangerous coral reefs, and though the soil is deep and very fertile, there is a great lack of flowing water; running streams are almost unknown. Most of the islands consist of coral and are very low; the highest point of Tongataboo is only about sixty feet above the level of the sea.[1] However, some of the islands are lofty and of volcanic formation. When Captain Cook visited the islands in 1773 and 1777 there was apparently only one active volcano in the archipelago; it was situated in the small island of Tufoa, which lies to the west of Namuka. Cook saw the island smoking at the distance of ten leagues, and was told by the natives that it had never ceased smoking in their memory, nor had they any tradition of its inactivity.[2] In the hundred and fifty years which have elapsed since Cook's time volcanic action has greatly increased in the archipelago. A considerable eruption took place at Tufoa in 1885: the small but lofty island of Kao (5000 feet high) has repeatedly been in eruption: the once fertile and populous island of Amargura, or Funua-lai, in about 18° South latitude, was suddenly devastated in 1846 or 1847 by a terrific eruption, which reduced it to a huge mass of lava and burnt sand, without a leaf or blade of grass of any kind. Warned by violent earthquakes, which preceded the explosion, the inhabitants escaped in time to Vavau. The roar of the volcano was heard one hundred and thirty miles off; and an American ship sailed through a shower of ashes, rolling like great volumes of smoke, for forty miles. For months afterwards the glare of the tremendous fires was visible night after night in the island of Vavau, situated forty miles away.[3] Another dreadful eruption occurred on the 24th of June 1853, in Niua Foöu, an island about two hundred miles to the north-north-west of Funua-lai. The entire island seems to be the circular ridge of an ancient and vast volcano, of which the crater is occupied by a lake of clear calm water. On the occasion in question the earth was rent in the centre of a native village; the flames of a new volcano burst forth from the fissure, belching a sea of molten lava, under which ten miles of country, once covered with the richest verdure, have been encased in solid rock, averaging from eight to fifteen feet in thickness. The lake boiled like a cauldron, and long after the more powerful action of the volcano had ceased, the waters of the lake were often rent by tongues of flame, which shot up from them as well as from the clefts in the surrounding precipices.[4] In the island of Late, lying to the west of Vavau, a new volcano broke out with great violence in 1854; the roar of the volcano was heard at Lifuka, fifty miles away; the immense pillar of smoke was visible by day and the fire by night. The central portion of one side of the mountain (about 2500 feet high) was completely blown out by the explosion.[5] [1] Horatio Hale, _U.S. Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp. 4 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. (London, 1894) pp. 497, 499. As to the scarcity of running water, see Captain James Cook, _Voyages_ (London, 1809), iii. 206, v. 389. He was told that there was a running stream on the high island of Kao. As to the soil of Tongataboo, see Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_ (London, 1899), p. 280, "The soil is everywhere prolific, and consists of a fine rich mould, upon an average about fourteen or fifteen inches deep, free from stones, except near the beach, where coral rocks appear above the surface. Beneath this mould is a red loam four or five inches thick; next is a very strong blue clay in small quantities; and in some places has been found a black earth, which emits a very fragrant smell resembling bergamot, but it soon evaporates when exposed to the air." [2] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 277. For descriptions of the volcano see W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, Second Edition (London, 1818), i. 240 _sq._; and especially Thomas West, _Ten Years in South-Eastern Polynesia_ (London, 1865), pp. 89 _sqq._ Both these writers ascended the volcano. [3] Thomas West, _op. cit._ pp. 79 _sqq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), p. 120; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. p. 497. [4] T. West, _op. cit._ pp. 82 _sqq._; George Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 4 _sq._ [5] T. West, _op. cit._ pp. 88 _sq._ But not only have new volcanoes appeared or long extinct volcanoes resumed their activity within the last century in the existing islands, new islands have been formed by volcanic action. One such island, emitting volumes of fire, smoke, and steam, issued from the surface of the sea, and was discovered by the missionary ship _John Wesley_ in August 1857; its appearance had been heralded some years before by a strange agitation of the sea and by fire and smoke ascending from the water. This new volcanic island lies about midway between the two other volcanic islands of Tufoa and Late.[6] A third new volcanic island seems to have been formed to the south of Tufoa in 1886.[7] Another new island was thrown up from the sea about the beginning of the twentieth century; it was partly washed away again, but has again materially increased in size.[8] It is noteworthy that the volcanoes, new or old, all occur in a line running roughly north and south at a considerable distance to the west of, but parallel to, the main body of the Tongan archipelago. They clearly indicate the existence of submarine volcanic action on a great scale. Even in the coralline islands traces of volcanic agency have come to light in the shape of pumice-stones, which have been dug out of the solid coral rock at considerable depths.[9] In the lofty island of Eua an extensive dyke of basalt is found inland underlying the coral formation.[10] [6] T. West, _op. cit._ pp. 92-93. [7] I infer this from the entry "Volcanic island, 1886," in Mr. Guillemard's map of the Pacific Islands. He does not mention it in the text (_Australasia_, ii. p. 497). [8] George Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 6. [9] T. West, _op. cit._ p. 94. [10] George Brown, _op. cit._ p. 4. These facts lend some countenance to the view that the whole archipelago forms the summit or visible ridge of a long chain of submarine volcanoes, and that the islands, even those of coralline formation, have been raised to their present level by volcanic action.[11] That very acute observer, Captain Cook, or one of the naturalists of the expedition, noticed that in the highest parts of Tongataboo, which he estimated roughly at a hundred feet above sea-level, he often met with "the same coral rock, which is found at the shore, projecting above the surface, and perforated and cut into all those inequalities which are usually seen in rocks that lie within the wash of the tide."[12] Again, on ascending the comparatively lofty island of Eua, Captain Cook observes: "We were now about two or three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and yet, even here, the coral was perforated into all the holes and inequalities which usually diversify the surface of this substance within the reach of the tide. Indeed, we found the same coral till we began to approach the summits of the highest hills; and, it was remarkable, that these were chiefly composed of a yellowish, soft, sandy stone."[13] In the island of Vavau it was remarked by Captain Waldegrave that the coral rock rises many feet above the present level of the sea, and he adds: "The action of fire is visible on it, and we saw several instances of its crystallisation."[14] [11] T. West, _op. cit._ 95. [12] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 344. [13] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 381. [14] Captain the Hon. W. Waldegrave, R.N., "Extracts from a Private Journal," _Journal of the Royal Geographical Society_, iii. (1833) p. 193. The view that even the coralline islands of the Tongan archipelago have been elevated by volcanic agency is not necessarily inconsistent with Darwin's theory that coral reefs are formed during periods of subsidence, not of elevation;[15] for it is quite possible that, after being raised ages ago by volcanic forces, these islands may be now slowly subsiding, and that it has been during the period of subsidence that they have become incrusted by coral reefs. Yet the occurrence of coral rocks, bearing all the marks of marine action, at considerable heights above the sea, appears indubitably to prove that such a general subsidence has been in some places varied by at least a temporary elevation. [15] Charles Darwin, _Journal of Researches, etc., during the Voyage of the "Beagle"_ (London, 1912), pp. 471 _sqq._; Sir Charles Lyell, _Principles of Geology_, Twelfth Edition (London, 1875), ii. 602 _sqq._; T. H. Huxley, _Physiography_ (London, 1881), pp. 256 _sqq._ In thus postulating elevation by volcanic action, as well as subsidence, to explain the formation of the Tongan islands I am glad to have the support of a good observer, the late Rev. Dr. George Brown, who spent the best years of his life in the Pacific, where his experience both of the larger and the smaller islands was varied and extensive. He writes: "I have seen islands composed of true coralline limestone, the cliffs of which rise so perpendicularly from the blue ocean that the natives have to ascend and descend by ladders in going from the ocean to the top, or vice versa. A large steamer can go so close to some of these cliffs that she could be moored alongside of them in calm weather. It is not at all improbable, I think, that in these islands we have the two factors in the formation of islands, viz. subsidence, during which these immense cliffs were formed, and subsequent upheaval. This is the only way, I think, in which we can account for these perpendicular cliffs in the midst of deep blue ocean."[16] [16] George Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 13 _sq._ I have dwelt at what may seem undue length on the volcanic phenomena of the Tonga islands because the occurrence of such phenomena in savage lands has generally influenced the beliefs and customs of the natives, quite apart from the possibility, which should always be borne in mind, that man first obtained fire from an active volcano. But even if, as has been suggested, the Tonga islands formed the starting-point from which the Polynesian race spread over the islands of the Pacific,[17] it seems very unlikely that the Polynesians first learned the use of fire when they reached the Tongan archipelago. More probably they were acquainted, not only with the use of fire, but with the mode of making it long before they migrated from their original home in Southern Asia. A people perfectly ignorant of that prime necessity could hardly have made their way across such wide stretches of sea and land. But it is quite possible that the myth which the Tongans, in common with many other Polynesians, tell of the manner in which their ancestors procured their first fire, was suggested to them by the spectacle of a volcano in eruption. They say that the hero Maui Kijikiji, the Polynesian Prometheus, first procured fire for men by descending into the bowels of the earth and stealing it from his father, Maui Atalanga, who had kept it there jealously concealed.[18] [17] John Crawfurd, _Grammar and Dictionary of the Malay Language_ (London, 1852), _Preliminary Dissertation_, p. 253, quoted by Thomas West, _Ten Years in South-Central Polynesia_, pp. 248 _sqq._ But the more usual view is that the starting-point of the dispersal of the Polynesian race in the Pacific was Samoa. [18] Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_ (London, 1855), pp. 134-137; Le P. Reiter, "Traditions Tonguiennes," _Anthropos_, xii.-xiii. (1917-1918), pp. 1026-1040; E. E. Collcott, "Legends from Tonga," _Folk-lore_, xxxii. (1921) pp. 45-48. Miss Farmer probably obtained the story from the Rev. John Thomas, who was a missionary in the islands for twenty-five years (from 1826 to 1850). She acknowledges her obligations to him for information on the religion of the natives (p. 125). For the period of Mr. Thomas's residence in Tonga, see Miss Farmer's book, p. 161. The story is told in closely similar forms in many other islands of the Pacific. For some of the evidence see my edition of Apollodorus, _The Library_, vol. ii. p. 331 _sqq._ § 2. _The Tonga Islanders, their Character, Mode of Life, and Government_ Physically the Tonga islanders are fine specimens of the Polynesian race and generally impress travellers very favourably. Captain Cook, the first to observe them closely, describes them as very strong and well made, some of them really handsome, and many of them with truly European features and genuine Roman noses.[19] At a later date Commodore Wilkes, the commander of the United States Exploring Expedition, speaks of them as "some of the finest specimens of the human race that can well be imagined, surpassing in symmetry and grace those of all the other groups we had visited"; and farther on he says: "A larger proportion of fine-looking people is seldom to be seen, in any portion of the globe; they are a shade lighter than any of the other islanders; their countenances are generally of the European cast; they are tall and well made, and their muscles are well developed."[20] Still later, in his account of the voyage of the _Challenger_, Lord George Campbell expressed himself even more warmly: "There are no people in the world," he says, "who strike one at first so much as these Friendly Islanders. Their clear, light, copper-brown coloured skins, yellow and curly hair, good-humoured, handsome faces, their _tout ensemble_, formed a novel and splendid picture of the genus _homo_; and, as far as physique and appearance go, they gave one certainly an impression of being a superior race to ours."[21] A Catholic missionary observes that "the natives of Tonga hardly differ from Europeans in stature, features, and colour; they are a little sallower, which may be set down to the high temperature of the climate. It is difficult to have a very fresh complexion with thirty degrees of heat, Réaumur, as we have it during four or five months of the year."[22] In appearance the Tonga islanders closely resemble the Samoans, their neighbours on the north; some find them a little lighter, but others somewhat darker in colour than the Samoans.[23] According to the French explorer, Dumont d'Urville, who passed about a month in Tongataboo in 1827, the Polynesian race in Tonga exhibits less admixture with the swarthy Melanesian race than in Tahiti and New Zealand, there being far fewer individuals of stunted stature, flat noses, and frizzly hair among the Tongans than among the other Polynesians.[24] Even among the Tongans the physical superiority of the chiefs to the common people is said to be conspicuous; they are taller, comelier, and lighter in colour than the lower orders. Some would explain the difference by a difference in upbringing, noblemen being more carefully nursed, better fed, and less exposed to the sun than commoners;[25] but it is possible that they come of a different and better stock. [19] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 401 _sq._ [20] Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 10, 25. [21] Quoted by F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. p. 488. [22] Jérôme Grange, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) p. 8. [23] Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_, pp. 10 _sq._; Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 25; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 116, 155. The naturalist J. R. Forster thought the Tongans darker than the Tahitians. See his _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_ (London, 1778), p. 234. [24] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage de la corvette Astrolabe, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1832) p. 229. [25] J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ pp. 155 _sq._; Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 140. Intellectually the Tongans are reported to "surpass all the other South Sea islanders in their mental development, showing great skill in the structure of their dwellings and the manufacture of their implements, weapons, and dress."[26] They are bold navigators,[27] and Captain Cook observes that "nothing can be a more demonstrative evidence of their ingenuity than the construction and make of their canoes, which, in point of neatness and workmanship, exceed everything of this kind we saw in this sea."[28] However, the Tongans appear to have acquired much of their skill in the art of building and rigging canoes through intercourse with the Fijians, their neighbours to the west, who, though their inferiors in seamanship and the spirit of marine adventure, originally surpassed them in naval architecture.[29] Indeed we are told that all the large Tongan canoes are built in Fiji, because the Tongan islands do not furnish any timber fit for the purpose. Hence a number of Tongans are constantly employed in the windward or eastern islands of the Fiji group building these large canoes, a hundred feet or more in length, a process which, it is said, lasts six or seven years.[30] The debt which in this respect the Tongans owe to the Fijians was necessarily unknown to Captain Cook, since he never reached the Fijian islands and knew of them only by report, though he met and questioned a few Fijians in Tongataboo.[31] [26] F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. pp. 498 _sq._ [27] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 264. [28] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 197. [29] W. Mariner, _The Tonga Islands_, ii. 263 _sqq._ [30] J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 132. [31] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 396 _sq._ When Captain Cook visited the Tonga islands he found the land almost everywhere in a high state of cultivation. He says that "cultivated roots and fruits being their principal support, this requires their constant attention to agriculture, which they pursue very diligently, and seem to have brought almost to as great perfection as circumstances will permit."[32] The plants which they chiefly cultivated and which furnished them with their staple foods were yams and plantains. These were disposed in plantations enclosed by neat fences of reeds about six feet high and intersected by good smooth roads or lanes, which were shaded from the scorching sun by fruit-trees.[33] Walking on one of these roads Cook tells us, "I thought I was transported into the most fertile plains in Europe. There was not an inch of waste ground; the roads occupied no more space than was absolutely necessary; the fences did not take up above four inches each; and even this was not wholly lost, for in many places were planted some useful trees or plants. It was everywhere the same; change of place altered not the scene. Nature, assisted by a little art, nowhere appears in more splendour than at this isle."[34] Interspersed among these plantations irregularly were bread-fruit trees and coco-nut palms, of which the palms in particular, raising their tufted heads in air above the sea of perpetual verdure, formed a pleasing ornament of the landscape.[35] There were no towns or villages; most of the houses were built in the plantations, generally surrounded by trees or ornamental shrubs, whose fragrancy perfumed the air.[36] [32] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 411 _sq._ [33] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 184, 195, v. 274, 316, 357, 416. [34] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 184. [35] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 274, 357. [36] _Id._ iii. 196. When Captain Cook surveyed this rich and beautiful country, the islands were and had long been at peace, so that the natives were able to devote themselves without distraction to the labour of tilling the soil and providing in other ways for the necessities of life. Unhappily shortly after his visit to the islands wars broke out among the inhabitants and continued to rage more or less intermittently for many years. Even the introduction of Christianity in the early part of the nineteenth century, far from assuaging the strife, only added bitterness to it by furnishing a fresh pretext for hostilities, in which apparently the Christians were sometimes the aggressors with the connivance or even the encouragement of the missionaries.[37] In consequence cultivation was neglected and large portions of land were allowed to lie waste.[38] [37] This is affirmed by the Catholic missionary, Jérôme Grange (_Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) pp. 15 _sqq._), and though he writes with a manifest prejudice against his rivals the Protestant missionaries, his evidence is confirmed by Commodore Wilkes, the commander of the United States Exploring Expedition, who on his visit to Tongataboo found the Christians and heathens about to go to war with each other. He attempted to make peace between them, but in vain. The heathen were ready to accept his overtures, but "it was evident that King George and his advisers, and, indeed, the whole Christian party, seemed to be desirous of continuing the war, either to force the heathen to become Christians, or to carry it on to extermination, which the number of their warriors made them believe they had the power to effect. I felt, in addition, that the missionaries were thwarting my exertions by permitting warlike preparations during the pending of the negotiations." See Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 7 _sqq._ (my quotation is from p. 16). The story is told from the point of view of the Protestant (Wesleyan) missionaries by Miss S. S. Farmer, _Tonga and The Friendly Islands_, pp. 293 _sqq._ [38] John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprise in the South Seas_ (London, 1838), p. 264; Charles Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 32 _sq._ Like all the Polynesians the natives of Tonga were ignorant of the metals, and their only tools were made of stone, bone, shells, shark's teeth, and rough fish-skins. They fashioned axes, or rather adzes, out of a smooth black stone, which they procured from the volcanic island of Tufoa; they used shells as knives; they constructed augers out of shark's teeth, fixed on handles; and they made rasps of the rough skin of a fish, fastened on flat pieces of wood. With such imperfect tools they built their canoes and houses, reared the massive tombs of their kings; and did all their other work.[39] The wonder is that with implements so imperfect they could accomplish so much and raise themselves to a comparatively high level among savages. [39] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 199, v. 414 _sq._ Captain Cook says that the only piece of iron he found among the Tongans was a small broad awl, which had been made of a nail. But this nail they must have procured either from a former navigator, perhaps Tasman, or from a wreck. A feature of the Tongan character in which the islanders evinced their superiority to most of the Polynesians was their regard for women. In most savage tribes which practise agriculture the labour of tilling the fields falls in great measure on the female sex, but it was not so in Tonga. There the women never tilled the ground nor did any hard work, though they occupied themselves with the manufacture of bark-cloth, mats, and other articles of domestic use. Natives of Fiji, Samoa, and Hawaii, who resided in Tonga, used to remark on the easy lives led by the Tongan women, and remonstrated with the men on the subject, saying that as men underwent hardships and dangers in war and other masculine pursuits, so women ought to be made to labour in the fields and to toil for their living. But the Tongan men said that "it is not _gnale fafíne_ (consistent with the feminine character) to let them do hard work; women ought only to do what is feminine: who loves a masculine woman? besides, men are stronger, and therefore it is but proper that they should do the hard labour."[40] [40] W. Mariner, _The Tonga Islands_, ii. 287. Compare _id._ ii. 124, note *; Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 410 _sq._ Further, it is to the credit of the Tongans that, unlike many other Polynesians, they were not generally cannibals, and indeed for the most part held in abhorrence the practice of eating human bodies. Still young warriors occasionally devoured the corpses of their enemies in imitation of the Fijians, imagining that in so doing they manifested a fierce, warlike, and manly spirit. On one occasion, returning from such a repast, they were shunned by every one, especially by the women, who upbraided them, saying, "Away! you are a man-eater."[41] [41] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 194; compare _id._ i. 317-320. The government of the Tongan islanders was eminently monarchical and aristocratic. A strict subordination of ranks was established which has been aptly compared to the feudal system. At the head of the social edifice were two chiefs who bore some resemblance to the Emperor and the Pope of mediaeval Europe, the one being the civil and military head of the State, while the other embodied the supreme spiritual power. Nominally the spiritual chief, called the Tooitonga, ranked above the civil chief or king, who paid him formal homage; but, as usually happens in such cases, the real government was in the hands of the secular rather than of the religious monarch. The Tooitonga was acknowledged to be descended from one of the chief gods; he is spoken of by Mariner, our principal authority, as a divine chief of the highest rank, and he is said to have enjoyed divine honours. The first-fruits of the year were offered to him, and it was supposed that if this ceremony were neglected, the vengeance of the gods would fall in a signal manner upon the people. Yet he had no power or authority in matters pertaining to the civil king.[42] The existence of such a double kingship, with a corresponding distribution of temporal and spiritual functions, is not uncommon in more advanced societies; its occurrence among a people so comparatively low in the scale of culture as the Tongans is remarkable. [42] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 424 _sqq._; W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 74 _sqq._, 132 _sqq._; J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage de l'Astrolabe, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1832) pp. 90 _sq._, "_Si tout était suivant l'ordre légal à Tonga-Tabou, on verrait d'abord à la tête de la société le toui-tonga qui est le véritable souverain nominal des îles Tonga, et qui jouit même des honneurs divins_." Below the two great chiefs or kings were many subordinate chiefs, and below them again the social ranks descended in a succession of sharply marked gradations to the peasants, who tilled the ground, and whose lives and property were entirely at the mercy of the chiefs.[43] Yet the social system as a whole seems to have worked well and smoothly. "It does not, indeed, appear," says Captain Cook, "that any of the most civilised nations have ever exceeded this people, in the great order observed on all occasions; in ready compliance with the commands of their chiefs; and in the harmony that subsists throughout all ranks, and unites them, as if they were all one man, informed with, and directed by, the same principle."[44] According to the American ethnographer, Horatio Hale, the mass of the people in the Tonga islands had no political rights, and their condition in that respect was much inferior to that of commoners in the Samoan islands, since in Tonga the government was much stronger and better organized, as he puts it, for the purpose of oppression. On the other hand, he admitted that government in Tonga was milder than in Tahiti, and infinitely preferable to the debasing despotism which prevailed in Hawaii or the Sandwich Islands.[45] [43] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 424 _sq._, 429 _sq._; W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 83 _sqq._ [44] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 426. [45] Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_, p. 32. § 3. _The Tongan Religion: its General Principles_ For our knowledge of the religion and the social condition of the Tongans before they came under European influence, we are indebted chiefly to an English sailor, William Mariner, who lived as a captive among them for about four years, from 1806 to 1810.[46] His account of the natives, carefully elicited from him and published by a medical doctor, Mr. John Martin, M.D., is one of the most valuable descriptions of a savage people which we possess. Mariner was a good observer and endowed with an excellent memory, which enabled him to retain and record his experiences after his return to England. He spoke the Tongan language, and he was a special favourite of the two Tongan kings, named Finow, who reigned successively in Tonga during his residence in the islands. The kings befriended and protected him, so that he had the best opportunities for becoming acquainted with the customs and beliefs of the people. His observations have been confirmed from independent sources, and we have every reason to regard them as trustworthy. So far as we can judge, they are a simple record of facts, unbiassed by theory or prejudice. In the following notice of the Tongan religion and doctrine of the human soul I shall draw chiefly on the evidence of Mariner. [46] Mariner was captured by the Tongans on December 1, 1806, and he escaped from the islands in 1810, apparently in November, but the exact date of his escape is not given. See W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 43, ii. 15 _sqq._, 68, 69. According to him, the religion of the Tonga islanders rests, or rather used to rest, on the following notions.[47] [47] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 97 _sqq._ They believed that there are _hotooas_,[48] gods, or superior beings, who have the power of dispensing good and evil to mankind, according to their merit, but of whose origin the Tongans formed no idea, rather supposing them to be eternal. [48] The word is commonly spelled _atua_ in the Polynesian languages. See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_ (Wellington, N.Z. 1891), pp. 30 _sq._, who gives _otua_ as the Tongan form. They believed that there are other _hotooas_ or gods, who are the souls of all deceased nobles and _matabooles_, that is, the companions, ministers, and counsellors of the chiefs, who form a sort of inferior nobility.[49] The souls of all these dead men were held to possess a power of dispensing good and evil to mankind like the power of the superior gods, but in a lesser degree. [49] As to the _matabooles_ see W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 84 _sqq._ They believed that there are besides several _hotooa pow_, or mischievous gods, who never dispense good, but only petty evils and troubles, not as a punishment, but indiscriminately to anybody, from a purely mischievous disposition. They believed that all these superior beings, although they may perhaps have had a beginning, will have no end. They believed that the world also is of uncertain origin, having coexisted with the gods. The sky, which they regard as solid, the heavenly bodies, and the ocean were in being before the habitable earth. The Tonga islands were drawn up out of the depth of the sea by the god Tangaloa one day when he was fishing with a line and a hook. They believed that mankind, according to a partial tradition, came originally from Bolotoo, the chief residence of the gods, a fabulous island situated to the north-west of the Tongan archipelago. The first men and women consisted of two brothers, with their wives and attendants. They were commanded by the god Tangaloa to take up their abode in the Tonga islands, but of their origin or creation the Tongans professed to know nothing.[50] [50] According to a later account, "on Ata were born the first men, three in number, formed from a worm bred by a rotten plant, whose seed was brought by Tangaloa from heaven. These three were afterwards provided by the Maui with wives from the Underworld." See E. E. V. Collocot, "Notes on Tongan Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) p. 154. They believed that all human evil was inflicted by the gods upon mankind on account of some neglect of religious duty, whether the neglect is the fault of the sufferers or of the chief whom they serve. In like manner the Tongans apparently referred all human good to the gods, regarding it as a reward bestowed by the divine beings on men who punctually discharged the offices of religion.[51] [51] So apparently we must interpret Mariner's brief statement "and the contrary of good" (_Tonga Islands_, ii. 98). They believed that nobles had souls, which existed after death in Bolotoo, not according to their moral merit, but according to their rank in this world; these had power like that of the original gods, but less in degree. The _matabooles_, or ministers of the nobles, also went after death to Bolotoo, where they existed as _matabooles_, or ministers of the gods, but they had not, like the gods and the souls of dead noblemen, the power of inspiring the priests with superhuman knowledge. Some thought that the _mooas_, who ranked next below the _matabooles_ in the social hierarchy, also went after death to Bolotoo; but this was a matter of great doubt. As for the _tooas_ or commoners, who formed the lowest rung in the social ladder, they had either no souls at all or only such as dissolved with the body after death, which consequently ended their sentient existence. They believed that the human soul during life is not an essence distinct from the body, but only the more ethereal part of the corporeal frame, and that the moment after death it exists in Bolotoo with the form and likeness of the body which it had on earth. They believed that the primitive gods and deceased nobles sometimes appear visibly to mankind to warn or to afford comfort and advice; and that the primitive gods also sometimes come into the living bodies of lizards, porpoises, and a species of water snake, hence these animals are much respected. When the gods thus entered into the bodies of porpoises, it was for the sake of safeguarding canoes or for other beneficent purposes. They believed that the two personages in the Tonga islands known by the titles of Tooitonga and Veachi were descendants in a right line from two chief gods, and that all respect and veneration are therefore due to them. They believed that some persons are favoured with the inspiration of the gods, and that while the inspiration lasts the god actually exists in the body of the inspired person or priest, who is then capable of prophesying. They believe that human merit or virtue consists chiefly in paying respect to the gods, nobles, and aged persons; in defending one's hereditary rights; in honour, justice, patriotism, friendship, meekness, modesty, fidelity of married women, parental and filial love, observance of all religious ceremonies, patience in suffering, forbearance of temper, and so on. They believed that all rewards for virtue or punishments for vice happen to men in this world only, and come immediately from the gods. They believed that several acts which civilised nations regard as crimes are, under certain circumstances, matters of indifference. Such acts included the taking of revenge on an enemy and the killing of a servant who had given provocation, or indeed the killing of anybody else, always provided that the victim were not a very superior chief or noble. Further, among indifferent acts was reckoned rape, unless it were committed on a married woman or on one whom the offender was bound to respect on the score of her superior rank. Finally, the list of venial offences included theft, unless the stolen object were consecrated property; for in that case the action became sacrilege and was, as we shall see presently, a very serious crime. They believed that omens are the direct intimations of the future vouchsafed by the gods to men. "Charms or superstitious ceremonies to bring evil upon any one are considered for the most part infallible, as being generally effective means to dispose the gods to accord with the curse or evil wish of the malevolent invoker; to perform these charms is considered cowardly and unmanly, but does not constitute a crime."[52] One such charm consisted in hiding on a grave (_fytoca_) some portion of the wearing apparel of an inferior relation of the deceased. The person whose garment was so hidden was believed to sicken and die. An equally effectual way of working the charm and ensuring the death of the victim was to bury the garment in the house consecrated to the tutelary god of the family. But when a grave was made use of for the malignant purpose, it was thought essential that the deceased should be of a rank superior to that of the person against whom the charm was directed; otherwise it was supposed that the charm would have no effect.[53] In either case the fatal result was clearly held to be brought about by the power of the ghost or of the god, who used the garment as an instrument for putting the charm in operation. These charms or superstitious ceremonies are what we should now call magical rites, and they were apparently supposed to effect their purpose indirectly by constraining the gods to carry out the malevolent intention of the magician. If I am right in so interpreting them, we seem driven to conclude that in Tonga magic was supposed to be ineffectual without the co-operation of the gods, although its power to compel them was deemed for the most part irresistible. Even so its assumed dependence on the consent, albeit the reluctant consent, of the deities implies a certain decadence of magic and a growing predominance of religion. Moreover, the moral reprehension of such practices for the injury of enemies is another sign that among the Tongans magic was being relegated to that position of a black art which it generally occupies among more civilised peoples. Be that as it may, certain it is that we hear extremely little about the practice of magic among the Tongans. [52] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 101. [53] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 424, note *. § 4. _The Primary or Non-human Gods_ Such are, or rather used to be, the principal articles of the old Tongan creed. We may now examine some of them a little more at large. But first we may observe that on this showing the Tongans were an eminently religious people. They traced all the good and ill in human affairs to the direct intervention of the gods, who rewarded or punished mankind for their deeds in this life, bestowing the reward or inflicting the punishment in the present world and not deferring either to a distant and more or less uncertain future in a world beyond the grave. Thus with the Tongans the fear of the gods was a powerful incentive to lead a virtuous life; morality was placed under the immediate guardianship of the deities. It is true that according to their notions morality consisted largely in the performance of religious ceremonies, but it was by no means limited to a simple observance of the prescribed rites; for we have seen that their conception of a virtuous life included compliance with the dictates of justice, modesty, and friendship, the fidelity of wives to their husbands, the mutual affection of parents and children, patience in suffering, and other modes of conduct which we too should not hesitate to rank among the virtues. When we consider the nature of the Tongan gods, we perceive that they are sharply discriminated into two classes, namely, the primitive and superior gods on the one side and the secondary and inferior gods on the other side. The primitive and superior gods are those who have always been gods and whose origin and beginning are unknown; the secondary and inferior gods are the souls of dead men, who consequently have not always been gods, because they were human beings before death elevated them to the rank of deities. The distinction between these two classes of gods is highly important, not merely for Tongan religion in particular, but for the history of religion in general. For whatever we may think of Euhemerism as a universal explanation of the gods, there can be no doubt that in many lands the ranks of the celestial hierarchy have been largely recruited by the ghosts of men of flesh and blood. But there appears to be a general tendency to allow the origin of the human gods to fall into the background and to confuse them with the true original deities, who from the beginning have always been deities and nothing else. The tendency may sometimes be accentuated by a deliberate desire to cast a veil over the humble birth and modest beginning of these now worshipful beings; but probably the obliteration of the distinction between the two classes of divinities is usually a simple result of oblivion and the lapse of time. Once a man is dead, his figure, which bulked so large and so clear to his contemporaries, begins to fade and melt away into something vague and indistinct, until, if he was a person of no importance, he is totally forgotten; or, if he was one whose actions or thoughts deeply influenced his fellows for good or evil, his memory lingers in after generations, growing ever dimmer and it may be looming ever larger through the long vista of the ages, as the evening mist appears to magnify the orb of the descending sun. Thus naturally and insensibly, as time goes on, our mortal nature fades or brightens into the immortal and divine. As our subject is the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead, we are not directly concerned with the original Tongan deities who were believed never to have been men. But since their functions and worship appear to have been in certain respects closely analogous to those of the inferior deities, the souls of the dead, some notice of them may not be out of place, if it helps to a fuller understanding of what we may call the human gods. Besides, we must always bear in mind that some at least of the so-called original gods may have been men, whose history and humanity had been forgotten. We can hardly doubt that the celestial hierarchy has often been recruited by the souls of the dead. The original and superior gods, Mariner tells us, were thought to be rather numerous, perhaps about three hundred all told; but the names of very few of them were known, and even those few were familiar only to some of the chiefs and their ministers, the _matabooles_; "for it may easily be supposed," says Mariner, "that, where no written records are kept, only those (gods) whose attributes particularly concern the affairs of this world should be much talked of; as to the rest, they are, for the most part, merely tutelar gods to particular private families, and having nothing in their history at all interesting, are scarcely known to anybody else."[54] [54] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 104. Among these original and superior deities was Tali-y-Toobo, the patron god of the civil king and his family. He was the god of war and was consequently always invoked in time of war by the king's family; in time of peace prayers were sometimes offered to him for the general good of the nation as well as for the particular interest and welfare of the royal house. He had no priest, unless it was the king himself, who was occasionally inspired by him; but sometimes a whole reign would pass without the king being once favoured with the divine afflatus.[55] [55] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 105. Another god was Tooi fooa Bolotoo, whose name means "Chief of all Bolotoo." From this it might be supposed that he was the greatest god in Bolotoo, the home of the gods and of the deified spirits of men; but in fact he was regarded as inferior to the war god, and the natives could give no explanation of his high-sounding title. He was the god of rank in society, and as such he was often invoked by the heads of great families on occasion of sickness or other trouble. He had several priests, whom he occasionally inspired.[56] [56] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 105 _sq._ Another great god was Toobo Toty, whose name signifies "Toobo the mariner." He was the god of voyages, and in that capacity was invoked by chiefs or anybody else at sea; for his principal function was to preserve canoes from accidents. Without being himself the god of wind, he had great influence with that deity, and was thus enabled no doubt to save many who were in peril on the great deep.[57] [57] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 106 _sq._ Another god was Alo Alo, whose name means "to fan." He was the god of wind and weather, rain, harvest, and vegetation in general. When the weather was seasonable, he was usually invoked about once a month to induce him to keep on his good behaviour; but when the weather was unseasonable, or the islands were swept by destructive storms of wind and rain, the prayers to him were repeated daily. But he was not supposed to wield the thunder and lightning, "of which, indeed," says Mariner, "there is no god acknowledged among them, as this phenomenon is never recollected to have done any mischief of consequence."[58] From this it would appear that where no harm was done, the Tongans found it needless to suppose the existence of a deity; they discovered the hand of a god only in the working of evil; fear was the mainspring of their religion. In boisterous weather at sea Alo Alo was not invoked; he had then to make room for the superior god, Toobo Toty, the protector of canoes, who with other sea gods always received the homage of storm-tossed mariners. However, Alo Alo, the weather god, came to his own when the yams were approaching maturity in the early part of November. For then offerings of yams, coco-nuts, and other vegetable products were offered to him in particular, as well as to all the other gods in general, for the purpose of ensuring a continuation of favourable weather and consequent fertility. The offering was accompanied by prayers to Alo Alo and the other gods, beseeching them to extend their bounty and make the land fruitful. Wrestling and boxing matches formed part of the ceremony, which was repeated eight times at intervals of ten days. The time for the rite was fixed by the priest of Alo Alo, and a curious feature of the ceremony was the presence of a girl of noble family, some seven or eight years old, who represented the wife of Alo Alo and resided in his consecrated house during the eighty days that the festal season lasted.[59] [58] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 108. [59] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 205-208; compare _id._ 7, note *, 108. Another god named Móooi was believed to support the earth on his prostrate body. In person he was bigger than any other of the gods; but he never inspired anybody, and had no house dedicated to his service. Indeed, it was supposed that this Atlas of the Pacific never budged from his painful and burdensome post beneath the earth. Only when he felt more than usually uneasy, he tried to turn himself about under his heavy load; and the movement was felt as an earthquake by the Tongans, who endeavoured to make him lie still by shouting and beating the ground with sticks.[60] Similar attempts to stop an earthquake are common in many parts of the world.[61] [60] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 112 _sq._ Compare Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_ (London, 1799), pp. 277 _sq._ Móooi is the Polynesian god or hero whose name is usually spelled Maui. See Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_, p. 23; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 233 _sqq._ _s.v._ "Maui." [61] _Adonis, Attis, Osiris_, i. 197 _sqq._ Tangaloa was the god of artificers and the arts. He had several priests, who in Mariner's time were all carpenters. It was he who was said to have brought up the Tonga islands from the bottom of the sea at the end of his fishing line;[62] though in some accounts of Tongan tradition this feat is attributed to Maui.[63] The very hook on which he hauled up the islands was said to be preserved in Tonga down to about thirty years before Mariner's time. It was in the possession of the divine chief Tooitonga; but unfortunately, his house catching fire, the basket in which the precious hook was kept perished with its contents in the flames. When Mariner asked Tooitonga what sort of hook it was, the chief told him that it was made of tortoise-shell, strengthened with a piece of whalebone, and that it measured six or seven inches from the curve to the point where the line was attached, and an inch and a half between the barb and the stem. Mariner objected that such a hook could hardly have been strong enough to support the whole weight of the Tonga islands; but the chief replied that it was a god's hook and therefore could not break. The hole in the rock in which the divine hook caught on the memorable occasion was shown down to Mariner's time in the island of Hoonga. It was an aperture about two feet square.[64] [62] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 109, 114 _sq._; Horatio Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_, pp. 24 _sq._ [63] Jérôme Grange, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) p. 11; Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 23; Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 133. According to this last writer it was only the low islands that were fished up by Maui; the high islands were thrown down from the sky by the god Hikuleo. [64] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 272, ii. 114 _sq._ The Catholic missionary Jérôme Grange was told that the hook in question existed down to his time (1843), but that only the king might see it, since it was certain death to anybody else to look on it. See _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) p. 11. § 5. _The Temples of the Gods_ Some of the primitive gods had houses dedicated to them. These sacred houses or temples, as we may call them, were built in the style of ordinary dwellings; but generally more than ordinary care was taken both in constructing them and in keeping them in good order, decorating their enclosures with flowers, and so on. About twenty of the gods had houses thus consecrated to them; some of them had five or six houses, some only one or two. For example, Tali-y-Toobo, the patron god of the royal family, had four houses dedicated to him in the island of Vavau, two in the island of Lefooga (Lifuka), and two or three others of smaller importance elsewhere.[65] Another patron god of the royal family, called Alai Valoo, had a large consecrated enclosure in the island of Ofoo; he had also at least one priest and was very frequently consulted in behalf of sick persons.[66] [65] W. Mariner, _Tonga Island_, ii. 104 _sq._ [66] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii, 107 _sq._ To desecrate any of these holy houses or enclosures was a most serious offence. When Mariner was in the islands it happened that two boys, who had belonged to the crew of his ship, were detected in the act of stealing a bale of bark-cloth from a consecrated house. If they had been natives, they would instantly have been punished with death; but the chiefs, taking into consideration the youth and inexperience of the offenders, who were foreigners and ignorant of native customs, decided that for that time the crime might be overlooked. Nevertheless, to appease the anger of the god, to whom the house was consecrated, it was deemed necessary to address him humbly on the subject. Accordingly his priest, followed by chiefs and their ministers (_matabooles_), all dressed in mats with leaves of the _ifi_ tree[67] round their necks in token of humility and sorrow, went in solemn procession to the house; they sat down before it, and the priest addressed the divinity to the following purport: "Here you see the chiefs and _matabooles_ that have come to thee, hoping that thou wilt be merciful: the boys are young, and being foreigners, are not so well acquainted with our customs, and did not reflect upon the greatness of the crime: we pray thee, therefore, not to punish the people for the sins of these thoughtless youths: we have spared them, and hope that thou wilt be merciful and spare us." The priest then rose up, and they all retired in the same way they had come. The chiefs, and particularly the king, severely reprimanded the boys, endeavouring to impress on their minds the enormity of their offence, and assuring them that they owed their lives only to their presumed ignorance of the heinousness of the crime.[68] [67] The _ifi_ tree, of which the leaves were used by the Tongans in many religious ceremonies, is a species of chestnut (_Inocarpus edulis_) which grows in Indonesia, but is thought to be a native of America. It is supposed that the Polynesians brought the seeds of this tree with them into the Pacific, where it is said to be a cultivated plant. See S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki, the Original Home of the Maori_ (Christchurch, etc., New Zealand, 1910), p. 146. To wear a wreath of the leaves round the neck, and to sit with the head bowed down, constituted the strongest possible expression of humility and entreaty. See E. E. V. Collocot, "Notes on Tongan Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) p. 159. [68] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 163 _sq._ Another case of sacrilege, which occurred in Mariner's time, was attended with more tragic consequences. He tells us that consecrated places might not be the scene of war, and that it would be highly sacrilegious to attack an enemy or to spill his blood within their confines. On one occasion, while Mariner was in the islands, four men, pursued by their enemies, fled for refuge to a consecrated enclosure, where they would have been perfectly safe. One of them was in the act of scrambling over the reed fence, and had got a leg over it, when he was overtaken by a foe, who struck him such a furious blow on the head that he fell dead within the hallowed ground. Conscience-stricken, the slayer fled to his canoe, followed by his men; and on arriving at the fortress where the king was stationed he made a clean breast of his crime, alleging in excuse that it had been committed in hot blood when he had lost all self-command. The king immediately ordered kava to be taken to the priest of his own tutelary god, that the divinity might be consulted as to what atonement was proper to be made for so heinous a sacrilege. Under the double inspiration of kava and the deity, the priest made answer that it was necessary a child should be strangled to appease the anger of the gods. The chiefs then held a consultation and determined to sacrifice the child of a high chief named Toobo Toa. The child was about two years old and had been born to him by a female attendant. On such occasions the child of a male chief by a female attendant was always chosen for the victim first, because, as a child of a chief, he was a worthier victim, and second, because, as a child of a female attendant, he was not himself a chief; for nobility being traced in the female line only those children were reckoned chiefs whose mothers were chieftainesses; the rank of the father, whether noble or not, did not affect the rank of his offspring. On this occasion the father of the child was present at the consultation and consented to the sacrifice. The mother, fearing the decision, had concealed the child, but it was found by one of the searchers, who took it up in his arms, while it smiled with delight at being noticed. The mother tried to follow but was held back; and on hearing her voice the child began to cry. But on reaching the place of execution it was pleased and delighted with the bandage that was put round its neck to strangle it, and looking up in the face of the executioner it smiled again. "Such a sight," we are told, "inspired pity in the breast of every one: but veneration and fear of the gods was a sentiment superior to every other, and its destroyer could not help exclaiming, as he put on the fatal bandage, _O iaaoé chi vale!_ (poor little innocent!)." Two men then tightened the cord by pulling at each end, and the struggles of the innocent victim were soon over. The little body was next placed upon a sort of hand-barrow, supported on the shoulders of four men, and carried in a procession of priests, chiefs, and _matabooles_, all clothed as suppliants in mats and with wreaths of green leaves round their necks. In this way it was conveyed to various houses dedicated to different gods, before each of which it was placed on the ground, all the company sitting behind it, except one priest, who sat beside it and prayed aloud to the god that he would be pleased to accept of this sacrifice as an atonement for the heinous sacrilege committed, and that punishment might accordingly be withheld from the people. When this had been done before all the consecrated houses in the fortress, the body was given up to its relations, to be buried in the usual manner.[69] [69] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 216-219. As to the rule that nobility descended only in the female line, through mothers, not through fathers, see _id._ ii. 84, 95 _sq._; J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage de l'Astrolabe, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. 239. The consecration of a house or a piece of ground to a god was denoted by the native word _taboo_, the general meaning of which was prohibited or forbidden.[70] It was firmly believed by the Tongans in former days that if a man committed sacrilege or broke a taboo, his liver or some other of his internal organs was liable to become enlarged and scirrhous, that is, indurated or knotty; hence they often opened dead bodies out of curiosity, to see whether the deceased had been sacrilegious in their lifetime. As the Tongans are particularly subject to scirrhous tumours, it seems probable that many innocent persons were thus posthumously accused of sacrilege on the strength of a post-mortem examination into the state of their livers.[71] Another disagreeable consequence of breaking a taboo was a peculiar liability to be bitten by sharks, which thus might be said to act as ministers of justice. As theft was included under the general head of breach of taboo, a simple way of bringing the crime home to the thief in case of doubt was to cause the accused to go into the water where sharks were known to swarm; if they bit him, he was guilty; if they did not, he was innocent.[72] [70] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 220. [71] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 194, note *; compare 434, note *. [72] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 221. § 6. _Priests and their Inspiration_ Priests were known by the title of _fahe-gehe_, a term which means "split off," "separate," or "distinct from," and was applied to a man who has a peculiar sort of mind or soul, different from that of ordinary men, which disposed some god occasionally to inspire him. Such inspirations frequently happened, and when the fit was on him the priest had the same reverence shown to him as if he were the god himself; at these times even the king would retire to a respectful distance and sit down among the rest of the spectators, because a god was believed to exist at that moment in the priest and to speak from his mouth. But at other times a priest had no other respect paid to him than was due to him for his private rank in society. Priests generally belonged to the lower order of chiefs or to their ministers, the _matabooles_; but sometimes great chiefs were thus visited by the gods, and the king himself has been inspired by Tali-y-Toobo, the chief of the gods.[73] The profession of priest was generally hereditary, the eldest son of a priest becoming, on his father's death, a priest of the same god who had inspired his deceased parent. In their uninspired moments the priests lived indiscriminately with the rest of the people and were treated with no special deference.[74] [73] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 80 _sq._ [74] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 136-138. The ceremony of inspiration, during which the priest was believed to be possessed by a god and to speak in his name, was regularly accompanied or preceded by a feast, at which the drinking of kava formed the principal feature. The priest himself presided at the feast and the people gathered in a circle round him; or, to be more exact, the people formed an ellipse, of which the priest occupied the place of honour at one of the narrow ends; while opposite him, at the other extremity of the ellipse, sat the man who was charged with the important duty of brewing the kava. At such sessions the chiefs sat indiscriminately among the people on account of the sacredness of the occasion, conceiving that such humble demeanour must be acceptable to the gods. The actual process of inspiration was often witnessed by Mariner, and is described by him in his own words as follows: "As soon as they are all seated, the priest is considered as inspired, the god being supposed to exist within him from that moment. He remains for a considerable time in silence, with his hands clasped before him; his eyes are cast down, and he rests perfectly still. During the time that the victuals are being shared out, and the cava preparing, the _matabooles_ sometimes begin to consult him; sometimes he answers them, at other times not; in either case he remains with his eyes cast down. Frequently he will not utter a word till the repast is finished, and the cava too. When he speaks, he generally begins in a low and very altered tone of voice, which gradually rises to nearly its natural pitch, though sometimes a little above it. All that he says is supposed to be the declaration of the god, and he accordingly speaks in the first person as if he were the god. All this is done generally without any apparent inward emotion or outward agitation; but on some occasions his countenance becomes fierce, and, as it were, inflamed, and his whole frame agitated with inward feeling; he is seized with an universal trembling; the perspiration breaks out on his forehead, and his lips, turning black, are convulsed; at length, tears start in floods from his eyes, his breast heaves with great emotion, and his utterance is choked. These symptoms gradually subside. Before this paroxysm comes on, and after it is over, he often eats as much as four hungry men, under other circumstances, could devour. The fit being now gone off, he remains for some time calm, and then takes up a club that is placed by him for the purpose, turns it over and regards it attentively; he then looks up earnestly, now to the right, now to the left, and now again at the club; afterwards he looks up again, and about him in like manner, and then again fixes his eyes upon his club, and so on, for several times: at length he suddenly raises the club, and, after a moment's pause, strikes the ground, or the adjacent part of the house, with considerable force: immediately the god leaves him, and he rises up and retires to the back of the ring among the people."[75] [75] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 99-101. Compare E. E. V. Collocot, "Notes on Tongan Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) pp. 155-157. § 7. _The Worship of the Gods, Prayers, and Sacrifices_ The worship offered to the gods consisted as usual of prayers and sacrifices. Prayers were put up to them, sometimes in the fields, and sometimes at their consecrated houses. On ordinary occasions a simple offering consisted of a small piece of kava root deposited before a god's house.[76] But in the great emergencies of life the favour of the gods was sued with more precious offerings. When the younger daughter of Finow, a girl of six or seven years, was sick to death, the dying princess was carried from her father's house into the sacred enclosure of Tali-y-Toobo, the patron god of the kings, and there she remained for a fortnight. Almost every morning a hog was killed, dressed, and presented before the god's house to induce him to spare the life of the princess. At the same time prayers were addressed to the deity for the recovery of the patient; but as this particular god had no priest, the prayers were offered by a minister (_mataboole_), sometimes by two or three in succession, and they were repeated five, six, or seven times a day. Their general purport was as follows: "Here thou seest assembled Finow and his chiefs, and the principal ministers (_matabooles_) of thy favoured land; thou seest them humbled before thee. We pray thee not to be merciless, but to spare the life of the woman for the sake of her father, who has always been attentive to every religious ceremony. But if thy anger is justly excited by some crime or misdemeanour committed by any other of us who are here assembled, we entreat thee to inflict on the guilty one the punishment which he merits, and not to let loose thy vengeance on one who was born but as yesterday. For our own parts, why do we wish to live but for the sake of Finow? But if his family is afflicted, we are all afflicted, innocent as well as guilty. How canst thou be merciless? Have regard for Finow and spare the life of his daughter." When despite of prayers and the sacrifices of pigs, the girl grew daily worse instead of better, she was removed to many other consecrated enclosures of other gods, one after the other, where the like fond prayers and fruitless offerings were presented in the vain hope of staving off the approach of death.[77] [76] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 224. [77] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 350-360. But more precious sacrifices than the blood of hogs were often laid at the feet of the angry gods. When a relation of a superior rank was ill, it was a very common practice for one or more of his or her inferior kinsfolk to have a little finger, or a joint of a finger, cut off as a sacrifice to induce the offended deity to spare the sick man or woman. So common was the custom in the old days that there was scarcely a person living in the Tonga islands who had not thus lost one or both of his little fingers, or a considerable portion of both. It does not appear that the operation was very painful. Mariner witnessed more than once little children quarrelling for the honour of having it performed on them. The finger was laid flat upon a block of wood: a knife, axe, or sharp stone was placed with the edge on the joint to be severed, and a powerful blow with a hammer or heavy stone effected the amputation. Sometimes an affectionate relative would perform the operation on his or her own hand. John Williams questioned a girl of eighteen who had hacked off her own little finger with a sharp shell to induce the gods to spare her sick mother. Generally a joint was taken off at a time; but some persons had smaller portions amputated to admit of the operation being often repeated in case they had many superior relations, who might be sick and require the sacrifice. When they had no more joints which they could conveniently spare, they rubbed the stumps of the mutilated fingers till the blood streamed from the wounds; then they would hold up the bleeding hands in hope of softening the heart of the angry god.[78] Captain Cook understood that the operation was performed for the benefit of the sufferers themselves to heal them in sickness,[79] and the same view was apparently taken by the French navigator Labillardière,[80] but in this they were probably mistaken; neither of them had an accurate knowledge of the language, and they may easily have misunderstood their informants. Perhaps the only person in the islands who was exempt from the necessity of occasionally submitting to the painful sacrifice was the divine chief Tooitonga, who, as he ranked above everybody, even above the king, could have no superior relation for whom to amputate a finger-joint. Certainly we know that Tooitonga had not, like the rest of his countrymen, to undergo the painful operations of tattooing and circumcision; if he desired to be tattooed or circumcised, he was obliged to go to other islands, particularly to Samoa, for the purpose.[81] Perhaps, though this is not mentioned by our authorities, it would have been deemed impious to shed his sacred blood in his native land. [78] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 438 _sq._, ii. 210-212; Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 239, 278; John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 470 _sq._; Jérôme Grange, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) pp. 12, 26; Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 128. [79] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 204, v. 421 _sq._ However, in a footnote to the latter passage Captain Cook gives the correct explanation of the custom on the authority of Captain King: "It is common for the inferior people to cut off a joint of their little finger, on account of the sickness of the chiefs to whom they belong." [80] Labillardière, _Relation du Voyage à la recherche de la Pérouse_ (Paris, 1800), ii. 151. [81] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 79, 268. But sacrifices to the gods for the recovery of the sick were not limited to the amputation of finger-joints. Not uncommonly children were strangled for this purpose.[82] Thus when Finow the king was grievously sick and seemed likely to die, the prince, his son, and a young chief went out to procure one of the king's own children by a female attendant to sacrifice it as a vicarious offering to the gods, that their anger might be appeased and the health of its father restored. They found the child sleeping in its mother's lap in a neighbouring house; they took it away by force, and retiring with it behind an adjacent burial-ground (_fytoca_) they strangled it with a band of bark-cloth. Then they carried it before two consecrated houses and a grave, at each place gabbling a short but appropriate prayer to the god, that he would intercede with the other gods in behalf of the dying king, and would accept of this sacrifice as an atonement for the sick man's crimes.[83] When, not long afterwards, the divine chief Tooitonga, in spite of his divinity, fell sick and seemed like to die, one or other of his young relations had a little finger cut off every day, as a propitiatory offering to the gods for the sins of the saintly sufferer. But these sacrifices remaining fruitless, recourse was had to greater. Three or four children were strangled at different times, and prayers were offered up by the priests at the consecrated houses and burial-grounds (_fytocas_) but all in vain. The gods remained deaf to the prayers of the priests; their hearts were not touched by the cutting off of fingers or the strangling of children; and the illness of the sacred chief grew every day more alarming. As a last resort and desperate remedy, the emaciated body of the dying man was carried into the kitchen, the people imagining that such an act of humility, performed on behalf of the highest dignitary of the Tonga islands, would surely move the deities to compassion and induce them to spare a life so precious to his subjects.[84] The same curious remedy had shortly before been resorted to for the benefit of the dying or dead king, Finow the First: his body was carried into the kitchen of the sacred chief, the Tooitonga, and there placed over the hole in the ground where the fire was lighted to cook victuals: "this was thought to be acceptable to the gods, as being a mark of extreme humiliation, that the great chief of all the Hapai islands and Vavaoo, should be laid where the meanest class of mankind, the cooks, were accustomed to operate."[85] [82] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 208 _sq._ [83] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 366. [84] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 438 _sq._; compare _id._ ii. 214. [85] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 367 _sq._ The custom of strangling the relations of a sick chief as a vicarious sacrifice to appease the anger of the deity and ensure the recovery of the patient was found in vogue by the first missionaries to Tonga before the arrival of Mariner. When King Moom[=o]oe lay very sick and his death was hourly expected, one of his sons sent for a younger brother under pretence of wishing to cut off his little fingers as a sacrifice to save the life of their dying father. The young man came, whereupon his elder brother had him seized, strangled, and buried within a few yards of the house where the missionaries were living. Afterwards the fratricide came and mourned over his murdered brother by sitting on the grave with his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. In this posture he remained for a long time in silence, and then departed very thoughtful. His motive for thus mourning over the brother whom he had done to death is not mentioned by the missionaries and was probably not known to them. We may conjecture that it was not so much remorse for his crime as fear of his brother's ghost, who otherwise might have haunted him.[86] Morality, or at all events a semblance of it, has often been thus reinforced by superstitious terrors. [86] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 238-240. In recording this incident the missionaries make use of an expression which seems to set the strangling of human beings for the recovery of sick relations in a somewhat different light. They say that "the prince of darkness has impressed the idea on them, that the strength of the person strangled will be transferred into the sick, and recover him."[87] On this theory the sacrifice acts, so to say, mechanically without the intervention of a deity; the life of the victim is transfused into the body of the patient as a sort of tonic which strengthens and revives him. Such a rite is therefore magical rather than religious; it depends for its efficacy on natural causes, and not on the pity and help of the gods. Yet the missionaries, who record this explanation of the custom, elsewhere implicitly accept the religious interpretation of such rites as vicarious sacrifices; for they say that among the superstitious notions of the natives concerning spirits was one that "by strangling some relations of the chief when he is sick, the deity will be appeased, and he (that is, the sick chief) will recover."[88] Perhaps both explanations, the religious and the magical, were assigned by the Tongans: consistency of thought is as little characteristic of savage as of civilised man: provided he attains his ends, he recks little of the road by which he reaches them. An English sailor named Ambler, who had resided for thirteen months in Tonga before the arrival of the missionaries, told them, "that when a great chief lay sick they often strangled their women, to the number of three or four at a time."[89] Such a sacrifice is more likely to have been religious than magical; we may suppose that the victims were rather offered to the gods as substitutes for the chief than killed to recruit his failing strength by an infusion of their health and vigour. A chief would probably have disdained the idea of drawing fresh energy from the bodies of women, though he might be ready enough to believe that the gods would consent to accept their life as a proxy for his own. It is true that elsewhere, notably in Uganda, human beings have been killed to prolong the life of the king by directly transferring their strength to him;[90] but in such cases it would seem that the victims have invariably been men and not women. [87] Captain James Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 240. [88] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 257. [89] Captain James Wilson, _op. cit._, p. 278. This Ambler was a man of very indifferent, not to say infamous, character, but he rendered the missionaries considerable service by instructing them in the Tongan language, which he spoke fluently. See Captain James Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 98, 244 _sq._ [90] See _Adonis, Attis, Osiris_, Third Edition, ii. 219 _sqq._ § 8. _The Doctrine of the Soul and its Destiny after Death_ Thus far we have dealt with the primary or superior gods, who were believed to have been always gods, and about whose origin nothing was known. We now pass to a consideration of the secondary or inferior gods, whose origin was perfectly well known, since they were all of them the souls of dead chiefs or nobles, of whom some had died or been killed in recent years. But before we take up the subject of their worship, it will be well to say a few words on the Tongan doctrine of the human soul, since these secondary deities were avowedly neither more nor less than human souls raised to a higher power by death. The Tongans, in their native state, before the advent of Europeans, did not conceive of the soul as a purely immaterial essence, that being a conception too refined for the thought of a savage. They imagined it to be the finer or more aeriform part of the body which leaves it suddenly at the moment of death, and which may be thought to stand in the same relation to the body as the perfume of a flower to its solid substance. They had no proper word to express this fine ethereal part of man; for the word _loto_, though it might sometimes be used for that purpose, yet rather means a man's disposition, inclination, passion, or sentiment. The soul was supposed to exist throughout the whole of the body, but to be particularly present in the heart, the pulsation of which they regarded as the strength and power of the soul. They did not clearly distinguish between the life and the soul, but said that the right auricle of the heart was the seat of life. They took the liver to be the seat of courage, and professed to have remarked, on opening dead bodies, that the largest livers belonged to the bravest men, in which observation they were careful to make allowance for the enlargement of livers consequent on disease.[91] [91] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 127 _sq._ They acknowledged that the _tooas_ or lower order of people had minds or souls; but they firmly believed that these vulgar souls died with their bodies and consequently had no future existence. In this aristocratic opinion the generality of the commoners acquiesced, though some were vain enough to think that they had souls like their betters, and that they would live hereafter in Bolotoo. But the orthodox Tongan doctrine restricted immortality to chiefs and their ministers (the _matabooles_); at most, by a stretch of charity, it extended the privilege to the _mooas_ or third estate; but it held out no hope of salvation to _tooas_, who formed the fourth and lowest rank of society.[92] [92] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 419, ii. 99, 128 _sq._ Mariner's account, which I have followed, of the sharp distinction which the Tongans drew between the immortality of chiefs and the mortality of common people is confirmed by the testimony of other and independent observers. According to Captain Cook, while the souls of the chiefs went immediately after death to the island of Boolootoo (Bolotoo), the souls of the lower sort of people underwent a sort of transmigration or were eaten by a bird called _loata_, which walked upon their graves for that purpose.[93] The first missionaries, who landed in Tongataboo in 1797, report that the natives "believe the immortality of the soul, which at death, they say, is immediately conveyed in a very large fast-sailing canoe to a distant country called Doobludha, which they describe as resembling the Mahometan paradise. They call the god of this region of pleasure Higgolayo, and esteem him as the greatest and most powerful of all others, the rest being no better than servants to him. This doctrine, however, is wholly confined to the chiefs, for the _tooas_ (or lower order) can give no account whatever; as they reckon the enjoyments of Doobludha above their capacity, so they seem never to think of what may become of them after they have served the purposes of this life."[94] One of these first missionaries was a certain George Veeson, who had been a bricklayer before he undertook to convert the heathen to Christianity. Wearying, however, of missionary work, he deserted his brethren and betook himself to the heathen, among whom he lived as one of them, adopting the native garb, marrying native women, and eagerly fighting in the wars of the natives among themselves. In this way he acquired a considerable knowledge of the Tongan language and customs, of which he made some use in the account of his experiences which he published anonymously after his return to England. Speaking of Tongan ideas concerning the immortality of the soul he says that he heard the chiefs speak much of Bulotu (Bolotoo). "Into this region, however, they believed none were admitted but themselves. The Tuas, or lower class, having no hope of sharing such bliss, seldom speculate upon a futurity, which to them appears a subject lost in shadows, clouds, and darkness."[95] The missionaries reported to Commodore Wilkes that the spirits of all chiefs were supposed to go to Bolotoo, while the souls of poor people remained in this world to feed upon ants and lizards.[96] With regard to the fate of the soul after death, the Tongans universally and positively believed in the existence of a great island, lying at a considerable distance to the north-west, which they considered to be the abode of their gods and of the souls of their dead nobles and their ministers (the _matabooles_). This island they supposed to be much larger than all their own islands put together, and to be well stocked with all kinds of useful and ornamental plants, always in a high state of perfection, and always bearing the richest fruits and the most beautiful flowers according to their respective natures; they thought that when these fruits or flowers were plucked, others immediately took their place, and that the whole atmosphere was filled with the most delightful fragrance that the imagination can conceive, exhaled from these immortal plants. The island, too, was well stocked with the most beautiful birds, of all imaginable kinds, as well as with abundance of hogs; and all of these creatures were immortal, except when they were killed to provide food for the gods. But the moment a hog or a bird was killed, another live hog or bird came into existence to supply its place, just as happened with the fruits and flowers; and this, so far as they could ascertain, was the only way in which plants and animals were propagated in Bolotoo. So far away was the happy island supposed to be that it was dangerous for living men to attempt to sail thither in their canoes; indeed, except by the express permission of the gods, they could not find the island, however near they might come to it. They tell, however, of a Tongan canoe which, returning from Fiji, was driven by stress of weather to Bolotoo. The crew knew not the place, and being in want of provisions and seeing the country to abound in all sorts of fruits, they landed and proceeded to pluck some bread-fruit. But to their unspeakable astonishment they could no more lay hold of the fruit than if it were a shadow; they walked through the trunks of the trees and passed through the substance of the houses without feeling any shock or resistance. At length they saw some of the gods, who passed through the men's bodies as if they were empty space. These gods recommended them to go away immediately, as they had no proper food for them, and they promised them a fair wind and a speedy passage. So the men put to sea, and sailing with the utmost speed they arrived at Samoa, where they stayed two or three days. Thence, again sailing very fast, they returned to Tonga, where in the course of a few days they all died, not as a punishment for having been at Bolotoo, but as a natural consequence, the air of that place, as it were, infecting mortal bodies with speedy death. The gods who dwell in Bolotoo have no canoes, not requiring them; for if they wish to be anywhere, there they are the moment the wish is felt.[97] [93] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 423. [94] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 278 _sq._ [95] Quoted by Miss Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 131. As to Veeson, see _id._ pp. 78, 85 _sqq._ The title of his book is given (p. 87) as _Authentic Narrative of a Four Years' Residence in Tongataboo_ (London: Longman & Co., 1815). I have not seen the book. The man's name is given as Vason by (Sir) Basil Thomson in his _Diversions of a Prime Minister_ (Edinburgh and London, 1894), pp. 326, 327, 329, 331; but his real name seems to have been George Veeson. See Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 6, 230. [96] Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 22. [97] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 101-103. It is said that in order to people Bolotoo the god Hikuleo used to carry off the first-born sons of chiefs and other great men, whom he transported to the island of the gods. To such lengths did he go in this system of abduction that men on earth grew very uneasy. Their ranks became thinner and thinner. How was all this to end? At last the other gods were moved to compassion. The two gods Tangaloa and Maui laid hold of brother Hikuleo, passed a strong chain round his waist and between his legs, and then taking the chain by the ends they fastened one of them to the sky and the other to the earth. Thus trussed up, the deity still made many attempts to snatch away first-born sons; but all his efforts were thwarted and baffled by the chain, for no sooner did he dart out in one direction, than the chain pulled him back in another. According to another, or the same story, the excursions of the deity were further limited by the length of his tail, the end of which was tethered to the cave in which he resided; and though the tail was long and allowed him a good deal of rope, do what he would, he could not break bounds or obtain more than a very partial view of what was going on in the rest of the world.[98] [98] Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, pp. 132 _sq._ As to Hikuleo and his long tail, see also Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 23, "Hikuleo is the god of spirits, and is the third in order of time; he dwells in a cave in the island. Bulotu is most remarkable for a long tail, which prevents him from going farther from the cave in which he resides than its length will admit of." Here the god Hikuleo appears to be confused with the island of Bulotu (Bulotoo) in which he resided. Tradition wavers on the question whether Hikuleo was a god or goddess, "but the general suffrage seems in favour of the female sex." See E. E. V. Collocot, "Notes on Tongan Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) pp. 152, 153. In this curious story we may perhaps detect a tradition of a time when among the Tongans, as among the Semites, religion or superstition demanded the sacrifice of all first-born sons, a barbarous custom which has been practised by not a few peoples in various parts of the earth.[99] [99] As to a custom of putting the first-born to death, see _The Dying God_, pp. 178 _sqq._; and for other reported instances of the custom, see Mrs. James Smith, _The Booandik Tribe of South Australia_ (Adelaide, 1880), pp. 7 _sq._; C. E. Fox, "Social Organisation in San Cristoval, Solomon Islands," _Journal of the R. Anthropological Institute_, xlix. (1919) p. 100; E. O. Martin, _The Gods of India_ (London and Toronto, 1914), p. 215; N. W. Thomas, _Anthropological Report on the Ibo-speaking peoples of Nigeria_, Part i. (London, 1913) p. 12. Compare E. Westermarck, _Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas_ (London, 1906), i. 458 _sqq._ The human soul after its separation from the body at death was termed a _hotooa_ or _atua_, that is, a god or spirit, and was believed to exist in the shape of the body and to have the same propensities as in life, but to be corrected by a more enlightened understanding, by which it readily distinguished good from evil, truth from falsehood, and right from wrong. The souls dwelt for ever in the happy regions of Bolotoo, where they bore the same names as in life and held the same rank among themselves as they had held during their mortal existence. But their lot in Bolotoo was in no way affected by the good or evil which they had done on earth; for the Tongans did not believe in a future state of retribution for deeds done in the body; they thought that the gods punished crime in this present world, without waiting to redress the balance of justice in the world to come. As many of the nobles who passed at death to Bolotoo had been warlike and turbulent in their life, it might naturally be anticipated that they should continue to wage war on each other in the land beyond the grave; but that was not so, for by a merciful dispensation their understandings were so much enlightened, or their tempers so much improved, by their residence in Bolotoo, that any differences they might have between themselves, or with the primitive gods, they adjusted by temperate discussion without resort to violence; though people in Tonga sometimes heard an echo and caught a glimpse of these high debates in the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning.[100] In the blissful abode of Bolotoo the souls of chiefs and nobles lived for ever, being not subject to a second death, and there they feasted upon all the favourite productions of their native country, which grew also abundantly in the happy island.[101] [100] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 110 _sq._, 130, 131, 139, 140. [101] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 423. A less cheerful picture, however, of the state of souls in the other world was painted for Commodore Wilkes by the missionaries who furnished him with information on the native religion of the Tongans. According to them, the souls were forced to become the servants, or rather slaves, of the long-tailed deity Hikuleo, whose commands they had no choice but to execute. His house and all things in it were even constructed of the souls of the dead; and he went so far as to make fences out of them and bars to his gates, an indignity which must have been deeply resented by the proud spirits of kings and nobles.[102] How this gloomy picture of the fate of souls in Bolotoo is to be reconciled with the bright descriptions of it which I have drawn from the pages of Mariner and Cook, it is not easy to say. Apparently we must acquiesce in the discrepancy. That savages should entertain inconsistent views on the life after death need not surprise us, when we remember how little accurate information even civilised peoples possess on that momentous subject. [102] Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, iii. 23. The writer here speaks of Bulotu, where he should have said Hikuleo. See above, p. 89, note^1. § 9. _The Souls of the Dead as Gods_ We have seen that according to Mariner, our best authority on Tongan religion, the souls of dead nobles ranked as gods, possessing all the powers and attributes of the primary or original deities, though in an inferior degree.[103] Thus, like the primary gods, they had the power of returning to Tonga to inspire priests, relations, or other people.[104] For example, the son of Finow, the King, used to be inspired by the spirit of Toogoo Ahoo, a former king of Tonga, who had been assassinated with the connivance of his successor, Finow. One day Mariner asked this young chief how he felt when he was visited by the spirit of the murdered monarch. The chief replied that he could not well describe his feelings, but the best he could say of it was, that he felt himself all over in a glow of heat and quite restless and uncomfortable; he did not feel his personal identity, as it were, but seemed to have a mind differing from his own natural mind, his thoughts wandering upon strange and unusual topics, though he remained perfectly sensible of surrounding objects. When Mariner asked him how he knew it was the spirit of Toogoo Ahoo who possessed him, the chief answered impatiently, "There's a fool! How can I tell you how I knew it? I felt and knew it was so by a kind of consciousness; my mind told me that it was Toogoo Ahoo." Similarly Finow himself, the father of this young man, used occasionally to be inspired by the ghost of Moomooi, a former king of Tonga.[105] [103] W. Mariner, _Tongan Islands_, ii. 97, 99, 103, 109 _sq._ See above, pp. 64 _sq._, 66. [104] W. Mariner, ii. 130 _sq._; compare _id._ pp. 99, 103 _sq._, 109 _sq._ [105] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 104 _sq._ Again, the souls of dead nobles, like gods, had the power of appearing in dreams and visions to their relatives and others to admonish and warn them. It was thought, for example, that Finow the king was occasionally visited by a deceased son of his; the ghost did not appear, but announced his presence by whistling. Mariner once heard this whistling when he was with the king and some chiefs in a house at night; it was dark, and the sound appeared to come from the loft of the house. In Mariner's opinion the sound was produced by some trick of Finow's, but the natives believed it to be the voice of a spirit.[106] Once more, when Finow the king was himself dead, a noble lady who mourned his death and generally slept on his grave, communicated to his widow a dream which she had dreamed several nights at the graveyard. She said that in her dream the late king appeared to her, and, with a countenance full of sorrow, asked why there yet remained so many evil-designing persons in the islands; for he declared that, since he had been at Bolotoo, he had been disturbed by the plots of wicked men conspiring against his son; therefore was he come to warn her of the danger. Finally, he bade her set in order the pebbles on his grave, and pay every attention to his burial-ground. With that he vanished.[107] In such dreams of the reappearance of the recent dead we may discover one source of the belief in the survival of the soul after death. [106] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 110, 130 _sq._ [107] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 423 _sq._ But the gods appeared to mankind to warn, comfort, and advise, not only in their own divine form but also in the form of animals. Thus the primitive gods, according to Mariner, sometimes entered into the living bodies of lizards, porpoises, and a species of water snake. Hence these creatures were much respected. The reason why gods entered into porpoises was to take care of canoes. This power of assuming the form of living animals, says Mariner, belonged only to the original gods, and not to the deified souls of chiefs.[108] In thus denying that the spirits of the dead were supposed sometimes to revisit the earth in animal shapes Mariner was perhaps mistaken, for a different view on the subject was apparently taken at a later time by Miss Farmer, who had access to good sources of information. She writes as follows: "Bulotu (Bolotoo) was peopled with the spirits of departed chiefs and great persons of both sexes; and it was to these chiefly that worship was paid and that sacrifices were offered. These spirits in Bulotu were supposed to act as intercessors with the supreme gods, who were too highly exalted to be approached by men except in this way. The spirits were in the habit of revisiting earth. They would come in birds, or in fish as their shrines. The tropic-bird, king-fisher, and sea-gull, the sea-eel, shark, whale, and many other animals were considered sacred, because they were favourite shrines of these spirit-gods. The heathen never killed any of these creatures; and if, in sailing, they chanced to find themselves in the neighbourhood of a whale, they would offer scented oil or kava to him. To some among the natives the cuttle-fish and the lizard were gods; while others would lay offerings at the foot of certain trees, with the idea of their being inhabited by spirits. A rainbow or a shooting star would also command worship."[109] [108] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 99, 131. [109] Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, pp. 126 _sq._ This account seems to imply that the spirits which took the form of these animals, birds, and fish were believed to be the souls of the dead returning from the spirit world to revisit their old homes on earth. But even if we suppose that herein the writer was mistaken, and that, as Mariner affirmed, only the original and superior gods were deemed capable of incarnation in animal shape, the account is still valuable and interesting because it calls attention to a side of Tongan religion on which our principal authority, Mariner, is almost silent. That side comprises the worship of natural objects, and especially of animals, birds, and fish, regarded as embodiments of spirits, whether gods or ghosts. This worship of nature, and particularly of animated nature, was highly developed among the Samoans; it would be natural, therefore, to find the same system in vogue among their neighbours and near kinsmen the Tongans, though our authorities on Tongan religion say little about it. The system may with some appearance of probability be regarded as a relic of a former practice of totemism.[110] [110] See below, pp. 182 _sqq._, 200 _sqq._ In recent years a considerable amount of evidence bearing on the subject has been collected by Mr. E. E. V. Collocot. He distinguishes the national Tongan gods from the gods of tribes, clans, and small groups of allied households; such a group of households, it appears, formed the ordinary social unit. Indeed, he tells us that there was nothing to prevent a man from setting up a tutelary deity of his own, if he were so disposed; he might adopt almost any object for the religious reverence of his household and himself. Thus there was "a gradation in the divine hierarchy from gods of populous tribes down to deities the private possession of a very few."[111] Further, Mr. Collocot found that most of the gods had sacred animals or other natural objects associated with them,[112] and that the worshippers were generally forbidden to eat the sacred animals of their gods. He concludes that "in the period of which we have information totemism has given way to a more highly developed polytheism, but there are indications that the development was by way of totemism."[113] Among the facts which appear to support this conclusion we may note the following. [111] E. E. V. Collocot, "Notes on Tongan Religion," _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) pp. 154 _sq._, 159. [112] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 160, 161. [113] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 159 _sq._ There was a great god called Boolotoo Katoa, that is, "the whole of Boolotoo (Bolotoo)," who had the dog for his sacred animal; while the deity was being worshipped, a dog lay at the side of the priest. This god had his principal shrine at Boha in the eastern part of Tongataboo: the district was of old the centre of government and the residence of the Tooitonga.[114] Another god, whose name was the King of the tribe or clan of Fonua (_Tui-Haafakafonua_), had for his sacred animal a lizard, and for the convenience of his departure, and presumably arrival, a tree or post was always provided for him to crawl along. A handy post or tree-stump was a regular part of his temple furnishings.[115] Another god, whose name signifies "Proud Boastfulness of the Season" (_Mofuta-ae-ta'u_), had for his sacred animal a great sea-eel, which dwelt in an opening of the reef opposite the village. This deity used to take it very ill if anybody appeared on the beach near his abode wearing a turban or whitened with lime; and should a man rashly disregard the feelings of the divine eel in these respects, it was believed that the deity would carry him off to his hole in the rock.[116] Another god, named Haele-feke, used to manifest himself in the form of an octopus (_feke_). Whenever an octopus appeared in a certain pool, it was at once recognised as the god, and the priestess immediately went and awaited him at the shrine, which seems to have been a small raised platform. Thither the people presently resorted, bringing bunches of coco-nuts and coco-nut leaves and earth. The priestess thereupon spoke as in the person of the octopus, and apparently imitated the creature, presumably by sprawling in the ungainly manner of an octopus. The worshippers of this deity abstained from eating the flesh of the octopus, and even from approaching a place where other people were eating it. If any of them transgressed the taboo, he was afflicted with complete baldness. Should any of the worshippers find a dead octopus, they buried it with all due ceremony in Teekiu, their principal village.[117] The rail bird (_kalae_) was worshipped by some people, who used to tie bunches of the birds together and carry them about with them when they travelled; and the priest had a bunch of the sacred birds tattooed as a badge on his throat.[118] The clan Fainga'a had for its sacred animal the mullet; and it is said that young mullets were tabooed to the men of the clan.[119] A family group in Haapai had the owl for their sacred creature; if an owl hooted near a house in the afternoon, it was a sign that there was a pregnant woman in the household.[120] The god of Uiha in Haapai was the Eel-in-the-Open-Sea (_Toke-i-Moana_); as usual, the worshippers might not eat the flesh of eels or approach a place where an eel was being cooked.[121] The clan Falefa worshipped two goddesses, Jiji and Fainga'a, whose sacred creature was the heron. Jiji was supposed to be incarnate in the dark-coloured heron, and Fainga'a in the light-coloured heron. When a pair of herons, one dark and the other light-coloured, were seen flying together, people said that it was the two goddesses Jiji and Fainga'a.[122] In the island of Tofua there was a clan called the King of Tofua (_Tui Tofua_), which had the shark for its god; members of the clan might not eat the flesh of sharks, because they believed themselves to be related to the fish; they said that long ago some of the clansmen leaped from a canoe into the sea and were turned into sharks.[123] Another god who appeared in the form of a shark was Taufa of the Sea (_Taufa-tahi_); but in another aspect he was a god of the land (_Taufa-uta_) and a notable protector of gardens. To secure his aid the husbandman had only to plait a coco-nut leaf in the likeness of a shark and to hang it up in his plantation; a garden thus protected was under a taboo which no one would dare to violate. A Christian, who ventured to thrust his hand in mockery into the maw of the sham shark, had both his arms afterwards bitten off by a real shark.[124] Other gods were recognised in the shape of flying-foxes, shell-fish, and little blue and green lizards.[125] We hear of two Tongan gods who had black volcanic pebbles for their sacred objects,[126] and of one whose shrine was the tree called _fehi_, the hard wood of which was commonly used for making spears and canoes.[127] The gods of Niua Fo'ou, one of the most distant islands of the Tongan group, were three in number, to wit, the octopus, pig's liver, and a large lump of coral. The worshippers of the two former deities might not eat the divine octopus and the divine pig's liver.[128] Christianity itself appears not to have wholly extinguished the reverence of the natives for the sacred animals of their clans. A much-respected native minister of the Methodist Church informed Mr. Collocot that to this day he gets a headache if he eats the sacred animal of his clan, though other people may partake of the creature, not only with impunity, but with relish.[129] [114] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 162. [115] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 227. [116] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 227 _sq._ [117] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 231 _sq._ [118] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 161, 233. [119] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 234. [120] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 234. [121] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 234 _sq._ [122] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 232. [123] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 238 _sq._ [124] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 229. [125] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 230, 231, 233. [126] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ pp. 230, 233. [127] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 232. [128] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 239. [129] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 160. Thus the worship of natural objects, and especially of animals, fish, and birds, presents a close analogy to the Samoan system, as we shall see presently;[130] and it is not without significance that tradition points to Samoa as the original home from which the ancestors of the Tongans migrated to their present abode.[131] On the question of the nature of the divine beings who presented themselves to their worshippers in the form of animals, the evidence collected by Mr. Collocot seems to confirm the statement of Mariner, that only the primary or non-human gods were believed capable of thus becoming incarnate; at least Mr. Collocot gives no hint that the worshipful creatures were supposed to be tenanted by the souls of the human dead; in other words, there is nothing to show that the Tongan worship of animals was based on a theory of transmigration. [130] See below, pp. 154 _sq._ [131] E. E. V. Collocot, _op. cit._ p. 239. The statement of Miss Farmer, which I have quoted, that among the Tongans the souls of the dead were the principal object of worship and received the most sacrifices, is interesting and not improbable, though it is not confirmed by Mariner. It may indeed, perhaps, be laid down as a general principle that the worship of the dead tends constantly to encroach on the worship of the high gods, who are pushed ever farther into the background by the advent of their younger rivals. It is natural enough that this should be so. The affection which we feel for virtue, the reverence and awe inspired by great talents and powerful characters, persist long after the objects of our love and admiration have passed away from earth, and we now render to their memories the homage which we paid, or perhaps grudged, to the men themselves in their lifetime. For us they seem still to exist; with their features, their characteristic turns of thought and speech still fresh in our memories, we can hardly bring ourselves to believe that they have utterly ceased to be, that nothing of them remains but the lifeless dust which we have committed to the earth. The heart still clings fondly to the hope, if not to the belief, that somewhere beyond our ken the loved and lost ones are joined to the kindred spirits who have gone before in that unknown land, where, in due time, we shall meet them again. And as with affection, so with reverence and fear; they also are powerful incentives to this instinctive belief in the continued existence of the dead. The busy brain that explored the heights and depths of this mysterious universe--the glowing imagination that conjured up visions of beauty born, as we fondly think, for immortality--the aspiring soul and vaulting ambition that founded or overturned empires and shook the world--are they now no more than a few mouldering bones or a handful of ashes under their marble monuments? The mind of most men revolts from a conclusion so derogatory to what they deem the dignity of human nature; and so to satisfy at once the promptings of the imagination and the impulse of the heart, men gradually elevate their dead to the rank of saints and heroes, who in course of time may easily pass by an almost insensible transition to the supreme place of deities. It is thus that, almost as far back as we can trace the gropings of the human mind, man has been perpetually creating gods in his own likeness. In a pantheon thus constantly recruited by the accession of dead men, the recruits tend to swamp the old deities by sheer force of numbers; for whereas the muster-roll of the original gods is fixed and unchangeable, the newcomers form a great host which is not only innumerable but perpetually on the increase, for who can reckon up the tale of the departed or set bounds to the ravages of death? Indeed, where the deification of the dead is carried to its logical limit, a new god is born for every man that dies; though in Tonga against such an extreme expansion of the spiritual hierarchy, and a constant overcrowding of Bolotoo, a solid barrier was interposed by the Tongan doctrine which opened the gates of paradise only to noblemen.[132] [132] We have seen (p. 70) that according to Mariner the number of the original gods was about three hundred; but as to the deified noblemen he merely says that "of these there must be a vast number" (_Tonga Islands_, ii. 109). In his "Notes on Tongan Religion" (_Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) p. 159) Mr. E. E. V. Collocot remarks: "The number of the gods, moreover, was liable to constant augmentation by the deification of the illustrious or well-beloved dead." As a notable instance he cites the case of a certain chief named Fakailoatonga, a native of Vavau, who subdued or overran a large part of Tongataboo. He was a leper, but for a long time did not know the true nature of his malady. When he learned the truth, he in disgust buried himself alive, and after his death he was elevated to the godhead. But in this deification, if Mariner is right, there was nothing exceptional; as a chief he became a god after death in the course of nature. § 10. _Temples and Tombs: Megalithic Monuments_ On the whole it seems reasonable to conclude that in Tonga the distinction between the original superhuman deities and the new human gods tended to be obliterated in the minds of the people. More and more, we may suppose, the deified spirits of dead men usurped the functions and assimilated themselves to the character of the ancient divinities. Yet between these two classes of worshipful beings Mariner draws an important distinction which we must not overlook. He says that these new human gods, these souls of deified nobles, "have no houses dedicated to them, but the proper places to invoke them are their graves, which are considered sacred, and are therefore as much respected as consecrated houses."[133] If this distinction is well founded, the consecrated house or temple, as we may call it, of an original god was quite different from the grave at which a new god, that is, a dead man or woman, was worshipped. But in spite of the high authority of Mariner it seems doubtful whether the distinction which he makes between the temples of the old gods and the tombs of the new ones was always recognised in practice, and whether the two were not apt to be confounded in the minds even of the natives. The temples of the gods, as we have seen, did not differ in shape and structure from the houses of men, and similar houses, as we shall see, were also built on the graves of kings and chiefs and even of common people. What was easier than to confuse the two classes of spirit-houses, the houses of gods and the houses of dead kings or chiefs, especially when the memory of these potentates had grown dim and their human personality had been forgotten? Certainly European observers have sometimes been in doubt as to whether places to which the natives paid religious reverence were temples or graves. In view of this ambiguity I propose to examine some of the descriptions which have been given by eye-witnesses of the sacred structures and enclosure which might be interpreted either as temples or tombs. The question has a double interest and importance, first, in its bearing on the theory, enunciated by Herbert Spencer, that temples are commonly, if not universally, derived from tombs,[134] and gods from dead men; and secondly, in its bearing on the question of the origin and meaning of megalithic monuments; for not a few of the tombs of Tongan kings and sacred chiefs are constructed in part of very large stones. [133] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 110 [134] Herbert Spencer, _Principles of Sociology_, vol. i (London, 1904) pp. 249 _sqq._ I will begin with the evidence of Captain Cook, an excellent observer and faithful witness. He paid two visits to the Tonga islands, a short one in 1773, and a longer one of between two and three months in 1777. Speaking of his first visit to Tongataboo in 1773, he writes as follows: "After sitting here some time, and distributing some presents to those about us, we signified our desire to see the country. The chief immediately took the hint, and conducted us along a lane that led to an open green, on the one side of which was a house of worship built on a mount that had been raised by the hand of man, about sixteen or eighteen feet above the common level. It had an oblong figure, and was inclosed by a wall or parapet of stone, about three feet in height. From this wall the mount rose with a gentle slope, and was covered with a green turf. On the top of it stood the house, which had the same figure as the mount, about twenty feet in length, and fourteen or sixteen broad. As soon as we came before the place, every one seated himself on the green, about fifty or sixty yards from the front of the house. Presently came three elderly men; who seated themselves between us and it, and began a speech, which I understood to be a prayer, it being wholly directed to the house. This lasted about ten minutes; and then the priests, for such I took them to be, came and sat down along with us, when we made them presents of such things as were about us. Having then made signs to them that we wanted to view the premises, my friend Attago immediately got up, and going with us, without showing the least backwardness, gave us full liberty to examine every part of it. "In the front were two stone steps leading to the top of the wall; from this the ascent to the house was easy, round which was a fine gravel walk. The house was built, in all respects, like to their common dwelling-houses; that is, with posts and rafters; and covered with palm thatch. The eaves came down within about three feet of the ground, which space was filled up with strong matting made of palm leaves, as a wall. The floor of the house was laid with fine gravel; except in the middle, where there was an oblong square of blue pebbles, raised about six inches higher than the floor. At one corner of the house stood an image rudely carved in wood, and on one side lay another; each about two feet in length. I, who had no intention to offend either them or their gods, did not so much as touch them, but asked Attago, as well as I could, if they were _Eatuas_, or gods. Whether he understood me or no, I cannot say; but he immediately turned them over and over, in as rough a manner as he would have done any other log of wood, which convinced me that they were not there as representatives of the Divinity. I was curious to know if the dead were interred there, and asked Attago several questions relative thereto; but I was not sure that he understood me; at least I did not understand the answers he made, well enough to satisfy my inquiries. For the reader must know, that at our first coming among these people, we hardly could understand a word they said. Even my Otaheitean youth, and the man on board the _Adventure_, were equally at a loss: but more of this by and by. Before we quitted the house we thought it necessary to make an offering at the altar. Accordingly we laid down upon the blue pebbles, some medals, nails, and several other things; which we had no sooner done than my friend Attago took them up, and put them in his pocket. The stones with which the walls were made that inclosed this mount, were some of them nine or ten feet by four, and about six inches thick. It is difficult to conceive how they can cut such stones out of the coral rocks. "This mount stood in a kind of grove open only on the side which fronted the high road, and the green on which the people were seated. At this green or open place, was a junction of five roads, two or three of which appeared to be very public ones. The groves were composed of several sorts of trees. Among others was the _Etoa_ tree, as it is called at Otaheite, of which are made clubs, etc., and a kind of low palm, which is very common in the northern parts of New Holland. "After we had done examining this place of worship, which in their language is called _a-fiat-tou-ca_, we desired to return."[135] [135] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 182-184. A little farther on, still speaking of his first visit to Tonga, Captain Cook observes: "So little do we know of their religion, that I hardly dare mention it. The buildings called _afiatoucas_, before mentioned, are undoubtedly set apart for this purpose. Some of our gentlemen were of opinion, that they were merely burying-places. I can only say, from my own knowledge, that they are places to which particular persons directed set speeches, which I understood to be prayers, as hath been already related. Joining my opinion with that of others, I was inclined to think that they are set apart to be both temples and burying-places, as at Otaheite, or even in Europe. But I have no idea of the images being idols; not only from what I saw myself, but from Mr. Wales's informing me that they set one of them up, for him and others to shoot at."[136] [136] Captain James Cook, _op. cit._ iii. 206. Thus Captain Cook and his party were divided in opinion as to whether the house on the mound, within its walled enclosure built of great stones, was a temple or a tomb. Captain Cook himself called it simply a "house of worship" and a "place of worship," but he inclined to the view that it was both a temple and a burying-place, and in this opinion he was probably right. The native name which he applied to it, _afiatouca_, means a burial-place; for it is doubtless equivalent to _fytoca_, a word which Mariner explains to mean "a burying-place, including the grave, the mount in which it is sunk, and a sort of shed over it."[137] Moreover, the oblong square of blue pebbles, which Captain Cook observed on the floor of the house on the mound, and which he regarded as the altar, speaks also in favour of the house being a tomb; for Mariner has described how the mourners brought white and black pebbles to the house which stood over the grave of King Finow, and how they "strewed the inside of the house with the white ones, and also the outside about the _fytoca_, as a decoration to it: the black pebbles they strewed only upon those white ones, which covered the ground directly over the body, to about the length and breadth of a man, in the form of a very eccentric ellipse. After this, the house over the _fytoca_," continues Mariner, "was closed up at both ends with a reed fencing, reaching from the eaves to the ground, and, at the front and back, with a sort of basket-work, made of the young branches of the cocoa-nut tree, split and interwoven in a very curious and ornamental way, to remain till the next burial, when they are to be taken down, and, after the conclusion of the ceremony, new ones are to be put up in like manner."[138] This description of the house over King Finow's grave agrees so closely with Captain Cook's description of the house in the _afiatouca_, that we may with much probability regard the latter as a tomb, and suppose that the "oblong square of blue pebbles," which Cook regarded as an altar and on which he laid down his offering, marked the place of the body in the grave: it was at once an altar and a tombstone. [137] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 144, note *. However, in another passage (i. 392, note *) Mariner tells us that, strictly speaking, the word _fytoca_ applied only to the mound with the grave in it, and not to the house upon the mound; for there were several _fytocas_ that had no houses on them. For other mentions of _fytocas_ and notices of them by Mariner, see _op. cit._ i. pp. 386, note *, 387, 388, 392, 393, 394, 395, 402, ii. 214-218. [138] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 402. A little farther on (p. 424, note *) Mariner remarks that "mourners were accustomed to smooth the graves of their departed friends, and cover them with black and white pebbles." On his second and more prolonged visit to the Tonga islands, Captain Cook expressed, with more confidence, his opinion that the _fiatookas_, as he calls them, were at once burial-grounds and places of worship. Thus he says: "Their _morais_ or _fiatookas_ (for they are called by both names, but mostly by the latter), are, as at Otaheite, and many other parts of the world, burying-grounds and places of worship; though some of them seemed to be only appropriated to the first purpose; but these were small, and, in every other respect, inferior to the others."[139] Again, in another passage he describes one of the more stately of these temple-tombs. He says: "Some of us, accompanied by a few of the king's attendants, and Omai as our interpreter, walked out to take a view of a _fiatooka_, or burying-place, which we had observed to be almost close by the house, and was much more extensive, and seemingly of more consequence, than any we had seen at the other islands. We were told, that it belonged to the king. It consisted of three pretty large houses, situated upon a rising ground, or rather just by the brink of it, with a small one, at some distance, all ranged longitudinally. The middle house of the three first, was by much the largest, and placed in a square, twenty-four paces by twenty-eight, raised about three feet. The other houses were placed on little mounts, raised artificially to the same height. The floors of these houses, as also the tops of the mounts round them, were covered with loose, fine pebbles, and the whole was inclosed by large flat stones of hard coral rock, properly hewn, placed on their edges; one of which stones measured twelve feet in length, two in breadth, and above one in thickness. One of the houses, contrary to what we had seen before, was open on one side; and within it were two rude, wooden busts of men; one near the entrance, and the other farther in. On inquiring of the natives, who had followed us to the ground, but durst not enter here, What these images were intended for? they made us as sensible as we could wish, that they were merely memorials of some chiefs who had been buried there, and not the representations of any deity. Such monuments, it should seem, are seldom raised; for these had probably been erected several ages ago. We were told, that the dead had been buried in each of these houses; but no marks of this appeared. In one of them, was the carved head of an Otaheite canoe, which had been driven ashore on their coast, and deposited here. At the foot of the rising ground was a large area, or grass-plot, with different trees planted about it; amongst which were several of those called _etoa_, very large. These, as they resemble the cypresses, had a fine effect in such a place. There was also a row of low palms near one of the houses, and behind it a ditch, in which lay a great number of old baskets."[140] [139] Captain Cook, _Voyages_, v. 424. [140] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 342 _sq._ Between the departure of Cook and the arrival of Mariner the first Protestant missionaries were fortunate enough to witness the burial of a king of Tonga, by name Moom[=o]oe. Their description of it and of the royal tomb entirely bears out the observations and conclusions of Captain Cook. The _fiatooka_ or burial-ground, they tell us, "is situated on a spot of ground about four acres. A mount rises with a gentle slope about seven feet, and is about one hundred and twenty yards in circumference at the base; upon the top stands a house neatly made, which is about thirty feet long, and half that in width. The roof is thatched, and the sides and ends left open. In the middle of this house is the grave, the sides, ends, and bottom of which are of coral stone, with a cover of the same: the floor of the house is of small stones. The _etoa_ and other trees grow round the _fiatooka_."[141] Into this grave, or rather stone vault, the missionaries saw the king's body lowered. The stone which covered the vault was eight feet long, four feet broad, and one foot thick. This massive stone was first raised and held in suspense by means of two great ropes, the ends of which were wound round two strong piles driven into the ground at the end of the house. The ropes were held by about two hundred men, who, when the king's body had been deposited in the grave, slowly lowered the great stone and covered the vault.[142] Some years later Mariner witnessed the funeral of another king of Tonga, Finow the First; and he similarly describes how the tomb was a large stone vault, sunk about ten feet deep in the ground, the covering stone of which was hoisted by the main strength of a hundred and fifty or two hundred men pulling at the two ends of a rope; when the bodies of the king and his daughter had been laid side by side in the vault the massive stone was lowered by the men with a great shout.[143] The number of the men required to raise and lower these great stones gives us some idea of their weight. [141] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 240 _sq._ [142] Captain James Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 244. [143] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 387 _sq._ Thus far we have been dealing only with the tombs of the civil kings of Tonga. But far more stately and massive are the tombs of the sacred kings or pontiffs, the Tooitongas, which still exist and still excite the curiosity and admiration of European observers. The Tongan name for these tombs is _langi_, which properly means "sky," also "a band of singers"; but there appears to be no connexion between these different meanings of the word.[144] The tombs are situated in Tongataboo, not far from Mooa, the old capital of the island. They stand near the south-eastern shore of the lagoon, which, under the name of the Mooa Inlet, penetrates deeply into the northern side of Tongataboo. Beginning at the northern outskirts of the village of Labaha, they stretch inland for more than half a mile into the forest.[145] They are of various constructions and shapes. Some consist of a square enclosure, on the level of the ground, the boundary walls being formed of large stones; while at each corner of the square two high stones, rising above the wall, are placed upright at right angles to each other and in a line with their respective sides.[146] But apparently the more usual and characteristic type of tomb has the form of a truncated pyramid or oblong platform raised in a series of steps or terraces, which are built of massive blocks of coral. The number of steps or terraces seems to vary from one to four according to the height of the monument.[147] It is much to be regretted that no one has yet counted and mapped out these tombs and recorded the names of their royal or divine occupants, so far as they are remembered; but a trace of the religious awe which once invested this hallowed ground still avails to keep it inviolate. A proposal which Sir Basil Thomson made to clear away the forest and preserve the tombs was very coldly received; in the eyes of the natives, professing Christians as they are, it probably savoured of sacrilege. The ancient custom was to clear the ground about every new tomb, and after the interment to suffer the tropical undergrowth to swallow it up for ever. Nowadays no holy pontiffs are borne to their last resting-place in these hallowed shades; so the forest is never cleared, and nature is left free to run wild. In consequence the tombs are so overgrown and overshadowed that it is difficult to photograph them in the gloomy and tangled thicket. Great _ifi_ trees[148] overhang them: banyan-trees have sprouted on the terraces and thrust their roots into every crevice, mantling the stones with a lacework of tendrils, which year by year rend huge blocks asunder, until the original form of the terrace is almost obliterated. Sir Basil Thomson followed the chain of tombs for about half a mile, but on each occasion his guides told him that there were other smaller tombs farther inland. The tombs increase in size and in importance as they near the shore of the lagoon, and to seven or eight of the larger ones the names of the occupants can be assigned; but the names of the sacred chiefs who sleep in the smaller tombs inland are quite forgotten. Some of them are mere enclosures of stones, not squared, but taken haphazard from the reef.[149] [144] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 213 _sq._ [145] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 86. [146] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 283 _sq._ [147] The tomb described and illustrated by the first missionaries had four massive and lofty steps, each of them five and a half feet broad and four feet or three feet nine inches high. See Captain James Wilson, _l.c._, with the plate facing p. 284. One such tomb, rising in four tiers, is ascribed traditionally to a female Tooitonga, whose name has been forgotten. See (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 88 n.^2. [148] The Tahitian chestnut (_Inocarpus edulis_); see above, p. 74, note^2. [149] (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_ (Edinburgh and London, 1894), pp. 379 _sq._; _id._ "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 86. According to an earlier authority, the Tongans could name and point out the tombs of no less than thirty Tooitongas. See the letter of Mr. Philip Hervey, quoted in _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London_, Second Series, vol. ii. p. 77. The tombs were built in the lifetime of the sacred chiefs who were to lie in them, and their size accordingly affords a certain measure of the power and influence of the great men interred in them. Among the largest is the tomb which goes by the name of Telea, though it is said to contain no body, Telea himself being buried in the tomb next to it. We are told that, dissatisfied with the first sepulchre that was built for him, he replaced it by the other, which is also of great size. The most modern of the tombs is that of Laufilitonga, the last to bear the title of Tooitonga. He died a Christian about 1840 and was buried in the tomb of very inferior size which crowns the village cemetery. The most ancient cannot be dated; but that some are older than A.D. 1535 may be inferred from the tradition that Takalaua, a Tooitonga, was assassinated about that time because he was a tyrant who compelled his people to drag great stones from Liku, at the back of the island, to the burial ground at Mooa; the distance is about a mile and a half.[150] [150] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 86 _sq._, 88 n.^2. As to the legend of the tyrant Takalaua, see _id._ _Diversions of a Prime Minister_, pp. 294-302. The first, so far as I know, to see and describe these remarkable tombs were the earliest missionaries to Tonga about the end of the eighteenth century. Speaking of the burial ground at Mooa, where lay interred the divine chiefs whose title was Tooitonga and whose family name was Futtaf[=a]ihe or Fatafehi, the missionaries observe that "the _fiatookas_ are remarkable. There lie the Futtaf[=a]ihes for many generations, some vast and ruinous, which is the case with the largest; the house on the top of it is fallen, and the area and tomb itself overgrown with wood and weeds."[151] Later on they had the advantage of being conducted over the august cemetery by the Futtaf[=a]ihe or Tooitonga of the day in person, who gave them some explanations concerning these sepulchres of his ancestors. To quote their description, they say that the tombs "lie ranged in a line eastward from his house, among a grove of trees, and are many in number, and of different constructions: some, in a square form, were not in the least raised above the level of the common ground; a row of large stones formed the sides, and at each corner two high stones were placed upright at right angles to each other, and in a line with their respective sides: others were such as the brethren describe that of Moom[=o]oe to be: and a third sort were built square like the first; the largest of which was at the base one hundred and fifty-six feet by one hundred and forty; it had four steps from the bottom to the top, that run quite round the pile: one stone composed the height of each step, a part of it being sunk in the ground; and some of these stones in the wall of the lower are immensely large; one, which I measured, was twenty-four feet by twelve, and two feet thick; these Futtaf[=a]ihe informed me were brought in double canoes from the island of Lefooga. They are coral stone, and are hewn into a tolerably good shape, both with respect to the straightness of their sides and flatness of their surfaces. They are now so hardened by the weather, that the great difficulty we had in breaking a specimen of one corner made it not easy to conjecture how the labour of hewing them at first had been effected; as, by the marks of antiquity which some of them bear, they must have been built long before Tasman showed the natives an iron tool. Besides the trees which grow on the top and sides of most of them, there are the _etooa_, and a variety of other trees about them; and these, together with the thousands of bats which hang on their branches, all contribute to the awful solemnity of those sepulchral mansions of the ancient chiefs. On our way back Futtaf[=a]ihe told us that all the _fiatookas_ we had seen were built by his ancestors, who also lay interred in them; and as there appeared no reason to doubt the truth of this, it proves that a supreme power in the government of the island must for many generations have been in the family of the Futtaf[=a]ihes: for though there were many _fiatookas_ in the island, the brethren, who had seen most of them, said they were not to be compared to these for magnitude, either in the pile or the stones which compose them."[152] [151] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean,_ p. 252. As to Futtaf[=a]ihe, the Tooitonga or divine chief of their time, the missionaries remark (_l.c._) that "Futtaf[=a]ihe is very superstitious, and himself esteemed as an _odooa_ or god." Here _odooa_ is the Polynesian word which is usually spelled _atua_. Mariner tells us (_Tonga Islands_, ii. 76) that the family name of the Tooitonga was Fatafehi, which seems to be only another way of spelling Futtaf[=a]ihe, the form adopted by the missionaries. Captain Cook similarly gives Futtaf[=a]ihe as the family name of the sacred kings or Tooitongas, deriving the name "from the God so called, who is probably their tutelary patron, and perhaps their common ancestor." See Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 425. [152] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 283-285. The description is accompanied by an engraved plate, which illustrates the three types of tombs mentioned in the text. In the foreground is the stepped pyramid, a massive and lofty structure, its flat top surmounted by a hut. To the right, in the distance, is seen the square walled enclosure, with high stones standing upright at the corners of the walls, and with a hut enclosed in the middle of the square. In the background appears a mound enclosed by a wall and surmounted by a hut. Thus a hut figures as an essential part in each type of tomb. However, Mariner tells us that "they have several _fytocas_ which have no houses on them" (_Tonga Islands_, i. 392 note *). Top. ____________ | | 3 ft. 9 in. | 5-1/2 feet. | _____________| | | 3 ft. 9 in. | 5-1/2 feet. | _____________| | | 3 ft. 9 in. | 5-1/2 feet. | PROFILE OF THE STEPS. _____________| | | 4 feet. | | | | Some thirty years later the tombs of the Tooitongas were visited and described by the French explorer, J. Dumont d'Urville. His description is worth quoting. He says: "I directed my steps to the splendid _faï-tokas_ of the Fata-Faïs. As these monuments are essentially taboo, in the absence of the Tooi-tonga no one looks after their upkeep, and they are now buried on every side among dark masses of trees and almost impenetrable thickets. Hence we had some difficulty in approaching them, and it was impossible for us to get a single general view of the whole of these structures, which must have a somewhat solemn effect when the ground is properly cleared. "For the most part these mausoleums have the form of great rectangular spaces surrounded by enormous blocks of stone, of which some are as much as from fifteen to twenty feet long by six or eight broad and two feet thick. The most sumptuous of these monuments have four or five rows of steps, making up a total height of eighteen or twenty feet. The interior is filled up with shingle and fragments of unhewn coral. One of these _faï-tokas_, which I measured, was a hundred and eighty feet long by a hundred and twenty broad. At one of the upper angles I observed a block of considerable size with a deep cutting in it. I was told that it was the seat of the Tooi-tonga-fafine[153]; it was there that she sat to preside at the ceremony of the funeral of the Tooi-tonga. [153] The Tooi-tonga-fafine (or fefine) was the Tooitonga's sister and ranked above him. Her title means "the lady Tooi-tonga." "Her dignity is very great. She is treated as a kind of divinity. Her rank is too high to allow of her uniting herself in marriage with any mortal: but it is not thought wrong or degrading for her to have a family, and in case of the birth of a daughter the child becomes the _Tamaha_. This lady rises higher than her mother in rank, and is nearer the gods. Every one approaches her with gifts and homage. Her grandfather will bring his offerings and sit down before her, with all humility, like any of the common people. Sick people come to her for cure" (Miss Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 145, apparently from the information of Mr. John Thomas). Captain Cook learned with surprise that Poulaho, the Tooitonga of his time (whom Cook speaks of as the king) acknowledged three women as his superiors. "On our inquiring, who these extraordinary personages were, whom they distinguish by the name and title of _Tammaha_, we were told that the late king, Poulaho's father, had a sister of equal rank, and elder than himself; that she, by a man who came from the island of Feejee, had a son and two daughters; and that these three persons, as well as their mother, rank above Futtafaihe the king. We endeavoured, in vain, to trace the reason of this singular pre-eminence of the _Tammahas_; for we could learn nothing besides this account of their pedigree. The mother and one of the daughters called Tooeela-Kaipa, live at Vavaoo. Latoolibooloo, the son, and the other daughter, whose name is Moungoula-Kaipa, reside at Tongataboo. The latter is the woman who is mentioned to have dined with me on the 21st of June. This gave occasion to our discovering her superiority over the king, who would not eat in her presence, though she made no scruple to do so before him, and received from him the customary obeisance, by touching her foot." See Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 430 _sq._ "Some of these edifices were of an oval form, but they were much smaller. Each of them was surmounted by a small hut, which served as an oratory or house for the spirit of the dead; most of them have been destroyed by the lapse of time, and only traces of them are left scattered on the ground. "The enormous blocks of coral employed in the construction of these monuments have all been brought by sea from Hifo to Mooa. They were got on the shore of the sea at Hifo, were hewn on the spot, and were transported in great canoes; then they were landed at Mooa and drawn on rollers to the place of their destination. These monuments are astonishing evidence of the patience which they must have demanded on the part of these islanders; they were ocular testimony to me of the high degree of civilisation which the natives had reached. Man must have risen to ideas of a much higher order than those of a simple savage before he would take so great pains for the single object of consecrating the memory of his chiefs. "Such tombs are no longer built in Tongataboo: people content themselves with simple mounds surrounded by a row of posts or even an ordinary palisade. However, Singleton assured me that Finow the Younger had erected two great _faï-tokas_ of stone in Vavao, one for the last Tooitonga, and one for his father."[154] [154] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage de l'Astrolabe, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1832) pp. 106-108. Singleton was an Englishman, one of the crew of the _Port-au-Prince_, the ship in which Mariner sailed. When Dumont d'Urville visited Tonga, Singleton had lived as a native among the natives for twenty-three years; he was married and had children, and he hoped to end his days in Tongataboo. See J. Dumont d'Urville, _op. cit._ iv. 23 _sq._ The Frenchman, De Sainson, who accompanied Dumont d'Urville on his visit to Tongataboo, has also described the tombs of the Tooitongas at Mooa from personal observation. I will quote his description: "It is in the heart of the forest that the ancient inhabitants of these countries, who idolized their Kings (Tooi-tongas), placed the tombs of that sacred race. These monuments of a more enterprising age still astonish the beholder by their mass and their extent. The _fai-tokas_, as these burial-places are called, are artificial eminences, on the top of which, in the form of a square, are three or four crosses of great granitic blocks arranged as steps, of which each block may be four or five feet high. If there is only a single step on the top of the mound, it is because only a single Tooi-tonga sleeps there in the grave; if the bones of a whole family are deposited in a common tomb, three or four steps, one above the other, mark their union in death. Some of these monuments which contain only a single body are arranged in an oval. I counted more than twelve of these immense structures, and yet we left a great many aside. I counted more than one stone between eight and fifteen feet long; and I conceived a high idea of those men of ancient days who erected over the remains of their kings these imperishable mausoleums, in an island based on coral, where it would be difficult to find a stone of two feet square. I imagined them to be very different from their effeminate descendants, those men of old who went in their canoes more than a hundred and fifty leagues to look for the enormous blocks of which these tombs are built, who cut them without the help of iron, and succeeded, by means unknown, in planting them on these hillocks, where by their own weight they are fixed for ever, like the Druidical monuments of Brittany, which one would say were dropped on earth rather by the magic of talismans than by the power of man. "The present inhabitants of Tonga contemplate with a pious awe the fruit of the labours and patience of their forefathers, without dreaming for a moment of imitating them in their noble enterprises. A distant voyage affrights these degenerate scions of a hardy race, and the great canoes which still survive, sheltered under sheds very skilfully built, are little more than the useless encumbrance of chiefs grown languid in the long peace which has infected the whole people with habits of indolence. "The most recent tombs consist of a small house enclosed on all sides, built on a rising ground, and shaded by a circle of mimosas, a tree sacred to the dead. Most of the illustrious graves are clustered together at Mafanga, a large village of which the whole territory is sacred on account of the hallowed relics which it contains. Along with the corpse they bury at the depth of a few inches small wooden effigies representing persons of both sexes. I had occasion to unearth a few of these little statues, and I remarked in them an astonishing feeling for artistic design."[155] [155] "Extrait du Journal de M. de Sainson," in J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage de l'Astrolabe, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1832) pp. 361 _sq._ Some sixteen years later a Catholic missionary, living among the heathen population of Tongataboo, wrote thus: "Nothing equals the care which they take in the burial of their dead. As soon as a native has breathed his last, the neighbours are informed, and immediately all the women come to weep about the corpse. Here the men never weep. The body is kept thus for a day or two, during which they are busy building a tomb near the dwelling of the deceased's family. The sepulchral house is neat, built on an eminence, surrounded by a pretty fence of choice bamboos; the enclosure is planted with all kinds of odoriferous shrubs, especially evergreens. Finally, the monument is covered by a roof artistically constructed. For the tombs of kings and the greatest chiefs they go to distant islands to find huge stones to crown the grave. I have seen one twenty-four feet long by eight broad and at least eighteen inches thick. One of these tombs was built by the natives of Wallis Island, who brought the enormous blocks in immense canoes. It is wonderful for these peoples."[156] [156] Jérôme Grange, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) pp. 12 _sq._ Captain Erskine, who visited Tongataboo in 1849, says that "near the landing-place at the village of Holobeka, off which we were lying, we saw overshadowed with trees, one of the _faitokas_, or old burial-places of the country, which, although no longer 'tabu,' are still in some cases used as places of sepulture, and very carefully kept. This one was an oblong square platform a few feet high, surrounded by a stone wall, the interior being beautifully paved with coloured corals and gravel; the house or temple, which Captain Cook and others describe as occupying the centre, having been, I suppose, removed. I saw but one other of these monuments during our stay among the islands, the largest of which stands on several rows of steps, as described by all former visitors."[157] [157] J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), p. 130. Thomas West, who lived as a missionary in the Tongan islands from 1846 to 1855, tells us that "chiefs were usually interred in tombs, constructed of blocks of sandstone, cut from suitable localities by the seashore, where, at a little depth from the surface, layers of hard and durable sandstone are found, even on many of the coralline islands. In several of the ancient burial-places, similar stones, arranged in terraces, surround the whole enclosure. Some of these are of immense size, and seem to indicate the possession, on the part of former inhabitants, either of greater energy than the present race, or of better tools and appliances. The burial-places of the Tonguese are always surrounded by the most imposing foliage of the tropics, and placed in sequestered spots. A mound of earth is raised, of dimensions varying with the necessities of the place; and, whenever a grave is opened within the limits of this mound, it is always filled up with beautiful white sand, and never contains more than one body. No particle of clay or earthy mould is allowed to touch the remains of the dead. The sand is brought in baskets by the chief mourners, who sometimes sail or journey many miles to procure it; and each person pours the contents into the grave until it is sufficiently filled up. The top of the grave is, afterwards, carefully tended and decorated with black pebbles and red coral, arranged in various devices, which have a very pretty effect. Small houses are also placed over the tombs of the chiefs and gentry."[158] [158] Thomas West, _Ten Years in South-Central Polynesia_ (London, 1865), pp. 268 _sq._ In more recent years the tombs of the Tooitongas at Mooa have been visited by Sir Basil Thomson, who has described and discussed them.[159] From an anonymous pamphlet called _The Wairarapa Wilderness_, written by the passengers of the s.s. _Wairarapa_ and published in 1884, Sir Basil Thomson quotes a passage containing a description of the tombs, with measurements which, he tells us, are accurate as far as they go. From it I will extract a few particulars. The writers inform us that the tombs are built of blocks of coral which vary in length and thickness; some of the largest they found to be from fifteen to eighteen feet long and from one and a half to two feet thick. The largest measured by them is twenty-two feet long and two feet thick and stands between seven and eight feet above the ground. This great stone, now split in two, is at the middle of the lowest step of one of the pyramidal tombs. The height of the steps varies much in the different pyramids; one step was found to be four feet high. The breadth of each step is three feet or more: it has been carefully levelled and covered with coral gravel. The stones fit very closely and are very regular at top and bottom throughout the tiers. The corners of one pyramid observed by the writers are formed of huge rectangular stones, which seem to have been put in position before they were finally faced. On the upper surface of the largest stone is a deep hollow about the size and shape of a large chestnut mortar. Sir Basil Thomson, who has examined this hollow, believes it to be a natural cavity which has been artificially smoothed by a workman. He suggests that it may have been lined with leaves and used as a bowl for brewing kava at the funeral ceremonies. On one mound the writers of the pamphlet remarked a large flat stone, some five and a half feet square; and in several of the tombs they noticed huge slabs of volcanic stone placed indiscriminately side by side with blocks of coral. The writers measured the bases of three of the tombs and found them to be about two chains (one hundred and thirty-two feet) long by a chain and a half (ninety-nine feet) broad; the base of a fourth was even larger.[160] [159] (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_, pp. 379 _sq._; _id._ "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 86-88. [160] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 87 _sq._ Surveying these various accounts of the tombs of the Tooitongas or sacred chiefs, we may perhaps conclude that, while the type of tomb varied in different cases, the most characteristic, and certainly the most remarkable, type was that of a stepped or terraced pyramid built of such large blocks of stone as to merit the name of megalithic monuments. So far as I have observed in the accounts given of them, this type of tomb was reserved exclusively for the sacred chiefs, the Tooitongas, whom the Tongans regarded as divine and as direct descendants of the gods. The civil kings, so far as appears, were not buried in these massive pyramids, but merely in stone vaults sunk in the summits of grassy mounds. It is natural, with Sir Basil Thomson,[161] to compare the pyramids of the Tooitongas with the similar structures called _morais_ or _marais_ which are found in Tahiti and the Marquesas islands. Indeed, the very name _morai_ was sometimes applied to them by the Tongans themselves, though more usually they called them _fiatookas_, which was simply the common word for burying-ground.[162] In Tahiti and the Marquesas islands these _marais_ were in like manner truncated pyramids, rising in a series of steps or tiers, built of stones, some of which were large, but apparently not so large as in the corresponding Tongan edifices; for in describing one of the largest of the Tahitian _morais_ or _marais_ Cook mentions only one stone measuring as much as four feet seven inches in length by two feet four in breadth, though he found several three and a half feet long by two and a half feet broad. These dimensions can hardly compare with the size of the blocks in the tombs of the Tooitongas, some of which, as we have seen, measure fifteen, eighteen, and even twenty-two or twenty-four feet in length by eight or twelve feet in height. These Tahitian and Marquesan pyramids are commonly described as temples, and justly so, because the gods were worshipped there and human sacrifices were offered on them.[163] But they were also, like the similar structures in Tonga, used in certain cases for the burial of the dead, or at all events for the preservation of their embalmed bodies. Captain Cook seems even to have regarded the Tahitian _morais_ primarily as burying-grounds and only secondarily as places of worship.[164] In the island of Huahine, one of the Society Islands, the sovereign chiefs were buried in a _marai_, where they lay, we are told, in more than Oriental state.[165] William Ellis, one of our best authorities on the religion of the Tahitians, tells us that "the family, district, or royal _maraes_ were the general depositories of the bones of the departed, whose bodies had been embalmed, and whose skulls were sometimes preserved in the dwelling of the survivors. The _marae_ or temple being sacred, and the bodies being under the guardianship of the gods, were in general considered secure when deposited there. This was not, however, always the case; and in times of war, the victors sometimes not only despoiled the temples of the vanquished, and bore away their idol, but robbed the sacred enclosure of the bones of celebrated individuals."[166] Moerenhout, another good authority on the Tahitian religion, informs us that the _marais_ which belonged to individuals often served as cemeteries and were only the more respected on that account; but he says that in the public _marais_ almost the only persons buried were the human victims offered in sacrifice, and sometimes the priests, who were laid face downwards in the grave, for the curious reason that otherwise the gaze of the dead men would blight the trees and cause the fruit to fall to the ground.[167] [161] (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_, p. 379. [162] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 424. Elsewhere (v. 364) he speaks of "a _morai_ or _fiatooka_"; and shortly afterwards, referring to the same structure, he mentions it as "this _morai_, or what I may as well call temple" (p. 365). As to the equivalence of the words _morai_ and _marai_ (_marae_), see J. A. Moerenhout, _Voyages aux Îles du Grand Océan_ (Paris, 1837), i. 466; and as to the significance of the word in its various dialectical forms, see E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 213, _s.v._ "malae." [163] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, i. 157 _sqq._; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_ (London, 1788), pp. 543 _sqq._; Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 207 _sqq._; David Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean_ (New York, 1822), ii. 38 _sq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_ (London, 1831), i. 240-248, 265 _sqq._, 271, 274, 529 _sq._, ii. 13 _sq._, 38 _sq._; W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, Second Edition (London, 1832-1836), i. 340, 405; J. A. Moerenhout, _Voyages aux Îles du Grand Océan_, i. 466-470; G. H. von Langsdorff, _Reise um die Welt_ (Frankfurt am Mayn, 1812), i. 115, 134; H. Melville, _Typee_ (London, N.D.), pp. 166-169 (_Everyman's Library_); Matthias G----, _Lettres sur les Îles Marquises_ (Paris, 1843), pp. 54 _sq._; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_ (Leipzig, 1875-1876), i. 49, ii. 180, 183 _sq._; G. Gerland, in Th. Waitz, _Anthropologie_, vi (Leipzig, 1872) pp. 376 _sqq._ [164] Capt. James Cook, _Voyages_, i. 157 _sq._, "Their name for such burying-grounds, which are also places of worship, is _Morai_." Compare _id._, i. 217, 219, 220, 224, vi. 37, 41; J. Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), p. 151, "the _morais_, which serve the double purpose of places of worship and receptacles for the dead." Compare J. R. Forster, _Observations_, p. 545, "To ornament the _marais_ and to honour by it the gods and the decayed buried there, the inhabitants plant several sorts of trees near them." [165] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 271. [166] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 405. Elsewhere (p. 401), speaking of the Tahitian burial customs, Ellis observes that "the skull was carefully kept in the family, while the other bones, etc., were buried within the precincts of the family temple." [167] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 470. As to the Tahitian custom of burying the dead in the _marais_, see also C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_, ii. 183 _sq._, according to whom only the bodies of persons of high rank were interred in these sanctuaries. In the Marquesas islands the _morais_ appear to have been also used occasionally or even regularly as burial-places. Langsdorff, one of our earliest authorities on these islands, speaks of a _morai_ simply as a place of burial.[168] He tells us that the mummified bodies of the dead were deposited on scaffolds in the _morai_ or family burial-place, and that the people of neighbouring but hostile districts used to try to steal each other's dead from the _morais_, and deemed it a great triumph when they succeeded in the attempt. To defeat such attempts, when the inhabitants of a district expected to be attacked in force by their enemies, they were wont to remove their dead from the _morai_ and bury them in the neighbourhood.[169] Again, in their monograph on the Marquesas islands, the French writers Vincendon-Dumoulin and Desgraz recognise only the mortuary aspect of the _morais_. They say: "The _morais_, funeral monuments where the bodies are deposited, are set up on a platform of stone, which is the base of all Nukahivan constructions. They are to be found scattered in the whole extent of the valleys; no particular condition seems to be required in the choice of the site. Near the shore of Taïohae is the _morai_ which contains the remains of a brother of the _atepeïou Patini_, an uncle of Moana, who died some years ago, as they tell us."[170] [168] G. H. von Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 115. [169] G. H. von Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 134. [170] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _Îles Marquises ou Nouka-hiva_ (Paris, 1843), p. 253. Thus to some extent, in function as well as in form, these pyramidical temples of Tahiti and the Marquesas islands corresponded to the megalithic monuments of the Tooitongas or sacred chiefs of Tonga; in fact, they were mausoleums as well as temples. We are not at liberty to assume, with one authority on the Polynesians, that they were mausoleums first and foremost, and that they only developed into temples at a later time.[171] It is possible, on the contrary, that from the outset they were temples dedicated to the worship of the high gods, and that the custom of depositing the dead in them was a later practice adopted for the sake of the protection which these holy places might be expected to afford against the efforts of enemies to carry off and desecrate the remains of the departed. Dr. Rivers propounded a theory that the custom of building these megalithic monuments in the form of pyramids was introduced into the Pacific by a people who brought with them a secret worship of the sun, and he apparently inclined to regard the monuments themselves as at least associated with that worship.[172] The theory can hardly apply to the megalithic monuments of the Tooitongas in Tongataboo; for the evidence which I have adduced seems to render it certain that these monuments were erected primarily as tombs to receive the bodies of the sacred chiefs. It is true that these tombs enjoyed a sacred character and were the scene of worship which justly entitles them to rank as temples; but so far as they were temples, they were devoted to the worship, not of the sun, but of the dead. [171] C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_, ii. 180. [172] W. H. R. Rivers, "Sun-cult and Megaliths in Oceania," _American Anthropologist_, N.S. xvii. (1915) pp. 431 _sqq._ Thus our enquiry into the meaning and origin of these interesting monuments entirely confirms the view of the shrewd and observant Captain Cook that the _fiatookas_, as the Tongans called them, were both places of burial and places of worship. Finally, the evidence which I have cited appears to render it highly probable that these imposing monuments were built, not by a prehistoric people, predecessors of the Tongans in the islands, but by the Tongans themselves; for not only do the people affirm that the tombs were erected by their ancestors, but they have definite traditions of some of the chiefs who built them, and are buried in them; and they still profess to remember some of the islands from which the huge stones were brought to Tongataboo in great double canoes. That the graves of the great chiefs were, like temples, regarded by the people with religious reverence appears plainly from a statement of Mariner. He tells us that a place called Mafanga, in the western part of Tongataboo, being a piece of land about half a mile square, was consecrated ground. "In this spot," he says, "are the graves where the greatest chiefs from time immemorial have been buried, and the place is therefore considered sacred; it would be a sacrilege to fight here, and nobody can be prevented from landing: if the most inveterate enemies meet upon this ground, they must look upon each other as friends, under penalty of the displeasure of the gods, and consequently an untimely death, or some great misfortune. There are several of these consecrated places on different islands."[173] Thus the reverence paid to the tombs of the chiefs was like the reverence paid to the consecrated houses and enclosures of the gods; we have already seen what a sacrilege it was deemed to fight or to pursue an enemy within the consecrated enclosure of a god,[174] and we now learn that it was equally a sacrilege to fight within the ground that was hallowed by the graves of the chiefs. [173] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 88. [174] Above, pp. 74 _sqq._ Mariner has described for us the worship paid by the king and his chiefs to one of the sacred graves at Mafanga. One morning Finow the king, accompanied by several of his chiefs and their ministers (the _matabooles_), landed at Mafanga and immediately proceeded to his father's grave to perform a ceremony called _toogi_. Mariner attended the party and witnessed the ceremony. All who went to participate in it assumed the attire of mourners or suppliants, that is, they wore mats instead of their usual dress and they had wreaths, made of the leaves of the _ifi_ tree, round their necks. They sat down before the grave, and the king and all of them beat their cheeks with their fists for about half a minute without speaking a word. One of the principal ministers (_matabooles_) then addressed the spirit of the king's father to the following effect: "Behold the man (meaning Finow, the king) who has come to Tonga to fight his enemies. Be pleased with him, and grant him thy protection. He comes to battle, hoping he is not doing wrong. He has always held Tooitonga in the highest respect, and has attended to all religious ceremonies with exactness." One of the attendants then went to the king and received from him a piece of kava root, which he laid down on the raised mount before the burial-place (_fytoka_). Several others, who had pieces of kava root in their bosoms, went up to the grave in like manner and deposited them there.[175] [175] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 88 _sq._ Thus the king prayed to the spirit of his dead father at his grave and made an offering at the tomb. What more could he do to a god at his temple? And in general we are told that when a great blessing was desired, or a serious evil deprecated, if the people wished to enjoy health or beget children, to be successful at sea, or victorious in war, they would go to the burial grounds of their great chiefs, clean them up thoroughly, sprinkle the floor with sand, and lay down their offerings.[176] When Finow the king was dying, his friends carried him on a bier, not only to the temples of the great gods Tali-y-Toobo and Tooi-fooa-Bolotoo, where prayers for his recovery were offered; they bore him also to the grave of a chieftainess and invoked her spirit in like manner to pity and spare the expiring monarch.[177] Apparently they thought that the ghost of the chieftainess was quite as able as the great gods to heal the sick and restore the dying. [176] Sarah S. Farmer, _Tonga and the Friendly Islands_, p. 127. [177] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 367. But on no occasion, perhaps, was the assimilation of dead men to gods so conspicuous as at the annual offering of first-fruits, which seems to have been the most impressive of all the yearly rites observed by the Tongans. The ceremony was observed once a year just before the yams in general had arrived at a state of maturity; the yams offered at it were of a kind which admitted of being planted sooner than the others, and which consequently, ripening earlier, were the first-fruits of the yam season. The object of the offering was to ensure the protection of the gods, that their favour might be extended to the welfare of the nation generally, and in particular to the productions of the earth, of which in Tonga yams are the most important. At this solemn ceremony the new yams, slung on poles, were brought from distant islands, carried in procession to the grave of the late Tooitonga, and deposited in front of it, their bearers sitting down beside them. Thereupon one of the ministers (_matabooles_) of the living Tooitonga arose, advanced, and sat down before the grave, a little in front of the men who had brought the yams. Next he addressed the gods generally, and afterwards particularly, mentioning the late Tooitonga and the names of several others. In doing so he returned thanks for their divine bounty in favouring the land with the prospect of a good harvest, and prayed that their beneficence might be continued in future. In this harvest thanksgiving the spirit of the dead Tooitonga seems to have ranked on an equality with the original or superhuman gods; indeed, in a sense he took precedence of them, since the offerings were presented at his grave. The first-fruits, we are told, were offered to the gods in the person of the divine chief Tooitonga.[178] [178] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 196-202, compare p. 78. The ceremony was also witnessed, though not understood, by Captain Cook (_Voyages_, v. 363 _sqq._) and by the first English missionaries (Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 264 _sq._). On the whole we may conclude that, however sharp a distinction was drawn in theory between the old gods, who had always been gods, and the new gods, who had once been men, the line which divided them in practice was wavering and blurred. The dead men and women were fast rising, if they had not already risen, to an equality with the ancient deities. We may even surmise that some of these old gods themselves were human beings, whose original humanity was forgotten. The tombs of the kings and sacred chiefs may be described as megalithic monuments in so far as immense stones were often employed in the construction either of the enclosing walls or of the high steps which led up to the summit of the mound where the grave was dug. It is possible, and indeed probable, that great stones were similarly employed as ornaments or accessories of the consecrated houses or temples of the primary gods, but of such an employment I have met with no express notice among our authorities. So far as their descriptions allow us to judge, these megalithic monuments of the Tongans were purely sepulchral in character; they were dedicated only to the worship of the dead. But there exists at least one other remarkable megalithic monument in these islands of which the original meaning is quite uncertain, and of which consequently we cannot confidently say that it was erected for the sake of honouring or propitiating the spirits of the departed. The monument in question is situated near the eastern extremity of Tongataboo, at a distance of three or four hundred yards from the beach and facing towards the island of Eua. The land on which it stands was the private property of the Tooitongas, whose megalithic tombs are situated some eight or nine miles away to the west. In the intervening country, which is perfectly flat and partly covered with forest, partly under cultivation, there are said to be no other monuments or ruins. It is remarkable that this imposing monument, which naturally impresses the observer by its resemblance to the trilithons or gate-like structures of Stonehenge, should have apparently escaped the observation of Europeans down to the middle of the nineteenth century. It is not mentioned by Cook and Mariner, nor even by those who, like the first missionaries and Dumont d'Urville, described in some detail the tombs of the Tooitongas not many miles off. Perhaps the solitariness of the surrounding country may partly account for their ignorance and silence; for there are said to be few inhabitants in this part of the island and none at all in the immediate neighbourhood of the monument. It seems to have been first discovered by Mr. Philip Hervey of Sydney in 1850 or 1851, but his description of it was not published for some ten years. In August 1852 it was seen by Dr. Charles Forbes, Surgeon of H.M.S. _Calliope_, and his description of it was published by the Society of Antiquaries of London in the following year. In 1865 it was seen and briefly described by Mr. Foljambe of H.M.S. _Curaçoa_. Some twenty years later the passengers of the s.s. _Wairarapa_, on a yachting cruise from New Zealand, visited the spot and published an account of the structure. Still later Sir Basil Thomson examined the monument and discussed its history.[179] [179] See the letter of Dr. Charles Forbes, in _Archaeologia, or Miscellaneous Tracts relating to Antiquity_, xxxv. (London, 1853) p. 496 (with a woodcut); _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London_ [First Series], iii. 19; _id._ Second Series, i. 287; letter of Philip Hervey, quoted by Kenneth R. H. Mackenzie, in _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London_, Second Series, ii. 75-77; Julius L. Brenchley, _Jottings during the Cruise of H.M.S. "Curaçoa" among the South Sea Islands in 1865_ (London, 1873), p. 132 (with a woodcut); (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_ (Edinburgh and London, 1894), pp. 380-382 (with a woodcut on p. 393); _id._ "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 81-84 (with a photograph). Views of the monument, taken apparently from photographs, have also been published by Dr. F. H. H. Guillemard (_Australasia_, vol. ii. London, 1894, p. 501), Dr. George Brown (_Melanesians and Polynesians_, London, 1910, plate facing p. 410), and by Mr. S. Percy Smith (_Hawaiki_, Third Edition, Christchurch, N.Z., 1910, pp. 157 _sq._). Dr. W. H. R. Rivers spoke as if there were several trilithons in Tongataboo (_History of Melanesian Society_, ii. 430 _sq._; _id._ "Sun-cult and Megaliths in Oceania," _American Anthropologist_, N.S. xvii., 1915, p. 444); but in this he seems to have been mistaken. So far as I can gather, there is only one of these remarkable monuments in Tongataboo or indeed in the whole of the Pacific. The monument in question is a structure of the type known as a trilithon; that is, it is composed of three large stones, of which two stand upright, while the third rests horizontally on their tops. All three stones are monoliths of hardened coral, rough and much weathered on the surface, and precisely similar to the coral of the neighbouring reefs. Indeed, about halfway between the monument and the beach the coral rock is exposed in a hollow, from which it seems probable that the great blocks were hewn and brought to their present situation. The statement of Mr. Brenchley, that the stone of which the monument consists is not to be found elsewhere on the island, is erroneous. The uprights are quadrangular monoliths neatly squared. No measurements of the stones appear to be on record, but the two uprights are variously estimated to measure from fourteen to sixteen feet in height; their breadth or depth from front to back is variously given as from eight to ten or even twelve feet; but they seem to taper somewhat upwards, for the estimate which assigns twelve feet for the depth of the uprights at their base, mentions seven feet or probably more as their breadth at the top. The thickness of the uprights seems to be four feet. The space between them is variously stated at ten and twelve feet. The cross-stone, which rests on the two uprights, is reported to measure twenty-four feet in length, by four or five feet in depth, and two feet in thickness. Each of the uprights is estimated by Sir Basil Thomson to weigh not less than fifty tons. The tops of both are deeply mortised to receive the cross-stone, the ends of which are sunk into them instead of being laid flat on the top. The cross-stone lies east and west, so that the opening between the uprights faces north and south. On the upper surface of the cross-stone, and at about the middle of it, is a cup-like hollow, very carefully cut, about the size of a coco-nut shell. A large bowl of the same material is said to have formerly stood on the cross-stone, but the statement is not made by an eyewitness and is probably mistaken.[180] [180] For the authorities, see the preceding note. The measurements, to some extent discrepant, are given by Dr. Charles Forbes, Mr. Philip Hervey, and the passengers of s.s. _Wairarapa_, as reported by Sir Basil Thomson _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. 82 _sq._), who had unfortunately mislaid his own notes containing the measurements. The statement that the monument was surmounted by a large bowl is made by Mr. Brenchley, in whose sketch of the structure the bowl figures. But Mr. Brenchley did not himself see the monument, and nobody else appears to have seen the bowl. I suspect that the report of the bowl may have originated in a hasty reading of Mr. Hervey's statement that "on the centre of it [the cross-stone] a small cava bowl is scooped out," though in Mr. Brenchley's account the bowl has seemingly increased in size. Similarly in his report the height of the uprights has grown to about thirty feet, which appears to be just double of their real size. Perhaps Mr. Brenchley's erroneous allegation as to the material of the monument similarly originated in a misunderstanding of Mr. Hervey's statement that "the material is the coral rock, or coral rag which are formed of stone brought from Wallis's Island." The name which the natives give to this megalithic monument is _Haamonga_ or _Ho ha Mo-nga Maui_, which is said to mean "Maui's burden." The name is explained by a story that the god or hero Maui brought the massive stones in a gigantic canoe from Uea (Wallis Island), where the great holes in the rock from which he quarried them may still be seen. From the canoe he bore them on his back to the spot where they now stand.[181] This story can hardly be thought to throw much light on the origin of the monument; for the natives are in the habit of referring the marvels which they do not understand to the action of the god or hero Maui, just as the ancient Greeks fathered many natural wonders on the deified hero Hercules.[182] But from Mateialona, Governor of Haapai and cousin of the King of Tonga, Sir Basil Thomson obtained a tradition of the origin of the stones which is at least free from the miraculous element and connects the monument with Tongan history. The account runs thus: "Concerning the Haamonga of Maui, they say forsooth that a Tui Tonga (the sacred line of chiefs), named Tui-ta-tui, erected it, and that he was so named because it was a time of assassination.[183] And they say that he had it built for him to sit upon during the Faikava (ceremony of brewing kava), when the people sat round him in a circle, and that the king so dreaded assassination that he had this lordly seat built for himself that he might sit out of the reach of his people. And this, they say, is the origin of the present custom of the Faikava, it being now forbidden for any one to sit behind the king." At such wassails the presiding chief sits at the apex of an oval. To this tradition Sir Basil Thomson adds: "Mr. Shirley Baker told me that he believed the Haamonga to have been erected as a _fakamanatu_ (memorial) to the son of some Tui Tonga, a view that finds support in the fondness of Tongan chiefs for originality in the burial ceremonies of their near relations--witness Mariner's account of the funeral of Finau's daughter--but on the other hand native traditions generally have a kernel of truth, and the legend of Tui-ta-tui and its consequences finds an analogy in our own custom of guarding against an assassin's dagger at the drinking of the loving cup."[184] The tradition receives some confirmation from the bowl-like hollow on the upper surface of the cross-stone; for the hollow might have served as the king's drinking-cup to hold his kava at the customary wassails. Indeed, Mr. Philip Hervey, the first to examine the monument, describes the hollow in question as "a small cava bowl";[185] and after giving an account of the monument Mr. Brenchley adds: "Its history seems to be entirely unknown, but it is very natural to suppose from its form that it was connected with some ancient kava ceremonies."[186] [181] Charles Forbes, in _Archaeologia_, xxxv. 496 (who gives _Ho ha Mo-nga Maui_ as the name of the stones); (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_, p. 382; _id._, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 81 (who gives _Haamonga_ as the native name of the stones). [182] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 81. Maui is the great hero of Polynesia, known in nearly every group of islands, generally regarded as a demigod or deified man, but sometimes and in some places rising to the dignity of full godhead. He appears, says Mr. E. Tregear, to unite the classical attributes of Hercules and Prometheus. See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 233, _s.v._ "Maui." [183] "_Tui-ta-tui, lit._ 'King-strike-King.'" [184] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 82. [185] _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London_, Second Series, ii. 77. [186] Julius L. Brenchley, _Jottings during the Cruise of H.M.S. "Curaçoa" among the South Sea Islands in 1865_ (London, 1873), p. 132. The tradition which connects the erection of the monument with the reign of a Tooitonga named Tui-ta-tui is further countenanced, if not confirmed, by a list of the Tooitongas, in which the name of Tui-ta-tui occurs as the eleventh in descent from the great god Tangaloa.[187] This Tui-ta-tui is believed to have reigned in the thirteenth or fourteenth century of our era.[188] From the size and style of the masonry Sir Basil Thomson is disposed to assign the monument to a later date. He points out that for the quarrying and mortising of stones that weigh some fifty tons apiece the craft of stone-cutting must have been fully developed; and from a comparison of the megalithic tombs of the Tooitongas which can be approximately dated, he infers that the craft of stone-cutting in Tonga reached its culmination at the end of the seventeenth century, though it was still practised down to the beginning of the nineteenth century; for Mariner tells us that in his time a professional class of masons was set apart for building the stone sepulchral vaults of chiefs.[189] Yet on the whole Sir Basil Thomson concludes that "when one is left to choose between a definite native tradition on the one hand and probability on the other for the assignment of a date, I would prefer the tradition. If the Tongans had invented the story as a mere expression for antiquity they would not have pitched upon Tui-ta-tui, about whom nothing else is recorded, in preference to Takalaua, Kau-ulu-fonua-fekai, or any of the kings who loom large in traditionary history. Whether the Haamonga was built for a throne or for a memorial, doubtless it is connected with the reign of Tui-ta-tui, who lived in the fourteenth century."[190] [187] (Sir) Basil Thomson, _Diversions of a Prime Minister_, p. 395. In this work the author prints a list of the Tooitongas "as given by Mr. E. Tregear on the authority of the Rev. J. E. Moulton." [188] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 83; S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki_, p. 158. [189] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 266. As to the size of the stones, Mariner says, "The stones used for this purpose are about a foot in thickness, and are cut of the requisite dimensions, out of the stratum found on the beaches of some of the islands." [190] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 83 _sq._ As an alternative to the view that the hollow on the cross-stone was a kava bowl Dr. Rivers suggests that it "may have been destined to receive the skull and other bones of the dead, so often preserved in Polynesia."[191] The suggestion accords well with the opinion that the monument is a memorial of the dead, and it might be supported by the Samoan practice of severing a dead chief's head from his body and burying it separately, to save it from being dug up and desecrated by enemies in time of war.[192] However, Dr. Rivers is careful to add that such a practice is not recorded in Tonga and appears to be incompatible with the mode of sepulture which prevails there. [191] W. H. R. Rivers, _History of Melanesian Society_, ii. 431. [192] See below, p. 212. In this connexion another megalithic monument of the Tonga islands deserves to be considered, though it appears to have been commonly overlooked. It was observed by Captain Cook in the island of Lefooga (Lifuka). He says: "Near the south end of the island, and on the west side, we met with an artificial mount. From the size of some trees that were growing upon it, and from other appearances, I guessed that it had been raised in remote times. I judged it to be about forty feet high; and the diameter of its summit measured fifty feet. At the bottom of this mount stood a stone, which must have been hewn out of coral rock. It was four feet broad, two and a half thick, and fourteen high; and we were told by the natives present, that not above half its length appeared above ground. They called it _Tangata Arekee_;[193] and said, that it had been set up, and the mount raised, by some of their forefathers, in memory of one of their kings; but how long since, they could not tell."[194] [193] "_Tangata_, in their language, is man; _Arekee_, king." [194] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 298 _sq._ To this description of the monument Sir Basil Thomson has called attention; he rightly classes it with the tombs of the chiefs. See his "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 85. When we remember that Tongan kings were commonly buried in such mounds as Captain Cook here describes, and further that these mounds were commonly enclosed or faced with great blocks of hewn stone, we may be disposed to accept as reasonable and probable the explanation which the natives gave of this great monolith, which, if the reported measurements of it are correct, must have been no less than twenty-eight feet high. If it was indeed a memorial of a dead king, it might be thought to strengthen the view that the great trilithon was also set up as a monument to a deceased monarch or Tooitonga. Another possible explanation of the trilithon is, as Sir Basil Thomson points out, that it served as a gateway to some sacred spot inland. But against this view he observes that he examined the bush for some distance in the neighbourhood without finding any trace of ruins or stones of any kind. He adds that the memory of sacred spots dies very hard in Tonga, and that the natives do not believe the trilithon to have been a gateway.[195] [195] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 81 _sq._ It is natural to compare the trilithon of Tongataboo with the famous trilithons of Stonehenge, which it resembles in plan and to which it is comparable in size. The resemblance struck Dr. Charles Forbes, the first to publish a description of the monument based on personal observation. He says: "The route we pursued led us over a country perfectly level, with the exception of occasional mounds of earth, apparently artificial, and reminding one very much of the barrows of Wilts and Dorset, which idea is still more strongly impressed upon the mind on coming in sight of the monument, which bears a most striking resemblance to the larger gateway-looking stones at Stonehenge."[196] But at the same time, as Dr. Forbes did not fail to note, the Tongan trilithon differs in some respects from those of Stonehenge. In the first place the interval (ten or twelve feet) between the uprights of the Tongan trilithon appears to be much greater than the interval between the uprights of the trilithons at Stonehenge.[197] In the second place, the cross-stone of the Tongan trilithon is mortised much more deeply into the uprights than are the cross-stones at Stonehenge. For whereas at Stonehenge these cross-stones present the appearance of being laid flat on the top of the uprights, the cross-stone of the Tongan trilithon is sunk deeply into the uprights by means of mortises or grooves about two feet wide which are cut into the uprights, so that the top of the cross-stone is nearly flush with their tops, while its ends also are nearly flush with their outside surfaces.[198] [196] Dr. Charles Forbes, in _Archaeologia_, xxxv. p. 496. [197] I have no measurements of these intervals, but write from the impression of a recent visit to Stonehenge. [198] (Sir) Basil Thomson, "Notes upon the Antiquities of Tonga," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) p. 82, quoting the anonymous pamphlet _The Wairarapa Wilderness_. As the origin and purpose of Stonehenge are still unknown, its massive trilithons can hardly be cited to explain the similar monument of Tongataboo. The rival theories which see in Stonehenge a memorial of the dead and a temple of the sun[199] are equally applicable or inapplicable to the Tongan monument. In favour of the mortuary character of this solitary trilithon it might be urged that the Tongans were long accustomed to erect megalithic monuments, though of a different type, at the tombs of their sacred kings, which are situated not many miles away; but against this view it may be argued that there are no traces of burial or graves in the immediate neighbourhood, and that native tradition, not lightly to be set aside, assigns a different origin to the monument. Against the solar interpretation of the trilithon it may be alleged, first, that the monument faces north and south, not east and west, as it might be expected to do if it were a temple of the sun or a gateway leading into such a temple; second, that, while a circle of trilithons, as at Stonehenge, with an opening towards the sunrise may be plausibly interpreted as a temple of the sun, such an interpretation cannot so readily be applied to a solitary trilithon facing north and south; and, third, that no trace of sun-worship has been discovered in the Tonga islands. So far as I have observed, the Tongan pantheon is nowhere said to have included a sun-god, and the Tongans are nowhere reported to have paid any special respect to the sun. Savages in general, it may be added, appear to be very little addicted to sun-worship; it is for the most part among peoples at a much higher level of culture, such as the ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, and Peruvians, that solar worship becomes an important, or even the predominant, feature of the national faith.[200] Perhaps the impulse to it came rather from the meditations of priestly astronomers than from the random fancies of common men. Some depth of thought was needed to detect in the sun the source of all life on earth; the immutable regularity of the great luminary's movements failed to rouse the interest or to excite the fear of the savage, to whom the elements of the unusual, the uncertain, and the terrible are the principal incentives to wonder and awe, and hence to reflexion. We are all naturally more impressed by extraordinary than by ordinary events; the fine edge of the mind is dulled by familiarity in the one case and whetted by curiosity in the other. [199] Lord Avebury, _Prehistoric Times_, Seventh Edition (London, 1913), pp. 132 _sqq._; Sir Norman Lockyer, _Stonehenge and other British Stone Monuments astronomically considered_ (London, 1906); C. Schuchhardt, "Stonehenge," _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xlii. (1910), pp. 963-968; _id._ in _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xliii. (1911) pp. 169-171; _id_., in _Sitzungsberichte der königl. preuss. Akademie der Wissenschaften_, 1913, pp. 759 _sqq._ (for the sepulchral interpretation); W. Pastor, "Stonehenge," _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xliii. (1911) pp. 163-(for the solar interpretation). [200] Adolph Bastian observed that "sun-worship, which people used to go sniffing about to discover everywhere, is found on the contrary only in very exceptional regions or on lofty table-lands of equatorial latitude." See his book, _Die Voelker des Oestlichen Asien_, iv. (Jena, 1868) p. 175. Nobody, probably, has ever been better qualified than Bastian to pronounce an opinion on such a subject; for his knowledge of the varieties of human thought and religion, acquired both by reading and travel, was immense. It is only to be regretted that through haste or negligence he too often gave out the fruits of his learning in a form which rendered it difficult to sift and almost impossible to digest them. Yet from his storehouse he brought forth a treasure, of which we may say what Macaulay said of the scholarship of Parr, that it was "too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with injudicious and inelegant ostentation, but still precious, massive, and splendid." Bearing in mind the numerous other stone monuments scattered widely over the islands of the Pacific, from the Carolines to Easter Island, Dr. Guillemard concludes that some race, with a different, if not a higher civilisation preceded the Polynesian race in its present homes, and to this earlier race he would apparently refer the erection of the trilithon in Tongataboo.[201] He may be right. Yet when we consider, first, the native tradition of the setting up of the trilithon by one of the sacred kings of Tonga; second, the practice of the Tongans of building megalithic tombs for these same sacred kings; and, third, the former existence in Tonga of a professional class of masons whose business it was to construct stone vaults for the burial of chiefs,[202] we may hesitate to resort to the hypothesis of an unknown people in order to explain the origin of a monument which the Tongans, as we know them, appear to have been quite capable of building for themselves. [201] F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 500. [202] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 266. § 11. _Rites of Burial and Mourning_ The only mode of disposing of the dead which was practised in the Tonga islands seems to have been burial in the earth. So far as appears, the corpse was not doubled up, but laid at full length in the grave; at all events I have met with no mention of burying a corpse in a contracted posture; and Captain Cook says that "when a person dies, he is buried, after being wrapped up in mats and cloth, much after our manner." He adds that, while chiefs had the special burial-places called _fiatookas_ appropriated to their use, common people were interred in no particular spot.[203] So far as I have observed, none of our authorities speak of a practice of embalming the dead or of giving the bodies any particular direction in the grave. [203] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 421. After a death the mourners testified their sorrow by dressing in old ragged mats and wearing green leaves of the _ifi_ tree round their necks. Thus attired they would repair to the tomb, where, on entering the enclosure, they would pull off the green twigs from their necks and throw them away; then sitting down they would solemnly drink kava.[204] Further, they accompanied their cries and ejaculations of grief and despair by inflicting on their own bodies many grievous wounds and injuries. They burned circles and scars on their bodies, beat their teeth with stones, struck shark's teeth into their heads till the blood flowed in streams, and thrust spears into the inner part of the thigh, into their sides below the arm-pits, and through the cheeks into the mouth.[205] Women in wailing would cut off their fingers, and slit their noses, their ears, and their cheeks.[206] At the funerals of the kings especially the mourners indulged in frantic excesses of self-torture and mutilation. Of two such funerals we have the detailed descriptions of eye-witnesses who resided in the islands at a time when the natives were as yet practically unaffected by European influence. King Moom[=o]oe died in April 1797, and the first missionaries to Tonga witnessed and described his funeral. They have told how, when the corpse was being carried in procession to a temporary house near the royal burial-ground (_fiatooka_), it was preceded by relatives of the deceased in the usual mourning garb, who cut their heads with shark's teeth till the blood streamed down their faces. A few days later, when the burial was to take place, the missionaries found about four thousand people assembled at the mound where the body was to be interred. In a few minutes they heard a great shouting and blowing of conch-shells, and soon after there appeared about a hundred men, armed with clubs and spears, who, rushing into the area, began to cut and mangle themselves in a most dreadful manner. Many struck their heads such violent blows with their clubs that the sound could be heard thirty or forty yards off, and they repeated them till the blood ran down in streams. Others, who had spears, thrust them through their thighs, arms, and cheeks, all the while calling on the deceased in a most affecting manner. A native of Fiji, who had been a servant of the late king, appeared quite frantic; he entered the area with fire in his hand, and having previously oiled his hair, he set it ablaze, and ran about with it all on flame. When they had satisfied or exhausted themselves with this manner of torment, they sat down, beat their faces with their fists, and then retired. A second party then inflicted on themselves the same cruelties. A third party next entered, shouting and blowing shells; four of the foremost held stones, which they used to knock out their teeth, while those who blew the shells employed them as knives with which they hacked their heads in a shocking manner. A man who had a spear pierced his arm with it just above the elbow, and with it sticking fast in his flesh ran about the area for some time. Another, who seemed to be a principal chief, acted as if quite bereft of his senses; he ran to every corner of the area, and at each station beat his head with a club till the blood flowed down on his shoulders. At this point the missionary, unable to bear the sight of these self-inflicted tortures, quitted the scene. When his colleagues visited the place some hours later in the afternoon, they found the natives of both sexes still at the dreadful work of cutting and mangling themselves. In the course of these proceedings a party of mourners entered the area, sixteen of whom had recently cut off their little fingers. They were followed by another party with clubs and spears, who battered and wounded themselves in the usual fashion, and also disfigured their faces with coco-nut husks, which they had fastened to the knuckles of both hands. The missionaries noticed that the mourners who were either related to the dead king or had held office under him, were the most cruel to themselves; some of them thrust two, three, and even four spears into their arms, and so danced round the area, while others broke off the spear-heads in their flesh.[207] [204] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 345 _sq._ As to the mourning costume of mats and leaves, see also Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 240; W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 380, 392, 431, ii. 214 _sq._ [205] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_ v. 420. [206] Jérôme Grange, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xvii. (1845) p. 13. [207] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 242-244. Similar scenes were witnessed some years later by Mariner at the death and burial of Finow, another king of Tonga; and the Englishman has described from personal observation how on this occasion the mourners cut and wounded their heads and bodies with clubs, stones, knives, or sharp shells. This they did on one or other of the _malais_[208] or ceremonial grounds in the presence of many spectators, vying apparently with each other in the effort to surpass the rest in this public manifestation of their sorrow for the death of the king and their respect for his memory. As one ran out into the middle of the ground he would cry, "Finow! I know well your mind; you have departed to Bolotoo, and left your people under suspicion that I, or some of those about you, were unfaithful; but where is the proof of infidelity? where is a single instance of disrespect?" Then, inflicting violent blows and deep cuts on his head with a club, stone, or knife, he would again exclaim at intervals, "Is this not a proof of my fidelity? does this not evince loyalty and attachment to the memory of the departed warrior?" Some more violent than others cut their heads to the skull with such heavy and repeated blows that they reeled and lost their reason for a time.[209] The king's successor, Finow the Second, not content with the usual instruments of torture, employed a saw for the purpose, striking his skull with the teeth so violently that he staggered for loss of blood; but this he did, not at the time of the burial and in presence of the multitude, but some weeks later at a more private ceremony of mourning before the grave.[210] At the public ceremony the late king's fishermen varied the usual breaking of heads and slashing of bodies by a peculiar form of self-torment. Instead of clubs they appropriately carried the paddles of canoes, with which they battered their heads in the orthodox style; but besides every man of them had three arrows stuck through each cheek in a slanting direction, so that, while the points pierced through the cheeks into the mouth, the other ends went over the shoulder and were kept in position by another arrow, the point of which was tied to the ends of the arrows passing over one shoulder, while the other end was tied to the ends of the other arrows which passed over the other shoulder. Thus each fisherman was decorated with a triangle of arrows, of which the apex consisted of six arrow-heads in his mouth, while the base dangled on his back. With this remarkable equipment they walked round the grave, beating their faces and heads with their paddles, or pinching up the skin of the breast and sticking a spear right through it.[211] [208] Mariner defines a _malai_ as "a piece of ground, generally before a large house, or chief's grave, where public ceremonies are principally held" (_Tonga Islands_, vol. ii., "Vocabulary" _s.v._). It is the same word as _malae_ or _marae_, noticed above, p. 116, note^3. [209] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 379-384. [210] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 440-442. [211] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 404 _sq._ The grave of a chief's family was a vault paved with a single large stone, while the four walls were formed each of a single block. The vault was about eight feet long, six feet broad, and eight feet deep, and was covered at the top by one large stone.[212] So heavy was this covering stone that, as we have seen, from a hundred and fifty to two hundred men were required to lift and lower it.[213] Mariner estimated that the family vault in which King Finow was interred was large enough to hold thirty bodies. When the king's corpse was being deposited in it, Mariner saw two dry and perfectly preserved bodies lying in the vault, together with the bones of several others; and he was told by old men that the well-preserved bodies had been buried when they, his informants, were boys, which must have been upwards of forty years before; whereas the bodies of which nothing but the bones remained had been buried later. The natives attributed the exceptional preservation of the two to the better constitution of their former owners; Mariner, or more probably his editor, Dr. Martin, preferred to suppose that the difference was due to the kind or duration of the disease which had carried them off. Apparently the natives did not suggest that the bodies had been embalmed, which they would almost certainly have done if they had known of such a custom.[214] No sooner was the king's body deposited in the grave, and the great stone lowered over it, than certain ministers (_matabooles_) and warriors ran like men frantic round and round the burial-ground, exclaiming, "Alas! how great is our loss! Finow! you are departed; witness this proof of our love and loyalty!" At the same time they cut and bruised their own heads with clubs, knives, and axes in the usual fashion.[215] Afterwards the grave was filled up with earth and strewed with sand, which a company of women and men had brought for the purpose in baskets from a place at the back of the island; what remained of the sand was scattered over the sepulchral mound (_fytoca_), of which it was deemed a great embellishment. The inside of the burial-ground was then spread with mats made of coco-nut leaves.[216] [212] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 144 note *. [213] See above, p. 105. [214] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 388 note *. [215] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 388 _sq._ [216] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 389-392. Meantime the company of mourners had been seated on the green before the burial-ground, still wearing their mourning garb of mats, with leaves of the _ifi_ tree strung round their necks. They now arose and went to their homes, where they shaved their heads and burnt their cheeks with a lighted roll of bark-cloth, by applying it once upon each cheek-bone; next they rubbed the place with an astringent berry, which caused it to bleed, and afterwards they smeared the blood in a broad circle round the wound, giving themselves a very ghastly appearance. They repeated this friction with the berry every day, making the wound bleed afresh; and the men meanwhile neglected to shave and to oil themselves during the day, though they indulged in these comforts at night. Having burnt their cheeks and shaved their heads, they built for themselves small temporary huts, where they lived during the time of mourning, which lasted twenty days.[217] [217] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 392 _sq._ The women who had become tabooed, that is, in a state of ceremonial pollution, by touching the king's dead body, remained constantly within the burial-ground for the twenty days of mourning, except when they retired to one of the temporary huts to eat,[218] or rather to be fed by others. For it was a rule that no ordinary person, man or woman, could touch a dead chief without being tabooed, that is ceremonially polluted, for ten lunar months, during which time he or she might not touch food with their own hands. But for chiefs the period of pollution was limited to three, four, or five months, according to the superiority of the dead chief. Only when the dead body which they had touched was that of the sacred chief, the Tooitonga, they were all tabooed for ten months, however high their rank; for example, the king's wife was tabooed for that length of time during the residence of Mariner, because she had touched the dead body of the Tooitonga. During the time that a person was tabooed, he might not feed himself with his own hands, but must be fed by somebody else: he might not even use a toothpick himself, but might guide another person's hand holding the toothpick. If he was hungry and had no one to feed him, he must go down on his hands and knees, and pick up his victuals with his mouth; and if he infringed any of these rules, it was firmly expected that he would swell up and die.[219] Captain Cook observed this custom in operation at Tongataboo. On one of his walks he met with a party of women at supper, and noticed that two of them were being fed by others. On asking the reason, he was answered _taboo mattee_, that is, "Death taboo." It was explained to him that one of the women had washed the dead body of a chief two months before, and that consequently she might not handle any food for five months. The other had performed the same office for the corpse of another person of inferior rank, and was now under the same restriction, but not for so long a time.[220] The tabooed women at Finow's grave were supplied with food by the new king, Finow the Second. The food was brought and placed on the ground at some distance from the grave, or else it was deposited before the temporary house to which the chief of the tabooed women retired to be fed. With the provisions was also sent every day a supply of torches to light up the burial-ground by night. The torches were held up by a woman of inferior rank, who, when she was tired, was relieved in her office by another. During the twenty days of mourning, if any one passed the burial-ground, he had to go at a slow pace, with his head bowed down, and his hands clasped before him; and if he carried a burden, he must lower it from his shoulder and carry it in his hands or on his bended arms; but if he could not do so conveniently, he had to make a circuit to avoid the grave. [218] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 393. [219] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 141 note *. [220] Captain James Cook, _Voyages_, v. 336. The writer does not translate the expression _taboo mattee_; but _mate_ is the regular Tongan word for "death" or "to die." See Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, Vocabulary, _s.v._ "Mate." Compare E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 228, _s.v._ "Mate." Such were the regular observances at the death and burial of chiefs; they were not peculiar to the obsequies of Finow the king.[221] [221] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 394 _sq._ The twentieth day of mourning concluded the ceremonies in honour of the deceased monarch. Early in the morning all his relations, together with the members of his household, and also the women who were tabooed on account of having touched his dead body in the process of oiling and preparing it, went to the back of the island to procure a quantity of flat pebbles, principally white, but a few black, which they brought back in baskets to the grave. There they strewed the inside of the house and the outside of the burial-ground (_fytoca_) with the white pebbles as a decoration; the black pebbles they laid only on the top of those white ones which covered the ground directly over the body, to about the length and breadth of a man, in the form of a very eccentric ellipse. After that, the house on the burial mound was closed up at both ends with a reed fencing, which reached from the eaves to the ground; while at the front and the back the house was closed with a sort of basket-work, made of the young branches of the coco-nut tree, split and interwoven in a very curious and ornamental way. These fences were to remain until the next burial, when they would be taken down and, after the conclusion of the ceremony, replaced by new ones of similar pattern. A large quantity of food and kava was now sent by the chiefs and the king to the public place (_malai_) in front of the burial mound, and these provisions were served out among the people in the usual way. The company then separated and repaired to their respective houses, to prepare for the dances and the grand wrestling-match, which were to conclude the funeral rites.[222] [222] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ i. 401-403. During the intervals of the dances, which followed, several warriors and ministers (_matabooles_) ran before the grave, cutting and bruising their heads with axes, clubs, and so forth as proofs of fidelity to their late chief, the dead and buried King Finow. It was on this occasion that the deceased king's fishermen demonstrated their loyalty and attachment to his memory by the self-inflicted tortures which I have already described.[223] When these exhibitions of cruelty were over, the day's ceremonies, which altogether lasted about six hours, were terminated by a grand wrestling-match. That being over, the people dispersed to their respective houses or occupations, and the obsequies of Finow, king of the Tonga islands, came to an end.[224] [223] Above, pp. 135 _sq._ [224] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 403-405. The wrestling-match which wound up the funeral honours paid to the departed monarch would seem not to have been an isolated case of athletic sports held at this particular funeral. Apparently it was a general custom in Tonga to conclude burial-rites with games of this kind. At least we may infer as much from an expression made use of by the first missionaries to Tongataboo. They say that the chief of their district, after taking to himself a wife in the morning went in the afternoon "to finish the funeral ceremonies for his brother, in celebrating the games usual on that occasion."[225] The practice, which is apt to seem to us incongruous, of holding games at a funeral, was observed by the Greeks in antiquity and by not a few other peoples in modern times.[226] [225] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 265. [226] _The Golden Bough_, Part III., _The Dying God_, pp. 92 _sqq._ On the other hand the obsequies of the sacred or divine chief, the Tooitonga, differed in certain remarkable particulars from the posthumous honours generally paid to chiefs. It is true that his burial-place was of the same form as that of other chiefs, and that the mode of his interment did not differ essentially from theirs, except that it was customary to deposit some of his most valuable property with him in the grave, including his beads, whale's teeth, fine Samoan mats, and other articles. Hence the family burying-place of the Tooitongas in the island of Tongataboo, where the whole line of these pontiffs had been interred, must have become very rich in the course of time; for no native would dare to commit the sacrilege of stealing the treasures at the holy tomb.[227] However, the sacrifice of property to the dead seems not to have been, as Mariner supposed, peculiar to the funeral of the Tooitonga; for at the burial of King Moom[=o]oe, in May 1797, the first missionaries saw files of women and men bringing bags of valuable articles, fine mats, and bales of cloth, which they deposited in the tomb expressly as a present for the dead.[228] Again, the mourning costume worn for the Tooitonga was the same as that for any chief, consisting of ragged old mats on the body and leaves of the _ifi_ tree round the neck; but in the case of the Tooitonga the time of mourning was extended to four months, the mats being generally left off after three months, while the leaves were still retained for another month; and the female mourners remained within the burial-ground (_fytoca, fiatooka_) for about two months, instead of twenty days, only retiring occasionally to temporary houses in the neighbourhood to eat or for other necessary purposes.[229] [227] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 213 _sq._ [228] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 243. [229] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 214 _sq._ One very remarkable peculiarity in the mourning for a Tooitonga was that, though he ranked above the king and all other chiefs, the mourners strictly abstained from manifesting their grief by wounding their heads and cutting their bodies in the manner that was customary at the funerals of all other great men. Mariner was never able to learn the reason for this abstention.[230] [230] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 213. Other peculiar features in the obsequies of a Tooitonga were the following. In the afternoon of the day of burial, when the body of the Tooitonga was already within the burial-ground, almost every man, woman, and child, all dressed in the usual mourning garb, and all provided with torches, used to sit down about eighty yards from the grave; in the course of an hour a multitude of several thousands would thus assemble. One of the female mourners would then come forth from the burial-ground and call out to the people, saying, "Arise ye, and approach"; whereupon the people would get up, and advancing about forty yards would again sit down. Two men behind the grave now began to blow conch-shells, and six others, with large lighted torches, about six feet high, advanced from behind the burial-ground, descended the mound, and walked in single file several times between the burial-ground and the people, waving their flaming torches in the air. After that they began to ascend the mound, whereupon all the people rose up together and made a loud crashing noise by snapping their _bolatas_, which were pieces of the stem of a banana tree used to receive the ashes falling from lighted torches. Having done so, the people followed the torch-bearers in single file up the mound and walked in procession round about the tomb (_fytoca_). As they passed at the back of the tomb, they all, torch-bearers and people, deposited their extinguished torches on the ground; while the female mourners within thanked them for providing these things. Having thus marched round, the people returned to their places and sat down. Thereupon the master of the ceremonies came forward and ordered them to divide themselves into parties according to their districts; which being done he assigned to one party the duty of clearing away the bushes and grass from one side of the grave, and to another party a similar task in regard to another side of the grave, while a third party was charged to remove rubbish, and so forth. In this way the whole neighbourhood of the burial-ground was soon cleared, and when this was done, all the people returned to the temporary houses which, as mourners, they were bound to occupy.[231] [231] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 215-217. Soon after darkness had fallen, certain persons stationed at the grave began again to sound the conches, while others chanted a song, or rather recitative, partly in the Samoan dialect, partly in an unknown language, of which the natives could give no account. None of them understood the words, nor could they explain how their forefathers came to learn them. All that they knew was that the words had been handed down from father to son among the class of people whose business it was to direct burial ceremonies. According to Mariner, some of the words were Tongan, and he thought that the language was probably an old or corrupt form of Tongan, though he could make no sense out of it. Such traditional repetition of a litany in an unknown tongue is not uncommon among savages; it occurs, for instance, very frequently among some of the aboriginal tribes of Australia, where the chants or recitatives accompanying certain dances or ceremonies are often passed on from one tribe to another, the members of which perform the borrowed dance or ceremony and repeat by rote the borrowed chants or recitatives without understanding a word of them.[232] [232] W. E. Roth, _Ethnological Studies among the North-west-central Queensland Aborigines_ (Brisbane and London, 1897), pp. 117 _sq._; (Sir) Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1904), pp. 234, 235; _id._, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1899), p. 281 note; _id._, _Across Australia_ (London, 1912), i. 244. While the conches were sounding and the voices of the singers broke the silence of night, about sixty men assembled before the grave, where they awaited further orders. When the chanting was over, and the notes of the conches had ceased to sound, one of the women mourners came forward, and sitting down outside the graveyard addressed the men thus: "Men! ye are gathered here to perform the duty imposed on you; bear up, and let not your exertions be wanting to accomplish the work." With these words she retired into the burial-ground. The men now approached the mound in the dark, and, in the words of Mariner, or his editor, performed their devotions to Cloacina, after which they withdrew. As soon as it was daylight the next morning, the women of the first rank, wives and daughters of the greatest chiefs, assembled with their female attendants, bringing baskets and shells wherewith to clear up the deposit of the preceding night; and in this ceremonious act of humility no lady of the highest rank refused to take her part. Some of the mourners in the burial-ground generally came out to assist, so that in a very little while the place was made perfectly clean. This deposit was repeated the fourteen following nights, and as punctually cleared away by sunrise every morning. No persons but the agents were allowed to be witnesses of these extraordinary ceremonies; at least it would have been considered highly indecorous and irreligious to pry upon them. On the sixteenth day, early in the morning, the same women again assembled, but now they were dressed in the finest bark-cloth and beautiful Samoan mats, decorated with ribbons and with wreaths of flowers round their necks; they also brought new baskets, ornamented with flowers, and little brooms very tastefully made. Thus equipped, they approached and acted as if they had the same task to perform as before, pretending to clear up the dirt, and to take it away in their baskets, though there was no dirt to remove. Then they returned to the capital and resumed their mourning dress of mats and leaves. Such were the rites performed during the fifteen days; every day the ceremony of the burning torches was also repeated.[233] [233] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 217-219. For one month from the day of burial, greater or less quantities of provisions were brought every day and shared out to the people. On the first day the quantity supplied was prodigious; but day by day the supply gradually diminished till on the last day it was reduced to very little.[234] Nevertheless the consumption or waste of food on such occasions was so great that to guard against a future dearth of provisions it was deemed necessary to lay a prohibition or taboo on the eating of hogs, fowls, and coco-nuts for a period of eight or ten months, though two or three plantations were exempted from this rigorous embargo, to the end that in the meantime hogs, fowls, and coco-nuts might be furnished for occasional religious rites, and that the higher order of chiefs might be able to partake of these victuals. At the end of the eight or ten months' fast the taboo was removed and permission to eat of the forbidden foods was granted by the king at a solemn ceremony. Immense quantities of yams having been collected and piled up in columns, and some three or four hundred hogs having been killed, the people assembled from all quarters at the king's _malái_ or public place. Of the slaughtered hogs about twenty were deposited, along with a large quantity of yams, at the grave of the deceased Tooitonga. The rest of the provisions were shared out in definite proportions among the gods, the king, the divine chief (the living Tooitonga), the inferior chiefs, and the people, so that every man in the island of Tongataboo got at least a mouthful of pork and yam. The ceremony concluded with dancing, wrestling, and other sports, after which every person retired to his home with his portion of food to share it with his family. The hogs and yams deposited at the dead Tooitonga's grave were left lying till the pork stank and the yams were rotten, whereupon the living Tooitonga ordered that they should be distributed to all who chose to apply for a portion. In strict law they belonged to the principal chiefs, but as these persons were accustomed to feed on meat in a rather less advanced stage of decomposition they kindly waived their claims to the putrid pork and rotten yams in favour of the lower orders, who were less nice in their eating.[235] [234] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, ii. 220. [235] W. Mariner, _Tonga Islands_, i. 112 _sq._, 120-126, ii. 220. It was customary that the chief widow of the Tooitonga should be strangled and interred with his dead body.[236] But the practice of strangling a wife at her husband's funeral was not limited to the widows of the Tooitongas. A similar sacrifice seems to have been formerly offered at the obsequies of a king; for at the funeral of King Moomöoe the first missionaries to Tonga saw two of the king's widows being led away to be strangled.[237] [236] W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 135, 209 _sq._, 214. [237] Captain James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 240. The funeral and mourning customs which we have passed in review serve to illustrate the Tongan conceptions of the soul and of its survival after death. The strangling of widows was probably intended here as elsewhere to despatch their spirits to attend their dead husbands in the spirit land;[238] and the deposition of valuable property in the grave can hardly have had, at least in origin, any other object than to ensure the comfort of the departed in the other world, and incidentally, perhaps, to remove from him any temptation to return to his sorrowing friends in this world for the purpose of recovering the missing articles. The self-inflicted wounds and bruises of the mourners were clearly intended to impress the ghost with the sincerity of their regret at his departure from this sublunary scene; if any doubt could linger in our minds as to the intention of these extravagant proceedings, it would be set at rest by the words with which, as we have seen, the mourners accompanied them, calling on the dead man to witness their voluntary tortures and to judge for himself of the genuineness of their sorrow. In this connexion it is to be borne in mind that all dead noblemen, in the opinion of the Tongans, were at once promoted to the rank of deities; so that it was in their power to visit any disrespect to their memory and any defalcation of their dues with the double terror of ghosts and of gods. No wonder that the Tongans sought to keep on good terms with such mighty beings by simulating, when they did not feel, a sense of the irreparable loss which the world had sustained by their dissolution. [238] This was the reason assigned for the strangling of widows at their husband's funeral in Fiji. See John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 478 _sq._ § 12. _The Ethical Influence of Tongan Religion_ Surveyed as a whole, the Tongan religion presents a singular instance of a creed which restricted the hope of immortality to the nobly born and denied it to commoners. According to the doctrine which it inculcated, the aristocratic pre-eminence accorded to chiefs in this world was more than maintained by them in the next, where they enjoyed a monopoly of immortality. And not content with sojourning in the blissful regions of Bolotoo, their departed spirits often returned to earth to warn, to direct, to threaten their people, either in dreams and visions of the night, or by the mouth of the priests whom they inspired. Such beliefs involved in theory and to some extent in practice a subjection of the living to the dead, of the seen and temporal to the unseen and eternal. In favour of the creed it may at least be alleged that, while it looked to spiritual powers, whether ghosts or gods, for the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice, it did not appeal to another life to redress the balance of justice which had been disturbed in this one. The Tongan religion inculcated a belief that the good and the bad alike receive a recompense here on earth, thus implicitly repudiating the unworthy notion that men can only be lured or driven into the narrow way of righteousness by the hope of heaven or the fear of hell. So far the creed based morality on surer foundations than any faith which would rest the ultimate sanctions of conduct on the slippery ground of posthumous rewards and punishments. In this respect, if in no other, we may compare the Tongan religion to that of the Hebrew prophets. It has been rightly observed by Renan that whereas European races in general have found in the assurance of a life to come ample compensation for the iniquities of this present life, the Hebrew prophets never appeal to rewards and punishments reserved for a future state of existence. They were not content with the conception of a lame and laggard justice that limps far behind the sinner in this world and only overtakes him in the next. According to them, God's justice is swift and sure here on earth; an unjust world was in their eyes a simple monstrosity.[239] So too, apparently, thought the Tongans, and some Europeans may be inclined to agree with them. [239] E. Renan, _Histoire du peuple d'Israël_, ii. 505. CHAPTER III THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE SAMOANS § 1. _The Samoan Islands_ About three hundred and fifty or four hundred miles nearly due north of Tonga lies Samoa, a group of islands situated between 13° 30' and 14° 30' South latitude and between 168° and 173° West longitude. The native name of the group is Samoa, which has this singularity, that it is apparently the only name that designates a group of islands in the Pacific; native names for all the other groups are wanting, though each particular island has its own individual name. Samoa is also known to Europeans as the Navigators' Islands, a name bestowed on them by the French explorer De Bougainville, who visited the group in 1768. The three most easterly islands were discovered in 1722 by Jacob Roggewein, a Dutch navigator, but he appears not to have sighted the principal islands of the group, which lie a good deal farther to the westward. There is no record of any visit paid by a European vessel to the islands in the interval between the visits of Roggewein and De Bougainville. The whole archipelago was not explored till 1787, when the French navigator La Pérouse determined the position of all the islands.[1] [1] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), ii. 117; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_ (London, 1897), pp. 21 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. (London, 1894) p. 500; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 1, 360. The islands are disposed in a line running from west to east. The most westerly, Savaii, is also the largest, measuring about forty miles in length. Next follow two small, but important islands, Apolima and Manona. Then about three miles to the east of Manona comes Upolu, the second of the islands in size, but the first in importance, whether we regard population, harbours, or the extent of soil available for cultivation. The channel which divides Upolu from Savaii is from fifteen to twenty miles broad. About forty miles to the east, or rather south-east, of Upolu lies the island of Tutuila, with the fine and almost landlocked harbour of Pangopango. It was in this island that the French navigator La Pérouse lost his second in command and twelve men in a fierce encounter with the natives. The place where the fight took place is now known as Massacre Cove.[2] Some fifty miles to the east of Tutuila is situated a group of three small islands, Tau, Ofu, and Olosenga, which are collectively known as Manua. [2] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 27 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ pp. 500, 504. The islands are of volcanic formation and for the most part surrounded by coral reefs, but the intervening seas are quite free from danger, and the possession of good harbours renders Samoa politically important. Viewed from the sea the islands are mountainous and for the most part wooded to the water's edge, except where a stretch of fertile plain is interposed between the foot of the mountains and the sea. The whole group presents to the voyager a succession of enchanting views as he sails along the coast. The eye is delighted by the prospect of lofty and rugged mountains, their tops sometimes lost in clouds, their slopes mantled in the verdure of evergreen forests, varied here and there by rich valleys, by grey and lofty cliffs, or by foaming waterfalls tumbling from heights of hundreds of feet and showing like silvery threads against the sombre green of the woods. Along the shore rocks of black lava alternate with white sands dazzling in the sunlight and fringed by groves of coco-nut palms, their feathery tops waving and dancing in the breeze, while the brilliant cobalt blue of the calm lagoon contrasts with the olive-green of the deep sea, which breaks in a long line of seething foam on the barrier reef. The scenery as a whole combines romantic grandeur with wild and rank luxuriance, thus winning for Samoa the reputation of being among the loveliest of the islands which stud like gems the bosom of the Pacific.[3] [3] J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), p. 110; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 40; J. L. Brenchley, _Jottings during the Cruise of H.M.S. "Curaçoa" among the South Sea Islands in 1865_ (London, 1873), pp. 37-39, 61 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 502 _sq._; John B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 26 _sqq._ The island of Upolu in particular is wooded from its summit to the water's edge, where in some places the roots of the trees are washed by the surf, while in many places clumps of mangrove trees spread out into the lagoon. The forests are dense and more sombre even than those of Brazil. The lofty trees shoot up to a great height before sending out branches. At their feet grow ferns of many sorts, while climbing vines and other creepers mantle their trunks and sometimes even their tops. But the gloom of the tropical forest is seldom or never relieved by flowers of brilliant tints; the few flowers that bloom in them are of a white or greyish hue, as if bleached for want of the sunbeams, which are shut out by the thick umbrageous foliage overhead.[4] [4] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 31 _sq._, 52 _sq._ Very different from the aspect presented by this luxuriant vegetation is a great part of the interior of Savaii, the largest island of the group. Here the desolate and forbidding character of the landscape constantly reminds the traveller of the dreadful forces which slumber beneath his feet. Extinct volcanoes tower above him to heights of four and five thousand feet, their steep and almost perpendicular sides formed of volcanic ashes and denuded of vegetation. For miles around these gloomy peaks the ground presents nothing to the eye but black rocks, scoriae, and ashes; the forlorn wayfarer seems to be traversing a furnace barely extinguished, so visible are the traces of fire on the sharp-pointed stones among which he picks his painful way, and which in their twisted and tormented forms seem still to preserve something of the movement of the once boiling flood of molten lava. The whole country is a barren and waterless wilderness, a solitude destitute alike of animal and of vegetable life, alternately parched by the fierce rays of the tropical sun and deluged by hurricanes of torrential rain. Even the natives cannot traverse these dreary deserts; a European who strayed into them was found, after five or six days, prostrate and almost dead on the ground.[5] [5] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 71 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 502 _sq._; J. B. Stair, Old Samoa, p. 34; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 1 _sqq._ In Samoa, as in Tonga, volcanic activity has ominously increased within less than a hundred years. Near the island of Olosenga, in 1866 or 1867, a submarine volcano suddenly burst out in eruption, vomiting forth rocks and mud to a height, as it was estimated, of two thousand feet, killing the fish and discolouring the sea for miles round.[6] Still later, towards the end of 1905, another volcano broke out in the bottom of a deep valley in the island of Savaii, and rose till it attained a height of about four thousand feet. Down at least to the year 1910 this immense volcano was still in full action, and had covered many miles of country under a bed of lava some ten or twelve feet thick, while with the same river of molten matter it completely filled up the neighbouring lagoon and replaced the level shore by an iron-bound coast of volcanic cliffs.[7] [6] F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ ii. 504; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 43. [7] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 3. A remarkable instance of these volcanic cliffs is furnished by the little island of Apolima between Savaii and Upolu. The islet, which is in fact the crater of an extinct volcano, is only about a mile long by half to three-quarters of a mile in width. On every side but one it presents to the sea a precipitous wall of basaltic rock some thousand feet high, while the interior is scooped out in the likeness of a great cauldron. Only at one place is there a break in the cliffs where a landing can be effected, and there the operation is difficult and dangerous even in fine weather. In bad weather the island is completely isolated. Thus it forms a strong natural fortress, which under the conditions of native warfare was almost impregnable.[8] [8] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 33 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 171. As might be expected from their volcanic formation, the islands are subject to frequent and sometimes severe shocks of earthquake. The veteran missionary, J. B. Stair, has recorded that the shocks increased in number and violence during the last years of his residence in Samoa. The last of them was preceded by loud subterranean noises, which lasted for hours, to the great alarm of the natives. At the north-west of Upolu also, Mr. Stair used often to hear a muffled sound, like the rumble of distant thunder, proceeding apparently from the sea under the reef. This curious noise always occurred on hot, sultry days, and seemed to strike a note of warning, which filled natives and Europeans alike with a sense of awe and insecurity.[9] Thus if, beheld from some points of view, the Samoan islands appear an earthly paradise, from others they present the aspect, and emit the sounds, of an inferno. [9] T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 145; J. B. Stair, _op. cit._ pp. 41 _sq._ And with all their natural beauty and charm the islands cannot be said to enjoy a healthy climate. There is much bad weather, particularly during the winter months, when long and heavy rains, attended at times with high winds and gales, are frequent. The air is more moist than in Tahiti, and the vegetation in consequence is more rank and luxuriant. Decaying rapidly under the ardent rays of a tropical sun, it exhales a poisonous miasma. But the heat, oppressive and exhausting at times, is nevertheless tempered by the sea and land breezes, which blow daily, alternating with intervals of calm between them. Besides these daily breezes the trade wind blows regularly from the east during the fine season, when the sky is constantly blue and cloudless. Yet with all these alleviations the climate is enervating, and a long residence in it is debilitating to the European frame.[10] Nor are the natives exempt from the noxious effects of an atmosphere saturated with moisture and impregnated with the fumes of vegetable decay. The open nature of their dwellings, which were without walls, exposed them to the heavy night dews and rendered them susceptible to diseases of the chest and lungs, from which they suffered greatly; consumption in its many forms, coughs, colds, inflammation of the chest and lungs, fevers, rheumatism, pleurisy, diarrh[oe]a, lumbago, diseases of the spine, scrofula, and many other ailments are enumerated among the disorders which afflicted them. But the prevailing disease is elephantiasis, a dreadful malady which attacks Europeans and natives alike. There are many cases of epilepsy, and though idiots are rare, lunatics are less infrequent. Hunchbacks are very common in both sexes, and virulent ophthalmia is prevalent; many persons lose the sight of one eye, and some are totally blinded; not less than a fifth part of the population is estimated to suffer from this malady.[11] Curiously enough, hunchbacks, who are said to be very numerous on account of scrofula, used to be looked on as special favourites of the spirits, and many of them, on growing to manhood, were accordingly admitted to the priesthood.[12] [10] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 118; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 72 (who, however, affirms that the climate is not unhealthy); T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 144 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 16, 35 _sqq._ [11] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 124 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 165 _sq._, 169 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 180 _sqq._ [12] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 622. During the stormy season, which lasts from December to April, hurricanes sometimes occur, and are greatly dreaded by the natives on account of the havoc which they spread both among the crops and the houses. A steady rain, the absence of the sun, a deathlike stillness of the birds and domestic animals, and above all the dark and lowering aspect of the sky, are the premonitory symptoms of the coming calamity and inspire general consternation, while the thunderous roar of the torrents and waterfalls in the mountains strike on the ear with redoubled distinctness in the prevailing silence which preludes the storm. Warned by these ominous signs, the natives rush to secure their property from being swept away by the fury of the blast. Some hurry their canoes inland to places of comparative safety; others pile trunks of banana-trees on the roofs of their houses or fasten down the roofs by hanging heavy stones over them; while yet others bring rough poles, hastily cut in the forest, and set them up inside the houses as props against the rafters, to prevent the roof from falling in. Sometimes these efforts are successful, sometimes futile, the hurricane sweeping everything before it in its mad career, while the terrified natives behold the fruits of months of toil, sometimes the growth of years, laid waste in an hour. On such occasions the shores have been seen flooded by the invading ocean, houses carried clean away, and a forest turned suddenly into a bare and treeless plain. Men have been forced to fling themselves flat on the ground and to dig their hands into the earth to save themselves from being whirled away and precipitated into the sea or a torrent. In April 1850 the town of Apia, the capital of the islands, was almost destroyed by one of these cyclones. When the rage of the tornado is spent and calm has returned, the shores of a harbour are apt to present a melancholy scene of ruin and desolation, their shores strewn with the wrecks of gallant ships which lately rode there at anchor, their pennons streaming to the wind. So it happened in the harbour of Apia on March 16th, 1889. Before the tempest burst, there were many ships of various nations anchored in the bay, among them five or six American and German warships. When it was over, all were wrecked and their shattered fragments littered the reefs. One vessel alone, the British man-of-war, _Calliope_, was saved by the courage and skill of the captain, who, seconded by the splendid seamanship of the crew, forced his ship, in the very teeth of the hurricane, out into the open sea, where he safely weathered the storm.[13] [13] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 72; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 72; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 504; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 38-41. A special interest attaches to Samoa in so far as it is now commonly believed to be the original seat of the Polynesian race in the Pacific, from which their ancestors gradually dispersed to the other islands of that vast ocean, where their descendants are settled to this day. Polynesian traditions point to such a dispersal from Samoa as a centre, and they are confirmed by the name which the various branches of the race give to their old ancestral home. The original form of that name appears to have been Savaiki, which through dialectical variations has been altered to Hawaiki in New Zealand, to Hawaii in the Sandwich Islands, to Havaii in Tahiti, to Havaiki in the Marquesas, and to Avaiki in Rarotonga. In the Samoan dialect, which of all the Polynesian dialects alone retains the letter S, the word presumably appears as Savaii, the name of the largest island of the group, which accordingly may be regarded, with some probability, as the cradle-land of the Polynesians in the Pacific; though native traditions indicate rather Upolu or Manua as the place from which the canoes started on their long and adventurous voyages. On the other hand in favour of Savaii it has been pointed out that the island holds a decided superiority over the other islands of the group in respect of canoe-building; for it possesses extensive forests of hard and durable timber, which is much sought after for the keels and other parts of vessels; indeed, the large sea-going canoes were generally, if not always, built on Savaii, and maritime expeditions appear sometimes to have started from its shores.[14] In proof that the Samoans have long been settled in the islands which they now occupy, it may be alleged that they appear to have no tradition of any other home from which their ancestors migrated to their present abode. With the single exception of a large village called Matautu in Savaii, the inhabitants of which claim that they came originally from Fiji, all the Samoans consider themselves indigenous.[15] The Samoans and Tongans, says Mr. S. Percy Smith, "formed part of the first migration into the Pacific, and they have been there so long that they have forgotten their early history. All the numerous legends as to their origin seem to express their own belief in their being autochthones, created in the Samoan Islands."[16] [14] Horatio Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_ (Philadelphia, 1846), pp. 119 _sqq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 102 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 271 _sqq._ (compare _id._ p. 34 as to the timber and canoe-building of Savaii); G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 358, 371 _sq._; A. C. Haddon, _The Wanderings of Peoples_ (Cambridge, 1919), p. 36; A. H. Keane, _Man Past and Present_ (Cambridge, 1920), p. 552. That the Samoan language, alone of the Polynesian dialects, retains the S sound, is affirmed by Ch. Wilkes (_Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 123). In some of the islands the name of the ancient fatherland of the race (Hawaiki, etc.) has been applied or transferred to the spirit-land to which the souls of the dead are supposed to pass as their final abode. See S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki_, pp. 46 _sqq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 56 _sqq._, _s.v._ "Hawaiki." [15] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 360 _sq._ As to the Fijian colony in Savaii, compare T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 117 _sq._ [16] S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki_, pp. 114 _sq._ § 2. _The Samoan Islanders, their character_ In spite of the many diseases prevalent among them, the Samoans are commonly reckoned among the finest, as well as the purest, specimens of the Polynesian race. Like the Tongans, whom they closely resemble, they are generally tall and shapely, with full rounded faces and limbs, but without that grossness and laxity of fibre common in the Tahitians. The average height of the men is said to be five feet ten inches, but some of them are over six feet with the thews and sinews of a Hercules. Their features, though not always regular, are commonly pleasing; and in particular the forehead is remarkable for its ample development, which, with the breadth between the eyes, gives to the countenance an expression of nobleness and dignity. Some of the young men especially are models of manly beauty; we read of one who, having decked his hair with the flowers of the scarlet hibiscus, might have sat for an Antinous. The women are comely enough, but strikingly inferior to the men in point of personal beauty. The prevailing colour is a light copper or olive brown, but the shade varies a good deal, deepening somewhat in fishermen and others who are much exposed to the sun; but it never approaches the dark chocolate tint, or Vandyke brown, of the Melanesians. Their hair is usually black and wavy, sometimes curly; but hardly a vestige is to be seen among them of the crisped and woolly hair and dusky complexion of the Melanesians, their neighbours on the west.[17] [17] Horatio Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, pp. 10 _sq._; Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 125 _sq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 41, 51; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_ (Leipzig, 1875-1876), ii. 110 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 3; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 58; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 55 _sq._ The prepossessing appearance of the Samoans on the whole does not belie their character. They are reputed to be the most refined and civilised of all the native races of the Pacific, and this superiority is said to manifest itself in their social and domestic life.[18] The Samoans, we are told, are a nation of gentlemen and contrast most favourably with the generality of the Europeans who come among them.[19] They are said to carry their habits of cleanliness and decency to a higher point than the most fastidious of civilised nations;[20] and the Samoan women appear to be honourably distinguished by their modest behaviour and fidelity in marriage, qualities which contrast with the profligacy of their sex in other branches of the Polynesian race.[21] Equally honourable to the men are the respect and kindness which, according to the testimony of observers, they pay to their women, whom they are said to regard as their equals.[22] The aged were treated with respect and never abandoned; and strangers were always received in the best house and provided with food specially prepared for them.[23] Infanticide, which was carried to an appalling and almost incredible extent among some of the Polynesians,[24] was unknown in Samoa; abortion, indeed, was not uncommon, but once born children were affectionately cared for and never killed or exposed.[25] Wives and slaves were never put to death at a chief's burial, that their souls might attend their dead lord to the spirit land[26], as was the practice in some of the other islands, even in Tonga. Again, human sacrifices were not offered by the Samoans to the gods within the time during which the islands have been under the observation of Europeans; but in some of the more remote traditions mention is made of such sacrifices offered to the sun. Thus it is said that in the mythical island of Papatea, somewhere away in the east, the sun used to call for two victims every day, one at his rising and another at his setting. This lasted for eighty days. At such a rate of consumption the population of the island was rapidly wasting away. To escape the threatened doom, a brother and sister, named Luama and Ui, fled from Papatea to Manua, the most easterly of the Samoan islands, but they found to their consternation that there too, the sun was demanding his daily victims. Every house had to supply a victim in succession, and, when all had yielded the tribute, it came to the first house in turn to renew the sacrifice. The victim was laid out on a pandanus tree, and there the sun devoured him or her. When the lot fell on Luama, his heroic sister Ui insisted on taking his place, and lying down, she cried, "O cruel sun! come and eat your victim, we are all being devoured by you." But the amorous sun fell in love with her and took her to wife, at the same time putting an end to the human sacrifices. Another story affirms that the heroine was a daughter of the King of Manua, and that he yielded her up as an offering to the sun in order to end the sacrifices by making her the saviour of the people.[27] [18] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 634. [19] T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 59 _sq._ [20] J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 110 [21] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 125; J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 110 [22] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 148; Violette, " Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 156; J. L. Brenchley, _op. cit._ p. 77; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 628 _sq._; G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 43, 410. [23] G. Brown, _op. cit._ p. 410. [24] For some evidence of the practice see John Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), pp. 363 _sq._; C. S. Stewart, _Journal of a Residence in the Sandwich Islands_ (London, 1828), pp. 251 _sqq._; P. Dillon, _Voyage in the South Seas_ (London, 1829), ii. 134; William Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, Second Edition (London, 1832-1836), i. 248 _sqq._; J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_ (London, 1838), pp. 479-486. According to Stewart, in those parts of Hawaii to which the influence of the missionaries had not penetrated, two-thirds of the infants born were murdered by their parents within the age of two years. In Tahiti three women, questioned by Mr. Williams, acknowledged that they had killed twenty-one of their children between them. Another, at the point of death, confessed to him, in an anguish of remorse, that she had destroyed sixteen of her children. [25] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 79. Compare J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 479; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 621; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 47. [26] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 219. [27] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 201 _sq._ Compare G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 230 _sq._; J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 471; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 210. The Samoans, when they became known to Europe in the nineteenth century, did not habitually indulge in cannibalism; indeed, according to John Williams, one of the earliest missionaries to the islands, they spoke of the practice with great horror and detestation.[28] But we have the testimony of other early missionaries that in their wars they occasionally resorted to it as a climax of hatred and revenge, devouring some portion of an enemy who had rendered himself peculiarly obnoxious by his cruelty or his provocations. Traditions, too, are on record of chiefs who habitually killed and devoured their fellow-creatures. A form of submission which a conquered party used to adopt towards their conquerors has also been interpreted as a relic of an old custom of cannibalism. Representatives of the vanquished party used to bow down before the victors, each holding in his hands a piece of firewood and a bundle of leaves, such as are used in dressing a pig for the oven. This was as much as to say, "Kill us and cook us, if you please." Criminals, too, were sometimes bound hand and foot, slung on a pole, and laid down before the persons they had injured, like pigs about to be killed and cooked. Combining these and other indications we may surmise that cannibalism was formerly not infrequent among the ancestors of the Samoans, though among their descendants in the nineteenth century the practice had almost wholly died out.[29] It is further to the credit of the Samoans that their public administration of justice was on the whole mild and humane. Torture was never employed to wring the truth from witnesses or the accused, and there seems to be only a single case on record of capital punishment inflicted by judicial sentence. At the same time private individuals were free to avenge the adultery of a wife or the murder of a kinsman by killing the culprit, and no blame attached to them for so doing. The penalties imposed by the sentence of a court or judicial assembly (_fono_) included fines, banishment, and the destruction of houses, fruit-trees, and domestic animals. But a criminal might also be condemned by a court to suffer corporal punishment in one form or another. He might, for example, be obliged to wound himself by beating his head and chest with a stone till the blood flowed freely; if he seemed to spare himself, he would be ordered by the assembled chiefs to strike harder, and if he still faltered, the prompt and unsparing application of a war club to his person effectually assisted the execution of the sentence. Again, he might be condemned to bite a certain acrid and poisonous root (called in the native language _tevi_) which caused the mouth to swell and the culprit to suffer intense agony for a considerable time afterwards. Or he might have to throw up a spiny and poisonous fish into the air and to catch it in his naked hand as it fell; the sharp-pointed spines entered into the flesh and inflicted acute pain and suffering. Or he might be suspended by hands and feet from a pole and in this attitude exposed to the broiling sun for many hours together; or he might be hung by the feet, head downward, from the top of a tall coco-nut tree and left there to expiate his crime for a long time. For certain offences the culprit was condemned to have his nose tattooed or his ears split. In sentences of banishment the term of exile was never specified, but when the sentence had been pronounced in full assembly, and the offence was great, the culprit might live in exile for years. When the punishment consisted in the destruction of houses, plantations, and live stock, it was immediately inflicted by the whole force of the district, under the direction and superintendence of the leading men, who had taken part in the assembly and passed the sentence. A whole family might suffer in this way for the offence of one of its members, and be driven into exile, after witnessing the burning of their house, the killing of their pigs, and the barking of their breadfruit trees.[30] If such penalties seem to us in some cases needlessly severe, they at least testify to a strong sense of public justice developed among the Samoans, who had thus advanced far enough to transfer, in some measure, the redress of wrongs to judicial assemblies instead of leaving it to the caprice of the injured individuals. Nevertheless the transference was but imperfect: the administration of justice was loose and irregular: for the most part every man was a law to himself, and did what was right in his own eyes. An aggrieved party would become his own judge, jury, and executioner. The thirst for vengeance was slaked only by the blood of a victim.[31] [28] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 456. [29] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 108-111; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 149 _sq._, 290; J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ pp. 39, 101 _sq._; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_ (London, 1866), pp. 125 _sq._; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 168; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 240 _sq._ [30] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 91 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 288-291. Compare Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 119, 120. [31] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 633. It is another sign of the intellectual enlightenment of the Samoans that they rose apparently superior to that system of malignant magic, which kept their neighbours the Melanesians in lifelong bondage. The experienced missionary, Dr. George Brown, could not find in Samoa any trace of the practice of that particular form of the black art with which he was familiar in New Britain and other Melanesian islands, the practice of procuring some object which has belonged to an enemy or been touched by him, and taking it to a sorcerer, that he may perform over it a ceremony for the purpose of injuring the person from whom the object has been obtained. The proceeding is one of the commonest forms of sympathetic magic, but the Samoans appear to have ignored or despised it.[32] Again, the silence of our authorities on the subject of amulets and talismans leaves us to infer that the Samoans were equally indifferent to that branch of magic which seeks to ensure the safety and prosperity of the individual by attaching a miscellaneous collection of rubbish to his person, a system of ensurance against evil and misfortune which has attained a prodigious development among some savages, notably in Africa,[33] and is very far from being unknown in Europe at the present day. Again, unlike most savages, the Samoans were close observers of the stars, not only reckoning the time of night by the rising of particular stars, but steering by them when they were out of sight of land.[34] [32] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 245. Compare S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 638. [33] See, for example, E. W. Smith and A. M. Dale, _The Ila-speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia_ (London, 1920), i. 252 _sqq._ [34] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 348. Against these amiable and enlightened traits in the Samoan character must be set their cruelty in war. If they opened hostilities with a great deal of formal politeness, they conducted them with great ferocity. No quarter was given to men in battle, and captives were ruthlessly slaughtered. Women were sometimes spared for the use of their captors. Nor did death save the conquered from the insults and outrages of the insolent victors. The slain on the battlefield were treated with great indignity. Their heads were cut off and carried in triumph to the village, where they were piled up in a heap in the place of public assembly, the head of the most important chief being given the place of honour on the top of the pile. However, they were not kept as trophies, but after remaining for some hours exposed to public gaze were either claimed by the relatives or buried on the spot. The headless trunks were given to children to drag about the village and to spear, stone, or mutilate at pleasure.[35] The first missionary to Samoa was told in Manua that the victors used to scalp their victims and present the scalps, with kava, either to the king or to the relatives of the slain in battle, by whom these gory trophies were highly prized. He mentions as an example the case of a young woman, whose father had been killed. A scalp of a foe having been brought to her, she burnt it, strewed the ashes on the fire with which she cooked her food, and then devoured the meat with savage satisfaction.[36] But the climax of cruelty and horror was reached in a great war which the people of A'ana, in Upolu, waged against a powerful combination of enemies. After a brave resistance they were at last defeated, and the surviving warriors, together with the aged and infirm, the women and children, fled to the mountains, where they endeavoured to hide themselves from their pursuers in the caves and the depths of the forest. But they were hunted out and brought down to the seashore; and an immense pit having been dug and filled with firewood, they were all, men, women, and children, thrown into it and burnt alive. The dreadful butchery went on for days. Four hundred victims are said to have perished. The massacre was perpetrated at the moment when the first missionaries were landing in Samoa. From the opposite shore they beheld the mountains enveloped in the flames and smoke of the funeral pile. The decisive battle had been fought that very morning. For many years a great black circle of charcoal marked the scene and preserved the memory of the fatal transaction.[37] [35] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 456; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 150 _sq._; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, p. 61; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 247 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 170, 172 _sq._ Dr. Brown here speaks as if captive women were regularly spared and married by the victors. As to the elaborate civilities which passed between the vanguards of two hostile armies at their first meeting, see Dr. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 166 _sq._ [36] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 458. [37] J. Williams, _op. cit._ pp. 286 _sq._, 456; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 254-258. § 3. _Houses, Agriculture, and Industries_ Like all the Polynesians, the Samoans are not nomadic, but live in settled villages. The typical Samoan house is commonly described as oval or elliptical, though in fact it would seem to be of oblong shape with semicircular ends. But many houses were circular in shape, and with their conical thatched roofs resembled gigantic beehives. From the Tongans the Samoans also borrowed the custom of building oblong quadrangular houses, which were called _afolau_. The best houses, in particular those of important chiefs, were built on raised platforms of stones about three feet high. One of the circular houses would measure about thirty-five feet in diameter by a hundred in circumference. Two or three posts in the centre of the house, some twenty feet high, supported the roof, the lower end of which rested on a series of short posts, four or five feet high, placed at intervals of about four feet all round the house. The intervals between these posts were sometimes closed by thatch neatly tied to sticks, which were planted upright in the ground and fastened to the eaves; but more commonly, it would seem, the intervals between the posts were left open and only closed at night by blinds made of coco-nut leaves, which could be let down or pulled up like Venetian blinds. During the day these blinds were drawn up, so that there was a free current of air all through the house. The roofs of the best houses were made of bread-fruit wood carefully thatched with leaves of the wild sugar-cane; when well made, the thatch might last seven years. The circular roofs were so constructed that they could be lifted clean off the posts and removed anywhere, either by land or on a raft of canoes. The whole house could also be transported; and as Samoan houses were often bartered, or given as presents, or paid as fines, it frequently happened that they were removed from place to place. In the whole house there was not a single nail or spike: all joints were made by exactly corresponding notches and secured by cinnet, that is cordage made from the dried fibre of the coco-nut husk. The timber of the best houses was the wood of the bread-fruit tree; and, if protected against damp, it would last fifty years. The floor of the house was composed of stones, overlaid with fine gravel and sand. In the centre of the floor was the fire-place, a circular hollow two or three feet in diameter and a few inches deep, lined with hardened clay. It was not used for cooking, but for the purpose of lighting up the house by night. The cooking was never done in the house, but always in the open air outside on an oven of hot stones. An ordinary Samoan house consisted of a single apartment, which served as the common parlour, dining-room, and bedroom of the family. But at night small tents made of bark-cloth were hung from the ridge-pole, and under them the various members of the family slept separately, the tents serving them at the same time as curtains to protect them against the mosquitoes. Formerly, the houses of the principal chiefs were surrounded with two fences; the outer of the two was formed of strong posts and had a narrow zigzag entrance, several yards long, leading to an opening in the inner fence, which was made of reeds. But with the advent of a more peaceful epoch these fortified enclosures for the most part disappeared. Houses constructed on the Tongan model were often very substantially built: a double row of posts and cross-beams supported the roof. These houses were found better able to resist the high winds which prevail at one season of the year.[38] [38] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._. ii. 145 _sqq._; J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ pp. 45-47; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 32; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 135; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 152 _sqq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 634 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa,_ pp. 105 _sqq._, 153 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 24 _sqq._ Like the rest of the Polynesians, the Samoans are an agricultural people, and subsist mainly by the fruits of the earth, though the lagoons and reefs furnish them with a large supply of fish and shell-fish, of which they are very fond. They all, but especially persons of rank, occasionally regaled themselves on pigs, fowls, and turtle. But bread-fruit, taro, yams, bananas, and coco-nuts formed the staff of life in Samoa. As the soil is very rich and the hot, damp climate is eminently favourable to the growth of vegetation, food was always abundant, and the natives could procure the necessaries and even the luxuries of life at the cost of very little labour; if they tilled the soil, it was rather to vary their diet than to wring a scanty subsistence from a niggardly nature. Coco-nut palms, bread-fruit and chestnut trees, and wild yams, bananas, and plantains abound throughout the islands, and require little attention to make them yield an ample crop. For about half the year the Samoans have a plentiful supply of food from the bread-fruit trees: during the other half they depend principally upon their taro plantations. While the bread-fruit is in season, every family lays up a quantity of the ripe fruit in a pit lined with leaves and covered with stones. The fruit soon ferments and forms a soft mass, which emits a very vile smell every time the pit is opened. In this state it may be kept for years, for the older and more rotten the fruit is, the better the natives like it. They bake it, with the juice of the coco-nut, into flat cakes, which are eaten when the ripe fruit is out of season or when taro is scarce. For taro is on the whole the staple food of the Samoans; it grows all the year round. The water of the coco-nut furnishes a cool, delicious, slightly effervescing beverage, which is peculiarly welcome to the hot and weary wayfarer far from any spring or rivulet.[39] [39] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 147; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_ (London, 1866), pp. 126-128; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 87 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 105-107; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 53-55; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 130 _sqq._ According to Dr. Brown, there are generally three crops of bread-fruit in the year, one of them lasting about three months. To obtain land for cultivation the Samoans went into the forest and cut down the brushwood and creeping vines with small hatchets or large knives. The large forest-trees they destroyed by chopping away the bark in a circle round the trunk and then kindling a fire of brushwood at the foot of the tree. Thus in the course of a few days a fair-sized piece of ground would be cleared, nothing of the forest remaining but charred trunks and leafless branches. Then followed the planting. The agricultural instruments employed were of the simplest pattern. A dibble, or pointed stick of hard wood, was used to make the hole in which the plant was deposited. This took the place of a plough, and a branch served the purpose of a harrow. Sometimes the earth was dug and smoothed with the blade of a canoe paddle. The labour of clearing and planting the ground was done by the men, but the task of weeding it generally devolved on the women. The first crop taken from a piece of land newly cleared in the forest was yams, which require a peculiar culture and frequent change of site, two successive crops being seldom obtained from the same land. After the first crop of yams had been cleared off, taro was planted several times in succession; for this root does not, like yams, require a change of site. However, we are told that a second crop of taro grown on the same land was very inferior to the first, and that as a rule the land was allowed to remain fallow until the trees growing on it were as thick as a man's arm, when it was again cleared for cultivation. In the wet season taro was planted on the high land from one to four miles inland from the village; other kinds of taro were planted in the swamps, and these were considered more succulent than the taro grown on the uplands. The growing crops of taro were weeded at least twice a year. The natives resorted to irrigation, when they had the means; and they often dug trenches to drain away the water from swampy ground. Yams also required attention; for sticks had to be provided on which the plants could run. The fruit ripens only once a year, but it was stored up, and with care would keep till the next season. The natives found neither yams nor bread-fruit so nourishing as taro.[40] [40] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 188; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 635; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 54 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 130 _sqq._, 338 _sqq._ The degree of progress which any particular community has made in civilisation may be fairly gauged by the degree of subdivision of labour among its members; for it is only by restricting his energies to a particular craft that a man can attain to any perfection in it. Judged by this standard the Samoans had advanced some way on the road to civilisation, since among them the division of labour was carried out to a considerable extent: in their native state they had not a few separate trades or professions, some of which may even be said to have developed the stability and organisation of trade guilds. Among them, for example, house-building, canoe-building, tattooing, and the making of nets and fish-hooks were distinct crafts, which, though not strictly hereditary, were usually confined to particular families. Thus by long practice and experience handed down from generation to generation a considerable degree of skill was acquired, and a considerable degree of reputation accrued to the family. Every trade had its particular patron god and was governed by certain well-known rules. The members formed, indeed, we are told, a trade union which was remarkably effective. Thus they had rules which prescribed the time and proportions of payment to be made at different stages of the work, and these rules were strictly observed and enforced by the workmen. For example, in the house-building trade, it was a standing custom that after the sides and one end of a house were finished, the principal part of the payment should be made. If the carpenters were dissatisfied with the amount of payment, they simply left off work and walked away, leaving the house unfinished, and no carpenter in the whole length and breadth of Samoa would dare to finish it, for it would have been as much as his business or even his life was worth to undertake the job. Anyone so foolhardy as thus to set the rules of the trade at defiance would have been attacked by the other workmen and robbed of his tools; at the best he would receive a severe thrashing, at the worst he might be killed. A house might thus stand unfinished for months or even years. Sooner or later, if he was to have a roof over his head, the unfortunate owner had to yield to the trade union and agree to such terms as they might dictate. If it happened that the house was almost finished before the fourth and final payment was made, and the builder at that stage of the proceedings took offence, he would remove a beam from the roof before retiring in dudgeon, and no workman would dare to replace it. The rules in the other trades, such as canoe-building and tattooing, were practically the same. In canoe-building, for example, five separate payments were made to the builders at five stages of the work; and if at any stage the workmen were dissatisfied with the pay, they very unceremoniously abandoned the work until the employer apologised or came to terms. No other party of workmen would have the temerity to finish the abandoned canoe upon pain of bringing down on their heads the wrath of the whole fraternity of canoe-builders; any such rash offenders against the rules of the guild would be robbed of their tools, expelled from their clan, and prohibited from exercising their calling during the pleasure of the guild. Such strides had the Samoans made in the direction of trade unionism.[41] [41] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 157 _sqq._, 162 _sqq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 141 _sqq._, 145 _sqq._, 153 _sqq._, 157 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 268, 305-308. Compare Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 143 _sqq._; Violette, _op. cit._ pp. 134 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 635 _sq._ In addition to their household duties women engaged in special work of their own, particularly in the manufacture of bark-cloths and of fine mats; but among them there seems to have been no subdivision of labour and consequently no professional guilds. In all families the making of bark-cloth and mats was carried on by the women indifferently, though some no doubt excelled others in the skill of their handiwork. The cloth was made from the bark of the paper-mulberry (_Morus papyrifera_), which was beaten out on boards with a grooved beetle. The sound of these beetles ringing on the boards, though not very musical, was a familiar sound in a Samoan village. The fine mats, on the manufacture of which the Samoans particularly prided themselves, were worn as dresses on ceremonial occasions. They were made from the leaves of a large plant which the natives call _lau ie_; the leaves closely resemble those of the pandanus, but are larger. These mats were of a straw or cream colour, and were sometimes fringed with tufts of scarlet feathers of the paroquet. They were thin and almost as flexible as calico. Many months, sometimes even years, were spent over the making of a single mat. Another kind of fine mat was made from the bark of a plant of the nettle tribe (_Hibiscus tiliaceus_), which grows wild over the islands. Mats of the latter sort were shaggy on one side, and, being bleached white, resembled fleecy sheep-skins. These fine mats, especially those made from the leaves of the pandanus-like plant, were considered by the Samoans to be their most valuable property; they were handed down as heirlooms from father to son, and were so much coveted that wars were sometimes waged to obtain possession of them. The pedigrees of the more famous mats, particularly those fringed with red feathers, were carefully kept, and when they changed hands, their history was related with solemn precision. Age enhanced their value; and their tattered condition, deemed a proof of antiquity, rather added to than detracted from the estimation in which they were held. The wealth of a family consisted of its mats; with them it remunerated the services of carpenters, boat-builders, and tattooers. The mats formed, indeed, a sort of currency or medium of exchange; for while the Samoans were not in general a trading people, and there was little or no actual buying and selling among them, there was nevertheless a considerable exchange of property on many occasions; at marriage, for example, it was customary for the bride's family to give mats and bark-cloth as her dowry, while the bridegroom's family provided a house, canoes, and other articles. But though the fine mats were thus paid away or given in exchange, they had no fixed negotiable value, and thus did not serve the purpose of money.[42] [42] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 142 _sq._; J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, pp. 109 _sq._; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 129-132; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 135; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 119-121; S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 636; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 143 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 304 _sq._, 305, 315, 434. § 4. _Rights of Property_ In Samoa the rights of private property, both personal and landed, were fully recognised, but with certain limitations. The lands were owned alike by chiefs and by heads of families; the laws regulating their possession were very definite. In no case did the whole of the land belong to the chiefs. Every family owned portions of land not only in the village and adjoining gardens, but far away in the unreclaimed forests of the interior. The title, which passed by inheritance, generally vested in the family; but the family was represented by the head, who often claimed the right to dispose of it by sale or otherwise. Yet he dared not do anything without consulting all concerned; were he to persist in thwarting the wishes of the rest, they would take his title from him and give it to another. Sometimes, however, the title to landed property vested in individual owners. The legitimate heir was the oldest surviving brother, but occasionally he waived his right in favour of one of the sons. Women might hold land when the male side of a family was extinct. The boundaries of land were well defined, being marked by pathways, natural limits, such as a river, or by trenches and stones half buried in the ground. Every inch of ground had its owner, even to the tops of the mountains. Trespass by a neighbouring village would be resisted, if necessary, by force of arms.[43] [43] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 176 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 83 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 287 _sq._, 314, 339. In regard to personal property it may be said that, like landed property, it belonged rather to the family than to the individual; for no Samoan could refuse to give, without an equivalent, anything which any member of his family asked for. In this way boats, tools, garments, and so forth passed freely from hand to hand. Nay, a man could enter the plantation of a relative and help himself to the fruit without asking the owner's leave; such an appropriation was not considered to be stealing. Under this communistic system, as it has been called, accumulation of property was scarcely possible, and industry was discouraged. Why should a diligent man toil when he knew that the fruit of his labour might all be consumed by lazy kinsfolk? He might lay out a plantation of bananas, and when they were full-grown, bunch after bunch might be plucked and eaten by his less industrious relations, until, exasperated beyond endurance, the unfortunate owner would cut down all the remaining trees. No matter how hard a man worked, he could not keep his earnings; they all soon passed out of his hands into the common stock of the clan. The system, we are told, ate like a canker-worm at the roots of individual and national progress.[44] [44] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 160 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 247, 262 _sq._, 434. § 5. _Government, Social Ranks, Respect for Chiefs_ The native government of Samoa was not, like that of Tonga, a centralised despotism. Under the form of a monarchy and aristocracy the political constitution was fundamentally republican and indeed democratic. The authority of the king and chiefs was limited and more or less nominal; practically Samoa consisted of a large number of petty independent and self-governing communities, which sometimes combined for defence or common action in a sort of loose federation.[45] [45] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 454; H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_ (Edinburgh, 1863), p. 118; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 173; S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 631; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 83 _sq._, 89; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 333. To a superficial observer the aristocratic cast of Samoan society might at first sight seem very marked. The social ranks were sharply divided from each other, and the inferior orders paid great formal deference to their superiors. At the head of all ranked the chiefs (_alii_); but even among them the ordinary chiefs were distinct from the sacred chiefs (_alii paia_), who enjoyed the highest honours. These sacred chiefs preserved their pedigrees for twenty or more generations with as great care as the oldest and proudest families in Europe, and they possessed many feudal rights and privileges which were as well known and as fully acknowledged as are, or were, those of any lord of a manor in England. The task of preserving a record of a chief's pedigrees was entrusted to his orator or spokesman, who belonged to a lower social rank (that of the _tulafales_).[46] The influence of chiefs was supported by the belief that they possessed some magical or supernatural power, by which they could enforce their decisions.[47] Their persons were sacred or taboo. They might not be touched by any one. No one might sit beside them. In the public assemblies a vacant place was left on each side of the seat of honour which they occupied. Some chiefs were so holy that they might not even be looked at by day. Their food might not be handed to them, but was thrown to them, and it was so sacred that no one might eat any of it which they had left over.[48] [46] H. Hale, _op. cit._ p. 28; Violette, _op. cit._ p. 168; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 173 _sqq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 65 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 283, 430. [47] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 431. [48] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 280, 283, 285; Violette, _op. cit._ p. 168 (as to chiefs too holy to be seen by day). "The sacredness attributed to many chiefs of high rank gave rise to observances which were irksome to their families and dependents, since whatever they came in contact with required to undergo the ceremony of _lulu'u_, or sprinkling with a particular kind of cocoanut-water (_niu-ui_); both to remove the sanctity supposed to be communicated to the article or place that had touched the chief, and also to counteract the danger of speedy death, which was believed to be imminent to any person who might touch the sacred chief, or anything that he had touched; so great was the mantle of sanctity thrown around these chiefs, although unconnected with the priesthood. Thus the spot where such a chief had sat or slept was sprinkled with water immediately he had left it, as were also the persons who had sat on either side of him when he received company, as well as all the attendants who had waited upon him. "This remarkable custom was also observed on other occasions. It was always used on the occasion of deposing a chief, and depriving him of his _Ao_, or titles, in which case the ceremony was performed by some of those who had either conferred the titles or had the power to do so. In the case of O le Tamafainga, the usurper who was killed in A'ana in 1829, his body was first sprinkled with cocoanut-water, and his title of _O le Tuia'ana_ recalled from him, before he was hewn in pieces. The ceremony consisted of sprinkling the body with cocoanut-water, and the officiating chief or _Tulafale_ saying, 'Give us back our _Ao_,' by which means the title was recalled, and the sacredness attaching to it was dispelled. It was also used over persons newly tattooed, and upon those who contaminated themselves by contact with a dead body. In each of these cases the ceremony was carefully observed, and reverently attended to, as very dire consequences were considered certain to follow its omission."[49] Thus the sacredness of a chief was deemed dangerous to all persons with whom he might come, whether directly or indirectly, into contact; it was apparently conceived as a sort of electric fluid which discharged itself, it might be with fatal effect, on whatever it touched. And the sacredness of a chief was clearly classed with the uncleanness of a dead body, since contact with a dead body involved the same dangerous consequences as contact with the sacred person of a chief and had to be remedied in precisely the same manner. The two conceptions of holiness and uncleanness, which to us seem opposite and even contradictory, blend in the idea of taboo, in which both are implicitly held as it were in solution. It requires the analytic tendency of more advanced thought to distinguish the two conceptions, to precipitate, as it were, the components of the solution in the testing-tube of the mind. [49] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 127 _sq._ Compare Violette, _op. cit._ p. 168; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 231, 280, 285. In this work Dr. Brown remarks (p. 231) that there is no clear explanation of the custom of sprinkling coco-nut water as a purificatory rite. But the explanation given by Stair, which I have quoted in the text, is clear and satisfactory, and elsewhere (p. 285) Dr. Brown implicitly adopts the same explanation, where he says that the man who had served kava to a sacred chief "sprinkled himself all over to wash away the sacredness (_paia_)." The profound respect which the Samoans entertained for their chiefs manifested itself in yet another fashion. A special form of speech was adopted in addressing a chief, in conversing in his presence, or even in alluding to him in his absence. Thus there arose what is called a chiefs' language, or polite diction, which was used exclusively in speaking to or of a chief, whether the speaker was a common man or a chief of lower rank. But it was never used by a chief when he was speaking of himself. Persons of high rank, in addressing others and alluding to themselves, always employed ordinary language and sometimes the very lowest terms; so that it was often amusing to listen to expressions of feigned humility uttered by a proud man, who would have been indignant indeed if the same terms which he applied to himself had been applied to him by others. Thus, for example, the actions of sitting, talking, eating, sleeping, and dying were expressed by different terms according as the agent was a chief or a common man. The ordinary word for a house was _fale_; but a chief's house was called _maota_. The common word for anger was _ita_; the polite term was _toasa_. To sleep in ordinary language was _moe_, but in polite language it was _tof[=a]_ or _toá_. To be sick in common speech was _mai_, but in polite language it was _ngasengase, faatafa, pulu pulusi_. To die was _mate_ or _pe_ (said of animals), or _oti_ (said of men); but the courtly expressions for death were _maliu_ ("gone"), _folau_ ("gone on a voyage"), _fale-lauasi, ngasololo ao_, and a number of others. The terms substituted in the court language sometimes had a meaning the very opposite of that borne by the corresponding terms in the ordinary language. For example, in the court language firewood was called _polata_, which properly means the stem of the banana plant, a wood that is incombustible. If the use of an ordinary word in the presence of a chief were unavoidable, it had to be prefaced by the apologetic phrase _veaeane_, literally "saving your presence," every time the word was spoken. Nay, the courtly language itself varied with the rank of the chief addressed or alluded to. For example, if you wished to say that a person had come, you would say _alu_ of a common man; _alala_ of a head of a household or landowner (_tulafale_); _maliu_ of a petty chief; _susu_ of a chief of the second class; and _afiu_ of a chief of the highest rank.[50] The same respect which was shown in the use of words descriptive of a chief's actions or possessions was naturally extended to his own name, when he belonged to the class of sacred chiefs. If his name happened to be also the name of a common object, it ceased to be used to designate the thing in question, and a new word or phrase was substituted for it. Henceforth the old name of the object was dropped and might never again be pronounced in the chief's district nor indeed anywhere in his presence. In one district, for example, the chief's name was Flying-fox; hence the ordinary word for flying-fox (_re'a_) was dropped, and that species of bat was known as "bird of heaven" (_manu langi_).[51] Again, when the chief of Pango-pango, in the island of Tutuila, was called Maunga, which means "mountain," that word might never be used in his presence, and a courtly term was substituted for it.[52] This is only one instance of the ways in which the dialects of savages tend to vary from each other under the influence of superstition. [50] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, pp. 28 _sq._; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 190; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 67 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 380 _sq._ Compare G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 175. [51] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 280, 381. [52] J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_, p. 44. Yet despite the extraordinary deference thus paid to chiefs in outward show, the authority which they possessed was for the most part very limited; indeed in the ordinary affairs of life the powers and privileges of a chief were little more than nominal, and he moved about among the people and shared their everyday employments just like a common man. Thus, for example, he would go out with a fishing party, work in his plantation, help at building a house or a canoe, and even lend a hand in cooking at a native oven. So strong was the democratic spirit among the Samoans. The ordinary duties of a chief consisted in administering the law, settling disputes, punishing transgressors, appointing feasts, imposing taboos, and leading his people in war. It was in time of war that a chief's dignity and authority were at their highest, but even then he could hardly maintain strict discipline.[53] However, the influence of chiefs varied a good deal and depended in great measure on their personal character. If besides his hereditary rank a chief was a man of energy and ability, he might become practically supreme in his village or district. Some chiefs even used their power in a very tyrannical manner.[54] [53] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 174 _sq._; S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, pp. 631 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 70; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 286. [54] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 70; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 286. But for the abuse of power by their nominal rulers the Samoans had a remedy at hand. When a chief rendered himself odious to his people by tyranny and oppression, the householders or gentry (_tulafales_) and neighbouring chiefs would not uncommonly depose him and transfer his office to another; in extreme cases they might banish him or even put him to death. The place of banishment for exiled chiefs was the island of Tutuila. Thither the fallen potentate was conveyed under custody in a canoe, and on landing he was made to run the gauntlet between two rows of the inhabitants, who belaboured him with sticks, pelted him with stones, or subjected him to other indignities. He was lucky if he escaped with nothing worse than bruises, for sometimes the injuries inflicted were severe or actually fatal.[55] Chieftainship was hereditary in the male line, but did not necessarily pass from father to son; the usual heir would seem to have been the eldest surviving brother, and next to him one of the sons. But a dying chief might nominate his successor, though the final decision rested with the heads of families. Failing a male heir, a daughter might be appointed to, or might assume, the prerogative of chieftainship.[56] [55] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 454; H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 28; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 119; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 177; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 71 _sqq._ [56] Violette, _op. cit._ p. 119; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 174; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 631; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 282, 286, 430. In addition to their hereditary nobility chiefs might be raised to higher rank by the possession of titles (_ao_), which were in the gift of certain ruling towns or villages. When four or, according to another account, five of these titles were conferred upon a single chief, he was called _o le tupu_, or King of Samoa. But if the constituencies were not unanimous in their choice of a candidate, the throne might remain vacant for long periods. Thus the monarchy of Samoa was elective; the king was chosen by a hereditary aristocracy, and his powers were tempered by the rights and privileges of the nobility. Yet under the show of a limited monarchy the constitution was essentially a federal republic.[57] The ceremony of anointing a King of Samoa in ancient times appears to have curiously resembled a similar solemnity in monarchical Europe. It took place in presence of a large assembly of chiefs and people. A sacred stone was consecrated as a throne, or rather stool, on which the king stood, while a priest, who must also be a chief, called upon the gods to behold and bless the king, and pronounced denunciations against such as should fail to obey him. He then poured scented oil from a native bottle over the head, shoulders, and body of the king, and proclaimed his several titles and honours.[58] [57] Violette, _op. cit._ pp. 118 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 65 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 283. Compare H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29. [58] S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, p. 631. Next below the chiefs ranked an inferior order of nobility called _tulafales_ or _faipules_, who are variously described as householders, councillors, and secondary chiefs. They formed a very powerful and influential class; indeed we are told that they generally exercised greater authority than the chiefs, and that the real control of districts often centred in their hands. They usually owned large lands: they were the principal advisers of the chiefs: the orators were usually selected from their number: the _ao_ or titles of districts were always in their gift; and they had the power, which they did not scruple to use, of deposing and banishing an unpopular chief. Sometimes a chief contrived to bring them into subjection to himself; but as a rule they were a sturdy class, who did not shrink from speaking out their minds to their social superiors, often uttering very unpalatable truths and acting with great determination when the conduct of a chief incurred their displeasure. In short, they made laws, levied fines, and generally ruled the village.[59] [59] H. Hale, _op. cit._ p. 28; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ ii. 152; Violette, _op. cit._ p. 119; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 629; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 70 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 285 _sq._, 287. Below the _tulafales_ ranked the _faleupolu_ or House of Upolu, and the _tangata nuu_ or Men of the Land. The former were considerable landowners and possessed much influence; the latter were the humblest class, bearing arms in time of war, and cultivating the soil, fishing, and cooking in time of peace. But they were far from being serfs; most of them were eligible for the position of head of a family, if, when a vacancy occurred, the choice of the family fell upon them.[60] For the title of head of a family was not hereditary. A son might succeed his father in the dignity; but the members of the family would sometimes pass over the son and confer the title on an uncle, a cousin, or even a perfect stranger, if they desired to increase the numerical strength of the family.[61] [60] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 74 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 432. [61] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 173. The villages of the Samoans were practically self-governing and independent communities, though every village was more or less loosely federated with the other villages of its district. Each district or confederation of villages had its capital (_laumua_) or ruling town. These federal capitals, however, possessed no absolute authority over the other villages of the district; and though great respect was always shown to them, the people of the district, or even of a particular village, would often dissent from the decisions of the capital and assert their independence of action.[62] Of this independence a notable instance occurred when the Catholic missionaries first settled in Samoa. Under the influence of the Protestant missionaries a federal assembly had passed a decree strictly forbidding the admission of Roman Catholics to the islands, and threatening with war any community that should dare to harbour the obnoxious sect. The better to enforce the decree, prayers were publicly offered up in the chapels that God would be pleased to keep all Papists out of Samoa. To these charitable petitions the deity seems to have turned a deaf ear; for, in spite of prayers and prohibitions, two Catholic priests and a lay brother landed and were hospitably received and effectually protected by the people of a village, who paid no heed either to the remonstrances of the chiefs or to the thunders of the federal assembly.[63] [62] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 180; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 333. [63] Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 119 _sq._ The population of a village might be from two to five hundred persons, and there might be eight or ten villages in a district. Throughout the Samoan islands there were in all eight of these separate districts. The union of the villages in a district was voluntary; they formed by common consent a petty state for their mutual protection. When war was threatened by another district, no single village acted alone; the whole district, or state, assembled at their capital and held a special parliament to concert the measures to be taken.[64] The boundaries of the districts were well known and zealously guarded, if necessary, by force of arms against the aggression of a neighbouring state. The wardenship of the marches was committed to the two nearest villages on either side, the inhabitants of which were called Boundary-Keepers. Between two such villages in former days mutual ill-feeling constantly existed and border feuds were frequent.[65] [64] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 173, 180 _sq._ A third local division, intermediate between the village and the district, is mentioned by Stair, who calls it a settlement (_Old Samoa_, p. 83); but the other authorities whom I have consulted appear not to recognise such an intermediate division. [65] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 83. The form of government both of the village and of the district was parliamentary. Affairs were discussed and settled in a representative assembly (_fono_), composed of the leading men of each village or district. These representatives included the chiefs, together with the householders or landowners (_tulafales_) and the inferior gentry (the _faleupolu_). The more weighty affairs, such as declaring war or making peace, or any matters of importance which concerned the whole district, were debated in the general parliament of the district, while business of purely local interest was transacted in the parliament of the village. It was the privilege of the capital to convene the district parliament, to preside over its deliberations, to settle disputed points, to sum up the proceedings, and to dismiss the assembly. These meetings were usually conducted with much formality and decorum. They were always held in the large public place (_malae_ or _marae_) of the village or town. It was an open green spot surrounded by a circle of trees and houses. The centre was occupied by a large house which belonged to the chief and was set apart as a caravansary for the entertainment of strangers and visitors. Members of all the three orders which composed the parliament had the right to address it; but the speaking was usually left to the householders or landowners (_tulafales_). Each chief had generally attached to him one of that order who acted as his mouthpiece; and in like manner each settlement retained the services of a member of the order, who was the leading orator of the district. Decisions were reached not by voting but by general consent, the discussion being prolonged until some conclusion, satisfactory to the greater part of the members, and particularly to the most influential, was arrived at. One of the principal prerogatives of the king seems to have been that of convoking a parliament; though, if he refused to do so, when circumstances seemed to require it, the assembly would undoubtedly have met without him. The functions of these assemblies were judicial as well as legislative and deliberative. Offenders were arraigned before them and, if found guilty, were condemned and punished.[66] [66] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 29; Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 153 _sq._; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 119; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 177 _sqq._, 180 _sqq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 632 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 84 _sqq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 286 _sq._, 288 _sqq._ It says much for the natural ability of the Samoans that they should have attained to a level of culture so comparatively high with material resources so scanty and defective. Nature, indeed, supplied them with abundance of food and timber, but she denied them the metals, which were unknown in the islands until they were introduced from Europe. In their native state, accordingly, the Samoans were still in the Stone Age, their principal tools being stone axes and adzes, made mainly from a close-grained basalt which is found in the island of Tutuila. Of these axes the rougher were chipped, but the finer were ground. Shells were used as cutting instruments and as punches to bore holes in planks; and combs, neatly carved out of bone, were employed as instruments in tattooing. A wooden dibble served them instead of a plough to turn up the earth. The only skins they prepared were those of sharks and some other fish, which they used as rasps for smoothing woodwork. The art of pottery was unknown.[67] Food was cooked in ovens of hot stones;[68] fire was kindled by the friction of wood, the method adopted being what is called the stick-and-groove process.[69] [67] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 319; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 158; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 146, 149, 154, 159. As to the wooden dibbles, see Ella, _op. cit._ p. 635 (above, p. 166). [68] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 111 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 130. [69] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 129. We now pass to a consideration of the religion of these interesting people, especially in regard to the human soul and its destiny after death. § 6. _Religion: Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts_ The first missionary to Samoa, John Williams, was struck by the contrast between the religion of the Samoans and the religion of the other Polynesian peoples whom he had studied. "The religious system of the Samoans," he says, "differs essentially from that which obtained at the Tahitian, Society, and other islands with which we are acquainted. They have neither _maraes_, nor temples, nor altars, nor offerings; and, consequently, none of the barbarous and sanguinary rites observed at the other groups. In consequence of this, the Samoans were considered an impious race, and their impiety became proverbial with the people of Rarotonga; for, when upbraiding a person who neglected the worship of the gods, they would call him 'a godless Samoan.' But, although heathenism was presented to us by the Samoans in a dress different from that in which we had been accustomed to see it, having no altars stained with human blood, no _maraes_ strewed with the skulls and bones of its numerous victims, no sacred groves devoted to rites of which brutality and sensuality were the most obvious features, this people had 'lords many and gods many';--their religious system was as obviously marked as any other with absurdity, superstition, and vice."[70] [70] John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 465 _sq._ This account of the Samoan religion, written at a time when the islands were not yet fully opened up to Europeans, must be modified by the testimony of later writers, in particular with regard to the alleged absence of temples and offerings; but in its broad outlines it holds good, in so far as the Samoan ritual was honourably distinguished from that of many other islands in the Pacific by its freedom from human sacrifice and from the gross and licentious practices which prevailed in other branches of the Polynesian race. The notion of the Rarotongans that the Samoans were a godless people has proved to be totally mistaken. On closer acquaintance it was found that they lived under the influence of a host of imaginary deities who exercised their faith and demanded their obedience. Among these deities the most numerous and perhaps the most influential were the _aitu_, which were the gods of individuals, of families, of towns or villages, and of districts.[71] These gods were supposed to appear in some visible embodiment or incarnation, and the particular thing, or class of things, in which his god was in the habit of appearing, was to the Samoan an object of veneration, and he took great care never to injure it or treat it with contempt. In the great majority of cases the thing in which the deity presented himself to his worshippers was a class of natural objects, most commonly a species of animal, bird, or fish, less frequently a tree or plant or an inanimate object, such as a stone, the rainbow, or a meteor. One man, for example, saw his god in the eel, another in the shark, another in the turtle, another in the owl, another in the lizard, and so on throughout all the fish of the sea, the birds, the four-footed beasts, and creeping things. In some of the shell-fish, such as the limpets on the rocks, gods were supposed to be present. It was not uncommon to see an intelligent chief muttering prayers to a fly, an ant, or a lizard, which chanced to alight or crawl in his presence. A man would eat freely of the incarnation of another man's god, but would most scrupulously refrain from eating of the incarnation of his own particular god, believing that death would be the consequence of such sacrilege. The offended god was supposed to take up his abode in the body of the impious eater and to generate there the very thing which he had eaten, till it caused his death. For example, if a man, whose family god was incarnate in the prickly sea-urchin (_Echinus_), were to eat of a sea-urchin, it was believed that a prickly sea-urchin would grow in his body and kill him. If his family god were incarnate in the turtle, and he was rash enough to eat a turtle, the god would enter into him, and his voice would be heard from within the sinner's body, saying, "I am killing this man; he ate my incarnation." Occasionally, however, the penalty exacted by the deity was less severe. If, for instance, a man's god was in cockles, and he ate one of these shell-fish, a cockle would grow on his nose; if he merely picked up a cockle on the shore and walked away with it, the shell-fish would appear on some part of his person. But in neither case, apparently, would the kindly cockle take the life of the offender. It was not a bloodthirsty deity. Again, a man whose god was in coco-nuts would never drink the refreshing beverage which other people were free to extract from the nuts. But the worshipper who shrank from eating or drinking his god in the shape, say, of an octopus or of coco-nut water, would often look on with indifference while other people partook of these his divinities. He might pity their ignorance or envy their liberty, but he would not seek to enlighten the one or to restrain the other.[72] Indeed this indifference was sometimes carried to great lengths. For example, a man whose god was incarnate in the turtle, though he would not himself dare to partake of turtle, would have no scruple in helping a neighbour to cut up and cook a turtle; but in doing so he took the precaution to tie a bandage over his mouth to prevent an embryo turtle from slipping down his throat and sealing his doom by growing up in his stomach.[73] Sometimes the incarnate deity, out of consideration perhaps for the weakness of the flesh, would limit his presence to a portion of an animal, it might be the left wing of a pigeon, or the tail of a dog, or the right leg of a pig.[74] The advantages of such a restriction to a worshipper are obvious. A man, for instance, to whom it would have been death to eat the right leg of a pig, might partake of a left leg of pork with safety and even with gusto. And so with the rest of the divine menagery. [71] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_ (London, 1866), pp. 106 _sqq._; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_, p. 141; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 16 _sqq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 211, 215 _sqq._ [72] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 468; Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 131 _sq._; T. H. Hood, _Notes of a Cruise in H.M.S. "Fawn" in the Western Pacific_, p. 141; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 106 _sqq._; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 111; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 16 _sqq._, 40, 50 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 211, 216 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 137, 218. The account of these deities given by Dr. G. Turner is by far the fullest and best. [73] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 67 _sq._ [74] W. T. Pritchard, _op. cit._ p. 107. Similarly some people had pig's heart for their god, or the embodiment of their god, and they scrupulously avoided eating pigs' hearts lest pigs' hearts should grow in their bodies and so cause their death. See G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 72. However, even if the worst had happened, that is to say, if the deity had been killed, cooked and eaten, the consequences were not necessarily fatal to his worshippers; there were modes of redeeming the lives of the sinners and of expiating their sin. Suppose, for example, that the god of a household was the cuttle-fish, and that some visitor to the house had, either in ignorance or in bravado, caught a cuttle-fish and cooked it, or that a member of the family had been present where a cuttle-fish was eaten, the family would meet in conclave to consult about the sacrilege, and they would select one of their number, whether a man or a woman, to go and lie down in a cold oven and be covered over with leaves, just as in the process of baking, all to pretend that the person was being offered up as a burnt sacrifice to avert the wrath of the deity. While this solemn pretence was being enacted, the whole family would engage in prayer, saying, "O bald-headed cuttle-fish, forgive what has been done. It was all the work of a stranger." If they did not thus abase themselves before the divine cuttle-fish, they believed that the god would visit them and cause a cuttle-fish to grow internally in their bodies and so be the death of some of them.[75] Similar modes of appeasing the wrath of divine eels, mullets, stinging ray fish, turtles, wild pigeons, and garden lizards were adopted with equal success.[76] [75] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 31 _sq._ [76] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 38, 58, 59, 69 _sq._, 72. Apparently the Samoans were even more concerned to defend their village gods or district gods against injury and insult than to guard the deities of simple individuals. We are told that all the inhabitants of a district would thus unite for the protection of the local divinity.[77] For example, it happened that in a village where the first native Christian teachers settled one of them caught a sea-eel (_Muraena_) and cooked it, and two of the village lads, who were their servants, ate some of the eel for their supper. But the eel was the village god, and when the villagers heard that the lads had eaten the god, they administered a sound thrashing to the culprits, and dragged them off to a cooking-house where they laid them down in the oven pit and covered them with leaves in the usual way, as if the lads had been killed and were now to be cooked as a peace-offering to avert the wrath of the deity.[78] When John Williams had caused some Christian natives to kill a large sea-snake and dry it on the rocks to be preserved as a specimen, the heathen fishermen of the island at sight of it raised a most terrific yell, and, seizing their clubs, rushed upon the Christian natives, saying, "You have killed our god! You have killed our god!" It was with difficulty that Mr. Williams restrained their violence on condition that the reptile should be immediately carried back to the boat from which the missionary had landed.[79] The island in which this happened belonged to the Tongan group, but precisely the same incident might have occurred in Samoa. In some parts of Upolu a goddess was believed to be incarnate in bats, and if a neighbour chanced to kill one of these creatures, the indignant worshippers of the bat might wage a war to avenge the insult to their deity.[80] If people who had the stinging ray fish for the incarnation of their god heard that their neighbours had caught a fish of that sort, they would go and beg them to give it up and not to cook it. A refusal to comply with the request would be followed by a fight.[81] [77] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 216 _sq._ [78] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 58. [79] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 469. [80] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 57. [81] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 75. Accordingly, when the Samoans were converted to Christianity, they gave the strongest proof of the genuineness of their conversion by killing and eating their animal gods. Thus when a chief named Malietoa renounced heathenism, he caused an eel to be publicly caught, cooked, and eaten by many persons who had hitherto regarded the eel as their god. His own sons had a different sort of fish, called _anae_, for their private deity, and to demonstrate their faith in the new religion they had a quantity of the fish caught, cooked, and served up in the presence of a large party of friends and relations. There, with trembling hearts, they partook of the once sacred morsel; but, their fears getting the better of them, they immediately retired from the feast and swallowed a powerful emetic, lest the divine fish should lie heavy on their stomachs and devour their vitals.[82] As nothing particular happened after these daring innovations, the people took heart of grace, and concerted further plans for the destruction of their ancient deities. Among these was a certain Papo, who was nothing more or less than a piece of old rotten matting, about three yards long and four inches wide; but being a god of war and, in that capacity, always attached to the canoe of the leader when they went forth to battle, he was regarded with great veneration by the people. At the assembly convoked to decide on his fate, the first proposal was to throw him into the fire. But the idea was too shocking to the general sense of the community, and by way of making death as little painful as possible to the deity, they decided to take him out to sea in a canoe and there consign him to a watery grave. Even from this mitigated doom Papo was rescued by the efforts of the missionaries, and he now adorns a museum.[83] [82] J. Williams, _op. cit._ pp. 373 _sq._ [83] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 375. But even when the career of one of these animal gods was not prematurely cut short by being killed, cooked, and eaten, he was still liable to die in the course of nature; and when his dead body was discovered, great was the sorrow of his worshippers. If, for example, the god of a village was an owl, and a dead owl was found lying beside a road or under a tree, it would be reverently covered up with a white cloth by the person who discovered it, and all the villagers would assemble round the dead god and burn their bodies with firebrands and beat their foreheads with stones till the blood flowed. Then the corpse of the feathered deity would be wrapped up and buried with as much care and ceremony as if it were a human body. However, that was not the death of the god. He was supposed to be yet alive and incarnate in all the owls in existence.[84] [84] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 21, 26, 60 _sq._ Compare W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 110 _sq._ The offerings to these deities consisted chiefly of cooked food,[85] which was apparently deemed as essential to the sustenance of gods as of men, and that even when the gods were not animals but stones. For example, two oblong smooth stones, which stood on a platform of loose stones near a village, were regarded as the parents of the rain-god, and when the people were making ready to go off to the woods for the favourite sport of pigeon-catching, they used to lay offerings of cooked taro and fish on the stones, accompanied by prayers for fine weather and no rain. These stone gods were also believed to cause yams to grow; hence in time of dearth a man would present them with a yam in hope of securing their favour.[86] [85] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20. [86] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 24 _sq._ At the feasts the first cup of kava was dedicated to the god, the presiding chief either pouring it out on the ground or waving it towards the sky. Afterwards all the chiefs drank from the same cup according to their rank; then the food brought as an offering was divided and eaten there before the god.[87] Even within the circle of the family it was customary to pour out on the ground a little kava as an offering to the family god before any one else drank of it.[88] [87] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 121 _sqq._ [88] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 229. Annual feasts were held in honour of the gods, and the season of the feast was often in May, but sometimes in April or June.[89] In some cases the feasts were regulated by the appearance of the bird which was believed to be the incarnation of the god. Whenever the bird was seen, the priest would say that the god had come, and he would fix upon a day for the entertainment of the deity.[90] At these festivals all the people met in the place of public assembly, where they had collected heaps of cooked food. First, they made their offerings to the god and prayed to him to avert calamity and grant prosperity; then they feasted with and before their god, and after that any strangers present might eat. Some of the festivals included games, such as wrestling, spear-throwing, club exercises, sham-fights, and nocturnal dances; and they lasted for days.[91] At one of these annual festivals held in the month of June, the exercise with clubs assumed a serious and indeed sanguinary form. All the people, old and young, men, women, and children, took part in it, and battered their scalps till the blood streamed down over their faces and bodies. This proof of their devotion was supposed to be acceptable to the deity, who, gratified by the sight of their flowing blood, would answer their prayers for health, good crops, and victory in war.[92] At the feast of the cockle god in May prayers were offered up to the divine shell-fish that he would be pleased to cure the coughs and other ailments usually prevalent at that season, which in Samoa forms the transition from the wet to the dry months.[93] At the festival of an owl god, which fell about the month of April, the offerings and prayers were particularly directed towards the removal of caterpillars from the plantations; for these insects were believed to be the servants of the owl god, who could send them as his ministers of vengeance to lay waste the fields and orchards of the impious.[94] Elsewhere the owl was a war god, and at the beginning of the annual fish festivals the chiefs and people of the village assembled round the opening of the first oven and gave the first fish to the god.[95] A family, who had the eel for their household god, showed their gratitude to him for his kindness by presenting him with the first fruits of their taro plantation.[96] Another family believed their deity to be incarnate in centipedes; and if a member of the family fell ill or was bitten by a centipede, they would offer the divine reptile a fine mat and a fan, with a prayer for the recovery of the patient.[97] The utility of a fine mat and a fan to a centipede is too obvious to be insisted on. Sometimes offerings were made to a god, not to persuade him to come, but to induce him to go away. For example, where gods or spirits were believed to voyage along the coast, offerings of food were often set down on the beach as an inducement to the spirits to take the victuals and pass on without calling at that particular place.[98] [89] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20, 26, 29, 41, 44, 47, 53, 57. [90] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20 _sq._ [91] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 20, 26, 29; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, p. 123. [92] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 57. [93] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 41. [94] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 47. [95] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._ [96] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 70 _sq._ [97] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 47 _sq._ [98] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 229. Formal prayers were offered to the god by the head of a family, and public prayer was put up when the men were setting out for war. On such occasions they prayed that stones, stumps of trees, and other obstacles might be taken out of the way of the warriors, and that their path might be wet with the blood of their foes. All their prayers were for temporal benefits, such as protection against enemies, plenty of food, and other desirable objects. They attached great importance to confession of wrongdoing in times of danger, but, so far as appears, they expressed no repentance, promised no amendment, and offered no prayer for forgiveness. If, for example, a canoe, crossing the channel between Savaii and Upolu, were caught in a squall and seemed likely to be swamped, the steersman would head the canoe to the wind, and every man on board would make a clean breast of his sins. One would say, "I stole a fowl at such and such a village." Another would confess an intrigue with a married woman somewhere else; and so on. When all had either confessed their guilt or declared their innocence, the helmsman would put the helm about and scud before the wind, in perfect confidence of bringing the canoe and crew safe to land.[99] [99] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 229 _sq._ When a god was believed to be incarnate in a species of birds or animals or fish, omens were naturally drawn from the appearance and behaviour of the creatures. This happened particularly in time of war, when hopes and fears were rife among the people. Thus, if their war god was an owl, and the bird fluttered above the troops on the march, the omen was good; but if the owl flew away in the direction of the enemy, it was an evil omen, the god had deserted them and joined the foe;[100] if it crossed the path of the warriors or flew back on them, it was a warning to retreat.[101] So in places where the war-god was a rail-bird, if the bird screeched and flew before the army, the people marched confidently to battle; but if it turned and flew back, they hesitated. If the plumage of the rail showed glossy red, it was a sign to go to war; but if the feathers were dark and dingy, it was a warning to stay at home. And if the bird were heard chattering or scolding, as they called it, at midnight, it prognosticated an attack next day, and they would at once send off the women and children to a place of safety.[102] In like manner omens were drawn from the flight of herons, kingfishers, the _Porphyris Samoensis_, and flying-foxes, where these creatures were supposed to incarnate the war god.[103] People who saw their war god in the lizard used to take omens from a lizard before they went forth to fight. They watched the movements of a lizard in a bundle of spears. If the creature ran about the outside of the bundle and the points of the spears, the omen was favourable; but if it crept into the bundle for concealment, it was an evil sign.[104] The inhabitants of several villages looked upon dogs, especially white dogs, as the incarnation of their war god; accordingly if the dog wagged his tail, barked, and dashed ahead in sight of the enemy, it was a good omen; but if he retreated or howled, their hearts failed them.[105] Again, where the cuttle-fish was the war god, the movements of that fish at sea were anxiously observed in time of war. If the fish swam inshore while the people were mustering for battle, it augured victory; but if it swam far away, it portended defeat.[106] [100] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._ [101] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 60. [102] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 52, 61, 65. [103] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 35, 51, 54 _sq._, 64. [104] G. Turner, pp. 46 _sq._ [105] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 49. [106] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 29. When a god was supposed to dwell in some inanimate object, the art of divination was similarly employed to elicit a knowledge of the future from an observation of the object, whatever it might be. In several villages, for example, the people viewed a rainbow as the representative of their war god. If, when they were going to battle by land or sea, a rainbow appeared in the sky right in front of them, with the arch, as it were, straddling across the line of march or the course that the fleet was steering, it was a warning to turn back. But if the bow shone on the right or left of the army or of the fleet, it meant that the god was marching with them, and cheering on the advance.[107] Another village revered its god in the lightning. When lightning flashed frequently in time of war, it was believed that the god had come to help and direct his people. A constant play of lightning over a particular spot was a warning that the enemy was lurking there in ambush. A rapid succession of flashes in front meant that the foe was being driven back; but if the lightning flashed from front to rear, it was a signal to retreat.[108] In one large village the war god resided in two teeth of the sperm whale, which were kept in a cave and observed by a priest in time of war. If the teeth were found lying east and west, it was a good omen; but if they lay north and south, it prognosticated defeat.[109] In another place the war god was present in a bundle of shark's teeth, and the people consulted the bundle before they went out to fight. If the bundle felt heavy, it foreboded ill; but if it was light, it was an omen of victory, and the troops marched with hearts correspondingly light.[110] [107] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 35; compare p. 43. [108] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 59 _sq._ [109] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 35. [110] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 55. When the god was incarnate in a live creature, it was an obvious advantage to ensure his constant presence and blessing by owning a specimen of his incarnation and feeding it. Hence some folk kept a tame god on their premises. For instance, some people possessed a war god in the shape of a pet owl;[111] others had a divine pigeon, which was carefully kept and fed by the different members of the family in turn.[112] Yet others were so fortunate as to capture the thunder god and to keep him in durance, which effectually prevented him from doing mischief. Having caught him, they tied him up with pandanus leaves and frightened him by poking firebrands at him. And lest, as an old offender, he should attempt to break prison and relapse into his former career of crime, they filled a basket with pandanus leaves and charred firebrands and hung it up on a tree _in terrorem_, to signify what he might expect to get if he took it into his head to strike houses again.[113] [111] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 25 _sq._ [112] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 64. [113] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 34. Vegetable gods were much less plentiful than animal gods in Samoa. Still they occurred. Thus, the god of one family lived in a large tree (_Hernandia peltata_); hence no member of the family dared to pluck a leaf or break a branch of that tree.[114] The household deity of another family dwelt in a tree of a different sort (_Conanga odorata_), which has yellow and sweet-scented flowers.[115] In Savaii the special abode of a village god called Tuifiti or "King of Fiji" was a grove of large and durable trees (_Afzelia bijuga_). No one dared to cut that timber. It is said that a party of natives from another island once tried to fell one of these trees; but blood flowed from the trunk, and all the sacrilegious strangers fell ill and died.[116] One family saw their god in the moon. On the appearance of the new moon all the members of the family called out, "Child of the moon, you have come." They assembled also, presented offerings of food, feasted together, and joined in praying, "Oh, child of the moon! Keep far away disease and death." And they also prayed to the moon before they set out on the war path.[117] But in Samoa, as in Tonga, there seems to be no record of a worship of the sun, unless the stories of human sacrifices formerly offered to the great luminary be regarded as reminiscences of sun-worship.[118] [114] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 72. [115] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 71. [116] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 63. [117] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 67. [118] See above, p. 158. § 7. _Priests and Temples_ The father of a family acted as the priest of the household god. He usually offered a short prayer at the evening meal, begging the deity to guard them all from war, sickness, death, and the payment of fines. Sometimes he would direct the family to hold a feast in honour of their god, and on these occasions a cup of kava was poured out as a libation to the divinity. Such simple domestic rites were celebrated in the house, where the whole family assembled; for the gods were believed to be present with men in a spiritual and invisible form as well as in the material objects which were regarded as their visible embodiments. Often the deity spoke through the father or other members of the family, telling them what to do in order to remove a present evil or avert a threatened one.[119] [119] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 18. For the offering of kava to the household god, compare _id._ p. 51. But while every head of a family might thus act as a domestic priest and mouthpiece of the deity, there was also a professional class of priests set apart for the public worship of the gods, particularly of the war gods, who in their nature did not differ essentially from the gods of families, of villages, and of districts, being commonly embodied either in particular material objects or in classes of such objects, especially in various species of birds, animals, and fish, such as owls, rails, kingfishers, dogs, lizards, flying-foxes, and cuttle-fish. Sometimes the ruling chiefs acted as priests; but in general some one man in a particular family claimed the dignity of the priesthood and professed to declare the will of the god. His office was hereditary. He fixed the days for the annual feasts in honour of the deity, received the offerings, and thanked the people for them. He decided also whether the people might go to war.[120] The priests possessed great authority over the minds of the people, and they often availed themselves of their influence to amass wealth.[121] The gods were supposed from time to time to take possession of the priests and to speak through their mouths, answering enquiries and issuing commands. Thus consulted as an oracle the priest, or the god through him, might complain that the people had been slack in making offerings of food and property, and he would threaten them with vengeance if they did not speedily bring an ample supply to the human representative of the deity. At other times the god required a whole family to assemble and build him a large canoe or a house, and such a command was always obeyed with alacrity and a humble apology tendered for past neglect. The priests were also consulted oracularly for the healing of the sick, the recovery of stolen property, and the cursing of enemies. Thus they kept the people in constant fear by their threats and impoverished them by their exactions.[122] [120] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 20. For a full account of the priesthood, see J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 220 _sqq._ As to the Samoan war-gods, see G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 23, 25 _sq._, 27 _sq._, 28, 32, 33, 35, 42, 46 _sq._, 48, 49, 51, 52, 54 _sq._, 55, 57, 60, 61, 64, 65; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 215 _sq._ [121] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 70, 222 _sq._, 225; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 228, 246 _sq._ [122] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 223-225; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 246 _sq._ The outward signs of divine inspiration or possession were such as priests or prophets have manifested in many lands and ages as conclusive evidence of their being the vehicles of higher powers. The approach or presence of the god was indicated by the priest beginning to gape, yawn, and clear his throat; but soon his countenance changed, his body underwent violent contortions, and in loud, unearthly tones, which the trembling and awe-stricken hearers interpreted as the voice of an indwelling deity, he delivered his message of exhortation or warning, of menace, or comfort, or hope.[123] [123] J. B. Stair, p. 223; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 228, 246 _sq._ Spirit-houses (_fale-aitu_) or temples were erected for some, but not all, of the class of deities (_aitu_) which we are now considering. It was chiefly the war gods who were thus honoured. Such temples were built with the same materials and in the same style as the houses of men, with nothing to distinguish them from ordinary dwellings, except that they almost always stood on platforms of stones, which varied in height and size with the respect felt for the particular deity. They were usually situated on the principal public place or green (_malae_) of the village and surrounded by a low fence. Sometimes they were mere huts; yet being viewed as the abode of gods they were held sacred and regarded with great veneration by the Samoans in the olden time. Whatever emblems of deity were in possession of the village were always placed in these houses under the watchful care of keepers.[124] In one temple, for instance, might be seen a conch shell hung from the roof in a basket. This shell the god was supposed to blow when he wished the people to go to war. In another a cup made of the shell of a coco-nut was suspended from the roof, and before it prayers were uttered and offerings presented. The cup was also used in an ordeal for the detection of theft. In a trial before chiefs the cup would be sent for, and each of the suspected culprits would lay his hand on it and say, "With my hand on this cup, may the god look upon me, and send swift destruction, if I took the thing which has been stolen." They firmly believed that it would be death to touch the cup and tell a lie.[125] [124] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 226-228. [125] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 19. The temples were always built by the united exertions of a whole family, village, or district.[126] For example, when the inhabitants of a village whose god was the cuttle-fish erected a new temple to that deity, every man, woman, and child in the village contributed something to it, if it was only a stick or a reed of thatch. While some of the villagers were drafted off to put up the house, the rest engaged in a free fight, which appears to have been considered as a necessary part of the proceedings. On this occasion many old scores were settled, and he who got most wounds was believed to have earned the special favour of the deity. With the completion of the temple the fighting ended, and ought not to be renewed for a year, till the anniversary of the building of the temple came round, when the worshippers were again at liberty to break each other's heads in honour of the divine cuttle-fish.[127] [126] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 227 _sq._ [127] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 29 _sq._ At one place in Savaii there was a temple in which a priest constantly resided. The sick used to be carried to him in the temple and there laid down with offerings of fine mats. Thereupon the priest stroked the diseased part, and the patient was supposed to recover.[128] We hear of another temple in which fine mats were brought as offerings to the priests and stored up in large numbers among the temple treasures. Thus in time the temples might have amassed a considerable degree of wealth and might even, if economic progress had not been arrested by European intervention, have developed into banks. However, when the people were converted to Christianity, they destroyed this particular temple and dissipated the accumulated treasures in a single feast by way of celebrating their adhesion to the new faith.[129] Where the bat was the local deity, many bats used to flock about the temple in time of war.[130] Where the kingfisher received the homage of the people as the god of war, the old men of the village were wont to enter his temple in times of public emergency and address the kingfisher; and people outside could hear the bird replying, though, singularly enough, his voice was that of a man, and not that of a bird. But as usual the god was invisible.[131] In one place a temple of the great god Tangaloa was called "the House of the Gods," and it was carefully shut up all round, the people thinking that, if this precaution were not taken, the gods would get out and in too easily and be all the more destructive.[132] Such a temple might be considered rather as a prison than a house of the gods. [128] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 49. [129] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 55. [130] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 56 _sq._ [131] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 54 _sq._ [132] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 53. To the rule that Samoan temples were built of the same perishable materials as ordinary houses a single exception is known. About ten miles inland from the harbour of Apia, in the island of Upolu, are the ruins of a temple, of which the central and side posts and the rafters were all constructed of stone. The ground plan seems to have resembled that of an ordinary Samoan house of the best style, forming an ellipse which measured fifty feet in one direction by forty feet in the other. Two central pillars appear to have supported the roof, each fashioned of a single block of stone some thirteen feet high, twelve inches thick one way and nine inches the other. The rafters were in lengths of twelve feet and six feet, by four inches square. Of the outside pillars, which upheld the lower edge of the sloping roof, eighteen were seen standing by Pritchard, who has described the ruins. Each pillar stood three feet high and measured nine inches thick in one way by six inches in the other. Each had a notch or shoulder on the inner side for supporting the roof. Pillars and rafters were quarried from an adjoining bluff, distant only some fifty yards from the ruins. Some squared stones lying at the foot of the bluff seem to show that the temple was never completed. The site of the ruins is a flat about three acres in area. The natives call the ruins _Fale-o-le-Fe'e_, that is, the House of the Fe'e. This Fe'e was a famous war god of A'ana and Faleata, two native towns of Upolu; he was commonly incarnated in the cuttle-fish. As the Samoans were unacquainted with the art of cutting stones, and had no tools suitable for the work, they thought that this temple, with its columns and rafters of squared stone, must have been built by the gods, and they explained its unfinished state by alleging that the divine builders had quarrelled among themselves before they had brought the work to completion.[133] [133] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 119-121; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) p. 112; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 31; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 228; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 220. For the sake of completeness I will mention another stone monument, of more imposing dimensions, which has been discovered in Samoa, though its origin and meaning are unknown. It stands on a tableland in the high mountainous interior of Upolu and appears to be not altogether easy of access. The discoverer, Mr. H. B. Sterndale, reached it by clambering up from what he describes as a broad and dangerous ravine. In making his way to the tableland he passed through a gap which from a distance he had supposed to be a natural fissure in the rocks; but on arriving at it he discovered, to his surprise, that the gap was in fact a great fosse formed by the hand of man, being excavated in some places and built up at others, while on one side, next to the rise of the hill, it was further heightened by a parapet wall. When, passing through the fosse, he issued upon the tableland, which is a level space of some twenty acres in extent, he perceived the monument, "a truncated conical structure or _Heidenmauer_ of such huge dimensions as must have required the labour of a great multitude to construct. So little did I expect," he says, "in this neighbourhood to meet with any example of human architecture, and so rudely monstrous was the appearance of this cyclopean building, that from its peculiar form, and from the vegetation with which it was overgrown, I might have passed it by, supposing it to have been a volcanic hillock, had not my attention been attracted by the stonework of the fosse. I hastened to ascend it. It was about twenty feet high by one hundred in diameter. It was circular with straight [perpendicular?] sides; the lower tiers of stone were very large, they were lava blocks, some of which would weigh at least a ton, which must have been rolled or moved on skids to their present places. They were laid in courses; and in two places near the top seemed to have been entrances to the inside, as in one appeared a low cave choked with rocks and tree roots. If there had been chambers within, they were probably narrow and still existing, as there was no sign of depression on the crown of the work, which was flat and covered with flat stones, among which grew both trees and shrubs. It is likely that it was not in itself intended as a place of defence, but rather as a base or platform upon which some building of importance, perhaps of timber, had been erected, no doubt in the centre of a village, as many foundations of a few feet high were near it. The fosse, when unbroken, and its inner wall entire, was probably crossed by a foot-bridge, to be withdrawn on the approach of an enemy; and the little gap, by which I had entered, closed, so that this must have been a place of great security. The Samoan natives, as far as I have been able to learn, have no tradition of what people inhabited this mountain fastness."[134] [134] H. B. Sterndale, quoted by R. A. Sterndale, "Asiatic Architecture in Polynesia," _The Asiatic Quarterly Review_, x. (July-October 1890) pp. 347-350. The writer of this article reports the discoveries of his brother, Mr. Handley Bathurst Sterndale. On an adjoining tableland, approached by a steep and narrow ridge, Mr. Sterndale saw a great number of cairns of stone, apparently graves, disposed in rows among huge trees, the roots of which had overturned and destroyed very many of the cairns. Here, within the numerous trunks of a great spreading banyan tree, Mr. Sterndale found what he calls an inner chamber, or cell, about ten feet square, the floor being paved with flat stones and the walls built of enormous blocks of the same material, while the roof was composed of the twisted trunks of the banyan tree, which had grown into a solid arch and, festooned by creepers, excluded even the faint glimmer of twilight that dimly illuminated the surrounding forest. Disturbed by a light which the traveller struck to explore the gloomy interior, bats fluttered about his head. In the centre of the chamber he discovered a cairn, or rather cromlech, about four feet high, which was formed of several stones arranged in a triangle, with a great flat slab on the top. On the flat slab lay a large conch shell, white with age, and encrusted with moss and dead animalculae. The chamber or cell, enclosed by the trunks of the banyan-tree, might have been inaccessible, if it were not that, under the pressure of the tree-trunks, several of the great slabs composing the wall had been displaced, leaving a passage.[135] [135] H. B. Sterndale, _op. cit._ pp. 351 _sq._ What were these remarkable monuments? Mr. Sterndale believed the stone chamber to be the tomb of some man of authority in ancient days, the antiquity of the structure being vouched for by the great banyan-tree which had so completely overgrown it. This view is likely enough, and is confirmed by the large number of cairns about it, which appear to be sepulchral. But what was the massive circular monument or platform, built of huge blocks of lava laid in tiers? From Mr. Sterndale's description it would seem that the structure closely resembled the tombs of the sacred kings of Tonga, though these tombs are oblong instead of circular. But they often supported a house or hut of wood and thatch; and Mr. Sterndale may well be right in supposing that the circular Samoan monument in like manner served as a platform to support a wooden building. In this connexion we must not forget that the typical Samoan house was circular or oval in contrast to the typical Tongan house, which was oblong. The openings, which seemed to lead into the interior of the monument, may have given access to the sepulchral chamber where the bodies of the dead were deposited. Slight as are these indications, they apparently point to the use of the monument as a tomb. There is nothing, except perhaps its circular shape, to suggest that it was a temple of the sun. As no such stone buildings have been erected by the Samoans during the time they have been under European observation, it may be, as Mr. Sterndale supposed, that all the ruins described by him were the work of a people who inhabited the islands before the arrival of the existing race.[136] [136] H. B. Sterndale, _op. cit._ p. 352. § 8. _Origin of the Samoan Gods of Families, Villages, and Districts: Relation to Totemism_ If we ask, What was the origin of the peculiar Samoan worship of animals and other natural objects? the most probable answer seems to be that it has been developed out of totemism. The system is not simple totemism, for in totemism the animals, plants, and other natural objects are not worshipped, that is, they do not receive offerings nor are approached with prayers; in short, they are not gods, but are regarded as the kinsfolk of the men and women who have them for totems. Further, the local distribution of the revered objects in Samoa, according to villages and districts, differs from the characteristic distribution of totems, which is not by place but by social groups or clans, the members of which are usually more or less intermixed with each other in every district. It is true that in Samoa we hear of family or household gods as well as of gods of villages and districts, and these family gods, in so far as they consist of species of animals and plants which the worshippers are forbidden to kill or eat, present a close analogy to totems. But it is to be observed that these family gods were, so to say, in a state of unstable equilibrium, it being always uncertain whether a man would inherit his father's or his mother's god or would be assigned a god differing from both of them. This uncertainty arose from the manner of determining a man's god at birth. When a woman was in travail, the help of several gods was invoked, one after the other, to assist the birth; and the god who happened to be invoked at the moment when the child saw the light, was his god for life. As a rule, the god of the father's family was prayed to first; so that generally, perhaps, a man inherited the god of his father. But if the birth was tedious and difficult, the god of the mother's family was next invoked. When the child was born, the mother would call out, "To whom were you praying?" and the god prayed to just before was carefully remembered, and his incarnation duly acknowledged throughout the future life of the child.[137] Such a mode of selecting a divine patron is totally different from the mode whereby, under pure totemism, a person obtains his totem; for his totem is automatically determined for him at birth, being, in the vast majority of cases, inherited either from his father or from his mother, without any possibility of variation or selection. Lastly, the Samoan system differs from most, though not all, systems of totemism, in that it is quite independent of exogamy; in other words, there is no rule forbidding people who revere the same god to marry each other. [137] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 17, 78 _sq._ Thus, while the Samoan worship of certain classes of natural objects, especially species of animals, is certainly not pure totemism, it presents points of analogy to that system, and might easily, we may suppose, have been developed out of it, the feeling of kinship for totemic animals and plants having been slowly transformed and sublimated into a religious reverence for the creatures and a belief in their divinity; while at the same time the clans, which were originally intermixed, gradually sorted out from each other and settled down in separate villages and districts. This gradual segregation of the clans may have been facilitated by a change from maternal to paternal descent of the totem; for when a man transmits his totem to his offspring, his descendants in the male line tend naturally to expand into a local group in which the totem remains constant from generation to generation instead of alternating with each successive generation, as necessarily happens when a man's children take their totem not from him but from their mother. That the Samoan worship of _aitu_ was developed in some such way out of simple totemism appears to have been the view of Dr. George Brown, one of our best authorities on Samoan society and religion; for he speaks without reserve of the revered objects as totems.[138] A similar derivation of the Samoan _aitu_ was favoured by Dr. Rivers, who, during a visit to Samoa, found some evidence confirmatory of this conclusion.[139] [138] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 137, 218, 334. [139] W. H. R. Rivers, "Totemism in Polynesia and Melanesia," _Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute_, xxxix. (1909) pp. 159 _sq._ § 9. _The High Gods of Samoa_ But besides these totemic gods of Samoa, as we may term them, which were restricted in the circle of their worshippers to particular families, villages, or districts, there were certain superior deities who were worshipped by all the people in common and might accordingly be called the national divinities of Samoa; indeed the worship of some of them was not confined to Samoa, but was shared by the inhabitants of other groups of islands in Polynesia. These high gods were considered the progenitors of the inferior deities, and were believed to have formed the earth and its inhabitants. They themselves dwelt in heaven, in the sea, on the earth, or under the earth; but they were invisible and did not appear to their worshippers in the form of animals or plants. They had no temples and no priests, and were not invoked like their descendants.[140] [140] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 111 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 211 _sq._ Among these high gods the chief was Tangaloa, or, as he was sometimes called, Tangaloa-langi, that is, Tangaloa of the Skies. He was always spoken of as the principal god, the creator of the world and progenitor of the other gods and of mankind.[141] It is said that after existing somewhere in space he made the heavens as an abode for himself, and that wishing to have also a place under the heavens he created this lower world (_Lalolangi_, that is, "Under the heavens"). According to one account, he formed the islands of Savaii and Upolu by rolling down two stones from the sky; but according to another story he fished them up from the depths of the sea on a fishing-hook. Next he made the _Fee_ or cuttle-fish, and told it to go down under the earth; hence the lower regions of sea or land are called _Sa he fee_ or "sacred to the cuttle-fish." In its turn the cuttle-fish brought forth all kinds of rocks, including the great one on which we live.[142] Another myth relates how Tangaloa sent down his son or daughter in the likeness of a bird called _turi_, a species of plover or snipe (_Charadrius fulvus_). She flew about, but could find no resting-place, for as yet there was nothing but ocean; the earth had not been created or raised above the sea. So she returned to her father in heaven and reported her fruitless search; and at last he gave her some earth and a creeping plant. These she took down with her on her next visit to earth; and after a time the leaves of the plant withered and produced swarms of worms or maggots, which gradually developed into men and women. The plant which thus by its corruption gave birth to the human species was the convolvulus. According to another version of the myth, it was in reply to the complaint of his daughter or son that the sky-god Tangaloa fished up the first islands from the bottom of the sea.[143] [141] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 212. [142] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 7. [143] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 7 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 212-214. The bird _turi_ or _tuli_ is spoken of by Turner as the daughter, but by Stair as the son, of Tangaloa. According to Turner, the bird is a species of snipe; according to Stair, a species of plover. As to Tangaloa and the stories told about him, compare John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 469 _sq._; H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 22; Violette, "Notes d'un Missionnaire sur l'archipel de Samoa," _Les Missions Catholiques_, iii. (1870) pp. 111 _sq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 463, _s.v._ "Tangaroa." Another of the national gods of Samoa was Mafuie, who was supposed to dwell in the subterranean regions and to cause earthquakes by shaking the pillar on which the earth reposes. In a tussle with the hero Ti'iti'i, who descended to the lower world to rob Mafuie of his fire, the earthquake god lost one of his arms, and the Samoans considered this as a very fortunate circumstance; for otherwise they said that, if Mafuie had had two arms, he would have shaken the world to pieces.[144] It is said that during a shock of earthquake the natives used to rush from their houses, throw themselves upon the ground, gnaw the grass, and shriek in the most frantic manner to Mafuie to desist, lest he should shake the earth to bits.[145] [144] Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, ii. 131; W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 112, 114 _sqq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 209-211; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 238 _sq._ [145] J. Williams, _op. cit._ p. 379. It seems to be doubtful whether among the Samoan gods are to be numbered the souls of deceased ancestors. Certainly the evidence for the practice of a worship of the dead is far less full and clear in Samoa than in Tonga. On this subject Dr. George Brown writes as follows: "Traces of ancestor worship are few and indistinct. The word _tupua_ is supposed by some to mean the deified spirits of chiefs, and to mean that they constituted a separate order from the _atua_, who were the original gods. The word itself is the name of a stone, supposed to be a petrified man, and is also generally used as the name of any image having some sacred significance, and as representing the body into which the deified spirit was changed. What appears certain is that ancestor worship had amongst the Samoans gradually given place to the worship of a superior order of supernatural beings not immediately connected with men, but having many human passions and modes of action and life. There are, however, some cases which seem to point to ancestor worship in olden days, as in the case of the town of Matautu, which is said to have been settled by a colony from Fiji. Their principal deity was called Tuifiti, the King of Fiji. He was considered to be the head of that family, and a grove of trees, _ifilele_ (the green-heart of India), was sacred to him and could not be cut or injured in any way."[146] This god was supposed to be incarnate in a man who walked about, but he was never visible to the people of the place, though curiously enough he could be seen by strangers.[147] [146] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 223. See also above, p. 192. [147] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 62 _sq._ The town or village of Matautu is in the island of Savaii. According to G. Turner, the sacred tree of Tuifiti was the _Afzelia bijuga_. However, another experienced missionary, J. B. Stair, who knew Samoa a good many years before Dr. Brown arrived in it, speaks apparently without hesitation of the _tupua_ as being "the deified spirits of chiefs, who were also supposed to dwell in Pulotu," where they became posts in the house or temple of the gods. Many beautiful emblems, he says, were chosen to represent the immortality of these deified spirits; among them were some of the heavenly bodies, including the Pleiades and the planet Jupiter, also the rainbow, the marine rainbow, and many more. He adds that the embalmed bodies of some chiefs were worshipped under the significant title of "sun-dried gods"; and that people prayed and poured libations of kava at the graves of deceased relatives.[148] [148] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 210 _sq._, 215. § 10. _The Samoan Belief concerning the Human Soul: Funeral Customs_ Whether the Samoans practised the worship of the dead in a developed form or not, they certainly possessed the elements out of which the worship might under favourable circumstances be evolved. These elements are a belief in the survival of the human soul after death, and a fear of disembodied spirits or ghosts. The Samoans believed that every man is animated by a soul, which departs from the body temporarily in faints and dreams and permanently at death. The soul of the dreamer, they thought, really visited the places which he saw in his dream. At death it departed to the subterranean world of the dead which the Samoans called Pulotu, a name which clearly differs only dialectically from the Tongan Bolotoo or Bulotu. Some people professed to see the parting soul when it had quitted its mortal body and was about to take flight to the nether region. It was always of the same shape as the body. Such apparitions at the moment of death were much dreaded, and people tried to drive them away by shouting and firing guns. The word for soul is _anganga_, which is a reduplicated form of _anga_, a verb meaning "to go" or "to come." Thus apparently the Samoans did not, like many people, identify the soul with the shadow; for in Samoan the word for shadow is _ata_.[149] [149] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 8, 16; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 220; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 218 _sq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 26, _s.v._ "Ata." However, they seem to have in a dim way associated a man's soul with his shadow. This appears from a remarkable custom which they observed in the case of the unburied dead. The Samoans were much concerned for the lot of these unfortunates and stood in great dread of their ghosts. They believed that the spirits of those who had not received the rites of burial wandered about wretched and forlorn and haunted their relatives everywhere by day and night, crying in doleful tones, "Oh, how cold! oh, how cold!" Hence when the body of a dead kinsman was lost because he had been drowned at sea or slain on a battlefield, some of his relatives would go down to the seashore or away to the battlefield where their friend had perished; and there spreading out a cloth on the ground they would pray to some god of the family, saying, "Oh, be kind to us; let us obtain without difficulty the spirit of the young man!" After that the first thing that lighted on the cloth was supposed to be the spirit of the dead. It might be a butterfly, a grasshopper, an ant, a spider, or a lizard; whatever it might be, it was carefully wrapt up and taken to the family, who buried the bundle with all due ceremony, as if it contained the body of their departed friend. Thus the unquiet spirit was believed to find rest. Now the insect, or whatever it happened to be, which thus acted as proxy at the burial was supposed to be the _ata_ or shadow of the deceased. The same word _ata_ served to express likeness; a photographer, for example, is called _pue-ata_, "shadow-catcher." The Samoans do not appear to have associated the soul with the breath.[150] [150] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 170 _sq._, 218 sq.; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 150 _sq._; S. Ella, "Samoa," _Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Hobart, Tasmania, in January 1892_, pp. 641 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 184. According to Brown and Stair the ceremony described in the text was observed when a man had died a violent death, even when the relatives were in possession of the body, and in that case the insect, or whatever it might be, was buried with the corpse. I have followed Turner and Ella in supposing that the ceremony was only observed when the corpse could not be found. As to the fear of the spirits of the unburied dead, see also W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 58 _sq._, 151. They attributed disease and death to the anger of a god, to the agency of an evil spirit, or to the ghost of a dead relative who had entered into the body of the sufferer. Epilepsy, delirium, and mania were always thus explained by the entrance into the patient of a god or demon. The Samoan remedy for all such ailments was not medicine but exorcism. Sometimes a near relative of the sick person would go round the house brandishing a spear and striking the walls to drive away the spirit that was causing the sickness.[151] Hence when a member of a family fell seriously ill, his friends did not send for a doctor, but repaired to the high priest of the village to enquire of him the cause of the sickness, to learn why the family god (_aitu_) was angry with them, and to implore his mercy and forgiveness. Often the priest took advantage of their anxiety to demand a valuable piece of property, such as a canoe or a parcel of ground, as the best means of propitiating the angry deity and so ensuring the recovery of the patient. With all these demands the anxious and unsuspecting relatives readily complied. But if the priest happened not to want anything in particular at the time, he would probably tell the messengers to gather the family about the bed of the sufferer and there confess their sins. The command was implicitly obeyed, and every member of the family assembled and made a clean breast of his or her misdeeds, especially of any curse which he or she might have called down either on the family generally or on the invalid in particular. Curiously enough, the curse of a sister was peculiarly dreaded; hence in such cases the sister of the sick man was closely questioned as to whether she had cursed him and thus caused his illness; if so, she was entreated to remove the curse, that he might recover. Moved by these pleadings, she might take some coco-nut water in her mouth and spurt it out towards or upon the body of the sufferer. By this action she either removed the curse or declared her innocence; a similar ceremony might be performed by any other member of the family who was suspected of having cursed the sick man.[152] [151] S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 639, 643; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 223 _sq._, 402. [152] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 146 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 140 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 639; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 180 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 223 _sq._, 401. When an illness seemed likely to prove fatal, messengers were despatched to friends at a distance that they might come and bid farewell to the dying man. Every one who came to visit the sufferer in his last moments brought a present of a fine mat or other valuable piece of property as a token of regard, and to defray the cost of the illness and funeral. The best of the mats would be laid on the body of the dying man that he might have the comfort of seeing them before he closed his eyes for ever. Dr. George Brown thought that the spirits of the mats thus laid on the body of the dying chief were supposed to accompany his soul to the other world. It is possible that their spirits did so, but it is certain that their material substance did not; for after the funeral all the mats and other valuables so presented were distributed among the mourners and friends assembled on the occasion, so that every one who had brought a gift took away something in return on his departure.[153] [153] W. T. Pritchard, _op. cit._ pp. 147, 150 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 141 _sq._, 146; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 639; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 180; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 220, 401, 405 _sq._ If the dying man happened to be a chief, numbers crowded round him to receive a parting look or word, while in front of the house might be seen men and women wildly beating their heads and bodies with great stones, thus inflicting on themselves ghastly wounds, from which the blood poured as an offering of affection and sympathy to their departing friend or lord. It was hoped that, pleased and propitiated by the sight of their devotion, the angry god might yet stay his hand and spare the chief to his people. Above all the tumult and uproar would rise the voice of one who prayed aloud for the life then trembling in the balance. But if the prayer seemed likely to prove ineffectual, it was exchanged for threats and upbraiding. "O thou shameless spirit," the voice would now be heard exclaiming, "could I but grasp you, I would smash your skull to pieces! Come here and let us fight together. Don't conceal yourself, but show yourself like a man, and let us fight, if you are angry."[154] [154] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 181 _sq._ Immediately after death, all the mats on the floor of the house were thrown outside, and the thatched sides of the house were either torn down or knocked in with clubs; while the relatives and assembled crowds wrought themselves up to frenzy, uttering loud shrieks, rending their garments, tearing out their hair by handfuls, burning their bodies with firebrands, beating their faces and heads with clubs and stones, or gashing themselves with shells and shark's teeth, till the blood ran freely down. This they called an offering of blood for the dead. In their fury some of the mourners fell on the canoes and houses, breaking them up and tearing them down, felling the bread-fruit trees, and devastating the plantations of yams and taro.[155] [155] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, p. 148; G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 144; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 640; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 401 _sq._ As decomposition is rapid in the hot moist climate of Samoa, it was customary to bury commoners a few hours after death. The body was laid out on a mat, anointed with scented oil, and the face tinged with turmeric, to soften the cadaverous look. It was then wound up in several folds of native cloth and the chin propped up, the head and face being left uncovered, while for some hours longer the body was surrounded by weeping relatives, who kept constant watch over it, so long as it remained in the house. These watchers were always women, and none of them might quit her post under any pretext till she was relieved by another. A fire was kept burning brightly in the house all the time. If the deceased had died of a complaint which had previously carried off other members of the family, they would probably open the body to "search for the disease." Any inflamed substance which they happened to find they would take away and burn, thinking thus to prevent any other member of the family from being similarly afflicted. Such a custom betrays an incipient sense of death from natural, instead of supernatural, causes, and must have contributed to diffuse a knowledge of human anatomy.[156] [156] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 148 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 144 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 402. So long as a corpse remained in the house no food might be eaten under the roof; the family had their meals outside or in another house. Those who had attended to the deceased or handled the corpse were taboo: they might not feed themselves or touch food with their hands. For days they were fed by others as if they were helpless infants. Baldness and the loss of teeth were supposed to be the punishment inflicted by the household god for a breach of the rule. Many people fasted at such times, eating nothing during the day, but taking a meal in the evening. The fifth day was a day of purification. The tabooed persons then washed their faces and hands with hot water and were clean; after that they were free to eat at the usual time and in the usual manner.[157] [157] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 145; W. T. Pritchard, _op. cit._ p. 149; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 640; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 182; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 402. The ordinary mode of disposing of the dead was by interment either in a stone vault or in a shallow grave. But occasionally other modes were adopted, such as embalming, putting the corpse in a canoe and setting it adrift on the sea, or exposing it on a stage erected in the forest, where it was left to decay, the bones being afterwards collected and buried. Upon the death of a chief his body was generally deposited in a family vault, the sides and bottom of which were lined with large slabs of sandstone or basalt, while another large slab of the same material formed the roof. Such vaults were sometimes large and massive. The stones used in their construction were found in various parts of the islands. Commoners were buried in shallow graves.[158] [158] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 178 _sq._ Ordinary people were usually buried the day after they died. As many friends as could be present attended the funeral. Every one brought a present, but on the day after the funeral all these presents, like those which had previously been made to the dying man, were distributed again, so that none went empty-handed away. The corpse was generally buried without a coffin; but chiefs were laid in hollow logs or canoes. However, even the bodies of common people were sometimes interred in rude coffins similarly constructed. There were no common burying-grounds; all preferred to bury their dead on their own land. Often the grave was dug close to the house. The body was laid in it with the head to the east and the feet to the west. When it had been thus committed to its last resting-place, a near relative of the deceased, a sister, if one survived, seated herself at the grave, and waving a white cloth over the corpse, began an address to the dead. "Compassion to you," she said, "go with goodwill, and without bearing malice towards us. Take with you all our diseases, and leave us life." Then pointing to the west, she exclaimed, "Misery there!" Next pointing to the east, she cried, "Prosperity there!" Lastly, pointing to the grave, she said, "Misery there; but leave happiness with us!" With the body they deposited in the grave several things which had been used by the deceased during his illness, such as his clothing, his drinking-cup, and his bamboo pillow. The wooden pickaxes and coco-nut shells employed as shovels in digging the grave were also carefully buried with the corpse. It was not, we are told, because the people believed these things to be of use to the dead; but because it was supposed that, if they were left and handled by others, further disease and death would be the consequence. Valuable mats and other articles of property were sometimes buried with the corpse, and the grave of a warrior was surrounded with spears stuck upright in the ground. Graves were sometimes enclosed with stones and strewn with sand or crumbled coral.[159] [159] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 150 _sq._; G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 146 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 640 _sq._; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 179 _sq._, 182 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 403. The obsequies of a chief of high rank were more elaborate. The body was kept unburied for days until his clansfolk had assembled from various parts of the islands and paraded the body, shoulder high, through the village, chanting a melancholy dirge.[160] The mourning and ceremonies lasted from ten to fifteen days. All that time the house of death was watched night and day by men appointed for the purpose. After the burial, and until the days of mourning were ended, the daytime was generally spent in boxing and wrestling matches, and sham-fights, while the nights were occupied with dancing and practising a kind of buffoonery, which was customary at these seasons of mourning for the dead. The performance was called _O le tau-pinga_. The performers amused themselves by making a variety of ludicrous faces and grimaces at each other, to see who could excite the other to laugh first. Thus they whiled away the hours of night till the days of mourning were expired.[161] So long as the funeral ceremonies and feasts lasted no work might be done in the village, and no strangers might approach it. The neighbouring lagoon and reefs were taboo: no canoe might pass over the lagoon anywhere near the village, and no man might fish in it or on the reef.[162] For a chief or man of distinction fires were kept burning day and night in a line from the house to the grave; these fires were maintained for ten days after the funeral. The reason assigned for this custom, according to Ella, was to keep away evil spirits. Even common people observed a similar custom. After burial they kept a fire blazing in the house all night, and they were careful to clear the intervening ground so that a stream of light went forth from the house to the grave. The account which the Samoans gave of the custom, according to Turner, was that it was merely a light burning in honour of the departed, and a mark of their tender regard for him. Dr. George Brown believed that the original motive for the custom was to warm the ghost, and probably at the same time to protect the mourners against dangerous spirits.[163] [160] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 146 [161] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 183 _sq._ [162] W. T. Pritchard, _Polynesian Reminiscences_, pp. 149 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 642; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 403 _sq._ [163] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 149; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 640 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 402. The head was deemed a very sacred part, and in olden days the bodies of chiefs were often buried near their houses until decomposition had set in, when the head was cut off and interred in some family burying-place inland, to save it from insult in time of war. This interment of the head was accompanied with feasts, dances, and sham-fights. The skull was borne to the appointed place on a kind of stage, attended by a troop of armed men. With these sham-fights Dr. George Brown, who records the custom, compares the sham-fights which used to take place among the Melanesians of the Duke of York Island when the body of a chief was laid on a high platform in front of his house, one company of warriors striving to deposit the corpse on the platform, while their adversaries attempted to prevent them from doing so.[164] The meaning of these curious sham-fights is obscure. Perhaps the attacking party represented a band of evil spirits, who endeavoured to snatch away the chief's body, but were defeated in the nefarious attempt. [164] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 388 _sq._, 404 _sq._ One or two families of chiefs in the island of Upolu used to practise a rude kind of embalming. The work was done exclusively by women. The viscera having been removed and buried, the women anointed the body daily with a mixture of oil and aromatic juices. To let the fluids escape, they punctured the body all over with fine needles. Finally, wads of native cloth, saturated with oil or resinous gums, were inserted in the abdomen, the apertures were closed up, and the body wrapt in native cloth. The face, hands, and feet were left exposed, and were repeatedly anointed with oil, mixed with turmeric powder, to give a fresh and life-like appearance to the mummy. The whole process lasted about two months. On its completion the mummy was placed in a house built specially for the purpose, where, loosely covered with a sheet of native cloth, it rested on a raised platform. Strangers were freely admitted to see it. Four of these mummies, laid out in a house, were to be seen down to about the year 1864. They were the bodies of a chief, his wife, and two sons. Dr. George Turner judged that they must have been embalmed upwards of thirty years, and although they had been exposed all that time, they were in a remarkably good state of preservation. The people assigned no particular reason for the practice, further than that it sprang from an affectionate desire to keep the bodies of their departed friends with them, as if they were still alive.[165] [165] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 148 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 641; J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 184 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 405. § 11. _The Fate of the Human Soul after Death_ With regard to the fate of human souls after death the Samoans appear to have believed in their immortality, or at all events in their indefinite survival. On this subject Dr. Brown observes: "All souls survived after death, and so far as I know they had no idea of their dying a second death or being destroyed. I do not think that a Samoan could give any reason for his belief that the soul does not perish with the body, but he certainly does believe this, and I never heard any one question the fact."[166] Thus, according to Dr. Brown the Samoans, unlike the Tongans, drew no invidious distinction between the souls of noblemen and the souls of commoners, but liberally opened the doors of immortality to gentle and simple alike. So far, they carried their republican or democratic spirit into the world beyond the grave. [166] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 220 _sq._ However, according to the American ethnologist, Horatio Hale, some of the Samoans agreed with the Tongans in taking an aristocratic view of the destiny of souls after death; and as he had good opportunities for acquainting himself with the Samoan religion during the prolonged stay of the American Exploring Expedition at Samoa in 1839, when the islands were as yet but little affected by European influence, I will quote his account. He says: "All believe in the existence of a large island, situated far to the north-west called _Pulótu_, which is the residence of the gods. Some suppose that while the souls of the common people perish with their bodies, those of the chiefs are received into this island, which is described as a terrestrial elysium, and become there inferior divinities. Others hold (according to Mr. Heath) that the spirits of the departed live and work in a dark subterraneous abode, and are eaten by the gods. A third, and very common opinion is, that the souls of all who die on an island, make their way to the western extremity, where they plunge into the sea; but what then becomes of them is not stated. The rock from which they leap, in the island of Upolu, was pointed out to us; the natives term it '_Fatu-asofia_,' which was rendered the 'jumping-off stone.'"[167] [167] H. Hale, _Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition_, p. 27. Of these various opinions described by Hale the third would seem to have been by far the most prevalent. It was commonly believed that the disembodied spirit retained the exact resemblance of its former self, by which we are probably to understand the exact resemblance of its former body. Immediately on quitting its earthly tabernacle it began its solitary journey to Fafa, which was the subterranean abode of the dead, lying somewhere to the west of Savaii, the most westerly island of the group. Thus, if a man died in Manua, the most easterly of the islands, his soul would journey to the western end of that island, then dive into the sea and swim across to Tutuila. There it would walk along the beach to the extreme westerly point of the island, when it would again plunge into the sea and swim across to the next island, and so on to the most westerly cape of Savaii, where it finally dived into the ocean and pursued its way to the mysterious Fafa.[168] [168] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 218 _sq._ Compare G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 257; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 643 _sq._ At the western end of Savaii, near the village of Falealupo, there are two circular openings among the rocks, not far from the beach. Down these two openings the souls of the dead were supposed to go on their passage to the spirit-world. The souls of chiefs went down the larger of the openings, and the souls of common people went down the smaller. Near the spot stood a coco-nut tree, and if a passing soul chanced to collide with it, the soul could not proceed farther, but returned to its body. When a man recovered from a deep swoon, his friends supposed that his soul had been arrested in its progress to the other world by knocking against the coco-nut tree, and they rejoiced, saying, "He has come back from the tree of the Watcher," for that was the name by which the coco-nut tree was known. So firmly did the people of the neighbourhood believe in the passage of the souls near their houses, that at night they kept down the blinds to exclude the ghosts.[169] The "jumping-off stone" at the west end of Upolu was also dreaded on account of the passing ghosts. The place is a narrow rocky cape. The Samoans were much astonished when a Christian native boldly built himself a house on the haunted spot.[170] According to one account, the souls of the dead had not to make their way through the chain of islands by the slow process of walking and swimming, but were at once transported to the western end of Savaii by a band of spirits, who hovered over the house of the dying man, and catching up his parting spirit conveyed it in a straight course westward.[171] [169] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 257 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ pp. 643 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 221. [170] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, p. 219. [171] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 257; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 643. The place down which the spirits of the dead were supposed to descend to the nether world was called by a native name (_Lua[=o]_), which means "hollow pit." "May you go rumbling down the hollow pit" was a common form of cursing. At the bottom of the pit was a running stream which floated the spirits away to Pulotu. All alike, the handsome and the ugly, old and young, chiefs and commoners, drifted pell-mell on the current in a dazed, semi-conscious state, till they came to Pulotu. There they bathed in "the Water of Life" and recovered all their old life and vigour. Infirmity of every kind fled away; even the aged became young again. The underworld of Pulotu was conceived on the model of our upper world. There, as here, were heavens and earth and sea, fruits and flowers; there the souls of the dead planted and fished and cooked; there they married and were given in marriage, all after the manner of life on earth.[172] [172] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 258 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 222. However, it appears that according to a widespread belief the world of the dead was sharply discriminated into two regions, to wit, an Elysium or place of bliss called Pulotu, and a Tartarus or place of woe named S[=a]-le-Fe'e. The title for admission to one or other of these places was not moral worth but social rank, chiefs going to Elysium and commoners to Tartarus. The idea of the superiority of the chiefs to the common people was thus perpetuated in the land of the dead.[173] The king of the lower regions was a certain Saveasiuleo, that is, Savea of the Echo. He reclined in a house in the company of the chiefs who gathered round him: the upper part of his body was human, the lower part was like that of a fish and stretched away into the sea. This royal house of assembly was supported by the erect bodies of chiefs, who had been of high rank on earth, and who, before they died, anticipated with pride the honour they were to enjoy by serving as pillars in the temple of the King of Pulotu.[174] [173] J. B. Stair, _Old Samoa_, pp. 217 _sq._; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 221. On the question whether the Samoans held a doctrine of moral retribution after death, Dr. Brown observes: "I do not remember any statement to the effect that the conduct of a man in this life affected his state after death. They certainly believe this now, but whether they did so prior to the introduction of Christianity I cannot definitely say. I am inclined, however, to believe that they did not believe that conduct in this life affected them in the future" (_Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 261 _sq._). Elsewhere, however, Dr. Brown seems to express a contrary opinion. He says: "It was generally understood that the conditions of men in this life, even amongst the common people, had an effect on their future conditions. A good man in Samoa generally meant a liberal man, one who was generous and hospitable; whilst a bad man was one who was mean, selfish, and greedy about food" (_op. cit._ p. 222). [174] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 259 _sq._; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 644. But the souls of the dead were not permanently confined to the lower world. They could return to the land of the living by night to hold converse with members of their families, to warn and instruct them in dreams, and to foretell the future. They could cause disease and death by entering into the bodies of their enemies and even of their friends, and they produced nightmare by sitting on the chests of sleepers. They haunted some houses and especially burying-grounds. Their apparitions were visible to the living and were greatly dreaded; people tried to drive them away by shouts, noises, and the firing of guns. But the ghosts had to return to the nether world at daybreak. It was because they feared the spirits of the dead that the Samoans took such great pains to propitiate dying people with presents; this they did above all to persons whom they had injured, because they had most reason to dread the anger of their ghosts.[175] However, the souls of the departed were also thought of in a more amiable light; they could help as well as harm mankind. Hence prayers were commonly offered at the grave of a parent, a brother, or a chief. The suppliant, for example, might pray for health in sickness; or, if he were of a malignant turn, he might implore the ghost to compass the death of some person at whom he bore a grudge. Thus we are told that a woman prayed for the death of her brother, and he died accordingly.[176] In such beliefs and practices we have, as I have already observed, the essential elements of a regular worship of the dead. Whether the Samoans were on the way to evolve such a religion or, as Dr. George Brown preferred to suppose,[177] had left it behind them and made some progress towards a higher faith, we hardly possess the means of determining. [175] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 259; S. Ella, _op. cit._ p. 644; G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 219, 221, 222. [176] G. Turner, _Samoa_, p. 151. [177] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, pp. 245, 282. But while the Samoans thought that the dead return to earth to make or mar the living, they did not believe that the spirits come back to be born again in the form of men or animals or to occupy inanimate bodies; in other words they had no belief in the transmigration of souls.[178] The absence of such a belief is significant in view of Dr. Rivers's suggestion that Melanesian totemism may have been evolved out of a doctrine of metempsychosis, human souls being supposed to pass at death into their totem animals or plants.[179] We have seen that the Samoan system of family, village, and district gods bears strong marks of having been developed out of totemism; and if their totemism had in turn been developed out of a doctrine of transmigration, we should expect to find among them a belief that the souls of the dead appeared in the shape of the animals, plants, or other natural objects which were regarded as the embodiments of their family, village, or district gods. But of such a belief there is seemingly no trace. It appears, therefore, unlikely that Samoan totemism was based on a doctrine of transmigration. Similarly we have seen reason to think that the Tongan worship of animals may have sprung from totemism, though according to the best authorities that worship was not connected with a theory of metempsychosis.[180] Taken together, the Samoan and the Tongan systems seem to show that, if totemism ever flourished among the Polynesians, it had not its roots in a worship of the dead. [178] G. Brown, _Melanesians and Polynesians_, p. 221, "They had no belief in the transmigration of souls either into animals, inert bodies, or into different human bodies." [179] W. H. R. Rivers, _The History of Melanesian Society_, ii. 358 _sqq._ [180] See above, pp. 92 _sqq._ CHAPTER IV THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE HERVEY ISLANDERS § 1. _The Hervey or Cook Islands_ The Hervey or Cook Archipelago is a scattered group of nine small islands situated in the South Pacific about seven hundred miles south-east of Samoa. The islands are either volcanic or coralline, and approach to them is impeded by dangerous reefs and the absence of harbours.[1] The two principal islands are Rarotonga and Mangaia, the most southerly of the group. Of these the larger, Rarotonga, has a circumference of about thirty miles. It is a vast mass of volcanic mountains, rising peak above peak, to a height of between four and five thousand feet above the sea; but from the foot of the mountains a stretch of flat land, covered with rich alluvial soil, extends for one or two miles to the coast, which is formed by a fringing reef of live coral. The whole island is mantled in luxuriant tropical verdure. It is difficult, we are told, to exaggerate the strange forms of beauty which everywhere meet the eye in this lovely island: gigantic and fantastic columns of rock draped with vines; deep valleys lying in the shadow of overhanging mountains; primaeval forest with its many shades of green; immense chestnut trees, laden with fragrant blossoms; miles of bread-fruit groves, intermingled with coco-nut palms; and nearer the beach plantains, bananas, sweet potatoes, and lastly, growing to the water's edge, graceful iron-wood trees with hair-like leaves drooping like tresses, all contribute to the variety and charm of the scenery.[2] [1] F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. (London, 1894) p. 509. [2] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_ (London, N.D.), p. 11. Compare John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_ (London, 1838), pp. 16, 174-176. According to Dr. Guillemard (_loc. cit._), the height of Rarotonga is 2900 feet; according to W. W. Gill, our principal authority on the island, it is 4500 feet. Very different is the aspect of Mangaia. It is a complete coral island rising from deep water as a ring of live coral; there is no lagoon. A few hundred yards inland from the rugged beach there rises gradually a second or inner ring of dead coral, which towards the interior falls away perpendicularly, thus surrounding the island like a cyclopean wall. This belt or bulwark of dead coral is from one to two miles wide. To cross it is like walking on spear-points: to slip and fall on it may entail ghastly wounds. The streams of water from the interior find their way through it to the sea by subterranean channels. Imbedded in the highest parts of this inland reef of coral are many sea-shells of existing species, and it is honeycombed with many extensive caves, which were formerly used as dwellings, cemeteries, places of refuge, or storehouses. Scores of them are filled with desiccated human bodies. So vast are they that it is dangerous to venture alone into their recesses; the forlorn wanderer might never emerge from them again. Some of them are said to penetrate far under the bed of the ocean. In these caverns stalactite and stalagmite abound, forming thick and fast-growing layers of limestone rock. The largest and most famous of the caves is known as the Labyrinth (_Tuatini_). The interior of the island is formed of dark volcanic rock and red clay, descending in low hills from a flat-topped centre, called the Crown of Mangaia. The summit is not more than six hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea.[3] [3] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_. pp. 7 _sq._; _id._, _From Darkness to Light in Polynesia_ (London, 1894), pp. 6 _sq._; A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_ (Berlin, 1900), pp. 271 _sqq._, 274 _sqq._ (as to the caverns). § 2. _The Islanders and their Mode of Life_ Though the natives speak a Polynesian language closely akin to the Samoan and have legends of their migration from Samoa, they appear not to be pure Polynesians. They say that they found black people on Rarotonga; and their more pronounced features, more wavy hair, darker complexion, and more energetic character seem to indicate an admixture of Melanesian blood. In Mangaia, indeed, this type is said to predominate, the natives of that island being characterised by dusky brown skin, wavy or frizzly hair, and ample beards: their features, too, are more prominent than those of the Rarotongans, and their manners are wilder.[4] Cannibalism prevailed in most of the islands of the group down to the conversion of the natives to Christianity, which took place between 1823 and 1834, when, with the exception of a few pagans in Mangaia, there did not remain a single idolater, or vestige of idolatry, in any one of the islands. However, many years afterwards old men, who had partaken of cannibal feasts, assured a missionary that human flesh was far superior to pork.[5] [4] F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 509. Compare A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 257 _sq._, 269. The latter writer remarks on the great variety of types among the natives of these islands. In Mangaia he found the people darker than in Rarotonga, undersized, sturdy, with thick lips, noses broad and sunken at the bridge, which gave them a somewhat wild appearance. As to the tradition of an emigration of the Hervey Islanders from Samoa, see W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 23 _sqq._ "The Mangaians themselves trace their origin to Avaiki, or nether world; but Avaiki, Hawai'i, and Savai'i, are but slightly different forms of one word. The _s_ of the Samoan dialect is invariably dropped in the Hervey Group dialects, whilst a _k_ is substituted for the break at the end. No native of these days doubts that by Avaiki his ancestors really intended Savai'i, the largest island of the Samoan Group. In Polynesia, to sail _west_ is to go _down_; to sail _east_ is to go _up_. To sail from Samoa to Mangaia would be 'to come up,' or, to translate their vernacular closely, 'to climb up.' In their songs and myths are many references to 'the hosts of _Uk_upolu,' undoubtedly the Upolu of Samoa" (W. W. Gill, _op. cit._ p. 25). Compare _id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_ (London, 1876), pp. 166 _sq._ [5] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 13 _sq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _Report of the Second Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science held at Melbourne, 1890_, p. 324. As to the date of the introduction of Christianity into the Hervey Islands, see John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 491 _sq._ In the larger islands the natives cultivated the soil diligently even before their contact with Europeans. The missionary John Williams, who discovered Rarotonga in 1823, found the island in a high state of cultivation. Rows of superb chestnut trees (_inocarpus_), planted at equal distances, stretched from the base of the mountains to the sea, while the spaces between the rows, some half a mile wide, were divided into taro patches, each about half an acre in extent, carefully banked up and capable of being irrigated at pleasure. On the tops of the banks grew fine bread-fruit trees placed at equal intervals, their stately foliage presenting a pleasing contrast to the pea-green leaves of the ordinary taro and the dark colour of the giant taro (_kape_) in the beds and on the sloping banks beneath.[6] In Rarotonga bread-fruit and plantains are the staple food; in Mangaia it is taro. On the atolls the coco-nut palm flourishes, but no planting can be done, as the soil consists of sand and gravel thrown up by the sea on the ever-growing coral. The inhabitants of the atolls live contentedly on coco-nuts and fish; they are expert fishermen, having little else to do. But fresh fish are also eaten in large quantities on most of the islands.[7] In some of the islands the planting was done by the women, but in others, including Rarotonga, the taro was both planted and brought home by the men. Women cooked the food in ovens of hot stones sunk in holes, and they made cloth from the bark of the paper-mulberry, which they stripped from the tree, steeped in water, and beat out with square mallets of iron-wood. But garments were made also from the inner bark of the banyan and bread-fruit trees.[8] In the old days the native houses were flimsy quadrangular huts constructed of reeds and thatched with plaited leaflets of the coco-nut palm, which were very pervious to rain; but the temples and large houses of chiefs were thatched with pandanus leaves. The doors were always sliding; the threshold was made of a single block of timber, tastefully carved. There was a sacred and a common entrance.[9] Like all the Polynesians, the Hervey Islanders before their discovery were ignorant of the metals. When in a wrecked vessel they found a bag of Californian gold, they thought it was something good to eat and proceeded to cook the nuggets in order to make them juicy and tender.[10] [6] John Williams, _op. cit._ pp. 175 _sq._ [7] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 12, 15; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _Report of the Second Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science held at Melbourne, 1890_, p. 336. [8] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 332 _sq._, 338. [9] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 16; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 335 _sq._ [10] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 16. § 3. _Social Life: the Sacred Kings_ The people were divided into tribes or clans, each tracing descent in the male line from a common ancestor, and each possessing its own lands, which were inalienable. Exogamy, we are told, was the universal rule in the olden time; but when a tribe was split up in war, the defeated portion was treated as an alien tribe. Polygamy was very common, and was not restricted to chiefs. A man often had two or three sisters to wife at the same time. Distant cousins sometimes, though rarely, married each other; but in such cases they had to belong to the same generation; that is, they must be descended in the same degree, fourth, fifth, or even more remote, from the common ancestor. If misfortune or disease overtook couples linked even by so distant a relationship, the elders would declare that it was brought upon them by the anger of the clan-god. It was the duty of parents to teach their growing children whom they might lawfully marry, but their choice was extremely limited. Children as a rule belonged to the tribe or clan of their father, unless they were adopted into another. However, parents had it at their option to assign a child at birth either to the tribe of its father or to the tribe of its mother; this they did by pronouncing over the infant the name either of the father's or of the mother's god. Commonly the father had the preference; but occasionally, when the father's tribe was one from which human victims for sacrifice were regularly drawn, the mother would seek to save the child's life by having the name of her tribal god pronounced over it and so adopting it into her own tribe.[11] Circumcision in an imperfect form was practised in the Hervey Islands from time immemorial. It was usually performed on a youth about the age of sixteen. The operation was indispensable to marriage. No woman would knowingly marry an uncircumcised husband. The greatest insult that could be offered to a man was to accuse him of being uncircumcised. The rite is said to have been invented by the god Rongo in order to seduce the beautiful wife of his brother Tangaroa, and he enjoined the observance of circumcision upon his worshippers.[12] In Rarotonga it was customary to mould a child's head into a high shape by pressing the forehead and the back of the head between slabs of soft wood. This practice did not obtain on Mangaia nor, apparently, on any other island of the Hervey Group.[13] [11] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 323, 330, 331, 333. [12] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 327-329. In the operation the prepuce was slit longitudinally, and the divided pieces were drawn underneath and twisted, so as in time to form a small knot under the urethra. As to the ceremony of assigning a child either to its father's or to its mother's tribe, see W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_ (London, 1876), pp. 36 _sq._ [13] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 326. In Rarotonga four ranks of society were recognised. These were the _ariki_, or king; the _mataiapo_, or governors of districts; the _rangatira_, or landowners; and the _unga_, or tenants. A man was accounted great according to the number of his _kaingas_ or farms, which contained from one to five acres. These were let to tenants, who, like vassals under the feudal system, obeyed the orders of their superior, assisted him in erecting his house, in building his canoe, in making fishing-nets, and in other occupations, besides bringing him a certain portion of the produce of his lands.[14] [14] John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 183 _sq._ The kings were sacred men, being regarded as priests and mouthpieces of the great tutelary divinities.[15] In Mangaia they were the priests or mouthpieces of the great god Rongo. So sacred were their royal persons that no part of their body might be tattooed: they might not take part in dances or in actual warfare. Peace could not be proclaimed nor blood spilt lawfully without the consent of the king speaking in the name of the god Rongo. Quite distinct from, and subordinate to, the sacred king was the "lord of Mangaia," a warrior chief who gained his lordship by a decisive victory. He represented the civil power, while the king represented the spiritual power; but while the office of the king was hereditary, the office of the civil lord was not. It sometimes happened that the civil lord was at enmity with the king of his day. In that case the king would refuse to complete the ceremonies necessary for his formal investiture; life would remain unsafe; the soil could not be cultivated, and famine soon ensued. This state of turbulence and misery might last for years, till the obnoxious chief had been in his turn despatched, and a more agreeable successor appointed.[16] Thus the sacred king and the civil lord corresponded to the Tooitonga or sacred chief and the civil king of Tonga.[17] [15] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 335. [16] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 293. [17] See above, pp. 62 _sq._ § 4. _Religion, the Gods, Traces of Totemism_ Yet though the king of Mangaia ranked above the civil or temporal lord, it devolved on that lord to install a new king in office by formally seating him on "the sacred sandstone" (_te kea inamoa_) in the sanctuary or sacred grove (_marae_)[18] of Rongo on the sea-shore facing the setting sun. The ceremony took place in presence of the leading under-chiefs. The special duty of the king was by offering rhythmical and very ancient prayers to Great Rongo to keep away evil-minded spirits who might otherwise injure the island. For this end the principal king (_te ariki pa uta_) lived in the interior of the island in the sacred and fertile district of Keia. His prayers were thought to avert evil spirits coming from the east. On the barren sea-shore at O-rongo (the seat of the temple or grove of Rongo) lived the secondary king (_te ariki pa tai_), who warded off bad spirits coming from the west. Besides this primary ghostly function, many other important duties devolved upon these royal personages. The secondary or shore king was not infrequently a natural son of the great inland king. By virtue of their office all kings were high priests of Rongo, the tutelary god of Mangaia.[19] [18] In the Hervey Islands a _marae_ seems to have been a sacred grove. So it is described by W. W. Gill (_Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 14), who adds in a note: "These _maraes_ were planted with _callophylla inophylla_, etc., etc., which, untouched by the hand of man from generation to generation, threw a sacred gloom over the mysteries of idol-worship. The trees were accounted sacred, not for their own sake, but on account of the place where they grew." [19] W. W. Gill, _From Darkness to Light in Polynesia_, pp. 314 _sq._ As to the installation of the priestly king by the temporal lord, see also _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 339 _sq._ But Rongo was not peculiar to the Hervey Islands. He was a great Polynesian deity worshipped in almost every part of the Pacific, and though his attributes differed greatly in different places, a universal reverence was paid to him. In the Hervey Islands, he and his twin brother Tangaroa were deemed the children of Vatea, the eldest of the primary gods, a being half man and half fish, whose eyes are the sun and the moon. The wife of this monstrous deity and mother of the divine twins was Papa, whose name signifies Foundation and who was supposed to be a daughter of Timatekore or "Nothing-more." The twin Tangaroa, another great Polynesian deity, was specially honoured in Rarotonga and Aitutaki, another of the Hervey Islands.[20] The famous Polynesian hero Maui was also well known in the Hervey Islands, where people told how he had brought up the first fire to men from the under world, having there wrested it from the fire-god Mauike;[21] how he raised the sky--a solid vault of blue stone--to its present height, for of old the sky almost touched the earth, so that people could not walk upright;[22] and finally how he caught the great sun-god Ra himself in six nooses made of strong coco-nut fibre, so that the motions of the orb of day, which before had been extremely irregular, have been most orderly ever since.[23] [20] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 3 _sqq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 348 _sq._ As to Rongo and Tangaroa, see E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_ (Wellington, N.Z., 1891), pp. 424 _sq._, 463 _sq._, _svv._ "Rongo" and "Tangaroa." [21] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 51-58. [22] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 58-60. [23] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 61-63. But besides the divine or heroic figures of more or less anthropomorphic type, which the Hervey Islanders recognised in common with the rest of the Polynesians, we may distinguish in their mythology traces of that other and probably older stage of thought in which the objects of religious reverence are rather animals than men or beings modelled in the image of man. We have seen that this early stage of religion was well preserved in Samoa down to the time when the islands fell under the observation of Europeans, and that it was probably a relic of totemism,[24] which at an earlier period may perhaps have prevailed generally among the ancestors of the Polynesians. In the Hervey Islands there was a god called Tonga-iti, who appeared visibly in the form of black and white spotted lizards.[25] Another deity named Tiaio took possession of the body of the large white shark, the terror of these islanders, and he had a small sacred grove (_marae_) set apart for his worship. It is said that this shark-god was a former king of Mangaia, who in the pride of his heart had defiled the sacred district of Keia, the favourite haunt of the gods, by wearing some beautiful scarlet hibiscus flowers in his ears. Now anything red was forbidden in that part of the island as being offensive to the gods; and even the beating of bark-cloth was prohibited there, lest the repose of the gods should be disturbed by the noise. Hence an angry priest knocked the proud and impious king on the head, and the blood of the slain monarch flowed into a neighbouring stream, where it was drunk by a great fresh-water eel. So the spirit of the dead king entered into the eel, but subsequently, pursuing its way to the sea, the spirit forsook the eel and took possession of the shark.[26] Nevertheless he continued occasionally to appear to his worshippers in the form of an eel; for we are told that in the old heathen days, if a huge eel were caught in a net, it would have been regarded as the god Tiaio himself come on a visit, and that it would accordingly have been allowed to return to the water unmolested.[27] It is quite possible that this derivation of the eel-god or shark-god from a former king of Mangaia may be historically correct; for we are told that "many of the deities worshipped in the Hervey Group and other islands of the eastern Pacific were canonised priests, kings, and warriors, whose spirits were supposed to enter into various birds, fish, reptiles, insects, etc., etc. Strangely enough, they were regarded as being, in no respect, inferior to the original deities."[28] Among the creatures in which gods, and especially the spirits of deified men, were believed permanently to reside or to be incarnate were reckoned sharks, sword-fish, eels, the octopus, yellow and black spotted lizards, as well as several kinds of birds and insects.[29] In Rarotonga the cuttle-fish was the special deity of the reigning family down to the subversion of paganism.[30] In Mangaia the tribe of Teipe, whose members were liable to serve as victims in human sacrifices, worshipped the centipede: there was a shrine of the centipede god at Vaiau on the eastern side of Mangaia.[31] Again, two gods, Tekuraaki and Utakea, were supposed to be incarnate in the woodpecker.[32] A comprehensive designation for divinities of all kinds was "the heavenly family" (_te anau tuarangi_); and this celestial race included rats, lizards, beetles, eels, sharks, and several kinds of birds. It was supposed that "the heavenly family" had taken up their abode in these creatures.[33] Nay, even inanimate objects, such as the triton-shell, sandstone, bits of basalt, cinnet, and trees were believed to be thus tenanted by gods.[34] The god Tane-kio, for example, was thought to be enshrined in the planets Venus and Jupiter, and also, curiously enough, in cinnet work.[35] Again, each tribe had its own sacred bird, which was supposed to be sent by a god to warn the people of impending danger.[36] In these superstitions it is possible that we have relics of totemism. [24] See above, pp. 182 _sqq._, 200 _sqq._ [25] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 10 _sq._ 19. Another god called Turanga, who was worshipped at Aumoana, was also supposed to be incarnate in white and black spotted lizards. See _id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 96. [26] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 29 _sq._ [27] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 79 _sq._ [28] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 349. [29] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 347. Yet in the same passage the writer affirms that "there is no trace in the Eastern Pacific of the doctrine of transmigration of human souls, although the spirits of the dead are fabled to have assumed, temporarily, and for a specific purpose, the form of an insect, bird, fish, or cloud." [30] _Id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 289. [31] _Id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 96, 308, 309. [32] _Id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 96. [33] _Id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 34 _sq._ [34] _Id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 32. [35] _Id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 96. [36] _Id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 35; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 349. Originally, it is said, the gods spoke to men through the small land birds, but the utterances of these creatures proved too indistinct to guide the actions of mankind. Hence to meet this emergency an order of priests was set apart, the gods actually taking up their abode, for the time being, in their sacred persons. Hence priests were significantly named "god-boxes" (_pia-atua_) a title which was generally abbreviated to "gods," because they were believed to be living embodiments of the divinities. When a priest was consulted, he drank a bowl of kava (_Piper methysticum_), and falling into convulsions gave the oracular response in language intelligible only to the initiated. The oracle so delivered, from which there was no appeal, was thought to have been inspired by the god, who had entered into the priest for the purpose.[37] [37] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 35; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 349. § 5. _The Doctrine of the Human Soul_ Like other Polynesians, the Hervey Islanders believed that human beings are animated by a vital principle or soul, which survives the death of the body for a longer or shorter time. Indeed, they held that nobody dies a strictly natural death except as an effect of extreme old age. Nineteen out of twenty deaths were believed to be caused either by the anger of the gods or by the incantations of "the praying people" or sorcerers.[38] Hence, when a person fell ill, it was customary to consult a priest in order to discover the nature of the sin which had drawn down on the sufferer the wrath of the deity or the enmity of the sorcerer.[39] But besides its final departure at death, the soul was thought to quit the body temporarily on other occasions. In sleep it was supposed to leave the sleeper and travel over the island, holding converse with the dead, and even visiting the spirit-world. It was thus that the islanders, like so many other savages, explained the phenomena of dreams. We are told that some of the most important events in their national history were determined by dreams.[40] Again, they explained sneezing as the return of the soul to the body after a temporary absence. Hence in Rarotonga, when a person sneezes, the bystanders exclaim, as though addressing his spirit, "Ha! you have come back!"[41] [38] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 342. Compare _id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 35. [39] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 35; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 339; _id._, _Life in the Southern Isles_, p. 70. [40] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 347. [41] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 177. How exactly the Hervey Islanders pictured to themselves the nature of the human soul, appears not to be recorded. Probably their notions on this obscure subject did not differ greatly from those of the natives of Pukapuka or Danger Island, a lonely island situated some hundreds of miles to the north-west of the Hervey Group. These savages apparently conceived the soul as a small material substance that varied in size with the dimensions of the body which it inhabited. For the sacred men or sorcerers of that island used to set traps to catch the souls of people, and the traps consisted of loops of coco-nut fibre, which differed in size according as the soul to be caught in one of them was fat or thin, or perhaps according as it was the soul of a child or that of an adult. Two of these soul-traps were presented to Mr. W. W. Gill, the first white missionary to land in Danger Island. The loops or rings were arranged in pairs on each side of two cords, one of which was twenty-eight feet long and the other fourteen. The mode of setting the traps was this. If a person was very sick or had given offence to a sorcerer, the offended wizard or priest would hang a soul-trap by night from a branch of a tree overhanging the house of the sufferer or of the person against whom he bore a grudge; then sitting down beside the snare he would pretend to watch for the flight of the victim's spirit. If the family enquired the sin for which the soul-trap had been set, the holy man would probably allege some ceremonial fault committed by the sick man against the gods. If an insect or small bird chanced to fly through one of the loops, the priest would allege that the man's soul was caught in the mesh, and that there was no hope for it but that the wretch must die. In that case the demon Vaerua, who presided over the spirit-world, was believed to hurry off the poor soul to the nether world, there to feast upon it. The news that So-and-so had lost his soul would then spread through the island, and great would be the lamentation. The friends of the unhappy man would seek to propitiate the sorcerer by large presents of food, begging him to intercede with the dread Vaerua for the restoration of the lost soul. Sometimes the intercessions were successful, and the patient recovered; but at other times the priest reported that his prayers were of no avail, and that Vaerua could not be induced to send back the soul to re-inhabit the body. The melancholy tidings acted like a sentence of death. The patient gave up all hope and soon pined away through sheer distress at the thought of his soul caught in the trap.[42] [42] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 180-183; _id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 171. § 6. _Death and Funeral Rites_ The moment a sick person expired, his near relatives cut off their hair, blackened their faces, and slashed their bodies with shark's teeth, so that the blood might stream down; in Rarotonga it was customary also to knock out some of the front teeth in token of sorrow. During the days of mourning people wore only native cloth, dyed red in the sap of the candle-nut tree and then dipped in the black mud of a taro-patch. The very foul smell of these garments is said to have been symbolical of the putrescent state of the corpse;[43] perhaps at the same time, though we are not told so, it helped to keep the ghost at arm's length. [43] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 181; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 344. That the mourners were not anxious to detain the departed spirit appears from a custom observed by the Rarotongans and described by the discoverer of the island, John Williams. He tells us that in order to secure the admission of a departed spirit to future joys, the corpse was dressed in the best attire the relatives could provide, the head was wreathed with flowers, and other decorations were added. A pig was then baked whole and placed on the body of the deceased, surrounded by a pile of vegetable food. After that, supposing the departed to have been a son, the father would thus address the corpse: "My son, when you were alive I treated you with kindness, and when you were taken ill I did my best to restore you to health; and now you are dead, there is your _momoe o_, or property of admission. Go, my son, and with that gain an entrance into the palace of Tiki,[44] and do not come to this world again to disturb and alarm us." The whole would then be buried; and, if they received no intimation to the contrary within a few days of the interment, the relatives believed that the pig and the rest of the victuals had obtained for the deceased an entrance to the abode of bliss. If, however, a cricket was heard to chirp in the house, it was deemed an ill omen, and they would immediately break into loud laments, saying, for example, "Oh, our brother! his spirit has not entered the paradise; he is suffering from hunger; he is shivering with cold!" Forthwith the grave would be opened and the offering repeated. This usually effected the purpose.[45] [44] The name of the god of the Rarotongan paradise. [45] John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 477 _sq._ In Rarotonga the provisions which were buried with the dead person as an offering to Tiki sometimes consisted of the head and kidneys of a hog, a split coco-nut, and a root of kava; in the island of Aitutaki it was usual to place at the pit of the stomach of the corpse the kernel of a coco-nut, and a piece of sugar-cane; in Mangaia the extremity of a coco-nut frond served the same purpose of propitiating Tiki and ensuring the entrance of the ghost into paradise.[46] [46] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 170 _sq._ The bodies of the dead were anointed with scented oil, carefully wrapt up in a number of cloths, and so committed to their last resting-place. They were never disembowelled for the purpose of embalming, but some were desiccated by being kept for about a month and daily anointed with coco-nut oil. A few were buried in the earth within the precincts of a sacred grove (_marae_); but by far the greater number were hidden in caves which were regarded as the private property of certain families. The bodies of warriors were in general carefully concealed by their friends, lest foes should find and burn them in revenge. If a body were buried in the earth, it was always laid face downwards, with chin and knees meeting, and the limbs well secured with coco-nut fibre. A thin covering of earth was spread over the corpse, and large heavy stones were piled on the grave. "The intention," we are informed, "was to render it impossible for the dead to rise up and injure the living." The head of the corpse was always turned to the rising sun. It was customary to bury with the dead some article of value: a woman would have her cloth-mallet laid by her side, while a man would enjoin his friends to bury with him a favourite stone adze or a beautiful white shell (_Ovula ovum_, Linn.) which he had worn in the dance. Such articles were never afterwards touched by the living. Many people were buried in easily accessible caves, that their relatives might visit the mouldering remains from time to time. On such visits the corpse might be again exposed to the sun, anointed afresh with oil, and wrapt in new cloth. But as the sorrow of the survivors abated, these visits became less and less frequent, and finally ceased.[47] [47] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 72-76; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 343. A death in a family was the signal for a change of names among the near relatives of the deceased. The greatest ingenuity was exercised in devising new appellations. Sometimes these names were most offensive to good taste. This custom of changing names after the death of a relative has survived the conversion of the natives to Christianity;[48] probably it originated in a desire to avoid the unwelcome attentions of the ghost, who might be thought to be attracted by the sound of the familiar names.[49] [48] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 78 _sq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 344. [49] See _The Golden Bough_, Part II., _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 356 _sqq._ As soon as the corpse was committed to its last resting-place, the mourners selected five old coco-nuts, opened them one after the other, and poured the water on the ground. These nuts were then wrapt up in leaves and native cloth and thrown towards the grave; or, if the corpse had been let down by cords into the deep chasm called Auraka, the nuts and other food would be cast down successively upon it. Calling loudly each time the name of the departed, they said, "Here is thy food; eat it." When the fifth nut and the accompanying pudding were thrown down, the mourners cried, "Farewell! we come back no more to thee."[50] [50] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 187; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 344. Immediately after a decease a remarkable custom was observed in Mangaia. A messenger was despatched to bear the tidings round the island. On reaching the boundary of each district, he paused to give the war-shout peculiar to the people of the district, adding, "So-and-so is dead." Thereupon near relatives would start off at once for the house of the deceased, each carrying a present of native cloth. Most of the athletic young men of the entire island on the day following united in a series of sham-fights called _ta i te mauri_ or "slaying the ghosts." The district where the corpse lay represented the _mauri_ or ghosts. The young men belonging to it early in the morning arrayed themselves as if for battle, and, well armed, started off for the adjoining district, where the young men were drawn up in battle array under the name of _aka-oa_ or "friends." Having performed the war-dance, the two parties rushed together, clashing their spears and wooden swords, as though fighting in good earnest. The sufferers in this bloodless conflict were supposed to be malignant spirits, who would thus be deterred from doing further mischief to mortals. After the mock battle the combatants united, and, being collectively called _mauri_ or "ghosts," passed on to the third district. Throughout the day their leader carried the sacred _iku kikau_, or coco-nut leaf, at the pit of his stomach, like a dead man. Arrived at the third village, they found the younger men ready for the friendly conflict and bearing the name of _aka-oa_ or "friends." The battle of the ghosts was fought over again, and then with swelling numbers they passed on to the fourth, fifth, and sixth districts, in every one of them fighting and thrashing the ghosts afresh. Repairing at last with united forces to the place where the corpse was laid out in state, the brave ghost-killers were there entertained at a feast, after which all, except the near relatives, returned to their various homes at nightfall. So similar to actual warfare was this custom of fighting the ghosts that it went by the name of "a younger brother of war."[51] Apparently every death was attributed to the action of ghosts who had carried off the soul of the departed brother or sister; and in order to prevent a repetition of the catastrophe it was deemed necessary to repel or even to slay the ghostly assailants by force of arms. [51] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 268 _sq._ The mourning ceremonies lasted from ten to fifteen days according to the rank and age of the deceased. During the whole period no beating of bark for the manufacture of the native cloth was permitted in the district where the death had occurred. A woman who wished to beat out her bark-cloth must go to another part of the island. This rule is said to have been dictated by a fear of offending the female demon Mueu, who introduced the beating of bark-cloth into the world, but who herself beats out cloth of a very different texture; for her cloth-flail is the stroke of death.[52] [52] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 182. Some months after the decease of a person of note funeral games called _eva_ were performed in honour of the departed. These ceremonies invariably took place by day. They were of four sorts. First, there was the _eva tapara_, or "funeral dirge." In this the mourners appeared with blackened faces, shaved heads, streaming blood, and stinking garments. This, we are told, was a most repulsive exhibition.[53] [53] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 271. Second, there was the _eva puruki_ or "war dirge." In this the people arrayed themselves in two columns facing each other, both sides armed with spears made of a brittle kind of wood instead of the fatal iron-wood (_Casuarina equasitifolia_), out of which the spears used in real warfare were made. The performance began with an animated conversation between the leaders of the two squadrons of supposed enemies as to the grounds for war. When this was concluded, the person most nearly related to the deceased began the history of the heroic deeds of the clan by slowly chanting the introductory words. At the appointed pause both companies took up the strain and chanted it vigorously together, the mighty chorus being accompanied by the clash of spears and all the evolutions of war. Then followed a momentary pause, after which a new story would be introduced by the musical voice of the chief mourner, to be caught up and recited in full chorus by both companies as before. These war-dirges were most carefully elaborated, and they embodied the only histories of the past known to these islanders.[54] [54] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 272. Third, there was the _eva toki_ or "axe dirge." In this ceremony the performers, armed with mimic axes of iron-wood instead of stone, used to cleave the cruel earth which had swallowed up the dead; and as they smote the ground, with tears streaming down their cheeks, they expressed a vain wish that so they might open up a passage through which the spirit of the departed might return. This axe-dirge was appropriate to artisans only, who enjoyed great consideration because their skill was believed to be a gift of the gods.[55] [55] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 272 _sq._ Fourth, there was the _eva ta_ or "crashing dirge." In this ceremony two supposed armies were arrayed against each other as in the "war dirge," but differed from it both in the style of composition and in the weapons employed, the combatants being armed with flat spears or wooden swords. In the dialogue or songs the death of their friends was explained by the anger of the gods, for which reasons were assigned. These performances generally concluded with a sort of comedy, the nature of which has not been described.[56] [56] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 273. Sometimes, instead of these funeral games or ceremonies, a grand tribal gathering was held for the sake of reciting songs in honour of the illustrious dead. Such an assembly met in a large house built for the purpose and well lighted with torches, for the doleful concert always took place at night. As many as sixty songs might be prepared for the occasion and mournfully chanted to the accompanying drone of the great wooden drum. Every adult male relative was bound to recite a song; if he could not compose one himself, he had to pay a more gifted person to furnish him with the appropriate words. Some of the songs or ballads of a touching nature were much admired and long remembered. Several months were needed for the preparation of such a performance or "death-talk," as it was called. Not only had the songs to be composed and the dresses made, but a liberal supply of food had to be provided for the guests.[57] [57] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 269-271; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 345. In general all mourning ceremonies were over within a year of the death. But we hear of a chief of the island of Atiu who mourned for seven years for an only child, living all that time in a hut near the grave, and allowing his hair and nails to grow, and his body to remain unwashed. He was the wonder of all the islanders.[58] [58] W. W. Gill, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 345. Among the caverns in which, in the island of Mangaia, the dead used to be deposited, two are particularly famous. One of them, at Tamarua, is the chasm called Raupa or "leafy entrance" on account of the dense growth of hibiscus which formerly surrounded this supposed entrance to the shades. It was the ancient burial-place of the Tongan tribe, the descendants of a band of Tongans, who had landed in Mangaia and settled there. The chasm is a hundred and fifty feet deep and has two openings, the smaller of which was used only for chiefs and priests. The other famous sepulchral cavern, called Auraka, is situated on the western side of the island. It was the grand depository of the dead of the ruling families, who claimed to be descended from the great god Rongo. This chasm is not nearly so deep as Raupa, but, like it, has two entrances; the one sacred and the other profane; the former was reserved for the bodies of the nobility, the latter for the bodies of commoners. Besides these ceremonial entrances there are many natural openings into the vast subterranean cave, for the rock is everywhere perforated. It is possible by torchlight to explore the gloomy recesses of the cavern, which in some places contracts to the narrowest dimensions, while in others it expands till the roof is almost lost to sight. Hundreds of well-preserved mummies may be seen lying in rows, some on ledges of stalactite, others on wooden platforms. Mr. Gill, who thrice visited the cave, judged that some of the bodies were over fifty years old. The whole neighbourhood of the great cavern was deemed sacred to wandering disembodied spirits, who were believed to come up at midnight and exhibit the ghastly wounds by which they had met their fate.[59] [59] W. W. Gill, _Life in the Southern Isles_, pp. 71 _sq._ As to the settlement of a Tongan colony in Mangaia, see _id._, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 287 _sq._ In native tradition the colonists were spoken of as "Tongans sailing through the skies" (_Tongaiti-akareva-moana_). Their leader was the first high-priest of the god Turanga. § 7. _The Fate of the Human Soul after Death_ The home of the departed spirits was believed to be a vast subterranean region called Avaiki. The natives of Mangaia believed that this mysterious region was situated directly under their island. "As the dead were usually thrown down the deepest chasms, it was not unnatural for their friends to imagine the earth to be hollow, and the entrance to this vast nether world to be down one of these pits. No one can wonder at this who knows that the outer portion of Mangaia is a honeycomb, the rock being pierced in every direction with winding caves and frightful chasms. It is asserted that the Mission premises at Oneroa are built over one of these great caverns, which extends so far towards the sea that the beating of the surf can be distinctly heard, whilst the water, purified from its saline particles, continually drips from the stony roof." The inland opening into the infernal regions was believed to be the great cavern of Auraka, in which, as we have just seen, so many of the dead were deposited.[60] [60] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 152-154. However, Avaiki was not the home of the ghosts alone; it was tenanted also by the gods, both the greater and the lesser, with their dependants. There they married, and multiplied, and quarrelled, just like mortals. There they planted, cooked, fished, and inhabited dwellings of exactly the same sort as exist on earth. Their food was no better than that of mortals. There might be seen birds, fish, and rats, likewise the mantis, centipedes, and beetles. There the coco-nut palm, the pandanus, and the myrtle flourished, and yams grew in abundance. The gods committed murder and adultery; they got drunk; they lied; they stole. The arts and crafts were also practised by the deities, who indeed taught them to mankind. The visible world, in short, was but a gross copy of the spiritual and invisible world. If fire burns, it is because latent flame was hidden in wood by the god Mauike in Hades. If the axe cleaves, it is because the fairy of the axe is present unseen in the blade. If the ironwood club kills its man, it is because a fierce demon from Tonga lives in the weapon.[61] [61] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 154. The old high-road to the spirit-land used to start from a place called Aremauku, on a cliff overhanging the western ocean. By this road a regular communication was formerly kept up with the infernal regions. It was by this route, for example, that the hero Maui descended in ancient days to the home of the fire-god Mauike and brought up fire for the use of men. However, the denizens of spirit-land in time grew very troublesome by constantly coming up and afflicting mankind with disease and death; they also created a dearth by stealing people's food, and they even ravished their wives. To put an end to these perpetual annoyances a brave and beautiful woman, Tiki by name, rolled herself alive down into the gloomy chasm which led to the infernal world. The yawning abyss closed on her, and there has been no thoroughfare ever since. The spirits have not been able to come up from Avaiki by that road, and the souls of the dead have been equally unable to go down by it; they are now obliged to descend by a different route.[62] [62] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 154 _sq._ After their departure from the body the spirits of the dead wandered disconsolately along the seashore, picking their steps painfully among the sharp spikes of the coral and stumbling over the bindweed and thick vines which caught their feet. The fragrant smell of the heliotrope, which grows luxuriantly among these barren and rugged rocks, afforded them a little relief, and they wore a red creeper, like a turban, round their heads; the rest of their costume was a miscellaneous collection of weeds which they had picked up in the course of their wanderings. Twice a year, at the summer and winter solstices, they mustered to follow the setting sun down into the under world. They gathered at the two points of the island which face towards the rising of the sun at these two seasons of the year. At the summer solstice, in January, he seems to rise out of the sea opposite to Ana-Kura, that is, the Red Cave, so called because it receives the red rays of the morning. It was there that by far the greater number of the ghosts gathered for their last sad journey with the sun: they all belonged to the southern half of the island. The other point of ghostly muster was called Karanga-iti or "the Little Welcome"; it faced towards the rising of the sun at the winter solstice in June, and it was there that the ghosts born in the northern half of the island assembled. Thus many months might elapse between a death and the final departure of the soul from the land of the living. The weary interval was spent by the spirits in dancing and revisiting their old homes. As a rule they were well disposed to their living relatives, but the ghost of a mother would often grow vindictive when she saw her pet child ill-treated by its stepmother. Sometimes, weary of wandering, the poor ghosts huddled together in the Red Cave, waiting for the midsummer sun and listening to the monotonous moan of the great rollers, which break there eternally.[63] [63] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 155-157. The exact moment of departure was fixed by the leader of the band. As the time drew near, messengers were despatched to call in the stray ghosts who might be lingering near their ancient haunts. Tearfully they gathered at the Red Cave or on a grassy lawn above it, out of reach of the foam and the billows. All kept their eyes on the spot of the horizon where the sun was expected to appear. At the first streak of dawn the whole band took their departure to meet the rising orb of day. That done, they followed in his train as nearly as might be, flitting behind or beneath him across the rolling waters or the rocks and stones of the coast, till towards the close of day they all mustered at Vairo-rongo, "the Sacred Stream of Rongo," facing towards the setting sun. The spot is so named from a little rivulet which there rushes out of the stones at the sacred grove (_marae_) of Rongo: none but priests and kings might bathe there in days of old. At the moment when the sun sank beneath the horizon, the entire band of ghosts followed him along the golden track of light across the shimmering sea and descended in his train to the nether world, but not like him to reappear on the morrow.[64] [64] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 157 _sq._ There were three such points of departure for the spirit-land in Mangaia, all facing the setting sun. Each of them was known as a _Reinga vaerua_ or "leaping-place of souls." One of them was at Oneroa, where a rocky bluff stands out by itself like a giant looking towards the west. To it a band of souls from the great cavern of Auraka used to go in mournful procession, and from it they leaped one by one to a second and much smaller block of stone resting on the inner edge of the reef; thence they passed to the outer brink of the reef, on which the surf beats ceaselessly, and from which at sunset they flitted over the ocean to sink with the great luminary into the land of the dead. Such appears to have been the general notion of the people concerning the departure of human souls at death in Mangaia. Similar ideas prevailed in the other islands of the group, in all of which the "leaping-place of souls" was regularly situated on the western coast of the island.[65] [65] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 159 _sq._ The teaching of the priests added many particulars to this general account of the journey of the soul to the nether world. According to them the souls of the dying, before life was quite extinct, left their bodies and travelled towards the edge of the cliff at Araia, near the sacred grove (_marae_) of Rongo, which faced westward. But if on its way to this fatal bourne the soul of the dying chanced to meet a friendly spirit who cried to it, "Go back and live," the departing soul would joyfully return to its forsaken body, and the sick man or woman would revive. This was the native explanation of fainting. But if no friendly spirit intervened to save the passing soul, it pursued its way to the edge of the cliff. On its arrival a great wave of the sea washed the base of the crag, and a gigantic _bua_ tree (_Beslaria laurifolia_), covered with fragrant blossoms, sprang up from Avaiki to receive the ghost. The tree had as many branches as there were principal gods in Mangaia, and every ghost had to perch on the particular branch allotted to members of his or her tribe; the worshippers of the great gods, such as Motoro and Tane, had separate boughs provided for their accommodation; while the worshippers of the lesser deities huddled together on a single big branch.[66] [66] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 160 _sq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 346. No sooner had the ghost perched on the place appointed for him than down plumped the tree with him into the nether world. Looking down to see where he was going, what was the horror of the ghost to perceive a great net spread by Akaanga and his assistants to catch him at the foot of the tree! Into this fatal net the doomed spirit inevitably fell to sink in a lake of fresh water and there to wriggle like a fish for a time. At last the net was pulled up with the ghost in it, who, half-drowned, was now ushered trembling into the presence of the grim hag Miru, generally known as "the Ruddy," because her face reflected the glowing heat of the ever-burning oven in which she cooked her ghostly victims. At first, however, she fed, and perhaps fattened, them on a diet of black beetles, red earth-worms, crabs, and small blackbirds. Thus refreshed, they had next to drain bowls of strong kava brewed by the fair hands of the hag's four lovely daughters. Reduced to a state of insensibility by the intoxicating beverage, the ghosts were then borne off without a struggle to the oven and cooked. On the substance of these hapless victims Miru and her son and her peerless daughters regularly subsisted. The leavings of the meal were thrown to the servants. Such was the fate of all who died what we should call a natural death, and therefore of all cowards, women, and children. They were annihilated.[67] [67] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 161 _sq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ pp. 346 _sq._ Not so with warriors who fell fighting on the field of battle. For a time, indeed, their souls wandered about among the rocks and trees where their bodies were thrown, the ghastly wounds by which they met their fate being still visible. The plaintive chirping of a certain cricket, rarely seen but heard continually at night, was believed to be the voice of the slain warriors sorrowfully calling to their friends. At last the first who fell would gather his brother ghosts at a place a little beyond Araia, on the edge of the cliff and facing the sunset. There they would linger for a time. But suddenly a mountain sprang up at their feet, and they ascended it over the spears and clubs which had given them their mortal wounds. Arrived at the summit they leaped up into the blue expanse, thus becoming the peculiar clouds of the winter or dry season. During the rainy season they could mount up to the warriors' paradise in the sky. In June, the first month of winter, the atmosphere was pervaded by these ghosts, to whom the chilliness of death still clung. For days together their thronging shapes hid the sun, dimming the sky and spreading among men the heaviness and oppression of spirits which are characteristic of the season. But with the early days of August, when the coral-tree puts forth its blood-red blossoms and the sky grows mottled with light fleecy clouds, the ghosts of the brave prepare to take flight for heaven. Soon the sky is cloudless, the weather bright and warm. The ghosts have fled away, and the living resume their wonted avocations in quiet and comfort.[68] [68] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 162 _sq._ In their celestial home the spirits of the slain are immortal. There, in memory of their deeds on earth, they dance their old war dances over again, decked with gay flowers--the white gardenia, the yellow _bua_, the golden fruit of the pandanus, and the dark crimson, bell-like blossom of the native laurel, intertwined with myrtle; and from their blissful heights they look down with pity and disgust on the wretched souls in Avaiki entangled in the fatal net and besmeared with filth. For the spirits of the slain in battle are strong and vigorous, their bodies never having been wasted by disease; whereas the spirits of those who die a natural death are excessively feeble and weak, like their bodies at the moment of dissolution. The natural result of such beliefs was to breed an utter contempt for a violent death, nay even a desire to seek it. Many stories are told of aged warriors, scarcely able to hold a spear, who have insisted on being led to the battlefield in the hope of finding a soldier's death and gaining a soldier's paradise.[69] [69] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 163 _sq._ Beliefs of the same general character concerning the fate of the dead prevailed in other islands of the Hervey Group. Thus in Rarotonga the great meeting-place of the ghosts was at Tuoro, facing the sunset. There at a stately tree, called "the Weeping Laurel," the disembodied spirits used to bewail their hard fate. If no pitying spirit sent him back to life, the ghost had to scramble up a branch of an ancient _bua_ tree which grew on the spot. Should the bough break under his weight, the ghost was precipitated into the net which Muru had spread out for him in a natural circular hollow of the rock. A lively ghost might break the meshes of the net and escape for a while, but passing on to the outer edge of the reef, in the hope of traversing the ocean, he inevitably fell into another net artfully concealed by Akaanga. From this second net escape was impossible. The demons drew the captive ghosts out of the nets, and ruthlessly dashing out their brains on the sharp coral they carried off the shattered victims in triumph to devour them in the lower world. Ghosts from Ngatangiia ascended the noble mountain range which stretches across the island, dipping into the sea at Tuoro. Inexpressibly weary and sad was this journey over a road which foot of living wight had never trod. The departed spirits of this tribe met at a great iron-wood tree, of which some branches were green and others dead. The souls that trod on the green branches came back to life; but the souls that crawled on to the dead boughs were at once caught in the net either of Muru or of Akaanga.[70] [70] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, pp. 169 _sq._; _id._, "Mangaia (Hervey Islands)," _op. cit._ p. 346. In Rarotonga, as in Mangaia, the lot of warriors who died in battle was much happier than that of the poor wretches who had the misfortune to die quietly in bed or to be otherwise ignominiously snuffed out. The gallant ghosts were said to join Tiki, who in Rarotonga appears to have been a dead warrior, whereas in Mangaia, as we saw, Tiki was a dead woman. In the Rarotongan Hades, which also went by the name of Avaiki, this Tiki sat at the threshold of a very long house built with walls of reeds, and surrounded by shrubs and flowers of fadeless bloom and never-failing perfume. Each ghost on his arrival had to make an offering to the warder Tiki, who, thus propitiated, admitted him to the house. There, sitting at their ease, eating, drinking, dancing, or sleeping, the brave of past ages dwelt in unwithering beauty and perpetual youth; there they welcomed newcomers, and there they told the story of their heroic exploits on earth and fought their old battles over again. But ghosts who had nothing to give to Tiki were compelled to stay outside in rain and darkness for ever, shivering with cold and hunger, watching with envious eyes the joyous revels of the inmates, and racked with the vain desire of being admitted to share them.[71] [71] W. W. Gill, _Myths and Songs from the South Pacific_, p. 170; John Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 476 _sq._ Such beliefs in the survival of the soul after death may have nerved the warrior with fresh courage in battle; but they can have contributed but little to the happiness and consolation of ordinary people, who could apparently look forward to nothing better in the life hereafter than being cooked and eaten by a hideous hag. CHAPTER V THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE SOCIETY ISLANDERS § 1. _The Society Islands_ The Society Islands are a large and scattered archipelago in the South Pacific, situated within 16° and 18° of South latitude, and between 148° and 155° of West longitude. They lie some three hundred miles from the Hervey or Cook Islands, from which they are separated by the open sea. The islands form a chain nearly two hundred miles in length, extending from north-west to south-east, and fall into two groups, an eastern and a western, which, on account of the prevailing wind, are known respectively as the Windward and Leeward Islands. The Windward or eastern group includes Eimeo or Moörea in the west, Maitea in the east, and Tahiti, the principal island of the whole archipelago, in the centre. In the Leeward or western group the chief islands are Huahine, Raiatea, Tahaa, and Borabora. The islands appear to have been first discovered by the Spanish navigator Fernandez de Quiros in 1606 or 1607, but after him they were lost sight of till 1767, when they were rediscovered by Wallis. A few years later they were repeatedly visited by Captain Cook, who gave the first full and accurate description of the islands and their inhabitants.[1] [1] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 6 _sq._; A. v. H[ügel], "Tahiti," _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, Ninth Edition, xxiii. 22, 24; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_, ii. 151 _sqq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 510. As to Wallis's discovery of the islands see J. Hawkesworth, _Voyages_, i. (London, 1773) pp. 433 _sqq._; R. Kerr, _General History and Collection of Voyages and Travels_, xii. (Edinburgh, 1814) pp. 164 _sqq._ The islands, with the exception of a few flat lagoon islands, are of volcanic formation, high and mountainous, consisting for the most part of a central peak or peaks of bold and striking outline, which descend in steep ridges towards the sea, sometimes reaching the coast, but oftener leaving a broad stretch of flat and very fertile land between their last slopes and the beach. Between the ridges lie deep and beautiful valleys, watered by winding streams and teeming with luxuriant vegetation. The rocks of which the islands consist are all igneous, chiefly trachyte, dolerite, basalt, and lava. They are considered by geologists to present perhaps the most wonderful and instructive example of volcanic rocks to be seen on the globe. Yet, though the islands are judged to be of comparatively recent formation, there are no traces of volcanic action in them at the present time. The craters have disappeared: hot springs do not exist; and earthquakes are rare.[2] [2] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 11 _sqq._; C. E. Meinicke, _op. cit._ ii. 152 _sq._; A. v. H[ügel], _op. cit._ p. 22; F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ p. 513. The Society Islands, and Tahiti in particular, are famous for the beauty of their natural scenery; indeed, by general consent they appear to rank as the fairest islands in the Pacific. Travellers vie with each other in praise of their enchanting loveliness. Tahiti, the largest island of the group, may be taken as typical of them all. It consists of two almost circular islands united by a very low and narrow neck of land: the northern and larger island is known as Tahiti the Great (Tahiti nui), the southern and smaller island is known as Tahiti the Little (Tahiti iti). In the centre of each island the mountains rise in craggy peaks, sometimes in the shape of pyramids or sugar-loaves, their rocky sides clothed with every variety of verdure, and enlivened here and there by cataracts falling from lofty cliffs, while the shore is washed by the white-crested waves of the Pacific breaking in foam on the coral reefs or dashing in spray on the beach. The scene is especially striking when beheld for the first time from the sea at sunrise on a fine morning. Then the happy combination of land and water, of precipices and plains, of umbrageous trees drooping their pendent boughs over the sea, and distant mountains shown in sublime outline and richest hues, all blended in the harmony of nature, produces in the beholder sensations of admiration and delight. The inland scenery is of a different character, but not less impressive. There the prospect is occasionally extensive, but more frequently circumscribed. There is, however, a startling boldness in the towering piles of basalt, often heaped in picturesque confusion near the source or margin of some crystal stream that flows in silence at their base, or plashes purling over the rocks that obstruct its bed; and there is the wildness of romance about the deep and lonely glens, from which the mountains rise like the steep sides of a natural amphitheatre till they seem to support the clouds that rest upon their summits. In the character of the teeming vegetation, too, from the verdant moss that drapes the rocks to the rich foliage of the bread-fruit tree, the luxuriance of the pandanus, and the waving plumes of the coconut palm, all nurtured by a prolific soil and matured by the genial heat of a tropical climate, there is enough to arrest the attention and to strike the imagination of the wanderer, who, in the unbroken silence that reigns in these pleasing solitudes, may easily fancy himself astray in fairyland and treading enchanted ground.[3] [3] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 14-18. Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 172 _sqq._; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1777), i. 253 _sq._; J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 321 _sqq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_ (London, 1831), i. 58 _sq._, 108 _sqq._, 136 _sqq._, 206 _sq._, 234 _sq._, 316 _sq._, 555 _sq._, ii. 51-53, 59-61; F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ pp. 511 _sqq._ C. E. Meinicke, _op. cit._ ii. 152 _sq._; A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_ (Berlin, 1900), pp. 29 _sqq._ § 2. _The Islanders and their Mode of Life_ The islanders are, or were at the date of their discovery by Europeans, fine specimens of the Polynesian race, being tall, well-proportioned, and robust. Captain Cook described them as of the largest size of Europeans. Their complexion varies from olive to bronze and reddish-brown, frequently presenting a hue intermediate between the yellow of the Malay and the copper-colour of the American Indians. The hair is shining black or dark brown, usually straight, but often soft and curly; never lank and wiry like that of the American Indians, and only in rare cases woolly or frizzly like that of the Papuans. The men have beards, which they used to wear in a variety of fashions, always, however, plucking out the greater part. The shape of the face is comely, and the facial angle is often as perpendicular as in Europeans. The cheek-bones are not high; the nose is either straight or aquiline, often accompanied by a fulness about the nostrils; it is seldom flat, though it was formerly the practice of mothers and nurses to press the nostrils of the female children, a broad flat nose being by many regarded as a beauty. The mouth in general is well formed, though the lips are sometimes large and protuberant, yet never so much as to resemble the lips of negroes; the chin is usually prominent. The general aspect of the face very seldom presents any likeness to the Tartar or Mongolian cast of countenance; while the profile frequently bears a most striking resemblance to that of Europeans. A roundness and fulness of figure, not usually extending to corpulency, is characteristic of the race, especially of the women. In general physique they resemble the Sandwich Islanders and Tonga Islanders; according to Ellis, they are more robust than the Marquesans, but inferior in size and strength to the Maoris.[4] [4] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 175 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 79 _sqq._; C. E. Meinicke, _op. cit._ ii. 171; F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ pp. 513 _sq._ Their diet is chiefly vegetable; when Captain Cook visited the islands, the only tame animals were hogs, dogs, and poultry. Bread-fruit, taro, yams, bananas, and coconuts are their staple food; the bread-fruit in particular has been called their staff of life. Taro and yams are carefully cultivated by the natives, and they also grow the sweet potato as an article of food, though to a less extent than the other two roots; in quality the sweet potato of Tahiti is far inferior to that of the Sandwich Islands. The sea affords a great variety of fish and shell-fish, which the natives catch and eat; nothing that the sea produces is said to come amiss to them. Hogs and dogs were in olden times the only quadrupeds whose flesh was eaten by the Tahitians; but for the most part they rarely tasted meat, subsisting almost exclusively on a diet of fruit, vegetables, and fish.[5] [5] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 185 _sq._ vi. 139 _sqq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 36 _sqq._, 70 _sqq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _Voyages aux Îles du Grand Ocean_ (Paris, 1837), ii. 93 _sqq._; C. E. Meinicke, _op. cit._ ii. 171 _sq._ The common houses were of an oblong shape, usually from eighteen to twenty-four feet in length, by eleven feet in width, the long sides being parallel to each other, but the two ends commonly rounded, especially in the houses of chiefs. The thatched roofs were supported on three parallel rows of wooden posts, and there being no outer walls and no partitions, the wind blew freely through them. The floor was covered with mats, forming a single cushion, on which the people sat by day and slept at night. In some houses there was a single stool appropriated to the use of the master of the family; otherwise an ordinary dwelling contained little or no furniture except a few small blocks of wood, hollowed out on the upper surface so as to form head-rests or pillows. The houses served chiefly as dormitories and as shelters in rain: the people took their meals in the open air. Chiefs, however, often owned houses of much larger dimensions, which were built and maintained for them at the common expense of the district. Some of these chiefly dwellings were two hundred feet long, thirty feet broad, and twenty feet high under the ridge; one of them, belonging to the king, measured three hundred and seventy feet in length. We read of houses which could contain two or three thousand people;[6] and of one particular house in Tahiti we are informed that it was no less than three hundred and ninety-seven feet long by forty-eight feet broad, and that the roof was supported in the middle by twenty wooden pillars, each twenty-one feet high, while the sides or eaves of the roof rested on one hundred and twenty-four pillars, each ten feet high. A wooden wall or fence enclosed the whole. This great house was used for the celebration of feasts, which sometimes lasted for days together, and at which nearly all the hogs in the island were consumed.[7] [6] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 181 _sqq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 341 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 170 _sqq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 84 _sqq._ As to the wooden head-rests see W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 188 _sq._ [7] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 213 _sq._ Like all the Polynesians down to the date of their discovery by Europeans, the inhabitants of the Society Islands were totally ignorant of the use and even of the existence of the metals, and they had to employ substitutes, chiefly stone and bone, for the manufacture of their tools and weapons. Of their tools Captain Cook gives the following account: "They have an adze of stone; a chisel, or gouge, of bone, generally that of a man's arm between the wrist and elbow; a rasp of coral; and the skin of a sting-ray, with coral sand, as a filer or polisher. This is a complete catalogue of their tools, and with these they build houses, construct canoes, hew stone, and fell, cleave, carve, and polish timber. The stone which makes the blade of their adzes is a kind of basaltes, of a blackish or grey colour, not very hard, but of considerable toughness: they are of different sizes; some, that are intended for felling, weigh from six to eight pounds; others, that are used for carving, not more than so many ounces; but it is necessary to sharpen both almost every minute; for which purpose, a stone and a cocoa-nut shell full of water are always at hand. Their greatest exploit, to which these tools are less equal than to any other, is felling a tree; this requires many hands, and the constant labour of several days."[8] The earliest missionaries expressed their astonishment that with such simple tools the natives could carve so neatly and finish so smoothly; our most ingenious workmen, they declared, could not excel them.[9] [8] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 204 _sq._ [9] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 400. The principal manufacture of the Society Islanders was the making of the cloth which they used for their garments. The material for the cloth was furnished by the bark of several trees, including the paper-mulberry, the bread-fruit tree, and a species of wild fig-tree. Having been stripped from the tree and soaked in water, the bark was spread out on a beam and beaten with heavy wooden mallets, till it was reduced to the proper degree of thinness and flexibility. The finest and most valuable kind of cloth was made chiefly, and sometimes entirely, from the bark of the paper-mulberry and was bleached pure white. But vegetable dyes were also commonly employed to stain the cloth with a variety of hues arranged in patterns. The favourite colours were a brilliant scarlet and a bright yellow; Captain Cook described the scarlet as exceedingly beautiful, brighter and more delicate than any we have in Europe; it was produced by a mixture of the juices of two vegetables, the fruit of a species of fig and the leaves of the _Cordia sebastina_ or _etou_ tree. The patterns were in this bright scarlet on a yellow ground; formerly they were altogether devoid of uniformity or regularity, yet exhibited a considerable degree of taste. The bales of bark-cloth were sometimes as much as two hundred yards long by four yards wide; the whole bale was in a single piece, being composed of narrow strips joined together by being beaten with grooved mallets. A chief's wealth was sometimes estimated by the number of bales which he possessed; the more valuable sort, covered with matting or cloth of an inferior sort, were generally hung from the roof of his house. The manufacture of cloth was chiefly in the hands of women; indeed it was one of their most usual employments. Even women of high rank did not disdain this form of industry; the wives and daughters of chiefs took a pride in manufacturing cloth of a superior quality, excelling that produced by common women in the elegance of the patterns or the brilliance of the dyes. Every family had a little house where the females laboured at the making of cloth; but in addition every district had a sort of public factory, consisting of a spacious house where immense quantities of cloth were produced on the occasion of festivals, the visits of great chiefs, or other solemnities. In such a factory the women would often assemble to the number of two or three hundred, and the monotonous din of their hammers falling on the bark was almost deafening; it began early in the morning, only to cease at night. Yet heard at a distance in some lonely valley the sound was not disagreeable, telling as it did of industry and peace.[10] [10] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 196 _sqq._; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1777), i. 276 _sq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 389-392; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 179 _sqq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 112 _sqq._ Among the other articles manufactured by the Society Islanders before the advent of Europeans were fine mats, baskets of many different patterns, ropes, lines, and fishing-tackle, including nets, hooks, and harpoons made of cane and pointed with hard wood. In every expedient for taking fish they are said to have been exceedingly ingenious.[11] They made bows and arrows, with which, as an amusement, they shot against each other, not at a mark, but to see who could shoot farthest. Like the rest of the Polynesians, they never used these weapons in war.[12] [11] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 202 _sq._ [12] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 368; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 217-220; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 148-150. Society among these islanders was divided into three ranks; first the royal family and nobility (_hui arii_); second, the landed proprietors, or gentry and farmers (_bue raatira_); and third, the common people (_manahune_). Of these, the landed gentry and farmers were the most numerous and influential class, constituting at all times the great body of the people and the strength of the nation, as well as of the army. The petty farmers owned from twenty to a hundred acres. Some of the great landowners possessed many hundreds of acres, and being surrounded by retainers they constituted the aristocracy of the country and imposed a restraint upon the king, who, without their co-operation, could carry but few of his measures. They also frequently acted as priests in their family temples. The common people comprised slaves and servants. The slaves were captives taken in war. Their treatment was in general mild, and if peace continued, they often regained their freedom and were allowed to return to their own country.[13] [13] W. Ellis, _op. cit._. iii. 94-98. Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 225 _sq._ The government of the Society Islands, like that of Hawaii, was at least in form an arbitrary monarchy. The supreme authority was vested in the king and was hereditary in his family. It partook of a sacred character, for in these islands government was closely interwoven with religion; the king sometimes personated the god and received the homage and prayers of the worshippers; at other times he officiated as high-priest and transmitted the vows and petitions of the people to the superior deities. The genealogy of the reigning family was usually traced back to the first ages of the world: in some of the islands the kings were believed to be descended from the gods: their persons were always sacred, and their families constituted the highest rank recognised by the people.[14] [14] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 93 _sq._ Indeed, everything in the least degree connected with the king or queen--the cloth they wore, the houses in which they dwelt, the canoes in which they voyaged, the men who carried them when they journeyed by land--became sacred and could not be converted to common use. The very sounds in the language which composed their names could no longer be appropriated to ordinary significations. If on the accession of a king any words in the language were found to resemble his name, they were abolished and changed for others; and if any man were bold enough to continue to use them, not only he but all his relations were immediately put to death; and the same severity was exercised on any who should dare to apply the sacred name to an animal. Thus in process of time the original names of most common objects in the language underwent considerable alterations. No one might touch the body of the king or queen; nay, any person who should so much as stand over them, or pass his hand over their heads, was liable to pay for the sacrilege with the forfeiture of his life. The very ground on which the king or queen even accidentally trod became sacred; and any house belonging to a private person which they entered must for ever be vacated by the owner and either set apart for the use of the royal personages or burnt down with every part of its furniture. Hence it was a general rule that the king and queen never entered any dwellings except such as were specially dedicated to their use, and never trod on the ground in any part of the island but their own hereditary districts. In journeying they were always carried on men's shoulders.[15] [15] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 155 _sq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 329; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 101 _sq._ The inauguration of a king consisted in girding him with a sacred girdle (_maro ura_) of red, or red and yellow, feathers, which not only raised him to the highest earthly station, but identified him with the gods. The red feathers were taken from the images of the gods and interwoven with feathers of other colours. A human victim was sacrificed when they began to make the girdle, and another was sacrificed when it was finished; sometimes others were slaughtered at intermediate stages, one for each fresh piece added to the girdle. The blood of the victims was supposed to consecrate the belt.[16] [16] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 108 _sqq._ Compare J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 327 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 22 _sq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 526 _sq._, ii. 56. Another singular ceremony observed at the installation of a king was this. The king advanced into the sea and bathed there. Thither he was followed by the priest of Oro bearing a branch plucked from a sacred tree that grew within the precincts of the temple. While the king was bathing, the priest struck him on the back with the holy bough, at the same time invoking the great god Taaoroa. This ceremony was designed to purify the monarch from any defilement or guilt he might previously have contracted. See W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 110. The deification of kings in their lifetime would seem not to have been confined to Tahiti, but to have prevailed in the other islands of the Society Archipelago. We hear particularly of the divinity of the kings of Raiatea. In that island a place called Opoa is said to have been the metropolis of idolatry for all the South Pacific Islands within a compass of five hundred miles. Hither, from every shore, human victims, already slain, were sent to be offered on the altar of the war-god Oro, whose principal image was there worshipped. There, too, was the residence of the kings of the island, "who, beside the prerogatives of royalty, enjoyed divine honours, and were in fact living idols among the dead ones, being deified at the time of their accession to political supremacy here. In the latter character, we presume, it was, that these sovereigns (who always took the name of Tamatoa) were wont to receive presents from the kings and chiefs of adjacent and distant islands, whose gods were all considered tributary to the Oro of Raiatea, and their princes owing homage to its monarch, who was Oro's hereditary high-priest, as well as an independent divinity himself."[17] Of one particular monarch of this line, Tamatoa by name, we read that he "had been enrolled among the gods," and that "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."[18] [17] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 529 _sq._ [18] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 524. In the succession to the throne the law of primogeniture prevailed, and in accordance with a singular usage, which was invariably observed, the king regularly abdicated on the birth of his first son and became a subject of his infant offspring. The child was at once proclaimed the sovereign of the people: the royal title was conferred on him; and his own father was the first to do him homage by saluting his feet and declaring him king. The public herald was despatched round the island with the flag of the infant monarch: in every district he unfurled the banner and proclaimed the accession of the youthful sovereign. The insignia of royalty and the homage of the people were at once transferred from the father to the child: the royal domains and other sources of revenue were appropriated to the maintenance of the household of the infant ruler; and the father paid him all the marks of reverence and submission which he had hitherto exacted from the people. However, during the minority of his son the former king appears to have filled the office of regent. This remarkable rule of succession was not limited to the royal house, but prevailed also in noble families: no sooner did a baron's wife give birth to a child than the baron was reduced to the rank of a private man, though he continued to administer the estate for the benefit of the infant, to whom all the outward marks of honour were now transferred.[19] [19] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 225 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 99 _sq._ Compare J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 180 _sq._, 327, 330, 333; J. Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), pp. 134, 137, 188 _sq._, 344; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 13 _sq._ § 3. _The Religion of the Society Islanders_ If religion consists essentially in a fear of gods, the natives of the Society Islands were a very religious people, for they believed in a multitude of gods and stood in constant dread of them. "Whatever attention," says Ellis, "the Tahitians paid to their occupations or amusements, and whatever energies have been devoted to the prosecution of their barbarous wars, the claims of all were regarded as inferior to those of their religion. On this every other was dependent, while each was alike made subservient to its support."[20] "No people in the world, in ancient or modern times, appear to have been more superstitious than the South Sea Islanders, or to have been more entirely under the influence of dread from imaginary demons, or supernatural beings. They had not only their major, but their minor demons, or spirits, and all the minute ramifications of idolatry."[21] "Religious rites were connected with almost every act of their lives. An _ubu_ or prayer was offered before they ate their food, when they tilled their ground, planted their gardens, built their houses, launched their canoes, cast their nets, and commenced or concluded a journey. The first fish taken periodically on their shores, together with a number of kinds regarded as sacred, were conveyed to the altar. The first-fruits of their orchards and gardens were also _taumaha_, or offered, with a portion of their live-stock, which consisted of pigs, dogs, and fowls, as it was supposed death would be inflicted on the owner or the occupant of the land, from which the god should not receive such acknowledgment."[22] [20] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 321; compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 417. [21] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 361. [22] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 350. Different gods were worshipped in different islands, and even in different parts of the same island,[23] and if a deity failed to answer the expectations of his worshippers, they did not scruple to change him for another. In Captain Cook's time the people of Tiaraboo (Tairaboo), the southern peninsula of Tahiti, discarded their two old divinities and adopted in their place Oraa, the god of the island of Bolabola (Borabora), apparently because the people of Bolabola had lately been victorious in war; and as, after this change of deity, they themselves proved very successful in their operations against their enemies, they imputed the success entirely to their new god, who, they literally said, fought their battles.[24] Again, when the prayers and offerings for the recovery of a sick chief were unavailing, the god was regarded as inexorable, and was usually banished from the temple, and his image destroyed.[25] [23] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 148, 160; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_ (London, 1778), p. 539. [24] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 148 _sq._ [25] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 350. The pantheon and mythology of the Society Islands were of the usual Polynesian type; some of their chief gods were recognised and worshipped under the same names, with dialectical differences, in other islands of the Pacific. In the beginning they say that all things were in a state of chaos or darkness, from which the principal deities, including Taaroa, Oro, and Tane, at last emerged. Hence these high gods were said to be born of Night or the primaeval darkness (_Po_). Among them all the first place in time and dignity was generally assigned to Taaroa, who appears in other parts of Polynesia as Tanaroa, Tangaroa, Tagaloa, and so on. By some he was spoken of as the progenitor of the other gods and as the creator of the heavens, the earth, and sea, as well as of men, beasts, birds, and fishes; but others were of opinion that the land or the world had existed before the gods. Oro, the great national god of Tahiti, Raiatea, and other islands, was believed to be a son of Taaroa.[26] To these three great gods, Oro, Tane, and Taaroa, the people sacrificed in great emergencies, when the deities were thought to be angry. At such times the wrath of the god was revealed to a priest, who, wrapt up like a ball in a bundle of cloth, spoke in a sharp, shrill, squeaky voice, saying, "I am angry; bring me hogs, kill a man, and my anger will be appeased."[27] [26] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 322 _sqq._ Compare J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 539 _sqq._; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 149 _sqq._; J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 343 _sqq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 523 (as to Taaroa); J. A. Moerenhout, _Voyages aux Îles du Grand Ocean_, i. 416 _sqq._, 436 _sqq._, 442 _sq._ As to Taaoroa and his counterparts in Polynesian mythology, see H. Hale, _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnography and Philology_, p. 22; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 463 _sq._, _s.v._ "Tangaroa." [27] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 167 _sq._ Oro is sometimes described as the war-god.[28] The great seat of his worship was at Opoa in the island of Raiatea: his principal image was worshipped there "with the most bloody and detestable rites"; and thither human victims, ready slain, were sent from every shore to be offered on his altar.[29] Sometimes, instead of the bodies of the slain, only their jaw-bones were sent to decorate the temple of Oro at Opoa; long strings of these relics might be seen hanging about the sacred edifice.[30] In the small island of Tahaa, off Raiatea, there was a temple (_marae_) dedicated to Oro and his two daughters. It belonged to the king and "was upheld for the convenience of finding a pretext to get rid, from time to time, of obnoxious persons, of both sexes; the men slain by assassination, or in war, being presented to the male idol, and the women to his female progeny, who were held to be as cruelly delighted with blood as their parent. But the human sacrifices brought hither were not allowed to remain and infect the atmosphere. When they had lain upon the altar till they became offensive, the carcases were transported to Oro's metropolitan temple at Opoa, in Raiatea, which was the common Golgotha of his victims."[31] [28] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 114, 529. [29] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 529. [30] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ ii. 14. In a long house in the southern part of Tahiti, Captain Cook saw, at one end of it, a semicircular board, from which hung fifteen human jaw-bones, apparently fresh; not one of them wanted a tooth. He was told that they "had been carried away as trophies, the people here carrying away the jaw-bones of their enemies, as the Indians of North America do the scalps." See J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 152, 160. [31] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 549. Oro was said to have instituted the notorious Society of the Areois, a licentious fraternity of strolling players and mountebanks, who roamed about in troupes from island to island, everywhere entertaining the populace by their shows, which comprised recitations, songs, dramatic performances, wrestling matches, and especially dances, which were often of a lascivious character.[32] These exhibitions, which were witnessed by crowds and appear to have been the most popular amusement of the islanders, were given in large, substantial, sometimes highly ornamented, houses, which were erected chiefly for the purpose of lodging these itinerant performers, and providing them with suitable places for their performances.[33] The first missionaries describe how, in a long native house where they lodged for the night, they saw the Areois men and women dancing and singing till near midnight: so great were their numbers that they made the house appear like a village.[34] Sometimes, apparently, the performances took place in front of the house, the musicians, singers, and reciters occupying a sort of stage, while the actors or dancers performed on a place marked out for them on the ground or on the floor.[35] The subject of their songs or recitations was often a legend of the gods, or of some distinguished member of the Society, which was chanted or recited by the performers in chorus seated in a circle on the ground, while the leader stood in the centre and introduced the recitation with a sort of prologue, accompanied by antic gestures and attitudes.[36] In these recitals the tales often turned on romantic and diverting episodes in the lives of ancestors or of deities. "Many of these were very long, and regularly composed, so as to be repeated verbatim, or with such illustrations only as the wit or fancy of the narrator might have the skill to introduce. Their captain on public occasions, was placed cross-legged on a stool seven feet high, with a fan in his hand, in the midst of the circle of laughing or admiring auditors, whom he delighted with his drollery, or transported with his grimaces, being, in fact, the merry-andrew of the corps, who, like a wise fool, well knew how to turn his folly to the best account."[37] [32] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 193-195; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 411-414; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 128-135; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 56, 57, 59, 65 _sq._, 153, 154, 174, 194 _sq._, 209, 331, 335; J. Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), p. 364; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 326-328; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 229-247; Waitz-Gerland, _Anthropologie_, vi. 363-369. [33] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 236 _sq._ [34] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 209. [35] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 133 _sq._ [36] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 235. [37] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 327 _sq._ The Society of the Areois was wealthy and highly esteemed; members were drawn from all social ranks and greatly prided themselves on belonging to it.[38] Indeed, they were regarded as a sort of superhuman beings, closely allied to the gods, and were treated with a corresponding degree of veneration by many of the vulgar and ignorant.[39] They were divided into seven ranks or classes, the members of which were distinguished from each other by their tattoo marks; the greater the amount of the tattooing, the higher the rank of the person.[40] Admission to the Society was attended by a variety of ceremonies; a protracted noviciate followed, and it was only by progressive advancement that any were promoted to the higher dignities. It was imagined that those who became Areois were prompted or inspired by the gods to take this step. A candidate for admission, therefore, repaired to one of the public exhibitions in that apparent state of frenzy which is commonly supposed to indicate divine inspiration. His face was dyed scarlet; his hair was perfumed and adorned with flowers, and he wore a girdle of yellow plantain leaves. Thus arrayed, he rushed through the crowd assembled round the house in which the actors or dancers were performing, and, leaping into the circle, joined with seeming frantic wildness in the dance or pantomime. If the Society approved of him, they appointed him to wait as a servant on the principal Areois, and after a period of probation he might be inducted into the Society as a full-fledged member. At his induction, which took place in a great assembly of the body, the candidate received a new name, by which he was thenceforth known in the Society.[41] When a member was advanced from a lower to a higher grade, the ceremony was performed at a public festival which all the members of the Society in the island were expected to attend. The candidate was then taken to a temple, where he was solemnly anointed with fragrant oil on the forehead, and offered a pig to the god.[42] [38] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 239, 245; G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 130; J. R. Forster, _op. cit._ pp. 411 _sq._ [39] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 239, 244; J. Turnbull, _op. cit._ p. 364; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 492. [40] G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 128 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 238; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 491. [41] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 239 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 491 _sqq._ [42] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 241 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 493 _sq._ When a member of the Society died his body was conveyed by the Areois to the grand temple, where the bones of the kings were deposited. There the priest of Oro, standing over the corpse, offered a long prayer to his god. This prayer, and the ceremonies accompanying it, were designed to divest the body of all the sacred and mysterious influence which the deceased was thought to have received from the god at the moment when, in the presence of the idol, the perfumed oil had been sprinkled on him, and he had been raised to the order or rank in which he died. By this act they supposed that the sacred influence was restored to Oro, by whom it had been imparted. The body was then buried, like that of a common man, within the precincts of the temple, in which the mortal remains of chiefs were interred.[43] But if for any reason the corpse were buried in unconsecrated ground, the ghost would appear to a survivor next day and remonstrate with him, saying, "You have buried me in common earth, and so long as I lie there, I cannot go to heaven. You must bury me with ceremonies, and in holy ground." After that the corpse was disinterred, and having been doubled up by tying the arms to the shoulders and the knees to the trunk, it was buried in a sitting posture in a hole so shallow that the earth barely covered the head. This was esteemed the most honourable form of sepulture, and was principally confined to personages of high rank.[44] [43] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 244 _sq._ [44] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 273 _sq._ The Areoi Society comprised women as well as men,[45] but the accounts given of the proportion of the sexes and their relations to each other are conflicting. According to one account, the male members outnumbered the women as five to one.[46] The first missionaries reported that the Areois were said to have each two or three wives, whom they exchanged with each other.[47] According to Cook, every woman was common to every man[48]; and Turnbull affirmed that the community of women was the very principle of their union.[49] On the other hand, the naturalist George Forster, who accompanied Captain Cook, observes: "We have been told a wanton tale of promiscuous embraces, where every woman is common to every man: but when we enquired for a confirmation of this story from the natives, we were soon convinced that it must, like many others, be considered as the groundless invention of a traveller's gay fancy."[50] Again, Ellis observes that, "although addicted to every kind of licentiousness themselves, each Areoi had his own wife, who was also a member of the Society; and so jealous were they in this respect, that improper conduct towards the wife of one of their own number, was sometimes punished with death."[51] Yet the same writer speaks of "the mysteries of iniquity, and acts of more than bestial degradation" to which the Areois were at times addicted; and he says that "in some of their meetings, they appear to have placed their invention on the rack, to discover the worst pollutions of which it was possible for man to be guilty, and to have striven to outdo each other in the most revolting practices."[52] [45] G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 128. [46] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 326. [47] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 174. [48] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 193 _sq._ [49] J. Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_, p. 364. [50] G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 132. [51] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 239. [52] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 243. It was a rule of the Society that no member should have any children; hence the first injunction given to a new member was to murder his offspring. Any infant that might afterwards be born to him was strangled at birth.[53] If a woman spared her child and could induce a man to father it, "both the man and the woman, being deemed by this act to have appropriated each other, are ejected from the community, and forfeit all claim to the privileges and pleasures of Arreoy for the future; the woman from that time being distinguished by the term _whannow-now_, 'bearer of children,' which is here a term of reproach."[54] The pretext alleged by the Areois for this cruel practice was that, on the institution of the Society by the god Oro, the first two members, Orotetefa and Urutetefa, brothers of the god, had been celibate and childless, and that therefore the members of the Society were bound to imitate them by being also without offspring.[55] [53] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 194; J. R. Forster, _Observations_, pp. 413 _sq._; G. Forster, _Voyage_, ii. 129 _sq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 154 _sq._, 174, 194 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 230 _sq._, 233, 240. Moerenhout says that when a chief was an Areoi, his first-born son was spared, but all the rest were sacrificed; but immediately afterwards he adds, with apparent inconsistency, that "the first (by which he seems to mean the principal) Areois only killed their first sons and all their daughters; the other male infants were spared." See Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 495, 496. These statements, so far as I have observed, are not confirmed by other writers. [54] J. Cook, i. 194. [55] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 230 _sq._, 232 _sq._ In the constant repetition of their often obscene exhibitions the Areois passed their lives, sailing from island to island or strolling from one chief's house to that of another, where they renewed the same round of dances, wrestlings, and pantomimic performances.[56] But the labour and drudgery of dancing and performing for the amusement of the spectators devolved chiefly on the lowest members of the Society, who were the principal actors in all their shows, while the higher orders, though they plastered themselves with charcoal and stained themselves scarlet like their humbler brethren, were generally careful not to contribute to the public hilarity by any exhausting efforts of their own. Thus they led a life of dissipation and luxurious indolence.[57] [56] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 236, 237. [57] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 238, 241. They seem to have moved about in great troupes. As many as seventy canoes, with more than seven hundred of these vagabonds on board, have been seen steering from island to island.[58] The approach of such a fleet to the shore with drums beating, flutes playing, and streamers floating on the wind, was a picturesque sight, and as the canoes neared the land the dancers might be seen jigging it on stages erected on board, while the voices of the singers mingled with the roll of the drums, the shrill music of the flutes, and the roar of the surf on the beach in a confused but not unmelodious babel of sound.[59] [58] J. R. Forster, _Observations_, p. 412; G. Forster, _Voyage_, ii. 128. [59] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 236 _sq._ Compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ ii. 132 _sq._ According to the latter writer there were traditions of as many as a hundred and fifty canoes sailing at once, each one seldom containing less than thirty or forty, and sometimes a hundred persons. On landing in an island their first business was to take a small sucking-pig to the temple and present it to the god as a thank-offering to him for having brought them safe to shore. This, we are told, was the only sacrifice ever offered in token of gratitude by any of the South Sea Islanders to their imaginary divinities.[60] While they were everywhere welcomed by the vulgar for the merriment they carried with them, and were everywhere countenanced and liberally entertained by the kings and chiefs, who found them convenient tools of fraud and oppression, they were not received with equal enthusiasm by the farmers, who had to furnish them with provisions, and who durst not refuse them anything, however unreasonable and extortionate their demands. For the Areois lived on the fat of the land. When they alighted, like a swarm of locusts, on a rich district, they would send out their henchmen to scour the neighbourhood and plunder the miserable inhabitants; and when they moved on to their next halting-place, the gardens which they left behind them often presented a scene of desolation and ruin.[61] Such havoc, indeed, did they spread by their feastings and carousings on even a short visit of a few days, that in some parts of Tahiti the natives were compelled to abandon the fertile lowlands and retreat up the mountains, submitting to the trouble of clambering up almost inaccessible slopes and cultivating a less fruitful soil rather than expose much of the produce of their labour to the ravages of these privileged robbers.[62] [60] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 326 _sq._ [61] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 237 _sq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 326-328. Compare J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 174, "Wherever they go they exercise power to seize what they want from the inhabitants. They smite their hand on their breast and say '_Harre_, give,' whenever they covet any thing, and none dares deny them. They never work; live by plunder; yet are highly respected, as none but persons of rank are admitted among them." This last statement, however, is contradicted by Ellis, who says (_op. cit._ i. 239) that "the fraternity was not confined to any particular rank or grade in society, but was composed of individuals from every class." [62] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 197. Not the least of the privileges, real or imaginary, enjoyed by the Areois was that after death their spirits were believed to pass without difficulty to that paradise of delights to which otherwise none but the noble and wealthy could hope to attain.[63] [63] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 245 _sq._, 397; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 434 _sq._ In spite of the profligate life which the Areoi led and their addiction to a round of frivolous amusements and entertainments, it seems likely that the Society was originally founded for some serious purpose, though the accounts which have come down to us hardly enable us to determine, or even to conjecture with a fair degree of probability, what that purpose was. That its aim was religious might be inferred on general grounds, and is confirmed by the close relation in which the Society stood to the national god Oro. Not only is Oro said to have founded the Society, but before a troop of Areois set out on their peregrinations they were obliged to kill many pigs in sacrifice to him and to offer large quantities of plantains, bananas, and other fruits on his altars. Moreover, temporary shrines were erected in their canoes for the worship of Oro's two divine brothers, Orotetefa and Urutetefa, who were traditionally said to have been the first members of the Society and were regarded as its tutelary deities. In these shrines the principal symbols were a stone for each of the brothers taken from Oro's temple, and a few red feathers from the inside of his sacred image. Into these symbols the gods were supposed to enter when the priest pronounced a short prayer immediately before the sailing of the fleet.[64] [64] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 234. We might be better able to understand the purpose and the functions of the Areoi Society if we were acquainted with the nature and meaning which the natives ascribed to the god Oro, the reputed founder of the Society; but on this subject our authorities shed little light. He is described as the war-god[65] and as "the great national idol of Raiatea, Tahiti, Eimeo, and some of the other islands," and he was said to be a son of the creator Taaroa, who at first dwelt alone up aloft, but who afterwards, with the help of his daughter Hina, created the heavens, the earth, and the sea.[66] By European writers Oro has been variously interpreted as a god of the dead or of the sun; and accordingly the Society of the Areois has been variously explained as devoted either to a cult of the Lord of the Dead for the sake of securing eternal happiness in a world beyond the grave, or to a worship of the sun-god; but the grounds alleged for either interpretation appear to be extremely slight.[67] [65] Above, p. 258. [66] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 324, 325. [67] Gerland takes the former view, Moerenhout the latter. See Waitz-Gerland, _Anthropologie_, vi. 368 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 484. The only evidence adduced by Moerenhout for his interpretation of Oro as a sun-god is a statement that in the Marquesas Islands the Areois suspended their performances and went into retreat from April or May till the vernal equinox (which in the southern hemisphere falls in September), and that during their retreat they assumed the style of mourners and bewailed the absence or death of their god, whom they called Mahoui. This Mahoui is accordingly taken by Moerenhout to be the sun and equated to Oro, the god of the Areois in the Society Islands. But Mahoui seems to be no other than the well-known Polynesian hero Maui, who can hardly have been the sun (see below, p. 286 note^5); and Moerenhout's statement as to the annual period of mourning observed by the Areois in the Marquesas Islands is not, so far as I know, confirmed by any other writer, and must, therefore, be regarded as open to doubt. His statement and his interpretation of Oro and Mahoui were accepted by Dr. Rivers, who made them the basis of his far-reaching theory of a secret worship of the sun introduced into the Pacific by immigrants from a far northern country, who also built the megalithic monuments of Polynesia and Micronesia. See W. H. R. Rivers, "Sun-cult and Megaliths in Polynesia," _American Anthropologist_, xvii. July-September 1915, pp. 431 _sqq._ In proof of the supposed connexion between these megalithic monuments and a worship of the sun, Dr. Rivers says (p. 440) that the Areois "held their celebrations in an enclosure called _marae_ or _marai_, at one end of which was situated a pyramidical structure with steps leading to a platform on which were placed the images of the gods during the religious celebrations of the people." But if by "their celebrations" Dr. Rivers means the ordinary dramatic, musical, and athletic performances of the Areois, he seems to be in error; for it appears to be certain that these exhibitions were regularly given, not at the _maraes_, but in or before large houses built or specially set apart for the purpose. See above, pp. 259 _sq._ Perhaps a faint gleam of light may fall on the mystery of the Areois from an examination of their traditionary first members and guardian deities, the two divine brothers, Orotetefai and Urutetefai. The similarity of the names of the brothers suggests that they may have been twins; for it is a common custom to bestow either the same or a similar name on each of a pair of twins in order to indicate their close relationship to each other.[68] If they were twins, there are some grounds for thinking that they were Heavenly Twins; for their father or creator, Taaroa, seems certainly to have been a sky-god, and their mother, Hina, is by some authorities regarded as the moon; moreover, the two brothers are said to have first descended from the sky to the earth on a rainbow.[69] If the twinship of the divine brothers could be made out, it might perhaps explain some of the peculiar features of the Areoi Society. For example, their remarkable custom of not allowing any of their offspring to live; for it has been a common custom in many parts of the world to put twins to death.[70] Further, the superhuman rank accorded to the Areois becomes more intelligible on this hypothesis. For among many savage peoples twins are credited with the possession of powers superior to those of ordinary humanity; in particular, they are thought to be able to influence the weather for good or evil, as by causing rain or drought and the wind to blow or be still.[71] Among the Baronga of South-Eastern Africa the supposed relation of twins to the sky is very clearly marked. They call the mother of twins by a name which means "Heaven" (_Tilo_), and consistently they style the twins themselves "Children of Heaven" (_Bana ba Tilo_).[72] The mother is even said to have "made Heaven," to have "carried Heaven," and to have "ascended to Heaven."[73] The connexion which is believed to exist between her and the twins on the one side and the sky on the other is brought out plainly in the customs which the Baronga observe for the purpose of procuring rain in time of drought. Thus they will take a mother of twins, put her in a hole, and pour on her water which they have drawn from all the wells, till the hole is half full, and the water comes up to her breast. This is thought to make the rain fall.[74] Or again, in order to get rain, the women will strip themselves naked except for a girdle and head-dress of grass, and thus attired will go in procession, headed by a mother of twins, and pour water on the graves of twins. And if the body of a twin has been buried in dry ground, they will dig it up and bury it again near a river; for the grave of a twin, in their opinion, should always be wet. Thus they hope to draw down rain on the thirsty ground.[75] Again, when a thunderstorm is raging and lightning threatens to strike a village, the Baronga will say to a twin, "Help us! you are a Child of Heaven! You can therefore cope with Heaven; it will hear you when you speak." So the child goes out of the hut and prays to Heaven as follows: "Go away! Do not annoy us! We are afraid. Go and roar far away." When the thunderstorm is over, the child is thanked for its services. The mother of twins is also supposed to be able to help in the same way, for has she not, as the natives express it, ascended to Heaven? They say that she can speak with Heaven, and that she is at it or in it.[76] Among the Kpelle, a negro tribe of Liberia, twins are regarded as born magicians, and as such are treated with respect, and people sometimes make them presents in order to ensure their goodwill; in doing so they are careful never to make a present to the one twin without the other, and the twin who was born last gets his present first, for he is regarded as the first-born. Twins are thought by the Kpelle to do wonders; they even say that "a twin surpasses every medicine-man."[77] Among the Fan or Fang, a tribe of the Cameroons in West Africa, there is a curious superstition that a twin ought not to see a rainbow. Should he by accident have caught sight of one, he must shave his eyebrows and dye the place of the one black and the place of the other red.[78] This superstition seems to imply a special relation between twins and the sky, and it reminds us of the Tahitian tradition that the two divine brothers, the first members of the Areoi Society, descended to earth on a rainbow.[79] [68] J. Rendel Harris, _The Dioscuri in the Christian Legends_ (London, 1903), pp. 1 _sqq._ _id._, _The Cult of the Heavenly Twins_ (Cambridge, 1906), pp. 58 _sqq._; _id._, _Boanerges_ (Cambridge, 1913), pp. 291 _sqq._ [69] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 230, 232. Ellis does not admit that Orotetefa and Urutetefa were, strictly speaking, the sons of Oro. He writes: "According to the traditions of the people, Taaroa created, and, by means of Hina, brought forth when full grown Orotetefa and Urutetefa. They were not his sons; _oriori_ is the term employed by the people, which seems to mean _create_" (_op. cit._ i. 230). With regard to Hina (Heena), interpreted as the moon, or the goddess of the moon, see J. R. Forster, _Observations_, p. 549; G. Forster, _Voyage_, ii. 152; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._. i. 428 _sq._, 458, 472; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 69. _s.v._ "Hina," "Hina is by far the best known of all Polynesian legendary personages. In the more easterly islands she is a goddess, and is almost certainly the Moon-goddess." Similarly Mr. E. E. V. Collocot observes that Hina "is generally regarded as the Moon-goddess, and this view was spontaneously put forward by a Tongan; in conversation with me" (_Journal of the Polynesian Society_, xxx. (1921) p. 238). [70] Abundant evidence of the custom is produced by Dr. Rendel Harris in his learned works, _The Cult of the Heavenly Twins_ and _Boanerges_. [71] _The Golden Bough_, Part I., _The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings_, i. 262 _sqq._ [72] H. A. Junod, _Les Ba-ronga_ (Neuchâtel, 1898), p. 412; _id._, _Life of a South African Tribe_ (Neuchâtel, 1912-1913), ii. 394. [73] H. A. Junod, _Life of a South African Tribe_, ii. 398. [74] H. A. Junod, _Life of a South African Tribe_, ii. 399. [75] H. A. Junod, _Les Ba-ronga_, pp. 417 _sq._; _id._, _Life of a South African Tribe_, ii. 296. [76] H. A. Junod, _Life of a South African Tribe_, ii. 399 _sq._ [77] D. Westermann, _Die Kpelle, ein Negerstamm in Liberia_ (Göttingen, 1921), pp. 68, 212, 355. The Bambara, another tribe of West Africa, similarly regard the last-born of twins as the elder of the two. See Jos. Henry, _Les Bambara_ (Münster i. W., 1910), p. 98. So, too, with the Mossi of the Sudan. See E. Mangin, "Les Mossi," _Anthropos_, x.-xi. (1915-1916) p. 192. [78] L. Martrou, "Les 'Eki' des Fang," _Anthropos_, i. (1906) p. 751; H. Trilles, _Le Totémisme chez les Fân_ (Münster i. W., 1912), p. 593. Compare H. A. Junod, _Life of a South African Tribe_, ii. 400, note^1, who reports the same superstition among the Fan on the testimony of his wife, who was for years a missionary in the tribe. [79] Above, p. 267. Another notion about twins which may possibly help to throw light on some of the practices of the Areoi Society, is that they or their parents or both are endowed with a fertilising or prolific virtue, which enables them to multiply animals or plants and thereby to increase the food supply. Thus, for example, some tribes of Northern Rhodesia keep pigeons in their villages, and in erecting a pigeon-cote they take care that the first stakes "are driven in by a woman who has borne twins, in order, they say, that the pigeons may multiply."[80] Some Bantu tribes of this region ascribe a similar virtue to both the father and the mother of twins. They think that such parents exert a beneficial or prolific influence at laying the foundations of pigeon-cotes, chicken-houses, goat-pens, or any other building used for the purposes of breeding; a certain woman who had borne twins thrice was lately in great request at these functions.[81] The Zulus think that all goats belonging to a twin bring forth young in couples.[82] [80] C. Gouldsbury and H. Sheane, _The Great Plateau of Northern Nigeria_ (London, 1911), pp. 307 _sq._ [81] D. Campbell, _In the Heart of Bantuland_ (London, 1922), p. 155. [82] Dudley Kidd, _Savage Childhood_ (London, 1906), p. 49. In the Central District of Busoga, Central Africa, when a woman has given birth to twins, the people of her clan do not sow any seed until the twins have been brought to the field. A pot of cooked grain is set before the children with a cake of sesame and all the seed that is to be sown. The food is eaten by the assembled people, and afterwards the field is sown in presence of the twins; the plot is then said to be the field of the twins. The mother of twins must sow her seed before any person of the clan will sow his or hers.[83] These customs seem clearly to imply a belief that twins and their mother possess a special power of fertilising the seed. Among the Baganda of Central Africa twins were supposed to be sent by Mukasa, the great god whose blessing on the crops and on the people was ensured at an annual festival. The twins were thought to be under the protection of the god, and they bore his name, the boys being called Mukasa and the girls Namukasa. And a series of customs observed by the parents of twins among the Baganda indicates in the plainest manner a belief that they were endowed with a fertilising virtue which extended, not only to the crops and the cattle, but also to human beings. Thus the parents of twins were supposed to make people fruitful by sprinkling them with a mixture of water and clay from pots, of which each of the parents had one. Again, some time after the birth the parents used to make a round of visits to relations and friends, taking the twins with them. At every house they danced, the father wearing a crown made from a certain creeper, and the mother wearing a girdle of the same material. At these dances offerings were made to the twins. These dances were most popular "because the people believed that thereby they obtained a special blessing from the god Mukasa, who favoured the parents of twins, and through them dispensed blessing wherever they went." The persons whom the twins and their parents honoured with a visit "thought that, not only they themselves would be blessed and given children, but that their herds and crops also would be multiplied." A ceremony performed by the father and mother of twins over a flower of the plantain indicated in the plainest, if the grossest, fashion the belief of the Baganda that parents of twins could magically fertilise the plantains which form the staple food of the people. No wonder, then, that among them a mother of twins is deemed a source of blessing to the whole community, and that for some time after the birth both she and the father were sacred and wore a distinctive dress to prevent any one from touching them. The father, in particular, "could do what he liked, because he was under the protection of the god"; for example, he was free to enter anybody's garden and to take the produce at will. Special drums, too, were made for the parents, one for the father and one for the mother; and for some time after the birth these were beaten continually both by day and by night.[84] [83] J. Roscoe, _The Northern Bantu_ (Cambridge, 1915), p. 235. [84] J. Roscoe, "Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 32-34, 80; _id._, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 64-72. These two accounts to some extent supplement each other. I have drawn on both. As to the annual festival of the god Mukasa, see _id._, _The Baganda_, pp. 298 _sq._ Among the Hos of Togo, in West Africa, in like manner, special drums are beaten for the parents of twins, and the parents dance publicly to the music in the main street of the village, after going nine times round it. Some days later the parents go the round of all the Ho towns, everywhere executing the same dance to the same music at noon; but should one of the twins have died in the meantime, the parents dance at night. It is believed that, if the customary rites were not performed at the birth of twins, the parents of the twins would be crippled. Curiously enough, the drums, to the music of which the parents dance, may not be beaten by any one without special reason; and no one else may dance to their music except such as have slain either a man or a leopard. Among these people the birth of twins is the occasion of very great rejoicing. They say that "the road which the mother of twins goes is better than the road which the rich man goes."[85] The saying suggests that the Hos, like the Baganda, regard a mother of twins as diffusing fertility wherever she goes; and, on the analogy of the dances of parents of twins among the Baganda, we may conjecture that in like manner among the Hos the parents of twins are supposed to confer the blessing of fruitfulness on all the towns where they dance. [85] J. Spieth, _Die Ewe-Stämme_ (Berlin, 1906), pp. 202-206. Among the Barundi of East Africa the birth of twins is celebrated with rites, songs, and ritual dances, which last for days and even for weeks. As soon as the news spreads, the neighbours, friends, and relations flock to the house to sing, bringing with them presents for the parents or offerings to the spirits. The amount of provisions thus accumulated is enormous, but the parents of the twins benefit little by it; the great bulk disappears as by magic among the self-invited guests. Festivity, dancing, and singing are now the order of the day. Dancers, male and female, their faces painted red and white or yellow, dance like furies in a circle for hours together, singing ritual hymns at the top of their voices, while an old sorceress besprinkles the troop with lustral water. It is commonly believed that if these rites were omitted, the twins and their parents would die. At the birth of twins it is customary to buy two black sheep or lambs and to dedicate them to the twins, one to each. These sheep are then left at liberty to run about as they like by day and night, and to enter the fields and browse at will. If one of them dies it is replaced by another. The animals are described as the guardians of the children, the receptacle or symbol of their spirits, in short, as their fetish.[86] To some extent, they are analogous to the pig which an Areoi used to offer to the god at the ceremony of his consecration; for, though sometimes the animal was killed, at other times it was liberated, and, being regarded as sacred or belonging to the god to whom it had been offered, was allowed to range the district uncontrolled till it died.[87] Among the Baluba, a tribe of the Belgian Congo, there is great joy at the birth of twins, and special ceremonies are observed on the occasion. The twins are invariably named Kyunga and Kahya, after the spirits of two ancient kings, and to these spirits the twins are consecrated. After being washed and decorated they are placed side by side in a winnowing-basket and carried by the women of the family in procession through the village, headed by the proud father. Dancing and singing they go to the ash-heap of the village. There they all rub themselves with ashes and perform another dance. After that, still led by the father of the twins, they go to the houses of the chief people, and in front of each house the father dances, while the women beat time with their hands. Wherever the procession halts, the householder is expected to come and admire the twins, to compliment the father, and to deposit a small present in the winnowing-basket.[88] Among the Herero of South-West Africa the parents of twins are looked on as sacred, and for a time they may not speak to any one, and no one may speak to them. But after the lapse of some days the family goes the round of the village, visiting three or four huts every day. The father of the twins sits down on the right side of the hut, and the inmates make him offerings of beads, oxen, and so forth. When he has thus gone the round of the village, he repairs to the neighbouring villages, where the same ceremonies are repeated. It is often a year before he returns to his own village, and when he does so he brings back with him a great quantity of offerings. Henceforth the father of the twins enjoys all the privileges of a priestly chief; he may sacrifice at the holy fire, and he may represent and even succeed the chief in the office of priest for the village. The twins themselves are eligible for the same office. If a chief dies a natural death, he is succeeded in his priestly function by his twin son; whereas the chieftainship passes to the chief's legal heir, who is properly the son of his eldest sister, and who thenceforth assumes the name of the twin. A twin is bound by no taboo; he may eat of all flesh offered in sacrifice; he may drink of the milk of every holy cow, just like the chief and the priest themselves.[89] [86] J. M. M. van der Burgt, _Dictionnaire Français-Kirundi_ (Bois-le-Duc, 1903), pp. 324 _sq._; H. Meyer, _Die Barundi_ (Leipzig, 1916), pp. 110 _sq._ [87] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 242. [88] Colle, _Les Baluba_ (Brussels, 1913), i. 253-255. [89] J. Irle, _Die Herero_ (Gütersloh, 1906), pp. 96-99. In these cases we are not told that twins and their parents are supposed to be endowed with a power of multiplying the herds and generally of increasing the supply of food by the prolific influence which they diffuse about them; but the analogy of the customs and beliefs of the Baganda concerning the birth of twins renders the supposition probable. At least on this hypothesis we can readily understand the round of visits which the parents, or one of them, pay to the surrounding towns or villages, and the presents which are made to them. If they indeed possess a power of imparting fertility and abundance wherever they go, it is obviously in everybody's interest to be visited by them, and clearly, on the same supposition, it is everybody's duty to make some return to them for the wonderful benefits which they have conferred. Similarly we may perhaps suppose that the rounds which the Areois went from island to island, dancing, singing, and playing their tricks wherever they stopped, were believed to quicken the fruits of the earth, and possibly also to multiply the pigs and the fish. On that assumption, the unlimited right which these vagabonds enjoyed of appropriating and consuming the produce of the gardens was probably accorded to them as a natural and proper remuneration for the inestimable services which their mere presence was believed to render to the crops. The sexual excesses, in which they appear to have indulged, would also be intelligible, if it was imagined that, on the principle of sympathetic magic, such indulgences actually promoted the multiplication and growth of plants and animals. But this explanation of the extravagant rites observed by the Areois, and of the quaint beliefs entertained concerning them, is offered only as an hypothesis for what it is worth. It may be worth while noting that among the Kpelle, a tribe of Liberia in West Africa, there is reported to exist a Secret Society of Twins,[90] but whether it bears any resemblance to the Society of the Areois I do not know. [90] D. Westermann, _Die Kpelle, ein Negerstamm in Liberia_ (Göttingen, 1921), p. 228. A familiar figure of the Polynesian pantheon, who meets us in the mythology of the Society Islanders, was the famous god or hero Maui. Many stories of his exploits were told in the islands. It is said that originally the sky lay flat upon the face of the earth and ocean, being held down by the legs of a huge cuttle-fish. But Maui dived into the sea, and, grappling with the monster, utterly dismembered him; whereupon the sky flew up and expanded into the beautiful blue vault which we now see above us, with the noonday sun for the keystone of the arch.[91] Again, the natives told how, one day, sitting in his canoe, Maui let down his line with a hook at the end of it and fished up the earth, which had hitherto lain at the bottom of the sea.[92] Also he is said to have held the sun with ropes to prevent him from going too fast.[93] For it happened that Maui was hard at work, building a temple, when he perceived that the day was declining and that the night would overtake him before he had accomplished his task; so hastily twining some ropes of coco-nut fibre, he laid hold of the sun's rays and tethered them by the ropes to a tree, so that the sun could not stir till Maui had finished the task he was at.[94] Further, Maui is said to have invented the mode of kindling fire by rubbing the point of one stick in the groove of another,[95] which was the way in which the Society Islanders regularly made fire.[96] Maui was also supposed to be the cause of earthquakes.[97] In Tahiti a curious image of Maui was seen and described by Captain Cook. "It was the figure of a man, constructed of basket-work, rudely made, but not ill-designed; it was something more than seven feet high, and rather too bulky in proportion to its height. The wicker skeleton was completely covered with feathers, which were white where the skin was to appear, and black in the parts which it is their custom to paint or stain, and upon the head, where there was to be a representation of hair: upon the head also were four protuberances, three in front and one behind, which we should have called horns, but which the Indians dignified with the name of _Tate Ete_, little men. The image was called Manioe, and was said to be the only one in Otaheite. They attempted to give us an explanation of its use and design, but we had not then acquired enough of their language to understand them. We learnt, however, afterwards that it was a representation of Mauwe, one of their _Eatuas_, or gods of the second class."[98] [91] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 526. [92] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 449 _sq._ [93] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 167. [94] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ ii. 40 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ ii. 170 _sq._ [95] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 526. [96] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 141; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 357; J. Turnbull, _Voyage round the World_, p. 349; Wallis, in R. Kerr's _General History and Collection of Voyages and Travels_, xii. 212; _id._, in J. Hawkesworth's _Voyages_, i. (London, 1773) p. 483. [97] J. R. Forster, _Observations_, p. 540; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 151. These writers spell his name O-Maouwe and O-mauwee. [98] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 156 _sq._ Besides the high primaeval deities, born of the Night, the Society Islanders believed in a host of inferior divinities, many of whom were said to have been created by Taaroa, the supreme god. Thus, between the high gods and the deities of particular places or of particular professions, there was a class of intermediate deities, who were not supposed to have existed from the beginning or to have been born of Night. Their origin was veiled in obscurity, but they were often described as having been renowned men, who, after death, were deified by their descendants. They all received the homage of the people, and on all public occasions were acknowledged among the gods.[99] Again, there were many gods of the sea, among whom the principal seem to have been Tuaraatai and Ruahatu. These were generally called shark gods (_atua mao_), not that the shark was itself deemed a god, but that it was supposed to be employed by the marine gods as their minister of vengeance. It was only the large blue shark which was believed to act in this capacity; and it is said that these voracious creatures always spared a shipwrecked priest, even when they devoured his companions; nay, they would recognise a priest on board any canoe, come at his call, and retire at his bidding. A priest of one of these shark gods told Mr. Ellis that he or his father had been carried on the back of a shark from Raiatea to Huahine, a distance of twenty miles. Other gods were thought to preside over the fisheries, and to direct the shoals of fish to the coasts. Their aid was invoked by fishermen before they launched their canoes and while they were busy at sea. But these marine deities were not supposed by the people to be of equal antiquity with the great primordial gods, born of the Night (_atua fauau po_).[100] Again, there were gods of the air, who were sometimes worshipped under the figure of birds. The chief of these aerial deities were thought to be a brother and sister, who dwelt near the great rock, which is the foundation of the world. There they imprisoned the stormy winds, but sent them forth from time to time to punish such as neglected the worship of the gods. In tempests their compassion was besought by mariners tossed on the sea or by their friends on shore.[101] To the minds of the islanders there were also gods of hill and dale, of precipice and ravine. "By their rude mythology each lovely island was made a sort of fairy-land, and the spells of enchantment were thrown over its varied scenes.... The mountain's summit, and the fleecy mists that hang upon its brows--the rocky defile--the foaming cataract--and the lonely dell--were all regarded as the abode or resort of these invisible beings."[102] [99] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 326 _sq._ As to the inferior gods, see also J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 451 _sqq._ [100] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 327-329. [101] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 329 _sq._ As to the worship of birds, Captain Cook says: "This island [Tahiti indeed, and the rest that lie near it, have a particular bird, some a heron and others a king's fisher, to which they pay a peculiar regard, and concerning which they have some superstitious notions with respect to good and bad fortune, as we have of the swallow and robin-redbreast, giving them the name of _eatua_, and by no means killing or molesting them; yet they never address a petition to them, or approach them with any act of adoration." See J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 224. [102] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 329 _sq._, 331. The general name for "god" in the Society Islands, as throughout Polynesia, was _atua_.[103] The word was also applied, in the expression _oramatuas_ or _oromatuas_, to the spirits of departed relatives, who were also worshipped and ranked among the deities.[104] To these we shall return presently; meantime it may not be out of place to give some notice of the worship of the other gods, since in the religion of the Society Islanders, as of other branches of the Polynesian race, it was closely interwoven with the worship of the dead. [103] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 333 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 440 _sqq._; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 30 _sq._, _s.v._ "atua." Captain Cook and the first missionaries spelled the word _eatua_ or _eatooa_. See J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 221, vi. 149; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 343. [104] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 324 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 454 _sq._ § 4. _The Temples and Images of the Gods_ The sacred place dedicated to religious worship was called a _morai_, or, as it is also spelled, a _marai_ or _marae_, which may be translated "temple," though all such places were uncovered and open to the sky. The national temples, where the principal idols were deposited, consisted of large walled enclosures, some of which contained smaller inner courts. The form was frequently that of a square or a parallelogram, with sides forty or fifty feet long. The area was paved with flat stones, and two sides of it were enclosed by a high stone wall, while the front was protected by a low fence, and within rose in steps or terraces a solid pyramidical structure built of stone, which usually formed one of the narrow sides of the area, either at the western or at the eastern end. These pyramids, which were always truncated so as to form a narrow platform or ridge on their upper surface, were the most striking and characteristic feature of the _morais_; indeed the name _morai_ or _marae_ appears to have been sometimes confined, at least by European observers, to the pyramid. In front of the pyramid the images were kept and the altars fixed. The houses of the priests and of the keepers of the idols were erected within the enclosure.[105] Of these interesting monuments, which seemed destined to last for ages, only a few insignificant ruins survive; the rest have been destroyed, chiefly at the instigation of the missionaries.[106] [105] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 339 _sqq._ Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 157 _sqq._, 217, 219, 220, 222, vi. 37, _sq._, 41; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 543 _sqq._; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, i. 267, ii. 138 _sq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 207 _sq._, 211 _sq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 267 _sq._, 271, 280 _sqq._, 549, ii. 13 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 466-470; A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 111 _sqq._; S. and K. Routledge, "Notes on some Archaeological Remains in the Society and Austral Islands," _Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute_, li. (1921) 438 _sqq._ According to J. R. Forster (_l.c._), the _marais_ (_morais, maraes_) "consist of a very large pile of stones, generally in the shape of an Egyptian pyramid, with large steps; sometimes this pyramid makes one of the sides of an area, walled in with square stones and paved with flat stones: the pyramid is not solid, but the inside is filled with smaller fragments of coral stones." [106] A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, p. 135. This writer has given us a survey and description of some of the principal remains which existed at the end of the nineteenth century (pp. 111-148). The ruins of two _maraes_ in the island of Moorea are described by Mr. and Mrs. Routledge (_l.c._). In one of them the pyramid stood at the western end of the enclosure, and in the other at the eastern end. Some of the pyramids erected within these sacred enclosures were of great size. In Tahiti an enormous one was seen and described by Captain Cook as well as by later observers. It was of oblong shape and measured two hundred and sixty-seven feet in length by eighty-seven feet in width. It rose in a series of eleven steps or terraces, each four feet high, so that the total height of the structure was forty-four feet. Each step was formed of a single course of white coral stone, neatly squared and polished. The steps on the long sides were broader than those at the ends, so that at the top it terminated, not in an oblong of the same figure as the base, but in a ridge like the roof of a house. The interior of the pyramid was solid, being filled up with round pebbles which, from the regularity of their figure, seemed to have been wrought. Some of the coral stones were very large; one of them was three and a half feet long by two and a half feet wide. The foundation of the pyramid was built not of coral, but of what Captain Cook called rock, by which he probably meant a volcanic stone. These foundation stones were also squared; one of them measured four feet seven inches by two feet four inches. "Such a structure," says Captain Cook, "raised without the assistance of iron tools to shape the stones, or mortar to join them, struck us with astonishment: it seemed to be as compact and firm as it could have been made by any workman in Europe, except that the steps which range along its greatest length are not perfectly strait, but sink in a kind of hollow in the middle, so that the whole surface, from end to end, is not a right line, but a curve." All the stones, both rock and coral, must have been brought from a distance, for there was no quarry in the neighbourhood. The squaring of these blocks with stone tools must, as Captain Cook observes, have been a work of incredible labour; but the polishing of them could have been effected more easily by means of the sharp coral sand, which is found everywhere on the seashore in great abundance. On the top of the pyramid, and about the middle, stood the wooden image of a bird; and near it lay the image of a fish carved in stone. This great pyramid formed part of one side of a spacious area, nearly square, which measured three hundred and sixty feet by three hundred and fifty-four, and was walled in with stone as well as paved with flat stones in its whole extent. Notwithstanding the pavement, several trees were growing within the sacred enclosure. About a hundred yards to the west was another paved area or court, in which were several small stages raised on wooden pillars about seven feet high. These stages the natives called _ewattas_. Captain Cook judged them rightly to be altars, observing that they supported what appeared to be offerings in the shape of provisions of all sorts, as well as whole hogs and many skulls of hogs and dogs.[107] [107] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 157-159. The great pyramid was afterwards visited and described by the first missionaries. Their measurements confirm, while slightly exceeding, those of Captain Cook. They speak, however, of ten steps instead of eleven, and say that the lowest step was six feet high and the rest about five. See J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 207 _sq._, with the plate. The pyramids within the sacred enclosure were not usually so large or so lofty. In the island of Huahine the pyramid of the chief god Tani or Tane was a hundred and twenty-four feet long by sixteen feet broad, and it had only two steps or stories. The lower step or story was about ten feet high and faced with blocks of coral, set on their edges: some of these blocks were as high as the step itself. The upper step or story was similarly faced with coral, but was not more than three feet high. The interior of both stories was filled with earth. In the centre of the principal front stood the god's bed, a stone platform twenty-four feet long by thirteen feet wide, but only eighteen inches high. The style and masonry of this pyramid, as well as its dimensions, appear to have been very inferior to those of the great one in Tahiti. The blocks were apparently unhewn and unpolished, the angles ill formed, and the walls not straight. Venerable and magnificent trees overshadowed the sanctuary. One of them measured fifteen yards in girth above the roots. It is said that the god often wished to fly away, but that his long tail always caught in the boughs of this giant tree and dragged him down to earth again.[108] [108] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 265 _sq._ These sacred pyramids "were erected in any place, and at any time, when the priests required, by the slavish people. On such occasions the former overlooked the latter at their work, and denounced the most terrible judgments upon those who were remiss at it. The poor wretches were thus compelled to finish their tasks (burthensome as they often were, in heaving blocks from the sea, dragging them ashore, and heaping them one upon another) without eating, which would have desecrated the intended sanctuary. To restrain the gnawings of hunger they bound girdles of bark round their bodies, tightening the ligatures from time to time, as their stomachs shrank with emptiness. And, when the drudgery was done, it was not uncommon for the remorseless priests to seize one of the miserable builders and sacrifice him to the idol of the place."[109] [109] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 13 _sq._ Temples of this sort were found scattered over the islands in every situation--on hill-tops, on jutting headlands, and in the recesses of groves.[110] They varied greatly in size: some were small and built in the rudest manner, mere squares of ill-shapen and ill-piled stones. In the island of Borabora the missionaries found not less than two hundred and twenty of these structures crowded within an area only ten miles in circumference.[111] The trees that grew within the sacred enclosure were sacred. They comprised particularly the tall cypress-like casuarina and the broader-leaved and more exuberant callophyllum, thespesia, and cardia. Their interlacing boughs formed a thick umbrageous covert, which often excluded the rays of the sun; and the contrast between the bright glare of a tropical day outside and the sombre gloom in the depths of the grove, combined with the sight of the gnarled trunks and twisted boughs of the aged trees, and the sighing of the wind in the branches, to strike a religious horror into the mind of the beholder.[112] The ground which surrounded the temples (_morais_) was sacred and afforded a sanctuary for criminals. Thither they fled on any apprehension of danger, especially when many human sacrifices were expected, and thence they might not be torn by violence, though they were sometimes seduced from their asylum by guile.[113] [110] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 341. [111] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ ii. 13. [112] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 341 _sq._ [113] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 351. These remarkable sanctuaries were at once temples for the worship of the gods and burial-places for the human dead. On this combination of functions I have already adduced some evidence;[114] but as the point is important, I will cite further testimonies as to the custom of burying the dead in these enclosures. [114] Above, pp. 116 _sqq._ Thus Captain Cook writes: "I must more explicitly observe that there are two places in which the dead are deposited: one a kind of shed, where the flesh is suffered to putrefy; the other an enclosure, with erections of stones, where the bones are afterwards buried. The sheds are called _tupapow_, and the enclosures _morai_. The _morais_ are also places of worship".[115] Again, after describing how a dead body used to be placed in the temporary house or shed (_tupapow_) and left there to decay for five moons, Captain Cook tells us that "what remains of the body is taken down from the bier, and the bones, having been scraped and washed very clean, are buried, according to the rank of the person, either within or without a _morai_: if the deceased was an _earee_ or chief, his skull is not buried with the rest of the bones, but is wrapped up in fine cloth, and put in a kind of box made for that purpose, which is also placed in the _morai_. This coffer is called _ewharre no te orometua_, the house of a teacher or master".[116] [115] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 217. [116] J. Cook, _op. cit._ i. 219. Again, after describing the human sacrifice which he witnessed at the great _morai_ at Attahooroo, in Tahiti, Captain Cook proceeds as follows: "The _morai_ (which, undoubtedly, is a place of worship, sacrifice, and burial at the same time), where the sacrifice was now offered, is that where the supreme chief of the whole island is always buried, and is appropriated to his family, and some of the principal people. It differs little from the common ones, except in extent. Its principal part is a large oblong pile of stones, lying loosely upon each other, about twelve or fourteen feet high, contracted toward the top, with a square area on each side, loosely paved with pebble stones, under which the bones of the chiefs are buried.... The human sacrifices are buried under different parts of the pavement."[117] [117] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 37. Again, Captain Cook tells us that after a battle the victors used to collect all the dead that had fallen into their hands and bring them to the _morai_, where, with much ceremony, they dug a hole and buried all the bodies in it as so many offerings to the gods; but the skulls of the slain were never afterwards taken up. Their own great chiefs who fell in battle were treated in a different manner. Captain Cook was informed that the bodies of the late king and two chiefs, who were slain in battle, were brought to the _morai_ at Attahooroo. There the priests cut out the bowels of the corpses before the great altar, and the bodies were afterwards buried at three different spots in the great pile of stones which formed the most conspicuous feature of the _morai_. Common men who perished in the same battle were all buried in a single hole at the foot of the pile. The spots where the bodies of the king and chiefs reposed were pointed out to Captain Cook and his companions.[118] [118] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 40 _sq._ Again, in the island of Tahiti, the naturalist George Forster, who accompanied Captain Cook, saw a stone building, "in form of the frustum of a pyramid," constructed in terraces or steps, and measuring about twenty yards in length at the base. "This the native said was a burying-place and place of worship, _marài_, and distinguished it by the name of _marai no-Aheatua_, the burying-place of Aheatua, the present king of Tiarroboo."[119] [119] G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, i. 267. Again, in the island of Huahine, the missionaries Tyerman and Bennet saw "a pagan _marae_ hard by, where the sovereigns of Huahine were buried--and where, indeed, they lay in more than oriental state, each one resting in his bed, at the foot of the Sacred Mountain, beneath the umbrage of the magnificent _aoa_ [tree], and near the beach for ever washed by waters that roll round the world.... The great _marae_ itself was dedicated to Tani, the father of the gods here; but the whole ground adjacent was marked with the vestiges of smaller _maraes_--private places for worship and family interment--while this was the capital of the island and the headquarters of royalty and idolatry."[120] A little later, speaking of the same sacred place, the missionaries observe, "The first _marae_ that we visited was the sepulchral one of the kings of Huahine, for many generations. It was an oblong inclosure, forty-five feet long by twenty broad, fenced with a strong stone wall. Here the bodies of the deceased, according to the manner of the country, being bound up, with the arms doubled to their shoulders, the legs bent under their thighs and both forced upwards against the abdomen, were let down, without coffins, into a hole prepared for their reception, and just deep enough to allow the earth to cover their heads."[121] [120] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 271. [121] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 280. One of our best authorities on these islands, William Ellis, speaks of the _maraes_ (_morais_), whether they belonged to private families, to districts, or to the kings, as being "the general depositories of the bones of the departed, whose bodies had been embalmed"; and as a motive for the practice he alleges the sanctity which attached to these places, and which might naturally be supposed to guard the graves against impious and malicious violation.[122] However, the first missionaries say of the islanders that "they bury none in the _morai_, but those offered in sacrifice, or slain in battle, or the children of chiefs which have been strangled at the birth--an act of atrocious inhumanity too common."[123] According to Moerenhout, the _marais_ (_morais_) belonging to private families were often used as cemeteries; but in the public _marais_ none but the human victims, and sometimes the priests, were interred.[124] Thus there is to some extent a conflict of testimony between our authorities on the subject of burial in the temples. But the evidence which I have adduced seems to render it probable that many at least of the _morais_ served as burial-grounds for kings and chiefs of high degree, and even for common men who had fallen fighting in the service of their country. [122] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 405. See above, pp. 117 _sq._ [123] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 364. [124] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 470. In more recent years the German traveller, Arthur Baessler, who examined and described the existing ruins of these sacred edifices, denied that the _maraes_ (_morais_) were places of burial, while he allowed that they were places of worship.[125] He distinguished a _marae_ from an _ahu_, admitting at the same time that they closely resembled each other, both in their structure and in the ritual celebrated at them.[126] According to him, a _marae_ was a sort of domestic chapel, the possession of which constituted the most distinctive mark of a noble family. Every chief, high or low, had one of them and took rank according to its antiquity.[127] It was an oblong area, open to the sky and enclosed by walls on three sides and by a pyramid on the fourth: walls and pyramid alike were built of blocks of stone or coral.[128] The _ahu_, on the other hand, was a monument erected to the memory of a distinguished chief, whose mortal remains were deposited in it. But apart from the grave which it contained, the _ahu_, according to Baessler, hardly differed from a _marae_, though it was mostly larger: it was a great walled enclosure with a pyramid, altars, and houses of the priests. And the ritual celebrated in the _ahu_ resembled the ritual performed in the _marae_: there, too, the faithful assembled to pray, and there the priests recited the same liturgy.[129] Thus both the form and, to some extent at least, the function of the two types of sanctuary presented a close similarity. The islanders themselves, it appears, do not always clearly distinguish them at the present day.[130] And the single distinction on which Baessler insisted, that the dead were buried in the _ahu_ but not in the _marae_, seems not to hold good universally, even on Baessler's own showing. For he admits that, "if ever a chief was buried in his own _marae_, it must have been in most exceptional cases, but probably statements to that effect rest only on a confusion of the _marae_ with the _ahu_; such a practice would also run counter to the habits of the natives, who sought the most secret places for their dead, and certainly concealed the heads in caves difficult of access and unknown to others. On the other hand, the _maraes_ of humbler families may more frequently, if not as a rule, have served as places of burial."[131] And even in regard to the holiest _marae_, dedicated to the great god Oro, in the island of Raiatea,[132] Baessler himself cites a tradition, apparently well authenticated, that a great number of warriors slain in battle were buried in it.[133] The argument that the people buried their dead, or at all events their skulls, only in remote caves among the mountains seems untenable; for according to the evidence of earlier writers the practice of concealing the bones or the skulls of the dead in caves was generally, if not always, a precaution adopted in time of war, to prevent these sacred relics from falling into the hands of invaders; the regular custom seems to have been to bury the bones in or near the _marae_ and to keep the skulls either there or in the house.[134] On the whole, then, it is perhaps safer to follow earlier and, from the nature of the case, better-informed writers in neglecting the distinction which Baessler drew between a _marae_ (_morai_) and an _ahu_. In any case we have Baessler's testimony that an _ahu_ was at once a place of burial and a place of worship. There seems to be no evidence that any of these sacred edifices, whether _maraes_ or _ahus_, were associated with a worship of the sun. On the other hand, it is certain that some at least of them were dedicated, partly or chiefly, to a cult of the dead, which formed a very important element in the religion of the Society Islanders, whereas there is little or nothing to show that they adored either the sun, or any other of the heavenly bodies, with the possible exception of the moon.[135] This did not, however, prevent them from entertaining absurd notions concerning these great luminaries. At an eclipse they imagined that the moon or the sun was being swallowed by some god whom they had offended; and on such occasions they repaired to the temple and offered prayers and liberal presents to the deity for the purpose of inducing him to disgorge the luminary.[136] [125] A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 116 _sq._, 127 _sq._, 144 _sq._ [126] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 130, 131. [127] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 119. [128] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 117 _sq._ [129] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 130 _sq._ [130] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 140. [131] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 127. [132] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 124, 141. [133] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 127 _sq._, 144 _sq._ [134] See below, p. 311. [135] Ellis says, "I am not aware that they rendered divine homage either to the sun or moon" (_Polynesian Researches_, iii. 171). Speaking of the Areois, Moerenhout says that "it seems to me clear that though they did not adore directly the sun and the other stars, nevertheless their worship was little else than sabeism or the adoration of the visible and animated universe" (_op. cit._ i. 503). He interpreted both Oro and Maui or Mahoui (as he spells the name) as the sun-god (_op. cit._ i. 484, 502, 503, 560 _sq._); but these interpretations appear to be his own guesses, unsupported by any statement of the natives. Maui was the great Polynesian hero, one of whose most famous exploits was catching the sun in a snare and compelling him to move more slowly (E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 234 _sqq._, _s.v._ "Maui"; see above, p. 275); but this story, far from favouring the identification of Maui with the sun, seems fatal to it. According to J. R. Forster, the great god Taroa (Taaroa) was thought to have created the sun and to dwell in it (_Observations_, p. 540); but even if this statement is correct, it hardly implies a worship of the sun. With regard to the moon, the same writer tells us (_l.c._) that it was supposed to be procreated by a goddess named O-Heena, "who presides in the black cloud which appears in this luminary"; and the statement is repeated by his son, George Forster, who adds: "The women sing a short couplet, which seems to be an act of adoration paid to that divinity [O-Heena], perhaps because they suppose her to have some influence upon their physical [oe]conomy.... 'The cloud within the moon, that cloud I love'" (_Voyage round the World_, ii. 152). This so far seems to imply a reverence for the moon; and there are some grounds for thinking that O-Heena or Hina (as the name is usually spelt) was in Eastern Polynesia a moon-goddess. See above, p. 267, note^2. [136] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 331 _sq._, iii. 171. According to another account, the sun and moon in eclipse were supposed to be in the act of copulation. See J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 346. Temples such as have been described were erected on all important occasions, such as a war, a decisive victory, or the installation of a great chief or king of a whole island. In these latter cases the natives boasted that the number of persons present was so great that, if each of them only brought a single stone, the amount of stones thus collected would have sufficed to build their largest temples and pyramids.[137] One of the occasions when it became necessary to build new temples was when the old ones had been overthrown by enemies in war. After such a desecration it was customary to perform a ceremony for the purpose of purifying the land from the defilement which it had incurred through the devastations of the foe, who had, perhaps, demolished the temples, destroyed or mutilated the idols, and burned with fire the curiously carved pieces of wood which marked the sacred places of interment and represented the spirits of the dead (_tiis_). Before the rite of purification was performed the temples were rebuilt, new altars reared, new images placed within the sacred precincts, and new wooden effigies set up near the graves. At the close of the rites in the new temples, the worshippers repaired to the seashore, where the chief priest offered a short prayer and the people dragged a net of coco-nut leaves through a shallow part of the sea, usually detaching small pieces of coral, which they brought ashore. These were called fish and were delivered to the priest, who conveyed them to the temple and deposited them on the altar, offering at the same time a prayer to induce the gods to cleanse the land from pollution, that it might be as pure as the coral fresh from the sea. It was now thought safe to abide on the soil and to eat of its produce, whereas if the ceremony had not been performed, death would have been, in the opinion of the people, the consequence of partaking of fruits grown on the defiled land.[138] [137] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 468. [138] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 348 _sq._ The temples were sacred. When a man approached one of them to worship or to bring his offering to the altar, he bared his body to the waist in sign of reverence and humility.[139] Women in general might not enter a temple, but when their presence was indispensable for certain ceremonies, the ground was covered with cloth, on which they walked, lest they should defile the holy place with their feet.[140] For example, some six weeks or two months after the birth of a child the father and mother took the child to a temple, where they both offered their blood to the gods by cutting their heads with shark's teeth and allowing the blood to drip on leaves, which they laid on the altar. On this occasion the husband spread a cloth on the floor of the temple for his wife to tread upon, for she might not step on the ground or the pavement.[141] Similarly at marriage bride and bridegroom visited the family temple (_marae_, _morai_), where the skulls of their ancestors were brought out and placed before them; but a large white cloth had to be spread out on the pavement for the bride to walk upon. Sometimes at these marriage rites the female relatives cut their faces and brows with shark's teeth, caught the flowing blood on cloth, and deposited the cloth, sprinkled with the mingled blood of the mothers of the married pair, at the feet of the bride.[142] At other times the mother of the bride gashed her own person cruelly with a shark's tooth, and having filled a coco-nut basin with the blood which flowed from her wounds, she presented it to the bridegroom, who immediately threw it from him.[143] While certain festivals were being celebrated at the temples the exclusion of women from them was still more rigid. Thus in the island of Huahine, during the celebration of the great annual festival, at which all the idols of the island were brought from their various shrines to the principal temple to be clothed with new dresses and ornaments, no woman was allowed to approach any of the sacred edifices under pain of death, which was instantly inflicted by whoever witnessed the sacrilege. Even if the wives and children of the priests themselves came within a certain distance, while some particular services were going on, they were murdered on the spot by their husbands and fathers with the utmost ferocity.[144] [139] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 224; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, p. 547; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 469. Elsewhere (vi. 149) Captain Cook mentions that the baring of the body on the approach to a temple was especially incumbent on women, who otherwise had to make a considerable circuit to avoid the sacred edifice. [140] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 469 _sq._; A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 126 _sq._ [141] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 536 _sq._ [142] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 271 _sq._ [143] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 558. [144] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 267 _sq._ Some of these sacred edifices are still impressive in their ruins and deserve the name of megalithic monuments. Thus the temple (_marae_, _morai_) of Oro at Opoa, which was the holiest temple in the island of Raiatea and perhaps in the Society Islands generally,[145] is about a hundred and thirty-eight feet long by twenty-six feet broad. It is enclosed by a wall of gigantic coral blocks standing side by side to a height of about six feet seven inches. The blocks have been hewn from the inner reef; the outer surfaces were smoothed, the inner left rough. One of the blocks stands over eleven feet high, without reckoning the part concealed by the soil; it is twelve feet wide, by two and a half feet thick. Another block is about ten feet long by eight feet broad and one foot thick.[146] In the ruined temple of Tainuu, situated in the district of Tevaitoa, one block is about eleven and a half feet high by eleven feet wide, with a thickness varying from twenty inches to two and a half feet.[147] [145] A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 124, 141; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 529 _sq._ [146] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 142. [147] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 146. The idols or images of the gods were usually made of wood, but sometimes of stone. Some were rudely carved in human shape; others were rough unpolished logs, wrapped in many folds of cloth or covered with a matting of coco-nut fibre.[148] The image of the god Oro was a straight log of casuarina wood, six feet long, uncarved, but decorated with feathers. On the other hand Taaroa, the supreme deity of Polynesia, was represented by a rudely carved human figure about four feet high, with a number of little images studding his body to indicate the multitude of gods that had proceeded from him as creator. The body of the god was hollow, and when it was taken from the temple, where it had been worshipped for many generations, it was found to contain a number of small idols in the cavity. It is supposed that these petty gods had been placed there by their worshippers and owners that they might absorb some of the supernatural powers of the greater divinity before being removed to the places where they were to commence deities on their own account.[149] With a similar intention it was customary to fill the inside of the hollow images with red feathers in order that the plumes might be impregnated with the divine influence and might afterwards diffuse it for the benefit of the owner of the feathers, who had placed them in the image for that purpose. The red feathers, plucked from a small bird which is found in many of the islands, thus became an ordinary medium for communicating and extending supernatural powers, not only in the Society Islands, but throughout Polynesia. The beautiful long tail-feathers of the tropic or man-of-war bird were used for the same purpose. The gods were supposed to be very fond of these feathers and ready to impart their blessed essence to them. Hence people brought the feathers to the priest and received from him in exchange two or three which had been sanctified in the stomach of the deity; on extracting them from that receptacle, the priest prayed to the god that he would continue to inhabit the red feathers even when they were detached from his divine person.[150] The feathers thus consecrated were themselves regarded as in some sense divine and were called gods (_atuas_, _oromatuas_); the people had great confidence in their sovereign virtue, and on occasions of danger they sought them out, believing that the mere presence of the feathers would afford them adequate protection. For example, when they were threatened by a storm at sea, they would hold out the feathers to the menacing clouds and command them to depart.[151] [148] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 337 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 471. According to Ellis, the wooden images were made from the durable timber of the _aito_ or casuarina tree, and the stone images were mostly rude uncarved angular columns of basalt, of various sizes, though some were of calcareous or siliceous stone. Some stone images, however, were rudely carved in human form. See A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, pp. 128 _sq._ [149] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 354. [150] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 338 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 471 _sqq._ [151] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 473 _sq._ § 5. _The Sacrifices, Priests, and Sacred Recorders_ The offerings presented to the gods included every kind of valuable property, such as birds, fish, beasts, the fruits of the earth and the choicest native manufactures. The fruits and other eatables were generally, but not always, dressed. Portions of the fowls, pigs, or fish, cooked with sacred fire in the temple, were presented to the deity; the remainder furnished a banquet for the priests and other sacred persons, who were privileged to eat of the sacrifices. The portions appropriated to the gods were placed on the altar and left there till they decayed. In the public temples the great altars were wooden stages, some eight or ten feet high, supported on a number of wooden posts, which were sometimes curiously carved and polished. But there were also smaller altars in the temples; some of them were like round tables, resting on a single post. Domestic altars and such as were erected near the bodies of dead friends were small square structures of wicker-work. In sacrificing pigs they were very anxious not to break a bone or disfigure the animal. Hence they used to strangle the animal or bleed it to death.[152] [152] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 344 _sq._ Human victims were sacrificed on many occasions, as in time of war, at great national festivals, during the illness of their rulers, and at the building of a temple. William Ellis was told that the foundations of some of their sacred edifices were laid in human sacrifices, and that at least the central pillar, which supported the roof of one of the sacred houses at Maeva, had been planted on the body of a man. The victims were either captives taken in war or persons who had rendered themselves obnoxious to the chiefs or the priests. In the technical language of the priests they were called "fish." When once a man had been chosen for sacrifice, the family to which he belonged was regarded as taboo or devoted to the altar, and when another victim was wanted, he was more frequently taken from that family than from any other. Similarly, a district which had once furnished victims was thenceforth devoted. Hence, at the approach of ceremonies which were usually accompanied by human sacrifices, the members of certain families and the inhabitants of certain districts used to flee to the mountains and hide in caves till the ceremony was over. But the doomed man was seldom apprised of his fate beforehand. A sudden blow with a club or a stone on the nape of the neck was the usual way of despatching him, lest the body should be mangled or a bone broken. If the blow had only stunned him, he was soon killed, and the corpse, placed in a long basket of coco-nut leaves, was carried to the temple and offered to the god by being set before the idol. In dedicating it the priest took out one of the eyes and handed it on a leaf to the king, who made as if he would swallow it, but passed it on to a priest or attendant. After the ceremony the body, still wrapt in coco-nut leaves, was often deposited on the branches of a neighbouring tree, where it remained some time. Finally, the bones were taken down and buried under the pavement of the temple (_marae_).[153] [153] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 345-348. Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 168 _sqq._ vi. 28-41; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 350 _sq._; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 549, ii. 38 _sq._ In the family, according to patriarchal usage, the father was the priest, but the priests of the national temples formed a distinct class; their office was hereditary. The high priesthood was often held by a member of the royal family, and sometimes the king himself acted as the national priest. The duties of the priests were to recite prayers, to present offerings, and to sacrifice victims. Their prayers, usually uttered in shrill, chanting tones, were often exceedingly long and full of repetitions.[154] They had plenty of employment, being called in to officiate on all occasions, whether at birth or at death, at feasts or in sickness; for they were the physicians as well as the clergy of the country. They professed to possess extraordinary powers, such as to promote conception or to effect abortion, to cause or to heal disease, to pray the evil spirit into food, and even to kill men outright. Hence they were greatly feared.[155] Of the little knowledge that existed in the islands the priests are reported to have possessed the largest share, but it consisted chiefly in an acquaintance with the names and ranks of the various subordinate deities (_atuas_); however, according to Captain Cook, they excelled the rest of the people in their knowledge of navigation and astronomy: indeed, the very name for priest (_tahowa_) signified nothing more than a man of knowledge.[156] In the island of Huahine the priest whose duty it was to carry the image of the god Tani (Tane) "was a personage of such superhuman sanctity that everything which he touched became sacred; he was, therefore, not suffered to marry, as the honour of being his wife was too much for any mortal woman. But this was not all; he would himself be so defiled by such a connection that he would be disqualified for his office, and must immediately resign it; nay, if he did not repent, and return with a great peace-offering to Tani's house, he might expect to be first struck blind, and afterwards strangled in his sleep. He was not allowed to climb a cocoa tree, because, if he did, it would be so hallowed that nobody else durst afterwards ascend it."[157] [154] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 342 _sq._ Compare J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 545 _sqq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 474 _sqq._ [155] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 348. [156] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 223. [157] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 279. One of the most important functions of the priests was to act as mouthpieces of the gods. In the discharge of this duty they were believed to be inspired and possessed by the deity, who spoke through them to the people. When the time came for them to consult the god, they assumed an odd fantastic dress, enriched with red and black feathers, to which the deity was so partial, that when the priests approached him in this array, he descended to earth at their call in one of the sacred birds that frequented the temples (_morais_) and fed on the sacrifices. As soon as the bird lighted on the sacred edifice, the god left the fowl and entered into the priest. The holy man, thus inspired, now stretched himself, yawned, and rubbed his arms, legs, and body, which began to be inflated, as if the skin of the abdomen would burst; the eyes of the seer were thrown into various contortions, now staring wide, now half-shut and sinking into stupor, while at other times the whole frame was convulsed and appeared to have undergone a sudden and surprising change. The voice sank to a low pitch, and grew squeaky and broken; but at times it would suddenly rise to an astonishing height. The words uttered by the possessed man were regarded as oracular, and nothing that he asked for the god or for himself in this state was ever refused him. Of all this the priest himself affected to be entirely unaware, but a colleague was regularly at hand to record the divine message and the divine requirements, which were often very large. When the deity took his departure from the priest, he did so with such convulsions and violence as to leave the man lying motionless and exhausted on the ground, and the oracle was so timed that this happened at the very moment when the sacred bird, the vehicle of the god, flew away from the temple. On coming to himself the priest uttered a loud shriek and seemed to wake as from a profound sleep, unconscious of everything that had passed.[158] Sometimes, however, the priest continued to be possessed by the deity for two or three days; at such times he wore a piece of native cloth, of a peculiar sort, round one arm as a sign of his inspiration. His acts during this period were deemed to be those of the god; hence the greatest attention was paid to his expressions and to the whole of his deportment. Indeed, so long as the fit of inspiration lasted he was called a god (_atua_); but when it was over, he resumed his ordinary title of priest.[159] [158] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 349 _sq._ [159] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 373-375. We are told that in his fine frenzy the priest "often rolled on the earth, foaming at the mouth, as if labouring under the influence of the divinity, by whom he was possessed, and, in shrill cries, and violent and often indistinct sounds, revealed the will of the god."[160] It would probably be a mistake to assume that on such occasions the frantic behaviour was deliberately assumed and the wild whirling words were consciously uttered for the purpose of deceiving the people; in short, that the whole performance was a mere piece of acting, a bare-faced imposture. It is far more likely that, bred from childhood to believe in the reality of divine inspiration, the priest often sincerely imagined himself to be possessed by a deity, and that, under the excitement which such an imagination was calculated to produce, he honestly mistook his own thick-coming fancies for a revelation from the gods. A chief, who had formerly been a prophet of the god Oro, assured the missionaries "that although he sometimes feigned his fits of inspiration, to deceive the credulous multitude, yet, at other times, they came upon him involuntarily and irresistibly. Something seemed to rush through his whole frame, and overpower his spirit, in a manner which he could not describe. Then he frothed at the mouth, gnashed his teeth, and distorted his limbs with such violence that it required five or six strong men to hold him. At these times his words were deemed oracles, and whatever he advised respecting state affairs, or other matters, was implicitly observed by king and chiefs."[161] Thus on the ravings of these crazy fanatics or deliberate impostors often hung the issues of life or death, of war or peace.[162] It appears to have been especially the priests of Oro who laid claim to inspiration and contrived to shape the destinies of their country through the powerful sway which they exercised over the mind of the king. In their fits of fanatical frenzy, while they delivered their oracles, they insisted on the sovereign's implicit compliance with their mandates, denouncing the most dreadful judgments on him if he should prove refractory.[163] [160] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 373 _sq._ [161] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 124. [162] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 114 _sq._ [163] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 121. Apart from the priests there was a class of men whose business it was to preserve and hand down to their successors the lists of the gods, the liturgical prayers, and the sacred traditions. As these liturgies and legends were often very lengthy and couched in a metaphorical and obscure language, a prodigious memory and long practice were indispensable for their preservation and transmission among a people to whom the art of writing was unknown. Since the slightest mistake in the recitation of a liturgy was deemed the worst of omens and necessitated the suspension of the religious service, however costly and important the service might be, the sacred recorders, as we may call them, were obliged, for the sake of their credit, to practise continually the recitation of the prayers, legends, and traditions of which they were the depositories. To aid them in their task they made use of bundles of little sticks of different sizes, one of which they drew from a bundle at the conclusion of each prayer. It was their duty on solemn occasions to recite these liturgies or sacred poems while they paced slowly by night round the temples (_morais_) and other holy places; hence they went by the name of _harepo_, which means "Walkers by night." We are told that if at these times they made a mistake in a single word or hesitated for a moment, they stopped and returned home; and if the subject of their prayers chanced to be some enterprise in which they desired to enlist the favour of the gods, such a mistake or hesitation was enough to cause the undertaking to be abandoned irretrievably, since success in it was believed to be impossible. Nothing, it is said, could be more astonishing than the memory displayed by these men, while they recited, word for word, and for nights together, the ancient traditions of which the mutilated and mangled remains would demand the assiduous study of several years. The office of sacred recorder (_harepo_) was hereditary in the male line; the sons were trained in the duties from their earliest years, but only such as were endowed with an excellent memory could satisfy the requirements of the profession. They believed that a good memory was a gift of the gods.[164] [164] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 504-507. § 6. _The Doctrine of the Human Soul_ Of the Society Islanders we are informed that "they believe every man to have a separate being within him, named _tee_, which acts in consequence of the impression of the senses, and combines ideas into thoughts. This being, which we would call the soul, exists after death, and lodges in the wooden images which are placed round the burying-places, and which are called by the same name, _tee_."[165] When they were asked in what part of the body the soul resides, they always answered that it was seated in the belly or in the bowels (_I roto té obou_). They would not admit that the brain could be the seat of thought or the heart of the affections; and in support of their opinion they alleged the agitation of the bowels in strong emotion, such as fear and desire.[166] Hence, too, they called thoughts by a phrase which signifies "words in the belly" (_parou no te oboo_).[167] [165] G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 151 _sq._ Compare J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 534 _sq._, 542 _sq._, where the word for soul is given as _E-teehee_ or _Teehee_. [166] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 431. [167] G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 151 note *. But the Society Islanders did not regard the possession of a soul as a privilege peculiar to humanity. According to Captain Cook, "they maintain that not only all other animals, but trees, fruit, and even stones, have souls, which at death, or upon being consumed or broken, ascend to the divinity, with whom they first mix, and afterwards pass into the mansion allotted to each."[168] Their word for soul was _varoua_, according to Moerenhout, who adds that, "It appears that they accorded this _varoua_ (spirit, soul) not only to man, but even in addition to the animals, to plants, to everything that vegetates, grows or moves on the earth."[169] [168] J. Cook, _op. cit._ vi. 151. [169] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 430. They thought that the soul of man could be separated for a time from the body during life without causing immediate death. Thus, like many other peoples, they explained dreams by the supposed absence of the soul during slumber. We are told that "they put great confidence in dreams, and suppose in sleep the soul leaves the body under the care of the guardian angel, and moves at large through the regions of spirits. Thus they say, My soul was such a night in such a place, and saw such a spirit. When a person dies, they say his soul is fled away, _h[=a]rre p[=o]_, gone to night."[170] But they also believed that a man's soul or spirit could be conjured out of his body by magic art or demoniacal agency. Thus, when people had been robbed, they would sometimes call in the help of a priest to ascertain the thief. In such a case the priest, after offering prayers to his demon, would direct them to dig a hole in the floor of the house and to fill it with water; then, taking a young plantain in his hand, he would stand over the hole and pray to the god, whom he invoked, and who, if he were propitious, was supposed to conduct the spirit of the thief to the house and to place it over the water. The image of the spirit, which they believed to resemble the person of the man, was, according to their account, reflected in the water and perceived by the priest, who was thus able to identify the thief, alleging that the god had shown him the reflection of the culprit in the water.[171] From this it appears that in the opinion of the Society Islanders, as of many other peoples, a man's soul or spirit is a faithful image of his body.[172] [170] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 346. In the Polynesian languages _po_ is the word both for "night" and for "the shades," the primaeval darkness from which all forms of life were evolved, and to which the souls of the dead return. See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 342, _s.v._ "po." [171] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 378 _sq._ [172] Compare W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 396, "What their precise ideas of a spirit were, it is not easy to ascertain. They appear, however, to have imagined the shape or form resembled that of the human body, in which they sometimes appeared in dreams to the survivors." They believed that in the pangs of death the soul keeps fluttering about the lips, and that, when all is over, it ascends and mixes with or, as they expressed it, is eaten by the deity.[173] When one of their sacred recorders (_harepo_), who had been famous in his life for his knowledge of the ancient traditions, was at the point of death, it was customary for his son and successor to place his mouth over the mouth of the dying man, as if to inhale the parting soul at the moment of quitting the body; for in this way he was supposed to inherit the lore of his father. The natives, it is said, were convinced that these sages owed their learning to this expedient, though none the less they studied day and night to perfect themselves in their profession.[174] [173] J. Cook, _op. cit._ vi. 150. [174] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 507. § 7. _Disease, Death, and Mourning_ Every disease was supposed to be the result of direct supernatural agency, and to be inflicted by the gods for some crime committed against the law of taboo of which the sufferer had been guilty; or it might have been brought upon him by an enemy, who had compassed his destruction by means of an offering. They explained death in like manner: according to them, it was invariably caused by the direct influence of the gods.[175] They acknowledged, indeed, that they possessed poisons which, taken with food, produced convulsions and death, but these effects they traced to the anger of the gods, who employed the drugs as their material agents or secondary causes. Even when a man was killed in battle, they still saw in his death the hand of a god, who had actually entered into the weapon that inflicted the fatal blow.[176] [175] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 395; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 433, 538 _sqq._ [176] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 395 _sq._ The gods who were thus supposed to afflict human life with sickness and disease and to bring it to an untimely termination in death were not always nor perhaps usually the high primaeval deities; often they were the souls of the dead, who ranked among the domestic divinities (_oromatuas_). And, like the Maoris,[177] the natives of the Society Islands are said to have stood in particular fear of the souls of dead infants, who, angered at their mother for their too early death, took their revenge by sending sickness on the surviving members of the family. Hence when a woman was ill-treated by her husband, she would often threaten to insult the ghost of a dead baby; and this threat, with the deplorable consequences which it was calculated to entail, seldom failed to bring the husband to a better frame of mind; or if he happened to prove recalcitrant, the other members of the family, who might be involved in the calamity, would intercede and restore peace in the household. Thus we are told that among these islanders the fear of the dead supplied in some measure the place of natural affection and tenderness in softening and humanising the general manners.[178] [177] See above, p. 49. [178] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 538 _sq._ Disease and death were also attributed to the malignant charms of sorcerers, who, hired by an enemy of the sufferer, procured for the purpose the clipped hair or the spittle of their intended victim, the flowers or garment he had worn, or any object which had touched his person. But the real agents who were thought to give effect to the charms were the minor deities, whom the sorcerer employed to accomplish his nefarious ends. For this purpose he put the hair or other personal refuse of the victim in a bag along with the images and symbols of the petty divinities, and buried the bag and its contents in a hole which he had dug in the ground. There he left it until, applying his ear to the hole, he could hear the soul of the sufferer whimpering down below, which proved that the charm was taking effect. If the intended victim got wind of these machinations, it was always in his power to render them abortive, either by sacrificing to the gods or by sending a present to the sorcerer, who thus was feed by both sides at the same time.[179] [179] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 539-541. Compare W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 363 _sqq._ However, most cases of sickness apparently were set down not to the wiles of sorcerers, but to the displeasure of the deified spirits of the dead.[180] On this point the evidence of the early missionaries is explicit. Speaking of the Society Islanders, they say that "they regard the spirits of their ancestors, male and female, as exalted into _eatooas_ [_atuas_, deities], and their favour to be secured by prayers and offerings. Every sickness and untoward accident they esteem as the hand of judgment for some offence committed; and therefore, if they have injured any person, they send their peace-offering, and make the matter up: and if sick, send for the priest to offer up prayers and sacrifices to pacify the offended _eatooa_; giving anything the priests ask, as being very reluctant to die."[181] "As it is their fixed opinion, that no disease affects them but as a punishment inflicted by their _eatooa_ [_atua_] for some offence, and never brought on themselves by intemperance or imprudence, they trust more to the prayers of their priests than to any medicine."[182] [180] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 543. [181] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 345. [182] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 404. They imagined that at death the soul (_varua_) was drawn out of the head by a god or spirit (_atua_) as a sword is drawn out of its scabbard, and that the spirits of the dead often waited to catch it at the moment when it issued from the body. Sometimes the dying man would fancy that he saw the spirits lurking for him at the foot of the bed, and would cry out in terror, "They are waiting for my spirit. Guard it! Preserve it from them!"[183] [183] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 396. When the last struggle was over, a priest or diviner (_tahua tutera_) was called in to ascertain the cause of death. For this purpose he entered his canoe and paddled slowly along on the sea, near the house in which the dead body was lying, in order to watch the passage of the departing spirit; for they thought that it would fly towards him with the emblem of the cause through which the person had died. If he had been cursed by the gods, the spirit would appear with a flame, fire being the agent employed in the incantations of the sorcerers, who had presumably drawn down the curse upon the deceased. If some enemy had bribed the gods to kill him, the spirit would come with a red feather, as a sign that evil spirits had entered into his food. After a short time the diviner returned to the house, announced the cause of death to the survivors, and received his fee, the amount of which was regulated by the circumstances of the family. After that a priest was employed to perform ceremonies and recite prayers for the purpose of averting destruction from the surviving members of the family; but the nature of the ceremonies has not been recorded.[184] [184] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 398 _sq._ When it was manifest that death was approaching, the relatives and friends, who had gathered round the sufferer, broke into loud lamentations and other demonstrations of sorrow, which redoubled in violence as soon as the spirit had departed. Then they not only wailed in the loudest and most affecting tone, but tore out their hair, rent their garments, and cut themselves with shark's teeth or knives in a shocking manner. The instrument usually employed was a small cane, about four inches long, with five or six teeth fixed into it on opposite sides. Struck forcibly into the head, these instruments wounded it like a lancet, so that the blood poured down in copious streams. Every woman at marriage provided herself with one of these implements and used it unsparingly on herself on the occasion of a death in the family. Some people, not content with this instrument of torture, provided themselves with a sort of mallet armed with two or three rows of shark's teeth; and with this formidable weapon, on the demise of a relative or friend, they hammered themselves unmercifully, striking their skulls, temples, cheeks, and breast, till the blood flowed profusely from the wounds. At the same time they uttered the most deafening and agonising cries; and what with their frantic gestures, the distortion of their countenances, their torn and dishevelled hair, and the mingled tears and blood that trickled down their bodies, they presented altogether a horrible spectacle. This self-inflicted cruelty was practised chiefly by women, but not by them alone; for the men on these occasions committed the like enormities, and not only cut themselves, but came armed with clubs and other deadly weapons, which they sometimes plied freely on the bodies of other people. These dismal scenes began with the nearest relatives of the deceased, but they were not confined to them. No sooner did the tidings spread, and the sound of wailing was heard throughout the neighbourhood, than friends and kinsfolk flocked to the spot and joined in the demonstrations of real or affected sorrow. The pageant of woe reached its climax when the deceased was a king or a principal chief. It was then, above all, that the tenants and retainers came armed with bludgeons and stones, with which they fought each other till some of them were wounded or slain; while others operated on themselves by tearing their hair and lacerating their bodies in the usual manner till their bodies were bedabbled with blood. After the introduction of firearms into the islands, these lethal weapons lent variety and noise to the combats, as well as adding to the number of the slain. At the death of a person of distinction these exhibitions of frenzied sorrow sometimes lasted two or three days in succession, or even longer.[185] On such occasions a body of armed men, composed of friends and allies, used to arrive from a neighbouring district and request to be allowed access to the body of the chief, in order that they might mourn for him in due form. The request was always refused by the bodyguards, who kept the last vigil over their departed lord; and in consequence a fight ensued in which several warriors were generally wounded or killed. Yet it was only a sham fight, which seems to have always ended in a victory for the mourners who had come from a distance; and when it was over, victors and vanquished regularly united in performing the usual sanguinary rites of mourning. In all the islands wrestling matches, combats, and assaults-at-arms were ordinary features of the obsequies of chiefs.[186] [185] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 407-409; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 352; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 546 _sq._ [186] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 551 _sq._ The blood which women in the paroxysms of grief drew from their bodies, and the tears which flowed from their eyes, were received on pieces of cloth, which were then thrown upon or under the bier as oblations to the dead.[187] Sometimes for this purpose a woman would wear a short apron, which she held up with one hand, while she cut herself with the other, till the apron was soaked in blood. Afterwards she would dry it in the sun and present it to the bereaved family, who kept it as a token of the estimation in which the departed had been held.[188] Some of the younger mourners used also to cut off their hair and throw it under the bier with the other offerings.[189] When the deceased was a child, the parents, in addition to other tokens of grief, used to cut their hair short on one part of their heads, leaving the rest long; sometimes they shaved a square patch on the forehead; sometimes they left the hair on the forehead and cut off all the rest; at other times they removed all the hair but a lock over one or both ears; or again they would clip close one half of the head, while on the other half the tresses were suffered to grow long; and these signs of mourning might be continued for two or three years.[190] [187] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 135, 218; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, p. 560. [188] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 410. [189] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 218; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, p. 560. [190] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 352 _sq._ Captain Cook tells us that the custom observed by mourners of offering their own blood, tears, and hair to their departed relative or friend "is founded upon a notion that the soul of the deceased, which they believe to exist in a separate state, is hovering about the place where the body is deposited: that it observes the actions of the survivors, and is gratified by such testimonies of their affection and grief."[191] This explanation, in perfect harmony with the vigilance, vanity, and jealousy commonly ascribed to ghosts, is in all probability correct. Yet it deserves to be noticed that the custom of voluntarily hacking the body with shark's teeth to the effusion of blood was singularly enough practised by the Society Islanders on occasions of joy as well as of sorrow. When a husband or a son returned to his family after a season of absence or exposure to danger, his arrival was greeted, not only with the cordial welcome and the warm embrace, but with loud wailing, while the happy wife or mother cut her body with shark's teeth, and the gladder she was the more she gashed herself.[192] Similarly many savage peoples weep over long-absent friends, or even over strangers, as a polite form of greeting in which genuine sorrow can hardly be supposed to play a part.[193] It is difficult to see how such observances can be based on superstition; apparently the emotion of joy may express itself in very different ways in different races. [191] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 218 _sq._ [192] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 410; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 196, 362. [193] See _Folk-lore in the Old Testament_, ii. 82 _sqq._ The natives stood in great fear of the spirits of the dead, which were supposed to haunt the places of their former abode and to visit the habitations of men, but seldom on errands of mercy or benevolence. They woke the survivors from their slumbers by squeaking noises to upbraid them with their past wickedness or to reproach them with the neglect of some ceremony, for which the ghosts were compelled to suffer. Thus the people imagined that they lived in a world of spirits, which surrounded them night and day, watching every action of their lives and ready to revenge the smallest slight or the least disobedience to their injunctions, as these were proclaimed to the living by the priests. Convulsions and hysterics, for example, were ascribed to the action of spirits, which seized the sufferer, scratched his face, tore his hair, or otherwise maltreated him.[194] [194] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 406. This fear of the spirits of the dead induced the Society Islanders to resort to some peculiar ceremonies for the protection of the living against the ghosts of persons who had recently died. One of these quaint rites was performed by a priest, who went by the name of the "corpse-praying priest" (_tahua bure tiapa-pau_). When the corpse had been placed on a platform or bier in a temporary house, this priest ordered a hole to be dug in the earth or floor, near the foot of the platform, and over this hole he prayed to the god by whom the spirit of the deceased had been summoned to its long home. The purport of the prayer was that all the dead man's sins, and especially that for which his soul had been called to the region of Night (_po_), should be deposited in that hole, that they should not attach in any degree to the survivors, and that the anger of the god might be appeased. The priest next addressed the corpse, usually saying, "With you let the guilt now remain." The pillar or post of the corpse, as it was called, was then planted in the hole, earth was thrown over the guilt of the departed, and the hole filled up. After that, the priest proceeded to the side of the corpse, and taking some small slips of plantain leaf-stalk he fixed two or three of them under each arm, placed a few on the breast, and then, addressing the dead body, said, "There are your family, there is your child, there is your wife, there is your father, and there is your mother. Be satisfied yonder (that is, in the world of spirits). Look not towards those who are left in this world." The concluding parts of the ceremony were designed to impart contentment to the deceased, and to prevent his spirit from repairing to the places of his former resort, and so distressing the survivors. This was considered a most important ceremony, being a kind of mass for the dead and necessary as well for the peace of the living as for the quiet of the departed. It was seldom omitted by any who could pay the priest his usual fees, which for this service generally took the form of pigs and cloth, in proportion to the rank or possessions of the family.[195] [195] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 401-403. Compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 552. Soon after the decease of a chief or person of distinction, another singular ceremony, called a _heva_, was performed by the relatives or dependants, who personated the ghost of the departed. The principal actor in the procession was a priest or kinsman who wore a curious dress and an imposing head-ornament called a _parae_. A cap or turban of thick native cloth was fitted close to the head; in front were two broad mother-of-pearl shells that covered the face like a mask, with only a small aperture through which the wearer could look in order to find his way. Above the mask were fixed a number of long, white, red-tipped feathers of the tropic bird, diverging like rays and forming a radiant circle; while beneath the mask was a thin yet strong board curved like a crescent, from which hung a sort of network of small pieces of brilliant mother-of-pearl, finely polished and strung together on threads. The depth of this network varied according to the taste or means of the family, but it was generally nine inches or a foot, and might consist of ten to fifteen or twenty perfectly straight and parallel rows. The labour of making this mother-of-pearl pendant must have been immense; for many hundred pieces of the shell had to be cut, ground down to the requisite thinness, polished and perforated, without the use of iron tools, before a single line could be fixed upon the head-dress. Fringed with feathers, the pendant formed a kind of ornamental breastplate or stomacher. Attached to it was a garment composed of alternate stripes of black and yellow cloth, which enveloped the body and reached sometimes to the loins, to the knees, or even to the ankles.[196] On his back the masker wore an ample cloak or mantle of network covered with glossy pigeon's feathers of a bluish colour. The costume appears to have been intended as a disguise to prevent the spectators from recognising the wearer; for George Forster, who has given us an elaborate description of it, observes that "an ample hood of alternate parallel stripes of brown, yellow, and white cloth descends from the turban to cover the neck and shoulders, in order that as little as possible of the human figure may appear."[197] [196] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 412 _sq._ Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 135 _sq._, 138, 219; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 547-549. [197] G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 74. For the full description of the garb, see _id._, ii. 71-75; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 450-453. In this strange garb the chief mummer, who was usually the nearest relation of the deceased, carried in one hand a formidable weapon, consisting of a staff about five feet long, one end of which was rounded to serve as a handle, while the other end broadened out into a sort of scythe, of which the inner or concave side was armed with a row of large strong shark's teeth fixed in the wood. In the other hand he bore a kind of clapper formed of two pearl-oyster shells, beautifully polished. Thus attired and equipped, he led a procession either from the house of the deceased, or, according to another account, from a valley to which, as if under a paroxysm of grief, the party had retired at the death of the person for whom the ceremony was performed; and as he walked along he continued to rattle or jingle the shells against each other to give notice of his approach. With him walked a number of men and boys, naked except for a girdle, armed with cudgels, their faces and bodies painted black, red, and white with charcoal and coloured earths. In this impressive style the mummers marched through the district, the people everywhere fleeing in terror at the sight of them, and even deserting the houses at their approach. For whenever the leader caught sight of any one, he ran at him, and if he overtook the fugitive, belaboured him with his sharp-toothed club, to the grievous mauling of the unfortunate wretch; while, not to be behind their leader, the assistants plied their bludgeons on the bodies of all and sundry who chanced to fall into their hands. At such times safety was only to be found in the king's temple, which served on this as on other occasions as a sort of sanctuary or place of refuge. Having thus scoured the country, the mummers marched several times round the platform where the body was exposed, after which they bathed in a river and resumed their customary apparel. This performance was repeated at intervals for five moons, but less and less frequently as the end of the time approached. The longer it lasted, the greater was the honour supposed to be done to the dead. The relatives took it in turn to assume the fantastic dress and discharge the office of leader. Throughout the ceremonies the performers appeared and acted as if they were deranged. They were supposed to be inspired by, or at all events to represent, the spirit of the deceased, to revenge any injury he might have received, or to punish those who had not shown due respect to his remains.[198] Hence we may infer that the whole of this quaint masquerade was designed to appease the anger of the ghost, and so to protect the survivors by preventing him from returning to take vengeance on them for any wrongs or slights he might have suffered at their hands. [198] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 138 _sq._, 219; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 560 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 413 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 549 _sq._ According to Ellis, the mummers were supposed to be inspired by the spirit of the deceased; according to Moerenhout, they were not inspired by, but merely represented, the ghost. The difference between spiritual representation and inspiration is somewhat fine; too fine perhaps to be apprehended by Tahitian intelligence. Forster says that the procession started from the house of the deceased, Ellis that it started from a valley. The same fear of the returning ghost is clearly expressed in a prayer which the natives used to address to a dead relative at burial. They put blossoms of bread-fruit and leaves of the edible fern under the arms of the corpse, and as they did so, they prayed, saying, "You go to the Po [Night, the World of Shades], plant bread-fruit there, and be food for the gods; but do not come and strangle us, and we will feed your swine and cultivate your lands."[199] [199] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 322. § 8. _The Disposal of the Dead_ The heat of the climate, by hastening the decomposition of dead bodies, rendered it necessary that corpses should be speedily removed or treated so as to preserve them for a time from decay. As such treatment was generally too costly for the poor and even the middle ranks of society, families belonging to these classes were usually obliged to inter their dead on the first or second day after the decease. During the short intervening period the body, resting on a bed of fragrant green leaves, was placed on a sort of bier covered with white cloth and decorated with wreaths and garlands of sweet-smelling flowers. Round it sat the relatives, giving vent to their grief in loud and continued lamentations, and often cutting their temples, faces, and breasts with shark's teeth, till they were covered with blood from their self-inflicted wounds. The bodies were frequently committed to the grave in deep silence; but sometimes a father would deliver a pathetic oration at the funeral of his son.[200] The grave was generally shallow and the corpse was deposited in a bent posture, with the hands tied to the knees or to the legs.[201] [200] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 399 _sq._ [201] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 553 _sq._ But in the families of chiefs the custom was to submit the bodies of the dead to a sort of embalming and to preserve them above ground for a time.[202] The Tahitians had a tradition of a rude or unpolished period in their history, when the bodies of the dead were allowed to remain in the houses in which they lived, and which were still occupied by the survivors. A kind of stage or altar was erected in the dwelling, and on it the corpse was deposited. But in a later and more polished age, which lasted till the advent of Europeans, the practice was introduced of building separate houses or sheds for the lodgment of corpses.[203] [202] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 400. [203] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 404. These houses or sheds (_tupapows_) were small temporary buildings, often neatly constructed. The thatched roof rested on wooden pillars, which were seldom more than six feet high. The body was laid on a bier or platform raised on posts about three feet from the ground. This bier was movable, for the purpose of being drawn out, and of exposing the body to the rays of the sun. The body was usually clothed or covered with cloth, and for a long time it was carefully rubbed with aromatic oils once a day. The size of these charnel-houses varied with the rank of the persons whose bodies they contained; the better sort were enclosed by railings. Those which were allotted to people of the lower class just sufficed to cover the bier, and were not railed in. The largest seen by Captain Cook was eleven yards long. Such houses were ornamented according to the taste and abilities of the surviving kindred, who never failed to lay a profusion of good cloth about the body, and sometimes almost covered the outside of the house.[204] [204] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 93 _sq._, 135, 217, 218; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 84, 212 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 404; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 547. But before the corpse was deposited in one of these temporary structures, it was shrouded in cloth and carried on a bier to the sea-shore, where it was set down on the beach at the water's edge. There a priest, who accompanied the procession, renewed the prayers which he had offered over the body both at the house and on its passage to the shore. Further, he took up water in his hands and sprinkled it towards the corpse, but not upon it. These prayers and sprinklings he repeated several times, and between the repetitions the body was carried back some forty or fifty yards from the sea, only to be brought back again to the water's edge. While these ceremonies were being performed, the temporary house or shed was being prepared, in which the corpse was to remain until the flesh had wholly wasted from the bones. Thither it was then carried from the beach and laid upon the bier.[205] [205] J. Cook, _op. cit._ i. 217 _sq._ Compare J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, p. 559. The practice of embalming appears to have been long familiar to the natives of the Society Islands. The methods employed by them were simple. Sometimes the juices were merely squeezed out of the corpse, which was then exposed to the sun and anointed with fragrant oils. At other times, and apparently more usually, the bowels, entrails, and brains were extracted, and the cavities filled with cloth soaked in perfumed oils, which were also injected into other parts of the body. Scented oils were also rubbed over the outside daily: every day the corpse was exposed to the sun in a sitting posture: every night it was laid out horizontally and often turned over, that it might not remain long on the same side. By these means, combined with the heat of the sun and the dryness of the atmosphere, the process of desiccation was effected in the course of a few weeks: the muscular parts and the eyes shrivelled up; and the wizened body resembled a skeleton covered with parchment or oilcloth. Thus reduced to a mummy, it was clothed and fixed in a sitting attitude: a small altar was erected before it; and offerings of fruit, food, and flowers were daily presented by the relatives or by the priest who was appointed to attend to it. For if the deceased was a chief of high rank or great renown, a priest or other person was set apart to wait upon the corpse and to present food to its mouth at different hours of the day. They supposed that the soul still hovered over the mouldering remains and was pleased by such marks of attention. Hence during the exposure of the body in the temporary house the mourners would sometimes renew their lamentations there, and, wounding themselves with shark's teeth, wipe off the blood on a cloth, and deposit the bloody rag beside the mummy as a proof of their affection. In this state the desiccated body was preserved for many months till the flesh had completely decayed; Ellis was of opinion that the best-preserved of these mummies could not be kept for more than twelve months. The bones were then scraped, washed, and buried within the precincts of the family temple (_morai_), if the deceased was a chief; but if he was a commoner, they were interred outside of the holy ground. However, the skull was not buried with the bones; it was carefully wrapt in fine cloth and kept in a box by the family, it might be for several generations. Sometimes the box containing the skull was deposited at the temple, but often it was hung from the roof of the house.[206] At marriage the skulls of ancestors were sometimes brought out and set before the bride and bridegroom in order, apparently, to place the newly wedded pair under the guardianship of the ancestral spirits who had once animated these relics of mortality.[207] In time of war victorious enemies would sometimes despoil the temples of the vanquished and carry off the bones of famous men interred in them; these they would then subject to the utmost indignity by converting them into chisels, borers, or fish-hooks. To prevent this sacrilege the relations of the dead conveyed the bones of their chiefs, and even the bodies of persons who had lately died, to the mountains and hid them in caverns among the most inaccessible rocks and lofty precipices of these wild solitudes.[208] Where the mountains advance to the coast, many of these caves exist in the face of cliffs overhanging the sea; for the most part they are situated in places which Europeans can reach only with the help of ropes and ladders, though the natives, it is said, can clamber up the steepest crags with ease. Few even of the islanders know the situation of the caverns, and fewer still will consent to act as guides to the curious stranger who may wish to explore their recesses; for the fear of the ghosts, who are supposed to haunt these ancient depositories of the dead, is yet deeply rooted in the native mind. Moreover, the mouths of the caves are generally so low and overgrown with shrubs and creepers that they may easily be overlooked by an observer standing in front of them. Some of the grottos are said to be still full of skulls, or were so down to the end of the nineteenth century.[209] The mummies as well as the bones were liable to be captured by an invader, and were esteemed trophies not less glorious than foemen slain in battle. Hence during an invasion the mummies were generally the first things to be carried off for safety to the mountains.[210] [206] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 93 _sq._, 135 _sq._, 218, 219, vi. 47 _sq._; J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 561 _sq._; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 212 _sq._, 363 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 400 _sq._, 404 _sq._, 405 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 554. [207] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 272, who observes that the survivors "considered the spirits of the proprietors of these skulls as the guardian spirits of the family." [208] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 405. [209] A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_ (Berlin, 1900), pp. 37 _sq._, 81 _sq._, 83. [210] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 364. A dangerous pollution was supposed to be contracted by all who had handled a corpse. Hence the persons employed in embalming a body were carefully shunned by every one else so long as the process lasted, because the guilt of the crime for which the deceased had died was supposed to attach in some degree to such as touched his mortal remains. The embalmers did not feed themselves, lest the food, defiled by the touch of their polluted hands, should cause their death; so they were fed by others.[211] This state of uncleanness lasted for a month, during which the tabooed persons were forbidden to handle food as well as to put it into their own mouths.[212] [211] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 403. [212] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 363. Again, when the ceremony of depositing the sins of the deceased in a hole[213] was over, all who had touched the body or the garments of the deceased, which were buried or destroyed, fled precipitately into the sea to cleanse themselves from the pollution which they had incurred by contact with the corpse; and they cast into the sea the garments they had worn while they were engaged in the work. Having bathed, they gathered a few pieces of coral from the bottom of the sea, and returning with them to the house, addressed the dead body, saying, "With you may the pollution be." With these words they threw down the pieces of coral on the top of the hole that had been dug to receive all the objects defiled by their connexion with the deceased.[214] [213] See above, p. 305. [214] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 403. When a person had died of an infectious disorder, the priests entreated him to bury the disease with him in the grave and not to inflict it upon other people, when he revisited them as a ghost. They also threw a plantain into the grave, and either buried with him or burned all his utensils, that nobody might be infected by them.[215] [215] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 364. § 9. _The Fate of the Soul after Death_ The natives of the Society Islands believed in the immortality of the human soul, or at all events in its separate existence after death[216]; they thought that no person perishes or becomes extinct.[217] On its departure from the body the spirit, now called a _tee_, _teehee_, or _tii_, was supposed to linger near its old habitation, whether the mouldering remains exposed on the bier, or the bones buried in the earth, or the skull kept in its box. In this state the spirits were believed to lodge in small wooden images, seldom more than eighteen inches high, which were placed round about the burial-ground.[218] These images are variously said to have borne the same name (_tee_, _teehee_) as the spirits which inhabited them,[219] or to have been called by a different name (_unus_)[220]. Specimens of these images were seen by George Forster in Tahiti. He says that round about the _marai_ (_morai_) of Aheatua, at that time King of Tiarroboo, "were placed perpendicularly, or nearly so, fifteen slender pieces of wood, some about eighteen feet long, in which six or eight diminutive human figures of a rude unnatural shape were carved, standing above each other, male or female promiscuously, yet so that the uppermost was always a male. All these figures faced the sea, and perfectly resembled some which are carved on the sterns of their canoes, and which they call _e-tee_."[221] To the same effect George Forster's father, J. R. Forster, observes that "near the _marais_ are twenty or thirty single pieces of wood fixed into the ground, carved all over on one side with figures about eighteen inches long, rudely representing a man and a woman alternately, so that often more than fifteen or twenty figures may be counted on one piece of wood, called by them _Teehee_."[222] But the souls of the dead, though they inhabited chiefly the wooden figures erected at the temples or burial-grounds (_marais_, _morais_), were by no means confined to them, and were dreaded by the natives, who believed that during the night these unquiet spirits crept into people's houses and ate the heart and entrails of the sleepers, thus causing their death.[223] [216] J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 222, vi. 150. [217] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 345. [218] J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 552, 553; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 151 _sq._ [219] J. R. Forster and G. Forster, _ll.cc._ [220] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 348, "the _unus_, or curiously carved pieces of wood marking the sacred places of interment, and emblematical of _tiis_ or spirits." [221] G. Forster, _op. cit._ i. 267. Compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 461, "_Les images des Tiis étaient placées aux extrémités des marais et gardaient l'enceinte des terres sacrées_." [222] J. R. Forster, _op. cit._ pp. 544 _sq._ In the southern peninsula of Tahiti, both on the coast and inland, Captain Cook saw many sepulchral buildings, and he described them as "decorated with many carved boards, which were set upright, and on the top of which were various figures of birds and men: on one in particular there was the representation of a cock, which was painted red and yellow, to imitate the feathers of that animal, and rude images of men were, in some of them, placed one upon the head of another." See J. Cook, _Voyages_, i. 150 _sq._ These "carved boards" were no doubt of the same sort as the _tees_ or _teehees_ described by the two Forsters. No other writer seems to mention the figures of birds carved on them. [223] J. R. Forster, _op. cit._ p. 543. However, the Society Islanders appear to have been by no means consistent in the views which they held concerning the fate of the soul after death. Like many other people, they seem to have wavered between a belief that the souls of the dead lingered invisible near their old homes and the belief that the disembodied spirits went away to a distant land, where all human souls, which have departed this life, met and dwelt together. Or perhaps it might be more correct to say, that instead of wavering between these two inconsistent beliefs, they held them both firmly without perceiving their inconsistency. At all events these islanders believed that either at death or at some time after it their souls departed to a distant place called _po_ or Night, the common abode of gods and of departed spirits.[224] Thither the soul was conducted by other spirits, and on its arrival it was eaten by the gods, not all at once, but by degrees. They imagined that the souls of ancestors or relatives, who ranked among the gods, scraped the different parts of the newly arrived spirit with a kind of serrated shell at different times, after which they ate and digested it. If the soul underwent this process of being eaten and digested three separate times, it became a deified or imperishable spirit and might visit the world and inspire living folk.[225] According to one account, the soul was cooked whole in an earth-oven, as pigs are baked on earth, and was then placed in a basket of coco-nut leaves before being served up to the god whom the deceased had worshipped in life. "By this cannibal divinity he was now eaten up; after which, through some inexplicable process, the dead and devoured man emanated from the body of the god, and became immortal."[226] In the island of Raiatea the great god Oro was supposed to use a scallop-shell "to scrape the flesh from the bones of newly deceased bodies, previous to their being converted into pure spirits by being devoured by him, and afterwards transformed by passing through the laboratory of his cannibal stomach."[227] This process of being devoured by a god was not conceived of as a punishment inflicted on wicked people after death; for good and bad souls had alike to submit to it. Rather, Captain Cook tells us, the natives considered "this coalition with the deity as a kind of purification necessary to be undergone before they enter a state of bliss. For, according to their doctrine, if a man refrain from all connexion with women some months before death, he passes immediately into his eternal mansion, without such a previous union; as if already, by this abstinence, he were pure enough to be exempted from the general lot."[228] A slightly different account of this process of spiritual purification is given by the first missionaries to Tahiti. They say that "when the spirit departs from the body, they have a notion it is swallowed by the _eat[=o]oa_ (_atua_) bird, who frequents their burying-places and _morais_, and passes through him in order to be purified, and be united to the deity. And such are afterwards employed by him to attend other human beings and to inflict punishment, or remove sickness, as shall be deemed requisite."[229] [224] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 396. Compare J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 346; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 431; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 330. [225] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 396 _sq._; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 433. [226] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 273; compare _ib._ pp. 330 _sq._ [227] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 521 _sq._ [228] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 150. [229] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 345 _sq._ In spite of the purification which the souls of the dead underwent by passing through the body of a god or of a divine bird, they were believed to be not wholly divested of the passions which had actuated them in life on earth. If the souls of former enemies met in the world beyond the grave, they renewed their battles, but apparently to no purpose, since they were accounted invulnerable in this invisible state. Again, when the soul of a dead wife arrived in the spirit land, it was known to the soul of her dead husband, if he had gone before, and the two renewed their acquaintance in a spacious house, called _tourooa_, where the souls of the deceased assembled to recreate themselves with the gods. After that the pair retired to the separate abode of the husband, where they remained for ever and had offspring, which, however, was entirely spiritual; for they were neither married nor were their embraces supposed to be like those of corporeal beings.[230] [230] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 150 _sq._ In general the situation of _po_ or the land of the dead seems to have been left vague and indefinite by the Society Islanders; apparently they did not, like the Western Polynesians, imagine it to be in some far western isle, to reach which the souls of the departed had to cross a wide expanse of sea.[231] However, the natives of Raiatea had very definite ideas on this mysterious subject. They thought that _po_ was situated in a mysterious and unexplored cavern at the top of the highest mountain in the island. This cavern, perhaps the crater of a volcano, was said to communicate, by subterranean passages, with a cave on the coast, the opening of which is so small that a child of two years could hardly creep into it. Here an evil spirit (_varu iino_) was said to lurk and, pouncing out on careless passers-by, to drag them into the darkest recesses of his den and devour them. After the conversion of the natives to Christianity the missionaries were shown the spot. Near it were the ruins of a temple of the war god, where multitudes of the corpses of warriors slain in battle had been either buried or left to rot on the ground. The missionaries saw many mouldering fragments of skeletons. Not far off a cape jutted into the sea, up the lofty and precipitous face of which the souls of the dead were said to climb on their way to their long home in the cavern at the top of the mountain. A native informant assured the missionaries that he had often seen them scaling the dizzy crag, both men and women.[232] [231] See above, pp. 87 _sq._, 214 _sqq._, 238 _sqq._ [232] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 537 _sq._ In the island of Borabora the fate even of kings after death was believed to be a melancholy one. Their souls were converted into a piece of furniture resembling an English hat-stand; only in Borabora the corresponding utensil was the branch of a tree with the lateral forks cut short, on which bonnets, garments, baskets, and so forth were suspended. The natives very naturally concluded that in the other world a similar stand was wanted for the convenience of the ghosts, to hang their hats and coats on. Kings who shrank from the prospect of being converted into a hat-stand after death made interest with the priest to save them from such a degradation. So when a king who had been great and powerful in life saw his end approaching, he would send to the priests the most costly presents, such as four or five of the largest and fattest hogs, as many of the best canoes, and any rare and valuable European article which he happened to possess. In return the priests prayed for him daily at the temples till he died; and afterwards his dead body was brought to one of these sacred edifices and kept upright there for several days and nights, during which yet larger gifts were sent by his relatives, and the most expensive sacrifices offered to the idols. The decaying corpse was then removed, placed on a canoe, and rowed out on the lagoon as far as an opening in the reef, only to be brought back again in like manner; while all the time the priests recited their prayers and performed their lugubrious ceremonies over it on the water as well as on the land. Finally, the mouldering remains were laid out to rot on a platform in one of the usual charnel-houses.[233] [233] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 331 _sq._ Conversion into a hat-stand was not, perhaps, the worst that could happen to the soul of a Society Islander after death. In the island of Raiatea there is a lake surrounded by trees, the tops of which appear curiously flat. On this verdant platform the spirits of the newly departed were said to dance and feast together until, at a subsequent stage of their existence, they were converted into cockroaches.[234] The souls of infants killed at birth were supposed to return in the bodies of grasshoppers.[235] [234] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 522. [235] J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 455. But the Society Islanders were far from thinking that the souls of the dead herded together indiscriminately in the other world. They imagined that the spirits were discriminated and assigned to abodes of different degrees of happiness or misery, not according to their virtues or vices in this life, but according to the rank which they had occupied in society, one receptacle of superior attractions being occupied by the souls of chiefs and other principal people, while another of an inferior sort sufficed to lodge the souls of the lower orders. For they did not suppose that their good or bad actions in this life affected in the least their lot in the life hereafter, or that the deities took account of any such distinction. Thus their religion exerted no influence on their morality.[236] Happiness and misery in the world beyond the grave, we are told, "were the destiny of individuals, altogether irrespective of their moral character and virtuous conduct. The only crimes that were visited by the displeasure of their deities were the neglect of some rite or ceremony, or the failing to furnish required offerings."[237] [236] J. Cook, i. 222. Compare _id._, vi. 150; J. R. Forster, _Observations made on a Voyage round the World_, pp. 553 _sqq._ [237] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 397. Compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 433. The Society Islanders, especially the natives of the Leeward Islands, believed that some of the souls of the dead were destined to enjoy a kind of heaven or paradise, which they called _Rohutu noanoa_, "sweet-scented Rohutu." This blissful region was supposed to be near a lofty and stupendous mountain in the island of Raiatea, not far from the harbour Hamaniino. The mountain went by the name of _Temehani unauna_, "splendid or glorious Temehani." It was probably the same with the lofty mountain on whose summit popular fancy placed the _po_ or common abode of the dead.[238] But the paradise was invisible to mortal eyes, being situated in the regions of the air (_reva_). The country was described as most lovely and enchanting in appearance, adorned with flowers of every shape and hue, and perfumed with odours of every fragrance. The air was pure and salubrious. Every sort of delight was to be enjoyed there; while rich viands and delicious fruits were supplied in abundance for the celebration of sumptuous festivals. Handsome youths and women thronged the place. But these honours and pleasures were only for the privileged orders--the chiefs and the members of the society of the Areois--for only they could afford to pay the heavy charges which the priests exacted for a passport to paradise; common folk seldom or never dreamed of attempting to procure for their relatives admission to the abode of bliss. Even apart from the expense of getting to heaven, it is probable that the sharp distinction kept up between chiefs and commoners here on earth would be expected to be maintained hereafter, and to exclude every person of the humbler sort from the society of his betters in the future life.[239] The other less exclusive, and no doubt less expensive, place for departed spirits, in contrast to "sweet-scented Rohutu," went by the significant name of "foul-scented Rohutu"; but over the nature of the substances which earned for it this unsavoury appellation our missionary authority preferred to draw a veil.[240] [238] See above, p. 317. [239] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 245 _sq._, 397; J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 434 _sq._ [240] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, p. 476. According to one account, the souls of the dead were supposed to gather in the sun, where they feasted with the god Maouwe or O-Mauwee (Maui) on bread-fruit and the flesh of pigs or dogs, and drank never-ending draughts of kava.[241] [241] J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, p. 553; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 151. But wherever the souls of the dead were imagined to dwell, we may infer that they were credited with the power of returning to earth for a longer or shorter time to benefit or injure the living. For we have seen that sickness and death were commonly ascribed to the action of these spirits,[242] which seems to imply that they revisited this sublunary world on their errands of mischief. Accordingly, whenever the natives approached by night one of the charnel-houses in which dead bodies were exposed, they were startled "in the same manner that many of our ignorant and superstitious people are with the apprehension of ghosts, and at the sight of a churchyard." Again, the souls of the departed were sometimes thought to communicate with their friends in dreams and to announce to them things that should afterwards come to pass, thus enabling the dreamer to foretell the future. Foreknowledge thus acquired, however, was confined to particular persons, and such favoured dreamers enjoyed a reputation little inferior to that of the inspired priests. One of them prophesied to Captain Cook on the strength of a communication vouchsafed to him by the soul of his deceased father in a dream; but the event proved that the ghost was out in his reckoning by five days.[243] [242] See above, pp. 299 _sqq._ [243] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 152. The fear of ghosts in the minds of the Society Islanders has long survived their conversion to Christianity; indeed, we are informed that it is as rampant as ever. No ordinary native would dare to visit one of the lonely caves where the mouldering bones or skulls of his forefathers were deposited for safety in days of old.[244] At one point on the western coast of Tahiti, where the mountains advance in precipices close to the sea, the road which skirts their base is a place of fear to the natives. For in these precipices are caves full of skulls, and the ghosts who reside in the caverns are reported sometimes to weary of their own society and to come down to the road for company, where in a sportive vein they play all sorts of tricks on passers-by. Not so long ago three Tahitians were riding home at dusk from Papeete, where they had been drinking rum. Just at the pass under the cliff they were surprised by ghosts, who threw them into the ditch at the side of the road. So great is the dread which the natives entertain of apparitions at this spot that the Government has been compelled to divert the road, so that it no longer skirts the foot of the haunted mountain, but gives it a wide berth, and runs in a long sweep by the edge of the sea.[245] [244] A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_, p. 37. [245] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 83 _sq._ Again, at another point on the west coast of Tahiti, where mighty mountains, a glorious sea, and little coral islands with their groves of palms, offer a view of enchanting beauty, there is said to be a cave containing the skulls of chiefs in a jutting cliff half-way up the mountain. The cave was in charge of an old man in whose family the office of guardian was hereditary. It had been entrusted to him by his father on his deathbed, and the son had kept the secret faithfully ever since. In vain did a traveller seek to persuade the old man to guide him to the cave; in vain did the chief himself beg of him to reveal the grotto which concealed the mouldering relics of his forefathers. The guardian was obdurate; he believed that the world was not wide enough to hold two men who knew the holy place. He assured the traveller that nobody could reach the cave without the help of the ghosts, so perpendicular and so smooth was the face of the cliff that led up to it. When he himself wished to make his way to it, his custom was to go to the foot of the crag and pray, till the spirits came and wafted him lightly up and down again; otherwise it would have been a sheer impossibility for him to ascend and descend.[246] [246] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 81 _sq._ § 10. _The Worship of the Dead_ The belief in the existence of the spirits of the dead, and in their power to help or harm the living, naturally led the Society Islanders, like so many other peoples of the world, to propitiate these powerful beings, to sue their favour, or to appease their anger by prayer and sacrifice, in short, to worship them. On this subject the first missionaries to these islanders tell us that, in addition to the greater gods, "for general worship they have an inferior race, a kind of _dii penates_. Each family has its _tee_ or guardian spirit: he is supposed to be one of their departed relatives, who, for his superior excellences, has been exalted into an _eatooa_ (_atua_). They suppose this spirit can inflict sickness or remove it, and preserve them from a malignant deity who also bears the name _tee_, and is always employed in mischief."[247] "Every family has its _tee_, or guardian spirit, whom they set up, and worship at the _morai_."[248] "They regard the spirits of their ancestors, male and female, as exalted into _eatooas_ (_atuas_) and their favour to be secured by prayers and offerings. Every sickness and untoward accident they esteem as the hand of judgment for some offence committed."[249] As for the mischievous spirit who bore the same name as the worshipful spirit of a dead ancestor, the missionaries say that "the evil demon named _Tee_ has no power but upon earth; and this he exercises by getting into them with their food, and causing madness or other diseases; but these they imagine their tutelar saints, if propitious, can prevent or remove."[250] [247] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 344. [248] T. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 343. [249] J. Wilson, _op. cit._ p. 345. "The general name for deity, in all its ramifications, is _eatooa_" (_id._ p. 343). [250] J. Wilson, p. 346. We may suspect that the missionaries were mistaken in thus sharply distinguishing between an "evil demon" and a "tutelar saint," both of whom went by the same name (_tee_). Probably the "evil demon" and the "tutelar saint" were alike supposed to be souls of dead persons, with this difference between them, that whereas the one had been good and beneficent in his life, the other had been bad and maleficent; for it is a common belief that the dead retain in the other world the character and disposition which they manifested on earth, and that accordingly as disembodied spirits they may benefit or injure their surviving relatives.[251] Thus according to his character and behaviour in this present state of existence a person's ghost may naturally develop either into a god or into a devil. [251] In confirmation of my conjecture that the missionaries mistook a general name (_tee_, otherwise spelled _tii_) for the name of a particular demon, I may point out that the naturalist J. R. Forster before them seems to have fallen into precisely the same mistake with regard to another general name for departed spirits (_oramatuas_ or _oromatuas_). Thus he writes: "Besides these divinities of the second class, there are others of a still inferior rank, and though called _Eatooas_, are no more than what the Greek or Roman mythologists would have called _Genii_, or _Dii minorum gentium_: one of them, called _Orometooa_, is of a malignant disposition, resides chiefly near the _Marais_ and _Toopapous_ (places of burial) and in or near the boxes, or little chests, including the heads of their deceased friends, each of which, on that account, is called _Te-wharre no te Orometooa_, the house of the evil genius _Orometooa_, The people at Taheitee are of opinion, that if their priests invoke this evil genius, he will kill, by a sudden death, the person on whom they intend to bring down the vengeance of this divinity." See J. R. Forster, _Observations made during a Voyage round the World_, pp. 541 _sq._ In this passage we can hardly doubt that "this evil genius," Orometooa, is simply the _oramatuas_ or _oromatuas_, the spirits of the dead, by means of whom sorcerers were supposed to injure or destroy any one at whom they or their employers had a grudge. See above, p. 299, and below, pp. 323 _sqq._ It is to be feared that in the case of Tahitian ghosts the course of spiritual evolution was rather in the direction of devilry than of deity. At least this conclusion seems forced on us by the account which William Ellis, perhaps our best authority on Tahitian religion, gives of the character of these worshipful beings. I will reproduce it in his own words. "The objects of worship among the Tahitians, next to the _atua_ or gods, were the _oramatuas tiis_ or spirits. These were supposed to reside in the _po_, or world of night, and were never invoked but by wizards or sorcerers, who implored their aid for the destruction of an enemy, or the injury of some person whom they were hired to destroy. They were considered a different order of beings from the gods, a kind of intermediate class between them and the human race, though in their prayers all the attributes of the gods were ascribed to them. The _oramatuas_ were the spirits of departed fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, children, etc. The natives were greatly afraid of them, and presented offerings to avoid being cursed or destroyed, when they were employed by the sorcerers. "They seem to have been regarded as a sort of demons. In the Leeward Islands, the chief _oramatuas_ were spirits of departed warriors, who had distinguished themselves by ferocity and murder, attributes of character usually supposed to belong to these evil genii. Each celebrated _tii_ was honoured with an image, through which it was supposed his influence was exerted. The spirits of the reigning chiefs were united to this class, and the skulls of deceased rulers, kept with the images, were honoured with the same worship. Some idea of what was regarded as their ruling passion, may be inferred from the fearful apprehensions constantly entertained by all classes. They were supposed to be exceedingly irritable and cruel, avenging with death the slightest insult or neglect, and were kept within the precincts of the temple. In the _marae_ of Tane at Maeva, the ruins of their abode were still standing when I last visited the place. It was a house built upon a number of large strong poles, which raised the floor ten or twelve feet from the ground. They were thus elevated, to keep them out of the way of men, as it was imagined they were constantly strangling, or otherwise destroying, the chiefs and people. To prevent this, they were also treated with great respect; men were appointed constantly to attend them, and to keep them wrapped in the choicest kinds of cloth, to take them out whenever there was a _pae atua_, or general exhibition of the gods; to anoint them frequently with fragrant oil; and to sleep in the house with them at night. All this was done, to keep them pacified. And though the office of calming the angry spirits was honourable, it was regarded as dangerous, for if, during the night or at any other time, these keepers were guilty of the least impropriety, it was supposed the spirits of the images, or the skulls, would hurl them headlong from their high abodes, and break their necks in the fall."[252] [252] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_. i. 334-336. The difference in power and dignity between the great national gods (_atuas_) and the spirits of deceased relations (_oramatuas tiis_) might be measured by the size of their images; for whereas the images of the gods were six or eight feet long, those of the spirits were not more than so many inches.[253] But while these malignant and irritable spirits--the souls of dead fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and children--resided generally either in their little images or in their skulls, they were not strictly confined to these material vehicles; they resorted occasionally to the shells from the seashore, especially to a beautiful kind of murex, the _Murex ramoces_. These shells were kept by the sorcerers, and the peculiar singing or humming sound that may be heard when the valve is applied to the ear was imagined to proceed from the demon in the shell.[254] [253] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 337. [254] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 363. It was these malignant and dangerous demons whom the sorcerer employed as his agents to execute his fell purposes. But to effect them he had to secure something connected with the body of his intended victim, it might be the parings of his nails, a lock of his hair, his spittle or other bodily secretions, or else a portion of the food which he was about to eat. Over this material substance, whatever it was, the sorcerer recited his incantations and performed his magical rites either in his own house or in his private temple (_marae_). The result was believed to be that the demon entered into the substance, and through it passed into the body of the man at whom the enchanter aimed his elfish darts. The wretched sufferer experienced the acutest agonies; his distortions were frightful to witness; his eyes seemed starting from his head; he foamed at the mouth; he lay writhing in anguish on the ground; in short, to adopt the native expression, he was torn by the evil spirit. Yet his case was not hopeless; the demon could be mollified by a bribe, or defeated by the intervention of a more powerful demon. Hence, when any one was believed to be suffering from the incantations of a sorcerer, if he or his friends were rich enough they engaged another sorcerer for a fee to counteract the spells of the first and so to restore the health of the invalid. It was generally supposed that the efforts of the second sorcerer would be crowned with success if only the demon whom he employed were equally powerful with that at the command of his rival, and if the presents which he received for his professional services were more valuable. In order to avoid the danger of being thus bewitched through the refuse of their persons, the Tahitians used scrupulously to burn or bury their shorn hair, lest it should fall into the hands of enchanters.[255] [255] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 363-370. It is possible that some even of the great national gods were no more than ghosts of dead men, whose human origin was forgotten. There is some reason for supposing that this was true of Hiro, the god of thieves. On the one hand, this deity was reputed to be the son of the great god Oro;[256] and when a mother desired her child to grow up a clever thief, she repaired to a temple, where the priest, on receipt of the requisite offerings, caught the spirit of the god in a snare and infused it into the infant, thus ensuring the future proficiency of the infant in the arts of theft and robbery.[257] Yet, in spite of these claims to divinity, there are some grounds for thinking that Hiro was himself originally no better than a thief and a robber. He is said to have been a native of Raiatea, from whose sacrilegious fingers not even the temples and altars of the gods were safe. His skull was shown in a large temple of his own construction in that island down to the early years of the nineteenth century. His hair, too, was stuffed into the image of his reputed father, the god Oro, and perished when that image was committed to the flames by the early converts to Christianity.[258] [256] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iii. 112, 125. [257] J. Williams, _Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands_, pp. 466 _sq._ [258] D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 254 _sq._ As to Hiro, the god of thieves, see also J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 447-449. Once a year the Society Islanders celebrated a festival accompanied by rites, of which one has been compared to the Roman Catholic custom of performing a mass for the benefit of souls in purgatory. The festival was called "the ripening of the year," and the time for its observance was determined by the blossoming of reeds. It was regularly observed in the island of Huahine, and vast multitudes assembled to take part in it. As a rule, only men engaged in the pagan festivals, but at this particular one women and children were also present, though they were not allowed to enter the sacred enclosure. The celebration was regarded as a kind of annual acknowledgment made to the gods. Prayers were offered at the temple, and a sumptuous banquet formed part of the festival. At the close of the festival every one returned to his home, or to his family temple (_marae_), there to offer special prayers for the spirits of departed relatives, that they might be liberated from the _po_, or state of Night, and might either ascend to paradise ("sweet-scented Rohutu") or return to this world by entering into the body of one of its inhabitants. But "they did not suppose, according to the generally received doctrine of transmigration, that the spirits who entered the body of some dweller upon earth, would permanently remain there, but only come and inspire the person to declare future events, or execute any other commission from the supernatural beings on whom they imagined they were constantly dependent."[259] [259] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 351 _sq._ Compare J. A. Moerenhout, _op. cit._ i. 502 note^1, 523. Hence we learn that the spirits of the dead as well as the gods were believed to be capable of inspiring men and revealing to them the future. In this, as in other respects, the dead were assimilated to deities. CHAPTER VI THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE MARQUESANS § 1. _The Marquesas Islands_ The Marquesas are an archipelago of eleven or twelve chief islands in the South Pacific, situated about nine hundred miles to the north-east of Tahiti. They fall into two groups, which together stretch in a direction from north-west to south-east, from 8° to 11° of South latitude. The south-eastern group, of which Hivaoa (Dominica) is the largest island, was discovered by the Spanish Admiral Alvaro Mendana de Neyra in 1595, but, so far as appears, it was not again visited by Europeans until 1774, when Captain Cook touched at the islands on his second voyage. Curiously enough, the north-westerly group, of which Nukahiva is the largest and most important island, remained unknown until 1791, when it was discovered by the American Captain Ingraham, who named the group the Washington Islands. About a month later, in June 1791, the French navigator Marchand visited the same islands, and in 1797 the first missionary, William Crook, was landed from the missionary ship _Duff_. The whole archipelago is now known as the Marquesas, a name which the Spanish Admiral Mendana bestowed on the islands discovered by him in honour of the Marquess de Canete, Viceroy of Peru, by whose order the voyage had been undertaken.[1] [1] Captain J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 274 _sqq._; G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 5 _sqq._; C. P. Claret Fleurieu, _Voyage round the World performed by E. Marchand_ (London, 1801), i. 27 _sqq._, 55 _sqq._; J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. lxxiii. _sqq._, 127 _sqq._; A. J. von Krusenstern, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1813), i. 136; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _Îles Marquises ou Nouka-hiva_ (Paris, 1843), pp. 1 _sqq._, 12 _sq._; Le P. Mathias G----, _Lettres sur les Îles Marquises_ (Paris, 1843), pp. 7 _sqq._; P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _L'Archipel des Iles Marquises_ (Paris, 1877), pp. 1 _sqq._; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_, ii. 235 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 522. The islands are of volcanic formation, lofty and mountainous. The interior consists generally of a range of mountains some three thousand feet high, from which a series of spurs descend steeply to the coast, terminating for the most part in tremendous cliffs, at the foot of which the great rollers break in foam; for with a single exception there are no coral reefs, and a ship can sail in deep water within a cable's length of the rocks. Viewed at a distance from the sea, the aspect of the islands is somewhat stern and forbidding. Bare mountains, jagged peaks, sometimes lost in the clouds, and an iron-bound coast of black and beetling crags, buffeted eternally by the surf, make up a gloomy picture; but a nearer view discloses verdant valleys nestling between the ridges which radiate from the central mountains. These valleys are watered by mountain streams and clothed with dense tropical vegetation, their luxuriant green offering an agreeable contrast to the bareness and aridity of the frowning precipices and sharp peaks which soar above them. Cascades tumbling from high cliffs into the depths of the glens add to the beauty and charm of the scenery. So steep and precipitous are the ridges which divide these smiling vales from each other that the ascent and descent are in many places both difficult and dangerous even for the natives; European mountaineers need to have stout limbs and steady heads to accomplish them in safety. Hence in former days each valley contained a separate tribe, which was commonly in a state of permanent hostility towards its neighbours across the mountain barriers.[2] Of these tribes the most famous were the warlike and dreaded Taipiis or Typees, who occupied a beautiful valley at the eastern end of Nukahiva, and in their mountain fastness deemed themselves inaccessible to their enemies. However, in the early part of the nineteenth century an American naval officer, Captain David Porter, succeeded, not without great difficulty, in carrying havoc and devastation into these sylvan scenes.[3] Later in the century a runaway American sailor, Hermann Melville, spent more than four months as a captive in the tribe, and published an agreeable narrative of his captivity; but never having mastered the language, he was not able to give much exact information concerning the customs and beliefs of the natives.[4] As there is no maritime plain interposed between the mountains and the shore, the only way of passing from one valley to another is either to go by sea or to clamber over the intervening ridges. It would be materially impossible, we are told, unless at enormous and ruinous cost, to make a road or even a mule-path round any of the Marquesas Islands, as has been done in Tahiti.[5] [2] As to the formation and scenery of the islands, see Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 110; C. S. Stewart, _Visit to the South Seas_ (London, 1832), i. 193 _sqq._; F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe_ (London, 1840), i. 299 _sqq._; H. Melville, _Typee_, pp. 8 _sq._, 17 _sq._, and _passim_ (_Everyman's Library_); Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 138 _sq._; P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 84 _sq._; Clavel, _Les Marquisiens_ (Paris, 1885) pp. 1 _sq._; C. E. Meinicke, _op. cit._ ii. 236 _sq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _op. cit._ pp. 522 _sq._; A. Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_ (Berlin, 1900), pp. 192 _sq._, 220 _sqq._ As to the extreme difficulty of scaling the mountains and precipices to pass from one valley to another, see particularly M. Radiguet, _Les Derniers Sauvages_ (Paris, 1882), pp. 101 _sq._, note. [3] Captain David Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean_, Second Edition (New York, 1822), ii. 86 _sqq._ [4] H. Melville, _Typee_ (London, _Everyman's Library_, no date). The first edition of this book was published in 1846. Melville's residence among the Taipiis (Typees) fell in the year 1841. [5] P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 85. Despite their situation in the heart of the tropics, the Marquesas enjoy an extremely healthy climate subject to none of the inconveniences usually incidental to countries in the same latitude; endemic and epidemic diseases are alike unknown. European soldiers can work in the sun without accident and without exhaustion.[6] The climate has been described as an eternal spring, without winter or even autumn; though a perpetual succession of ripe fruits may seem to lend an autumnal air to the landscape, which yet is never chilled by hoar frosts or saddened by the sight of bare boughs and fallen leaves.[7] Even in the hottest days a cool wind blows from the sea, and at night there is a breeze from the land. Rain falls during some months of the year, especially from May or June to August or September; but on the whole there is little variation in the seasons;[8] the Marquesan year has been described as one long tropical month of June just melting into July.[9] Yet we are told that the northern islands sometimes suffer from droughts which may last for years; at such times vegetation languishes, till a fresh cloud-burst restores the verdure of the trees and grass as by magic.[10] It is then, too, that the cascades everywhere enliven the landscape by the glitter and roar of their tumbling waters, which, after dropping from the height, flow rapidly down their steep beds into the sea.[11] [6] M. Radiguet, _Les Derniers Sauvages_ (Paris, 1882), pp. 304 _sq._; P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 57. [7] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 94. [8] P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 57. Compare M. Radiguet, _Les Derniers Sauvages_, pp. 304 _sq._ [9] H. Melville, _Typee_, p. 220. [10] A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 222 _sq._ [11] M. Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 304. § 2. _Physical Appearance of the Natives_ Observers are generally agreed that from the purely physical point of view the Marquesan islanders are, or used to be, the noblest specimens of the Polynesian race. Captain Cook remarked that "the inhabitants of these islands collectively are, without exception, the finest race of people in this sea. For fine shape and regular features, they perhaps surpass all other nations."[12] To the same effect the naturalist George Forster, who accompanied Captain Cook, gives his impression of a crowd of Marquesan men, among whom were no women. He says: "They were tall, and extremely well limbed; not one of them unwieldy or corpulent like a Taheitian, nor meagre and shrivelled like a native of Easter Island. The punctuation" (by which he meant the tattooing) "which almost entirely covered the men of a middle age, made it difficult to distinguish their elegance of form; but among the youths, who were not yet marked or tattooed, it was easy to discover beauties singularly striking, and often without a blemish, such as demanded the admiration of all beholders. Many of them might be placed near the famous models of antiquity, and would not suffer in the comparison: "_Qualis aut Nireus fuit, aut aquosa Raptus ab Ida."_ HOR. "The natural colour of these youths was not quite so dark as that of the common people in the Society Isles; but the men appeared to be infinitely blacker, on account of the punctures which covered their whole body, from head to foot. These punctures were disposed with the utmost regularity; so that the marks on each leg, arm, and cheek, and on the corresponding muscles, were exactly similar. They never assumed the determinate form of an animal or plant, but consisted of a variety of blotches, spirals, bars, chequers, and lines, which had a most motley appearance."[13] [12] J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 284. [13] G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_, ii. 14 _sq._ Compare Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 152 _sq._; U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1814), p. 85; G. H. von Langsdorff, _Reise um die Welt_ (Frankfurt am Mayn, 1812), i. 92 _sqq._; Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 96 _sqq._; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 216 _sqq._; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 39. Similarly, speaking of the Taipiis or Typees, Melville observes, "In beauty of form they surpassed anything I had ever seen. Not a single instance of natural deformity was observable in all the throng attending the revels. Occasionally I noticed among the men the scars of wounds they had received in battle; and sometimes, though very seldom, the loss of a finger, an eye, or an arm, attributable to the same cause. With these exceptions, every individual appeared free from those blemishes which sometimes mar the effect of an otherwise perfect form. But their physical excellence did not merely consist in an exemption from these evils; nearly every individual of their number might have been taken for a sculptor's model."[14] As to their stature, the same writer affirms that "the men, in almost every instance, are of lofty stature, scarcely ever less than six feet."[15] Similarly Captain Porter tell us that "they are far above the common stature of the human race, seldom less than five feet eleven inches, but most commonly six feet two or three inches, and every way proportioned. Their faces are remarkably handsome, with keen, piercing eyes; teeth white, and more beautiful than ivory; countenances open and expressive, which reflect every emotion of their souls; limbs which might serve as models for a statuary, and strength and activity proportioned to their appearance."[16] Another observer remarks of them that "the natives bear the palm for personal beauty from most other of the Polynesian tribes. The men are tall and muscular, though rather slightly framed; their deportment is graceful and independent; their features are handsome, and partake more of the European regularity of profile than is usual with Polynesian islanders."[17] The nose is straight or aquiline, sometimes short or slightly flattened, but never ill-shaped: the mouth is never large nor the lips thick: the forehead is rather low and somewhat retreating.[18] The hair is almost always straight or wavy; men or women with frizzly hair are very seldom seen, especially in the north-western group. The colour of the skin, where it is not darkened by tattooing, is a clear brown, resembling the bronzed appearance acquired by Europeans through exposure to a tropical sun.[19] The women are both absolutely and relatively shorter than the men; indeed Melville describes them as "uncommonly diminutive." Their complexion is lighter; in the parts of the body which are seldom exposed to the sun they are even said to appear as white as European women. Their features are good, but rather pretty than beautiful; their hands and feet are very shapely. Unlike the men, who are, or used to be, tattooed from head to foot, the women were tattooed very little, and that chiefly on the lips.[20] They took pains to whiten their skin by avoiding exposure to the sun and by washing themselves with the juice of a small native vine,[21] or by smearing themselves with a cosmetic in which the yellow of the turmeric root predominated.[22] [14] H. Melville, _Typee_, p. 194. [15] H. Melville, _Typee_, p. 195. [16] David Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 58 _sq._ [17] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 304. [18] M. Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 169. [19] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 39. [20] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 39 _sq._; H. Melville, _Typee_, p. 195. [21] C. S. Stewart, _Visit to the South Seas_, i. 231 _sq._, who speaks highly of the beauty of the women. But the general opinion appears to be that the Marquesan women are much less handsome than the men. See Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 94-96; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 59. [22] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 308 _sq._ § 3. _Food, Weapons, Tools, Houses, Canoes, Fishing_ The Marquesans subsist chiefly on a vegetable diet. Their staple food is the bread-fruit, and their national dish is a paste called _popoi_, which is prepared from bread-fruit after it has been subjected to a process of fermentation. Fish is also a common article of diet; the natives usually eat it raw, even when it is rotten and stinking. They keep pigs, but seldom kill them except for a festival or at the reception of a stranger. Hence pork is not a regular or common article of diet with them; and apart from it they hardly taste flesh. Other sorts of food, such as bananas, taro, and sugar-cane, are entirely subsidiary to the great staples, bread-fruit and fish. The natives do not readily accustom themselves to a European diet; indeed when the experiment has been made of feeding them exclusively in our manner, they have wasted away and only recovered their health when they were allowed to return to their usual nourishment. Their ordinary beverage was water, but they were also addicted to the drinking of kava, which was extracted from the root of the _Piper methysticum_ in the usual fashion.[23] Drawing their sustenance chiefly from the bread-fruit tree, the Marquesans paid little attention to the cultivation of the soil; however, they grew a certain amount of taro, sweet potatoes, and sugar-cane; and they had plantations of the paper-mulberry,[24] the bark of which was manufactured by the women into cloth in the ordinary way. But the bark of other trees was also employed for the same purpose. Since the natives were able to procure European stuffs, the indigenous manufacture of bark-cloth has much declined.[25] Hence agriculture engaged the men very little; fishing, though it was part of their business, they are said to have neglected; the only work of consequence they did was to build their houses and manufacture their arms, but these employments occupied them only occasionally.[26] [23] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 42-44; Clavel, _Les Marquisiens_, pp. 3 _sqq._ Compare G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 27 _sq._; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 106-108; Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 115 _sq._; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 50-55; F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 316 _sq._; H. Melville, _Typee_, pp. 120-124, 179; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 277 _sq._; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 138 _sq._, 144 _sq._; A. Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 208-211. As to the preparation and drinking of kava among the Marquesans, see also M. Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 64-66. [24] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 164; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 53; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 213 _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 345 (who says that the only root the natives cultivate for food is the sweet potato); Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 148, 149; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 18. [25] Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 122 _sq._; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 116; Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 337 _sq._; Melville, _Typee_, pp. 158-160, 210; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 137 _sq._; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 53 _sq._; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ 55 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ 19. [26] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 164. The weapons of the warriors were clubs, spears, and slings. The slings were made of coco-nut fibre, and the natives were very expert in the use of them. Bows and arrows were unknown.[27] Like the rest of the Polynesians, the Marquesans were totally ignorant of the metals until they acquired them from Europeans. Their tools were made of stone, bone, and shell. Thus they employed a pointed stone to bore holes with, and an axe of black, hard stone for cutting. The axe-head was shaped like an elongated wedge or mortise-chisel, and was fastened to the haft by coco-nut fibre. Some of these axes weighed as much as twenty-five pounds. The natives also used sharp-edged or toothed shells as cutting implements, and borers made of pointed bones; while rough fish-skins served them as polishers.[28] Like the rest of the Polynesians, they kindled fire by the method known as the stick-and-groove, that is, by rubbing the sharp point of one stick against the flat surface of another, so as to form a groove in it and, by continued friction, to elicit smoke and a glow, which, with the help of dry leaves, is nursed into a flame. Contrary to the usage of some peoples, the Marquesans employed the same kind of wood for both the fire-sticks, either a species of hibiscus (_Hibiscus tiliaceus_) or a species of poplar (_Thespesia populnea_); for this purpose they split a branch in two, lengthwise, and used the two pieces as the fire-sticks. In former days these fire-sticks were regularly kept in every native house.[29] [27] Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 118 _sq._; Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 162; Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 88; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 152 (bows and arrows unknown); Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 282 _sq._ [28] Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 121; Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 162. [29] H. Melville, _Typee_, pp. 118 _sq._; Clavel, _Les Marquisiens_, pp. 11 _sq._ Compare G. Forster, _op. cit._ ii. 20; D. Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 116; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 143. The Marquesan houses are regularly built on stone platforms, oblong or square in shape, and raised above the ground to heights varying from one to four, eight, or even ten feet. The higher platforms are approached from the ground by ladders or notched poles. The houses, constructed of timber and bamboo, are oblong in shape, and comprise a high back wall, generally inclined forward at an angle, from which the thatched roof slopes down steeply to a low front wall, while two short walls close the house at either end. The door is in the middle of the front wall, and is so low that it is necessary to stoop in entering. Sometimes the fronts of the houses are entirely open except for the low pillars which support the roof. The interior of the house forms a single chamber undivided by partitions. Two trunks of coco-nut palms extend parallel to each other along the whole length of the floor at an interval of four or five feet; the innermost log, a foot or two distant from the back wall, forms a pillow on which the heads of the sleepers rest, while the other supports their feet or legs. The space between the two logs is paved with stone, and spread with mats. In the single apartment the whole family live and sleep. Such at least were the domestic arrangements in the old days. The size of the houses naturally varies. Some of them measure eighty feet by forty, others only twenty-five feet by ten, or even less.[30] [30] J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 285 _sq._; G. Forster, _op. cit._ pp. 21, 24; J. Wilson, _op. cit._ pp. 131, 134 _sq._; Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 84; Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 159; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 109-111; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 39 _sq._; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 209-211, 212, 267 _sq._; Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 302 _sq._; Melville, _Typee_, pp. 81-83; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 274-276; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 122-129; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 36-38; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 44 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 15 _sq._; Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 200-208. The platforms on which the houses are built consist often of large blocks of stone neatly and regularly laid without mortar or cement, in a style which would do no discredit to European masons.[31] Sometimes the stones are described as enormous blocks of rock,[32] some of which would require ten or twelve men to carry or roll them.[33] Water-worn boulders, washed down from the mountains in the bed of torrents, were especially chosen for the purpose.[34] [31] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 109 _sq._ [32] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 129. [33] Langsdorff, _l.c._ [34] Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 15. Sometimes, though far less commonly, Marquesan houses were raised above the ground on posts from eight or ten to sixteen feet high. Such houses were lightly built of wood and thatched; the floor was an open work of split bamboos. Sometimes these raised dwellings resembled the ordinary Marquesan house in structure; at other times they were quadrangular, with perpendicular walls and an ordinary roof. They were approached by ladders and resembled the habitations in use among the Malay tribes of the Indian Archipelago. No dwellings of this type have been noticed in Nukahiva, the principal island of the archipelago; but they have been seen and described in Tauata (Santa Christina) and Hivaoa (Dominica).[35] [35] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 303 _sq._; Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 207 _sq._ The Marquesans built canoes of various sizes, the smaller for fishing, the larger for war. These latter might be from forty to fifty feet long. They were fitted with outriggers. The prow had an ornamental projection rudely carved to represent the head of an animal. Sometimes the prows of war canoes were decorated with the skulls of slaughtered enemies. But in general the Marquesans appear to have been inferior to the other South Sea islanders in the arts of canoe-building and navigation.[36] This inferiority may perhaps have been partly due to the absence of those lagoons which, formed by coral reefs, elsewhere enabled the natives to acquire confidence and skill in sailing on smooth and sheltered waters. The same cause may also, perhaps, explain why fishing was comparatively little practised by the Marquesans. We are told that as an occupation it was despised by such as owned a piece of land of any extent, and that only the poorer class of people, who depended on the sea for a livelihood, addicted themselves to it. They caught fish by means both of nets and of lines with hooks neatly made of mother-of-pearl; also they stupefied the fish by a certain mashed root, which the fisherman distributed in the water by diving, and then caught the fish as they rose to the surface.[37] [36] J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 287; Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 163 _sq._; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 150; Porter, _op. cit._, ii. 12-14; Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 338; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 280-282. [37] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 163. § 4. _Polyandry, Adoption, Exchange of Names_ The social life of the Marquesan islanders presented some peculiar features. Thus they are said to have practised the rare custom of polyandry. On this subject Stewart observes: "We have yet met with no instance, in any rank of society, of a male with two wives, but are informed that for one woman to have two husbands is a universal habit. Some favourite in the father's household or retinue at an early period becomes the husband of the daughter, who still remains under the paternal roof till contracted in marriage to a second individual, on which she removes with her first husband to his habitation, and both herself and original companion are supported by him."[38] Melville describes the custom in substantially the same way, and adds, "No man has more than one wife, and no wife of mature years has less than two husbands,--sometimes she has three, but such instances are not frequent." He seems to have attributed the practice to a scarcity of women; for he tells us that "the males considerably outnumber the females."[39] The same view was taken at a later date by Dr. Clavel, who observes: "In the islands where the women are in a minority we may to this day observe tolerably numerous cases of polyandry. Thus at Ua-Una I met some women who had each two husbands, almost always one of them young and the other old. Such households of three are not worse than the rest and never give rise to intestine dissensions."[40] According to Radiguet, the right of having more husbands than one was not general and hardly belonged to any but chieftainesses,[41] but this limitation is denied by a good authority.[42] The Russian navigator Lisiansky, who visited the Marquesas in 1804, seems to have supposed that the custom was restricted to wealthy families. He says: "In rich families, every woman has two husbands; of whom one may be called the assistant husband. This last, when the other is at home, is nothing more than the head servant of the house; but, in case of absence, exercises all the rights of matrimony, and is also obliged to attend his lady wherever she goes. It happens sometimes, that the subordinate partner is chosen after marriage; but in general two men present themselves to the same woman, who, if she approves their addresses, appoints one for the real husband, and the other as his auxiliary: the auxiliary is generally poor, but handsome and well-made."[43] [38] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 317. [39] Melville, _Typee_, pp. 203 _sq._ [40] Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 60. [41] Radiguet, _op. cit._ 173. [42] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 111. [43] Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 83. As to polyandry in the Marquesas, see further E. Westermarck, _History of Human Marriage_, Fifth Edition (London, 1921), iii. 146 _sqq._ Another peculiar habit of the Marquesans was to give away their children to be adopted by other people soon after their birth. When a woman was pregnant, she and her husband would discuss to whom they should give the child that was about to be born. They received offers from neighbours, and often knocked down the infant to the highest bidder; for the adopting parents regularly made presents to the child's family, consisting of cloth, tools, and pigs, according to the fortune of the contracting parties. After birth the child remained with its mother for some months till it was weaned, upon which it was sent away to its parents by adoption, who might inhabit a different district and even a different island. It is said to have been exceptional for parents to bring up their own offspring.[44] [44] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 19 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 56, 61 _sq._ Another mode by which the Marquesans created artificial relationships was the exchange of names. Such an exchange was equivalent to a ratification of amity and good-will between the persons, who thereby acquired a claim to mutual protection and the enjoyment of each other's property and even of their wives, if they happened to be married men. The custom was not limited to the natives; they readily exchanged names with Europeans and granted them the privileges which flowed from the pact. It is even said that some natives gave their own names to animals, which thenceforth became sacred for them and for the rest of the tribe. This led to so many inconveniences that the priests had to forbid the practice of exchanging names with animals.[45] [45] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 16 _sq._, 158 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 61 _sq._ § 5. _Amusements, Dancing-places, Banqueting-halls_ A favourite amusement of the islanders was racing or combating on stilts. A stilt was composed of two pieces, a pole of light wood which the runner held in his hand, and a step or foot-rest of hard wood, on which he planted one of his feet. The step or foot-rest was often adorned with human figures curiously carved, which are said to have represented gods. The races or combats took place on the paved areas which were to be seen in most villages, and which formed the scene of public entertainments. In these contests each runner or combatant tried to get in the way of his adversary, and, balancing himself on one stilt, to strike his rival with the other, so as to bring him to the ground amid the laughter and jeers of the spectators. It has sometimes been supposed that the use of stilts in the Marquesas originated in the practical purpose of enabling people to cross a stream without wetting their feet. But the supposition is highly improbable. For, on the one hand, the streams in the islands are mere rivulets, which dry up for the greater part of the year; and, on the other hand, the natives are almost amphibious, often spending whole days in the water, and swimming for hours without fatigue. Hence it is absurd to imagine that they invented stilts simply to keep their feet dry at crossing a shallow stream.[46] [46] Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 119 _sq._, 124; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 146; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 124-126; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 284; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 96. As for the ability of the natives to swim in the sea for hours without fatigue, compare J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 129. But perhaps the most popular recreation of the Marquesans was dancing and singing, which formed a leading feature of their festivals. Every inhabited district had its dancing-place, a sort of public square, where places were set apart for the use of the performers, the musicians, and the spectators. These have been described by the missionary, C. S. Stewart, from personal observation. He says, "Our walk terminated at what may be called the _theatre_ or _opera house_ of the settlement, a large rectangular platform of stone pavement, surrounded by low terraces also laid with stone; the first designed for the public exhibitions of the song and the dance, and the last for the accommodation of the spectators who assemble to witness the performance. Entertainments of this kind are the most fashionable and favourite amusements at the Washington and the Marquesan groups. Every inhabited district has its _Tahua_, or public square of this kind; some of them so extensive, it is said, as to be capable of accommodating ten thousand people."[47] Again, speaking of another of these dancing-places, the same writer observes, "This _Tahua_, or theatre, is a structure altogether superior to that visited by us yesterday, and so massive and well built as to be capable of enduring for ages. It is a regular oblong square, about sixty feet in length and forty broad. The outer wall consists of immense stones, or slabs of rock, three feet high, and many of them four or six feet long, joined closely together and hewn with a regularity and neatness truly astonishing, in view of the rude implements by which it must have been accomplished. On a level with the top of this outer wall, a pavement of large flat stones, several feet in width, extends entirely round, forming seats for the chiefs, warriors, and other persons of distinction, and singers performing the recitatives and choruses accompanying the dance. Within this, and some inches lower, is another pavement still wider, having large flat-topped stones fixed in it at regular intervals of six or eight feet, used as seats by the beaters on the drums, and other rude instruments of music, and immediately within this again, an unpaved area, some twenty feet long by twelve broad, constituting the stage on which the dancers exhibit their skill."[48] [47] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 214 _sq._ [48] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 233 _sq._ Compare Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 265 _sq._ Some of these dancing-places appear to have been much larger than those seen by Stewart. According to Langsdorff they were sometimes not less than a hundred fathoms in length, and the great smooth pavement consisted of blocks of stone, several feet broad, laid so neatly and so close together that you might have imagined it to be the work of European master-masons.[49] Radiguet describes one such dancing-place as a rectangular area eighty metres (about two hundred and sixty feet) long by thirty metres (about one hundred feet) broad, and surrounded by a terrace paved with stone, on which the spectators were seated.[50] [49] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 138. [50] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 195. The festivals (_koikas_) celebrated at these places were either periodical or occasional. Among the periodical perhaps the most important was that held at the ingathering of the bread-fruit harvest in February and March. Among the occasional were those held after a successful fishing, at the ratification of peace, and after the death of a priest or chief, who had been raised to the rank of a deity. A messenger decked in all the native finery repaired to the surrounding villages inviting the inhabitants to attend the festival. Immense numbers of hogs were killed and huge troughs filled with bread-fruit were provided by the hosts for the banquet. The festivals were attended not only by the people of the particular valley in which they were held, but by the inhabitants of other valleys and even of other islands; for so long as a festival lasted, a special taboo forbade the natives to harm the strangers in their midst. A general truce was observed; members of hostile tribes came to share the pleasures of the festival with the foes whom they had recently fought, and whom they would fight again in a few days.[51] Yet such visitors were careful to observe certain precautions: they never came unarmed, and they always kept together on one side of the festival ground, in order that they might rally the more easily for mutual defence, if they should be suddenly attacked.[52] [51] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 236 _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 318; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 264 _sq._; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 69 _sqq._; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 192 _sq._ [52] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 138. The performers who sang and danced at these festivals for the entertainment of the public were called _Hokis_ or _Kaioas_: they are described as a sort of wandering troubadours or minstrels, who went from tribe to tribe, seeking their fortune. They took great care of their persons, which they artificially whitened. At once poets, musicians, and dancers, they nevertheless did not enjoy the public esteem; on the contrary, their effeminate habits incurred the contempt of a people who had small taste for the fine arts.[53] Thus these wandering minstrels and mountebanks would seem to have corresponded to the Areois of the Society Islands.[54] The dances were accompanied by the beating of drums and the songs of a chorus, it might be of a hundred and fifty singers, who sat on the upper platform along with the chiefs and warriors. Sometimes in the intervals between the dances a choir of women, seated on an adjoining and elevated platform, would chant in dull monotonous tones, clapping their hands loudly in unison with their song. The subjects of the songs were various and were often furnished by some passing event, such as the arrival of a ship or any less novel incident. Not unfrequently, like ballads in our own country, the songs caught the popular fancy and became fashionable, being sung in private by all classes of society. So passionately addicted were the Marquesans to these entertainments that they undertook the longest and most fatiguing journeys from all parts of the island in order to be present at them, carrying their food and suffering great hardships by the way; they even came in their crazy canoes, at the hazard of their lives, from other islands, and accepted the risk of being knocked on the head at one of the brawls with which such gatherings usually ended.[55] [53] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 231. Compare C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 237, who calls the performers _Kaioi_. [54] See above, pp. 259 _sqq._ [55] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 234, 236, 237. Closely connected with the festivals were the banqueting-halls, as they may be called. These were houses, or rather sheds, thatched with leaves and open in front, where the lower end of the sloping roof was supported on short wooden pillars, of which the upper parts were rudely carved in the likeness of the god Tiki, thus forming a sort of Caryatids. These sheds varied in length from thirty to sixty and even two hundred feet in length. They stood on quadrangular stone platforms of the usual type, ranging from three or four to six, eight, twelve, and even fifteen feet in height. The blocks of stone put together to form the platforms were sometimes enormous, many of them measuring eight feet long by four feet thick and wide; and they were hewn and polished into such perfect form as to excite the wonder of the European beholder, who reflected with astonishment on the vast labour requisite to bring these huge rocks from the sea and to chisel them into shape without the help of iron tools. Access to the platforms was afforded by sloping trunks of trees notched into steps. In these open sheds the men feasted and prayed. Before each repast it was customary to offer to the deity a small portion of food wrapt in leaves. Sometimes the priests would thrust the morsels into the mouths of Tiki's grotesque images. No woman might enter these banqueting-halls or mount the platforms on which they stood. The place was strictly tabooed to them, and the taboo was signified in the usual way by long pennants of white cloth attached to the posts of the house.[56] [56] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 38 _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 317 _sq._; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 54-56; Melville, _Typee_ pp. 93-95. Of these writers it is Porter who gives the dimensions of some of the blocks of stone composing the platforms and expresses his amazement at the labour involved in their construction. He concludes his description as follows (ii. 39): "When we count the immense numbers of such places, which are everywhere to be met with, our astonishment is raised to the highest, that a people in a state of nature, unassisted by any of those artificial means, which so much assist and facilitate the labour of the civilized man, could have conceived and executed a work, which, to every beholder, must appear stupendous. These piles are raised with views to magnificence alone; there does not appear to be the slightest utility attending them: the houses situated on them are unoccupied, except during the period of feasting, and they appear to belong to a public, without the whole efforts of which they could not have been raised, and with every exertion that could possibly have been made, years must have been requisite for the completion of them." Of one of these structures seen by him in the anterior of Nukahiva, Stewart observes, "The stones, bearing marks of antiquity that threw the air of an old family mansion around the whole, were regularly hewn and joined with the greatest nicety, many which I measured being from four to six feet in length, nearly as wide, and two or more deep" (_Visit to the South Seas_, i. 267 _sq._). § 6. _Social Ranks, Taboo_ Socially the Marquesans were divided into chiefs or nobles and commoners; but the chiefs seem to have possessed very little authority, and to have received few outward marks of deference and respect. A monarchical government in any proper sense of the word was unknown.[57] The power of the chiefs, such as it was, rested mainly on their superior wealth, particularly on their landed property; for the larger their estates, the greater the number of the tenants whose services they could command. Hence the government has been called aristocratic and compared to the feudal system.[58] In a fruitful season the chiefs had a right to a fourth part of the produce, and in other seasons a share according to circumstances. Their dignity was hereditary.[59] There was no general government of the archipelago as a whole. Each island was quite independent of all the rest; and in every island there were several independent tribes, which were generally at war with each other.[60] [57] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 165; Langsdorff, i. 112 _sq._; Fleurieu, _op. cit._ i. 132-134; Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 64; Melville, _Typee_, p. 199; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 225; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 24 _sq._ [58] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ 101 _sq._ [59] Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 80. [60] Lisiansky, _op. cit._ pp. 79 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 62. A powerful instrument in the hands of the nobles was the taboo or _tapu_, which, though it seems to have been originally a religious institution,[61] was turned to political and economic account by the chiefs and priests acting in conjunction. One of our best authorities on the Marquesans describes the institution as a tool of despotism for the gratification of the passions and caprices of such as could wield it.[62] But this is a somewhat one-sided and imperfect view to take of its scope. There is no doubt, as other good authorities on the Marquesans have pointed out, that in the absence of a strong government which could maintain order and protect life and property, the taboo to a great extent served the purposes which in more civilised society are fulfilled by laws.[63] The taboo was a sacred interdiction, a breach of which was believed of itself to entail disastrous consequences on the transgressor. The interdiction might be either public or private. To give examples of public interdictions, when the quantity of breadfruit, on which the people depended for their subsistence, was from any cause seriously diminished in a district, the chief had the right to impose a taboo on bread-fruit trees for twenty months, during which no one might gather the fruit. This close time allowed the trees to recover their strength and fertility. Similarly, if fish were scarce, the chief might pronounce a taboo on the neighbouring bay, or a part of it, in order to allow the fish to multiply undisturbed and replenish the sea in the neighbourhood of human habitations. Again, in the prospect of a great festival, a chief might lay an interdict on pigs for two or three years in advance, in order that, when the time came, there might be plenty of pork for the multitude at the banquet. Similarly, when the paper-mulberry, from which the Marquesans made their bark-cloth, threatened to give out, the chief might lay the trees under an interdict for five years, at the end of which the crop was sure to be magnificent.[64] In these and similar cases the taboo was of public utility by ensuring a proper supply of the necessaries of life. However, its imposition was not always guided by rational considerations, and hence it sometimes failed of its purpose. For example, so long as the bread-fruit was unripe, almost all kinds of fish were taboo and therefore might not be eaten, and this interdiction, instead of alleviating, tended naturally to aggravate the scarcity of food. The reason for the taboo was a curious superstition that if any one were to eat fish while the bread-fruit was unripe, the fruit would fall from the trees.[65] [61] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 47 _sq._; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 259. [62] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 153. [63] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 258 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 65 _sq._ [64] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 35 _sq._ Compare Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 155. [65] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 118. But the taboo also served a useful purpose by ensuring respect for private property, which is a fundamental condition of social prosperity. "The priests only," we are told, "can impose a general taboo, but every individual has a right to pronounce one upon his own property: this is done by declaring, if his wish be to preserve a breadfruit, or a cocoa tree, a house or a plantation, from robbery and destruction, that the spirit of his father or of some king, or indeed of any other person, reposes in this tree, or house, which then bears the name of the person, and nobody ventures to attack it. If any one is so irreligious as to break through a taboo, and should be convicted of it, he is called _kikino_; and the _kikinos_ are always the first to be devoured by the enemy, at least they believe it to be so, nor is it impossible that the priests should so arrange matters as that this really happens."[66] Again, if a man's pig had been stolen, and he suspected who had done the deed, he would lay a taboo on the swine or other property of the thief by giving his own name, or the name of somebody else, to the animals or the trees or whatever it might be. After that, in the opinion of the people, the property so named was bewitched or haunted by the spirit of the person, whether alive or dead, whose name it bore; and this belief sometimes sufficed to compel the thief to abandon his possessions and to settle elsewhere.[67] A wreath of leaves or a strip of white cloth attached to a house, a canoe, a fruit-tree, or other piece of property, was the symbol of taboo, and in ordinary circumstances was enough to protect it.[68] [66] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 172. In this quotation I have altered the spelling _tahbu_ into _taboo_. [67] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 116. [68] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 157; Melville, _Typee_, p. 230; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 264. But the taboo was an instrument which could be used capriciously to thwart, as well as to further, the course of justice. Thus we read how, under the French government of the islands, a wife set out for the police-office to complain of the ill-treatment to which she had been subjected by her husband. But scarcely had she put her foot outside the door, when her husband, aware of her intention and determined to frustrate it, called out after her, "The road from here to the police-office is your father." On hearing that, the woman at once stopped short, for under no circumstances would she dare to trample on the author of her being. On the contrary, she immediately roasted two little pigs and carried them to the tomb of her father as an offering to appease his ghost, which might reasonably be supposed to fret at the mere thought of being trodden under foot by his own daughter.[69] This instructive example shows how closely the taboo was associated with the fear and worship of the dead; by bestowing the name of a dead person on a thing you rendered the thing inviolate, since thereby you placed it under the immediate protection of the ghost. [69] Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 68. Among the multitude of taboos which were religiously observed by the Marquesans it is perhaps possible to detect a trace of totemism. Thus the sting ray fish was taboo to the tribe of Houmis. Not only would they not eat the fish, but they fled in horror if it were even shown to them. Their horror was explained by a tradition that once on a time a great chief of the tribe had been out fishing with his people, when a gigantic sting ray upset their canoes and gobbled them all up.[70] This aversion to eating and even looking at a certain species of animal, together with a traditionary explanation based on an incident in the past history of the tribe, is very characteristic of totemism. [70] Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 67 _sq._ § 7. _Religion and Mythology_ The consideration of taboo introduces us to the subject of religion; for, on the one hand, the foregoing evidence tends to establish a connexion between the institution of taboo and the doctrine of the human soul, and on the other hand some of our best authorities on the Marquesans have stated that the taboo was believed to be an expression of the will of the gods conveyed to the people through the mouth of a priest.[71] The definition may be accepted, if under gods we include the spirits of the dead, who were worshipped by the Marquesans and lent their sanction, as we have just seen, to the taboo. [71] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 258; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 48; Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 153; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 65. The Marquesan term for a god was the usual Polynesian word _atua_ or, as it is sometimes spelled, _etua_. But their notion of divinity, as commonly happens, was vague. One of the earliest writers on their religion, the Russian navigator Krusenstern, informs us that "a confused notion of a higher being, whom they call _Etua_, does indeed exist among them, but of these there are several kinds; the spirit of a priest, of a king, or of any of his relations, being an _etua_. They likewise consider all Europeans as such; for as their ideas do not extend beyond their own horizon, they are firmly convinced that their ships come from the clouds; and they imagine that thunder is occasioned by the cannonading of vessels which float in the atmosphere, on which account they entertain a great dread of artillery."[72] The _atuas_ or deities of the Marquesans, we are told by another writer, "are numerous and vary in their character and powers. Besides those having dominion respectively, as is supposed, over the different elements and their most striking phenomena, there are _atuas_ of the mountain and of the forest, of the sea-side and of the interior, _atuas_ of peace and of war, of the song and of the dance, and of all the occupations and amusements of life. It is supposed by them that many of the departed spirits of men also become _atuas_: and thus the multiplicity of their gods is such, that almost every sound in nature, from the roaring of the tempest in the mountains and the bursting of a thunderbolt in the clouds, to the sighing of a breeze through the cocoa-nut tops and the chirping of an insect in the grass or in the thatch of their huts, is interpreted into the movements of a god."[73] [72] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 171. [73] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 243 _sq._ Compare Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 240; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 218 _sq._ But the Marquesans, not content with deifying some men after death, deified others in their lifetime. Amongst them there is, or rather used to be, a class of living men "who claim the title and attributes of the Deity; not through a professed inspiration or possession by a supernatural influence or power, but in their own right of godship as those who control the elements, impart fruitfulness to the productions of the earth or smite them with blasting and sterility, and who exercise the prerogatives of the Deity in scattering disease and wielding the shafts of death. They are few in number, not more than one or two at farthest on an island, and live in a seclusion and mysticism somewhat in unison with their blasphemous pretensions. There is none at present in the near vicinity of Taiohae,[74] though the former abode of such an individual is pointed out at the foot of a bold cliff, high in the mountains. The Rev. Mr. Crook gives the following account of an Atua, at the island of Tahuata, in the Windward or Marquesan group, while he resided there temporarily in 1797, as a missionary from the London Missionary Society: 'He is now of great age, and has lived from early life at Hanateiteina, in a large house surrounded by an enclosure called the A. In the house is an altar, and from the beams within and upon the trees around it are human carcasses, suspended with their heads downward and scalped. No one enters the premises but his servant, except when human sacrifices are offered. Of these, more are offered to him than to any other of their gods, and he frequently seats himself on an elevated scaffold in front of his house and calls for two or three at a time. He is invoked in all parts of the island, and offerings everywhere are made to him and sent to Hanateiteina.'"[75] Similarly a Catholic missionary tells us that in the island of Nukahiva he was personally acquainted with two living human deities, a priest and a priestess, both of whom, it was said, had the right to demand the sacrifice of human victims to themselves. He adds, however, that they did not abuse the right, and that nobody in the world appeared more affable and polite than these divinities; he even entertained hopes of one day baptizing the priest.[76] Of the reverence in which the priestly class in general was held by the people, Captain Porter remarks that "their priests are their oracles; they are considered but little inferior to their gods; to some they are greatly superior, and after their death they rank with the chief divinity."[77] [74] The principal harbour of Nukahiva. [75] C. S. Stewart, _op cit._ i. 244 _sq._ Compare Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 226, 240 _sq._ The missionary William Crook was landed in the Marquesas from the missionary ship _Duff_ in 1797. See J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, pp. 131 _sqq._ [76] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 45. [77] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 114. Little seems to be recorded of the theology and mythology of the Marquesans; but among their myths was the widespread Polynesian story of the origin of fire. Of old, it was said, fire used to be jealously guarded by Mahoike in the infernal regions. Hearing of its utility, Maui descended into the nether world to steal some of the element; but he failed to elude the vigilance of its guardian and was obliged to resort to force to extort the boon from him. In the struggle which ensued Mahoike lost an arm and a leg, and to save his remaining limbs he consented to give fire to the victorious Maui. At the same time he offered to rub it on Maui's leg; but Maui was too cunning to agree to that, for he knew that in that case the fire which he took to earth would not be sacred. Finally, Mahoike rubbed the fire on Maui's head, and said to him, "Go back to the place you came from and touch with your forehead all the trees except the _keïka_: all the trees will yield you fire."[78] [78] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 223 _sq._ For the names of the Marquesan deities, among whom Tiki appears to have been the most famous, and for some myths concerning them, see Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 40 _sqq._; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 221 _sqq._; Amable, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xix. (1847) pp. 23 _sq._; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 27 _sqq._ In the Marquesas there was a class of men called _tauas_, who were supposed to possess an hereditary gift of inspiration and to become deities after their death. They could cause a god to dwell within them. Often at night they might be heard conversing with the divinity in their bodies, the deity crying out in a shrill voice, while the man answered him in his own ordinary voice. Sometimes they would make a rustling noise with their fingers in the leaves, and say that they had been miraculously taken through the thatch of the house and brought back again by the door. In their fits of inspiration they became convulsed and glared fiercely with their eyes; then, with their hands quivering violently, they would run about, while they prophesied death to their enemies in squeaky tones, or demanded human victims for the god by whom they were possessed. With the function of prophecy they combined the office of physician or rather of exorciser. For every internal disorder was believed to be inflicted by some god, who had taken possession of the sufferer's person; and the _tauas_, or high priests, as we may call them, were called in to heal the patient by ridding him of the divinity who had entered into him. This they commonly did by feeling for the mischievous deity till they found him, when they smothered him between the palms of their hands.[79] Sometimes the good physician would converse with the spirit whom he had thus caught between his hands, and would elicit from him in conversation the cause of the sickness, which usually consisted in some breach of taboo, such as a theft of bread-fruit or coco-nuts from a sacred tree. At the same time the affable spirit would reveal to the physician the penalty which the sick man must pay in order to expiate his crime and thereby ensure his recovery. A sacrifice of pigs would appear to have been usually deemed indispensable for the patient's complete convalescence; the animals were conveyed to a temple and there consumed by the priests for the benefit of the sufferer.[80] The _tauas_ or high priests were supposed to become gods after death; when one of them departed this life, it was essential for his deification that human victims should be sacrificed. The number of victims varied with the rank of the new deity; it was never less than seven, but oftener ten. Each victim was sacrificed for the sake of a particular part of the deity's body, as for his head, or his eyes, or his hair. To procure the necessary tale of victims, predatory expeditions were undertaken against the tribes in neighbouring valleys.[81] [79] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 245 _sq._; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 227 _sq._ [80] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 136. The writer's language seems to imply that the spirit whom the priestly physician caught in his hands and interrogated was the patient's own soul. [81] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 45; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 247; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 228 _sq._ § 8. _The Soul, Death, and Funeral Customs_ Like most savages, the Marquesans thought that they possessed souls which could quit their bodies and wander far away in dreams. Thus a young girl once related how, the night before, she had sailed in a splendid canoe to Tiburones, a mythical paradise to the west of Nukahiva; there she had seen beautiful things such as do not exist here on earth. "There," said she, "the trees are very tall, and the people very handsome; there they sing songs to music sweeter than ours. Ah! when shall I be able to return to Tiburones?" On another occasion a woman's soul appeared to a priest to inform him that she had committed the heinous crime of eating a fowl, but that she would expiate the sacrilege by an early death. The French authorities summoned both the priest and the woman to the bar of justice. There the priest stuck to it that he had received the revelation, and the woman expressed her regret for the escapade of which her soul had been guilty without her knowledge. It was necessary to reassure her on the subject of her soul's rash act and melancholy prediction, otherwise she might have fulfilled the prophecy by refusing food and dying outright.[82] [82] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 238 _sq._ At death the soul was supposed to depart from the body by the mouth or the nose; hence in order to delay its departure and so to prolong the life of its owner, affectionate relatives used to stop his mouth and nostrils, thus accelerating the event which they wished to retard.[83] [83] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 245; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 44, note^1. Compare Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 115. The Marquesans have, or used to have, a sovereign contempt for death, and do not fear its approach. When a native felt that he must die, he took it calmly and ordered his coffin, which he caused to be brought to the house while he was still in life. The coffin is hollowed out of a single log and resembles a canoe. If the sick man after all recovered, the coffin was kept in a corner of the house till it was wanted. No attempt was made to hide it or to disguise its purpose. Should a stranger ask, "What is that?" he would be told, "It is So-and-so's coffin"; though So-and-so might be present and within hearing.[84] Nevertheless, when it was clear that a serious illness was about to terminate fatally, and that all the efforts of the priestly physician or sorcerer to avert the inevitable end were fruitless, the house would be filled by wailing women, who danced naked round the mat of the dying man, cutting themselves with sharp stones or shark's teeth as in a frenzy, and uttering the most piercing lamentations. This lasted till the moment of death, when all united in a terrific and prolonged howl.[85] Similar demonstrations of sorrow were continued or renewed after the decease. If the departed was a married man and his widow survived him, she would bruise her flesh with a stone, scratch it with her nails, and cut her forehead, cheeks, and breast with shark's teeth or splinters of bamboo till the blood trickled down.[86] Captain Porter saw a woman with deep wounds still unhealed, which she had inflicted on her neck, breast, and arms for the loss of her husband, who had been devoured by a shark.[87] After the death, too, the widow would place herself in front of the corpse, and three or four girls would surround her; whereupon they would all engage in a lascivious dance, with outstretched arms, tripping in cadence to the accompaniment of a funeral hymn or lamentation, which was chanted by a choir in honour of the dead. After executing the dance, which would seem to have been intended to attract the attention of the deceased and recall his wandering spirit, they would stoop over the corpse, and cry, "He has not stirred! He stirs not. Alas! alas! he is no more." It was only after they had thus practised their seductions in vain on the dead man that the widow gave way to her frantic outburst of sorrow by mauling herself with a sort of saw.[88] This funeral dance a widow was apparently expected to renew in public at every festival for months after the death. At a festival, which he called the Feast of Calabashes, Melville saw four or five old women, stark naked, holding themselves erect and leaping stiffly into the air, with their arms pressed close to their sides, like sticks bobbing up and down in water. They preserved the utmost gravity of countenance, and continued their strange movements without a single moment's cessation, though they did not appear to attract the observation of the crowd around them. The American was told that these dancing or leaping figures "were bereaved widows, whose partners had been slain in battle many moons previously; and who, at every festival, gave public evidence in this manner of their calamities."[89] When the deceased was a chief, the lamentations and the dances went on day and night for some time. A priestess or sorceress, in festal costume, led the choir of female mourners and vaunted the exploits of the dead warrior, recalling his mighty deeds and the incidents of his life. The dances were accompanied by the music of drums. The crowd of spectators, in their best array, ate and drank to repletion, and, flushed with liquor, abandoned themselves to excesses which transformed the mortuary chamber, lit up at night by smoky torches, into a scene of low debauchery. From time to time remarks of a gross nature were addressed to the dead man on the helpless condition to which he was reduced; and now and then the women would slash their faces and breasts with splinters of bamboo in the usual fashion. The orgy went on till the provisions were completely exhausted, which might not be for a considerable time, since hecatombs of pigs were sometimes slaughtered for the purpose of celebrating the obsequies of a chief in a manner worthy of his rank.[90] [84] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 114. _sq._; Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ p. 58. Compare Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 260 _sqq._ [85] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 263; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 249 _sq._ [86] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 284; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 39. [87] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 121. [88] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 283 _sq._ Another writer mentions that at the moment of death it was customary for a number of matrons to strip themselves naked and execute obscene dances at the door of the house, crying out at the pitch of their voices, "Father! father!" See Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 116. [89] Melville, _Typee_, pp. 180, 201. [90] Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 43 _sq._ The soul of the dead was believed not to abandon the corpse definitely for two days after the death. In the interval it was thought to haunt the house, watching the conduct of the survivors, and ready to act as a friend or a foe according as the mourners behaved towards the deceased and his remains. Hence, to keep the ghost in good humour it was customary to offer him food, in the shape of breadfruit paste and other dainties, which were wrapped up in leaves, hung on the edge of the coffin, and frequently renewed.[91] On the third night after the death a priest, stepping out on the terrace in front of the house, implored the wandering soul of the deceased to depart; and by way of enforcing the request a band of men, armed with spears and other lethal weapons, went about in the outer darkness, beating the bushes and stabbing the thatched roofs of the houses in order to drive the lingering ghost away. If, roused by the clamour, the dogs began to bark, the priest would say, "The soul is departing."[92] [91] Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 46. [92] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 284 _sq._ From the moment of death till the priests had completed the litany or songs chanted on such occasions, all the assembled people fasted, no one touched the provisions collected for the funeral feast, and no fire might be kindled within sight of the house.[93] The litany consisted in the mumbling of a long speech in an unintelligible language accompanied by the constant beating of drums.[94] Among the victuals provided for the funeral feast special importance appears to have been attached to the head of a pig, which was cut off and attached to the bier.[95] We are told that the professed intention was thereby "to propitiate the gods, and obtain for the deceased a safe and peaceable passage through the lower regions." But, in point of fact the priest took possession of the pig's head and devoured it secretly, leaving only a small piece of it under a stone.[96] [93] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 265; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 251. [94] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 133. [95] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 285. [96] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 173. Compare Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 133; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 265; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 251. When death had taken place, the body was washed, neatly dressed in garments of new cloth, and laid on a bier constructed of bamboos or of spears and other warlike weapons, fastened together with wicker-work and spread with mats.[97] If the deceased was a chief and a warrior, his body would be arrayed in his finest ornaments, and his club, plumed helmet, necklaces of whale's teeth, and skulls of the enemies he had killed, would be laid beside him. Thus exposed, the corpse might be kept for weeks in the house, where, in spite of the stench, the family continued to eat, drink, and sleep beside it. Sometimes, however, and perhaps more usually, the body was transferred to a small house or shed adjoining the dwelling of the deceased, where it received the necessary attentions. Finally, it was removed to a little hut or shed, where the bier was supported on posts under a thatched roof. To be buried in the earth was a mark of ignominy reserved at most for a young girl of the lowest rank who had died childless. Beside the corpse food was hung for the use of the ghost, it might be fish, roast pork, or coco-nuts, and there it was allowed to remain till it rotted and fell to the ground; none but children would be greedy or impious enough to partake of the sacred victuals, and that only in the greatest secrecy. Often the house in which the death had taken place was tabooed and abandoned after the remains had been deposited in their last home.[98] [97] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 172 _sq._; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 133; Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 81; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 264. [98] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 116 _sq._ As to the decoration of the corpse, see Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 43 _sq._ As to the temporary house or shed in which the body was kept for some time after death, compare C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 264, 266; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 250. As for the custom of keeping the body for months in the ordinary house, surrounded by the family, see Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 286. As to the practice of hanging food beside the body, even after its removal to its last place of rest, see J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage au Pole Sud et dans l'Océanie, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1842), p. 33; Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 46. The bodies of the dead were regularly subjected to a kind of embalmment, which had the effect of preserving them for a longer or shorter time. As soon as decomposition appeared imminent, the corpse was stripped of its ornaments and placed in the usual canoe-shaped coffin, the trunk being propped up so as to facilitate the work of the embalmers. The task of embalming was entrusted to women, relations of the deceased, who rubbed the body daily with coco-nut oil and perfumes. They had no intercourse with the rest of the family, and took their meals apart without ever washing their hands. According to one account, the anointment was performed by night, while during the day the body was exposed to the sun on the stone platform of the house. The products of decomposition were carefully received in vessels and carried away to the place of sepulture; and the corpse was gradually eviscerated through the rectum. The friction was continued until the desiccated body was reduced to the state of a mummy, though sometimes, in spite of all precautions, it crumbled into dust. If the operation was successful, the mummy, wrapt in many bandages, was covered by a second canoe attached to the first, and was then placed on a scaffold in a _morai_ or sanctuary specially consecrated to it. But sometimes the mummy was fastened up to the roof or wall of the house wherein the person had died; and it might be kept there even for years. When it was deposited in a _morai_, no woman was allowed to approach it under pain of death.[99] Sometimes the head was detached from the body and kept in the house, where it was treated with respect. Sometimes it was carried away and hidden in some almost inaccessible cave in the mountains or beside the sea. This was done as a precaution to save the skulls from falling into the hands of enemies, who were eager to bear them off as trophies.[100] [99] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 173; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 133 _sq._; Melville, _Typee_, p. 206; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 286 _sq._; Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 44 _sq._ In a house in Nukahiva the missionary Stewart saw a canoe-shaped coffin containing the remains of a man who had died many years before. It was raised on a bier of framework, at a height of two or three feet above the ground. Stewart adds, "The dead bodies of all persons of high distinction are preserved in their houses for a long period in this way." See C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 259. [100] Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 45 _sq._; Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 233 _sq._ Each family had its own _morai_ or burial-place, where the mouldering bones or mummies were finally deposited and left to decay.[101] Such family cemeteries were scattered about the valleys; the choice of a site seems to have been determined by no special rule.[102] The _morai_ or burial-place of ordinary people was near their houses, and not far from it was a taboo-house, where the men feasted on the flesh of pigs.[103] But the cemeteries of chiefs were situated in the interior of the valleys, often so deeply imbedded in dense foliage that it was not easy to find them without the guidance of a native.[104] Similarly we are told that the cemeteries (_morais_) of priests lay quite apart from all dwellings.[105] [101] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 127, 173; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 115, 134. Other writers on the Marquesas in like manner speak of a _morai_ simply as a place of burial. See Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 114 ("the gods at the burying-place, or morai, for so it is called by them"); Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 52 ("un _morai_ (sépulchre) en ruine"); Melville, _Typee_, p. 168 ("the 'morais' or burying-grounds"). So, too, the term was understood by the French navigator, J. Dumont d'Urville. See his _Voyage au Pole Sud, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1842), pp. 27, 33. [102] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 253. [103] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 115. According to Krusenstern (_op. cit._ i. 127), the _morais_ in general "lie a good way inland upon hills." [104] F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage_, i. 329. [105] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 115. The ordinary form of a Marquesan _morai_ or burial-place seems to have been a thatched shed erected on a square or oblong platform of stones, exactly resembling the stone platforms on which the Marquesan houses were regularly built. Thus Vincendon-Dumoulin and Desgraz say that "the _morais_, funeral monuments where the bodies are deposited, are erected on a stone platform, the base of all Nukahivan edifices."[106] Again, describing what he calls "a picturesque _morai_," Radiguet observes, "Four posts, erected on a platform, supported a small plank covered with a roof of leaves. Under this roof could be seen the remains of a skeleton, perhaps that of the daughter-in-law of the neighbouring house.... At the two ends of the platform two upright stones, about ten feet high, and resembling the Breton _menhirs_, formed an exceptional ornament to this _morai_, which the bushes were in course of invading and the storms of demolishing."[107] Again, Stewart describes as follows what he calls "a depository of the dead": "It stands in the midst of a beautiful clump of trees, and consists of a platform of heavy stone work, twenty feet or more square and four or five high, surmounted in the centre by eight or ten posts arranged in the shape of a grave, and supporting at a height of six or seven feet a long and narrow roof of thatch. Close beneath this was the body enclosed in a coffin."[108] Again, in the island of Tahuata (Santa Christina), Bennett describes a chief's burial-place as follows: "A low but extensive stone platform, beneath the shade of a venerable _fau_-tree, marks the more consecrated ground; and on this is erected a wooden hut, containing an elevated trough, shaped as a canoe, and holding the perfect skeleton of the late chief. In front of the sepulchre are two hideous wooden idols, and several bundles of coco-nut leaves."[109] The shed, which was erected on the stone platform, and under which the body rested on a bier, seems to have consisted for the most part simply of a thatched roof supported on wooden posts.[110] Sometimes, however, instead of a simple shed, open on all sides, a small house resembling the ordinary houses of the natives appears to have been erected for the reception of the corpse or mummy. Thus in the island of Tahuata (Santa Christina) Bennett describes a burial-place as follows: "The most picturesque mausoleum we noticed was that which contained the corpse of one of Eutiti's children. It was placed on the summit of an isolated hill, rising from the bosom of a well-wooded savannah, and was covered entirely with the leaves of the fan-palm. The posterior, or tallest wall, was twelve feet high, the anterior was low, closed by a mat, and decorated with six wooden pillars, covered with stained cinnet and white cloth. Strips of tapa [bark-cloth], fixed to a wand, fluttered on the roof, to denote that the spot was tabooed; and for the same purpose, a row of globular stones, each the size of a football, and whitened with coral lime, occupied the top of a low but broad stone wall which encircled the building. The interior contained nothing but the bier on which the corpse was laid."[111] From the sketch which Bennett gives of this particular mausoleum, as he calls it, we gather that the sepulchral hut containing the body was not raised on a stone platform, but built on the flat. [106] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 253. [107] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 92. One of these stones was said to have been erected by the French navigator, Captain Marchand, and to have formerly borne an inscription recording his taking possession of the island. Hence it would be unsafe to draw any conclusion from the supposed antiquity of these two tall upright stones. [108] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ i. 260. [109] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 329. [110] Compare J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage au Pole Sud, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. 33, "Sous un hangar se trouvent quelques supports formant, à 2 mètres au-dessus du sol, une estrade sur laquelle est déposé le _toui-papao_. C'est le nom que les naturels donnent au cadavre enveloppé d'herbes et de _tapa_ (étoffes de papyrus faites dans le pays). On n'aperçoit du corps ainsi habillé que les extremités des doigts des pièds et des mains." [111] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 331. There seems to be no evidence that the stone platforms on which the sepulchral sheds or huts of the Marquesans were erected ever took the shape of stepped or terraced pyramids like the massive stone pyramids of Tahiti and Tonga. So far as the mortuary platforms of the Marquesans are described, they appear to have been quadrangular piles of stone, with upright sides, not stepped or terraced. Megalithic monuments in the form of stepped or terraced pyramids seem to have been very rare in the Marquesas Islands; indeed, it is doubtful whether they existed at all. With regard to the island of Tahuata (Santa Christina), it is positively affirmed by Bennett that none of the valleys contain "any _morais_ or other buildings devoted to religious purposes, nor any public idols";[112] and by _morais_ he probably means stepped pyramids like those of Tahiti and Tonga. However, in the valley of Taipii (Typee), in Nukahiva, a megalithic monument, built in terraces, was seen by Melville in 1842. He describes it as follows: [112] F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 322. "One day in returning from this spring by a circuitous path, I came upon a scene which reminded me of Stonehenge and the architectural labours of the Druids. At the base of one of the mountains, and surrounded on all sides by dense groves, a series of vast terraces of stone rises, step by step, for a considerable distance up the hillside. These terraces cannot be less than one hundred yards in length and twenty in width. Their magnitude, however, is less striking than the immense size of the blocks composing them. Some of the stones, of an oblong shape, are from ten to fifteen feet in length, and five or six feet thick. Their sides are quite smooth, but though square, and of pretty regular formation, they bear no mark of the chisel. They are laid together without cement, and here and there show gaps between. The topmost terrace and the lower one are somewhat peculiar in their construction. They have both a quadrangular depression in the centre, leaving the rest of the terrace elevated several feet above it. In the intervals of the stones immense trees have taken root, and their broad boughs, stretching far over and interlacing together, support a canopy almost impenetrable to the sun. Overgrowing the greater part of them, and climbing from one to another, is a wilderness of vines, in whose sinewy embrace many of the stones lie half-hidden, while in some places a thick growth of bushes entirely covers them. There is a wild pathway which obliquely crosses two of these terraces, and so profound is the shade, so dense the vegetation, that a stranger to the place might pass along it without being aware of their existence. "These structures bear every indication of a very high antiquity, and Kory-Kory, who was my authority in all matters of scientific research, gave me to understand that they were coeval with the creation of the world; that the great gods themselves were the builders; and that they would endure until time shall be no more. Kory-Kory's prompt explanation, and his attributing the work to a divine origin, at once convinced me that neither he nor the rest of his countrymen knew anything about them."[113] Melville was accordingly disposed to attribute the erection of these remarkable terraces to an extinct and forgotten race.[114] The hypothesis is all the more probable because the monument appears to have been entirely abandoned and unused by the natives during the time when they have been known to Europeans. But it is doubtful whether the edifice was a pyramid; all that Melville's somewhat vague description implies is that it consisted of a series of terraces built one above the other on the hillside. [113] Melville, _Typee_, pp. 166 _sq._ [114] Melville, _Typee_, p. 167. According to some accounts the remains of the dead, instead of being deposited in sheds or huts erected on stone platforms, were buried in the platforms themselves. Thus, according to William Crook, the first missionary to the Marquesans, "they have a _morai_ in each district, where the dead are buried beneath a pavement of large stones."[115] Similarly, in Nukahiva two or three large quadrangular platforms (_pi-pis_), heavily flagged, enclosed with regular stone walls and almost hidden by the interlacing branches of enormous trees, were pointed out as burial-places to Melville, and he was told that the bodies "were deposited in rude vaults beneath the flagging, and were suffered to remain there without being disinterred. Although nothing could be more strange and gloomy than the aspect of these places, where the lofty trees threw their dark shadows over rude blocks of stone, a stranger looking at them would have discerned none of the ordinary evidences of a place of sepulture."[116] To the same effect, perhaps, Porter observes that, "when the flesh is mouldered from the bones, they are, as I have been informed, carefully cleansed: some are kept for relics, and some are deposited in the _morais_."[117] Again, Krusenstern says that twelve months after the death "the corpse is broken into pieces, and the bones are packed in a small box made of the wood of the bread-fruit tree, and carried to the _morai_ or burial place, where no woman is allowed to approach under pain of death."[118] However, these statements do not necessarily imply that the bones were buried under the stones of the platform at the _morai_. [115] Quoted by J. Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_, p. 144. [116] Melville, _Typee_, p. 205. [117] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 123. [118] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 173. But whether deposited on biers or buried under the pavement, the remains of the dead were liable to be carried off in time of war by foes, who regarded such an exploit as a great deed of heroism. Hence when an invasion of the enemy in force was expected, the custom was to remove the bodies from the _morai_ and bury them elsewhere.[119] The heads of enemies killed in battle were invariably kept and hung up as trophies of victory in the house of the conqueror. They seem to have been smoked in order to preserve them better.[120] It is said that they were used as cups to drink kava out of.[121] [119] Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 134. [120] Melville, _Typee_, p. 206. [121] Clavel, _op. cit._ p. 47. After ten months or a year the obsequies were concluded by another funeral feast, which might last from eight to thirty days according to the rank of the deceased and the opulence of his family. At the same time offerings of food were presented afresh at the tomb, and the decorations were renewed, consisting of branches and leaves and strips of white bark-cloth, which waved like flags at the end of little white wands. At these anniversary feasts, to which, if the deceased was a man of quality, only chiefs were in many cases admitted, great quantities of pigs were consumed.[122] The intention of the feast is said to have been to thank the gods for having permitted the dead person to arrive safely in the other world.[123] [122] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 117 _sq._ [123] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 173. § 9. _Fate of the Soul after Death_ The souls of the dead were supposed to depart either to an upper or to a lower world, either to heaven or to a subterranean region called Havaiki. The particular destination of a soul after death was determined, not by moral considerations, not by the virtue or vice of the deceased, but by the rank he had occupied in this life: people of quality went to the upper world, and common people went to the lower, to Havaiki.[124] According to a more precise account, heaven was inhabited by deities of the highest order, by women who had died in childbed, by warriors who had fallen on the field of battle, by suicides, and especially by the aristocratic class of the chiefs. This celestial region was supposed to be a happy land, abounding in bread-fruit paste (_popoi_), pork, and fish, and offering the companionship of the most beautiful women imaginable. There the bread-fruit trees dropped their ripe fruit every moment to the ground, and the supply of coco-nuts and bananas never failed. There the souls reposed on mats much finer than those of Nukahiva; and every day they bathed in rivers of coco-nut oil. In that happy land there were plenty of plumes and feathers, and boars'-tusks, and sperm-whale teeth far better than even white men can boast of. The nether world, on the other hand, was peopled with deities of the second class and by ordinary human beings, who had no pretensions to gentility. But it was not a place of misery much less of punishment or torture; on the contrary, we are told that both the upper and the lower regions were happier than the earth which the living inhabit.[125] The approach to the lower world, curiously enough, was by sea. The soul sailed away in a coffin shaped like a canoe (_pahaa_). When it came near the channel which divides the island Tahuata from the island Hivaoa, it was met by two deities or two opposing influences, one of which tried to push the soul into a narrow strait between Tahuata and a certain rock in the sea, while the other deity or influence endeavoured to contrive that the soul should keep the broad channel between the rock and Hivaoa. The souls that were thrust into the narrow strait were killed; whereas such as kept the open channel were conducted safe by a merciful god to their destination.[126] [124] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 44. [125] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 220; Melville, _Typee_, p. 185. Compare Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 40. [126] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 220 _sq._ Sometimes the land of the dead was identified with a happy island or islands called Tiburones lying somewhere in the ocean to the west of Nukahiva. Not uncommonly natives of the Marquesas sailed away in great double canoes to seek and find these happy isles, but were never heard of again. On one occasion, for example, forty men in the island of Ua-pu, who had revolted against their chief and been defeated, embarked secretly by night and put to sea, hoping to discover the Fortunate Islands, where they would be beyond the reach of their offended lord, and where they might pass the remainder of their days in liberty and bliss. What became of them is unknown, for they were seen and heard of no more in their native island.[127] [127] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 51 _sq._; Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 238 note, 239, 269, 270; Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 238 _sq._; Mathias G----, _op. cit._ pp. 234 _sq._ But even the souls that went to heaven were supposed to stand in need of a canoe in order to reach the place of bliss. On this point Porter writes: "I endeavoured to ascertain whether they had an idea of a future state of rewards and punishments, and the nature of their heaven. As respects the latter article, they believed it to be an island, somewhere in the sky, abounding with everything desirable; that those killed in war and carried off by their friends, go there, provided they are furnished with a canoe and provisions; but that those who are carried off by the enemy, never reach it, unless a sufficient number of the enemy can be obtained to paddle his canoe there. For this reason they were so anxious to procure a crew for their priest, who was killed and carried off by the Happahs. They have neither rewards nor punishments in this world, and I could not learn that they expected any in the next."[128] [128] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 113. In the valley of Taipii (Typee), in the island of Nukahiva, Captain Porter visited "the chief place of religious ceremony." It was a platform of the usual sort situated in a fine grove at the foot of a steep mountain. On the platform was an idol of hard stone, rudely representing a deity in human shape of about life size and in a squatting posture. Arranged on either side of this idol, as well as in front and rear, were several other images of about the same size and of the same model, but better carved out of bread-fruit wood. The place was decorated with streamers of white cloth. A few paces from the grave were four fine war canoes, furnished with outriggers, and decorated with human hair, coral shells, and many white streamers. In the stern of each canoe was the effigy of a man with a paddle, steering, in full dress, decked with plumes, ear-rings, and all the usual ornaments. On enquiring of the natives, Captain Porter was informed that the dignified effigy seated in the stern of the most splendid canoe represented a priest who had been killed not long before by their enemies the Happahs. In the bottom of the priest's canoe Captain Porter found the putrefying bodies of two Taipiis (Typees) whom he and his men had recently killed in battle; and lying about the canoe he saw many other human carcasses, with the flesh still on them. The other canoes, he was told, belonged to different warriors who had been killed or had died not long since. "I asked them," continues Captain Porter, "why they had placed their effigies in the canoes, and also why they put the bodies of the dead Typees in that of the priest? They told me (as Wilson interpreted) that they were going to heaven, and that it was impossible to get there without canoes. The canoe of the priest being large, he was unable to manage it himself, nor was it right that he should, he being now a god. They had, therefore, placed in it the bodies of the Happas and Typees, which had been killed since his death, to paddle him to the place of his destination; but he had not been able yet to start, for the want of a full crew, as it would require ten to paddle her, and as yet they had only procured eight. They told me also that the taboo, laid in consequence of his death, would continue until he had started on his voyage, which he would not be able to do until they had killed two more of their enemies, and by this means completed the crew. I inquired if he took any sea stock with him. They told me he did, and pointing to some red hogs in an enclosure, said that they were intended for him, as well as a quantity of bread-fruit, coco-nuts, etc., which would be collected from the trees in the grove. I inquired if he had far to go; they replied, no: and pointing to a small square stone enclosure, informed me that was their heaven, that he was to go there. This place was tabooed, they told me, for every one except their priests."[129] [129] Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 109-111. A similar, or the same, effigy of a dead chief seated in his canoe was seen by Melville in the same valley (_Typee_, pp. 183 _sq._). He says that "the canoe was about seven feet in length; of a rich, dark-coloured wood, handsomely carved, and adorned in many places with variegated bindings of stained sinnate [cinnet], into which were ingeniously wrought a number of sparkling sea-shells, and a belt of the same shells ran all round it. The body of the figure--of whatever material it might have been made--was effectually concealed in a heavy robe of brown tappa [bark-cloth], revealing only the hands and head; the latter skilfully carved in wood, and surmounted by a superb arch of plumes." But it was deemed necessary to provide a dead priest or chief with human victims for other purposes than to paddle his canoe to heaven. When a great chief died, two commoners were sometimes sacrificed for the purpose of escorting him to the abode of bliss; one of them carried the chief's girdle, and the other bore the head of the pig that had been slaughtered for the funeral feast. The head was intended as a present to the warden of the infernal regions, who, if he did not get this perquisite, would revile and stone the ghost, and shut the door in his face.[130] The number of human victims sacrificed at the death of a priest varied with the respect and fear which he had inspired in his lifetime;[131] a common number seems to have been three.[132] [130] Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 163. [131] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ p. 228. [132] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i, 170. The runaway English sailor, Roberts, who had long resided in the islands, assured the Russian explorer Lisiansky "that, on the death of a priest, three men must be sacrificed; two of whom are hung up in the burying-ground, while the third is cut to pieces, and eaten by visitors; all but the head, which is placed upon one of the idols. When the flesh of the first two are wasted away, the bones that remain are burnt. The custom of the country requires, that the men destined for sacrifice should belong to some neighbouring nation, and accordingly they are generally stolen. This occasions a war of six, and sometimes of twelve, months: its duration, however, depends upon the nearest relation of the deceased priest; who, as soon as he is acquainted with his death, retires to a place of taboo; and till he chooses to come out, the blood of the two parties does not cease to flow. During his retirement, he is furnished with everything he may require, human flesh not excepted."[133] [133] U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 81 _sq._ A curious mode of preparing a dead man to appear to advantage before the gods in the other world was to flay his corpse. A Catholic missionary tells us that when a dead body began to swell up, in consequence of internal putrefaction, it was customary to flay it and to preserve the skin as a precious relic in the family treasury, where the eye of a profane stranger could never fall on it.[134] The reason for observing the custom is not mentioned by this missionary, but it is explained by another missionary, Father Amable. It happened that the king or head chief of the island of Tahuata died, and that his body was brought to the house of the queen on the bay where Father Amable resided. For thirty days she kept the corpse in the house and occupied herself with skinning it with her fingers. Questioned by the missionary as to her reasons for this strange procedure, she answered that her husband's body must be without spot or stain, in order that the great goddess Upu might give him leave to dwell in her land and to bathe in her lake. For this deity rules over a sort of submarine Eden, planted with all sorts of excellent fruits and beautified by the calm waters of an azure lake. The natives of Tahuata believe that the souls of all who die in the archipelago assemble on the top of a high mountain called Kiukiu. When a great multitude of souls is there gathered together, the sea opens and the souls fall plump down into the paradise of the goddess Upu. However, not all of them are permitted to enter the happy land and to enjoy the pleasures which it offers. Only such are admitted as have owned in their lifetime many servants and many pigs and have not been wicked. Further, none may enter in who bear on their body any marks of tattooing.[135] Hence the reason for flaying dead bodies seems to have been to efface, by removing the skin, the tattooed marks which would have acted as a fatal bar to the entrance of the ghost into paradise. As to the souls of slaves and the poor, in the opinion of the natives of Tahuata they go to a gloomy land, which is never illumined by the sun, and where there is nothing but muddy water to drink.[136] Nevertheless the people would seem to have believed that the souls of the dead lingered for a time beside their mouldering bodies before they took their departure for the far country. In this belief they sacrificed to them pigs, some baked, and some alive. The baked pigs they put in a hollow log and hung from the roof of the hut, and they said that a god named Mapuhanui, who in the beginning had bestowed pigs on men, used to come and feast on the carcasses in company with the ghost. But when they offered live pigs, they tethered the animals to the hut in which the dead body lay, and they fed them till the flesh dropped from the skeleton; after that they allowed the pigs to die of hunger.[137] Perhaps, like some other peoples, they imagined that the ghost hovered about his remains so long as the flesh adhered to the bones, but that when even that faint semblance of life had vanished he went away and had no further occasion for pigs, whether alive or dead. [134] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 116. [135] Lettre du R. P. Amable, in _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, xix. (1847) pp. 22 _sq._, 24. [136] Lettre du R. P. Amable, _op. cit._ p. 24. [137] Lettre du R. P. Amable, _op. cit._ pp. 23 _sq._ However, the souls of the dead were not supposed to be permanently confined to the other world. After a long sojourn in it, all alike, whatever the region they inhabited in their disembodied state, could return to earth and be born again.[138] Indeed, according to the natives of Nukahiva, the interval between death and reincarnation was not unduly long; for "every one here is persuaded, that the soul of a grandfather is transmitted by Nature into the body of his grandchildren; and that, if an unfruitful wife were to place herself under the corpse of her deceased grandfather, she would be sure to become pregnant."[139] Occasionally the soul of a dead person might even inhabit the body of an animal. Once when a whale was stranded on one of the islands, a priestess declared that it was the soul of a certain priest, which would wander until eight human victims were sacrificed to the gods. In vain her son would have substituted turtles for human beings; the people would not hear of it; the prescribed victims were captured from a neighbouring tribe and put to death in order to lay the ghost of the whale, or rather of the priest who had animated the whale's body.[140] [138] Lettre du R. P. Amable, _op. cit._ p. 24. [139] Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 89. [140] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 161 _sq._ But the souls of the dead were also believed to return from the spirit land for other purposes than to be born again in the flesh. They might come as ghosts to haunt and torment the living, and as such they were greatly dreaded by the people.[141] The first watch of the night was the hour when they were supposed especially to come on errands of mischief.[142] Particularly dreaded were the ghosts of high priests and great chiefs, who retained in their spiritual form the passions and the rancours which they had nursed in life, and who returned in ghostly shape to earth to meddle with the affairs of the living, and to punish even trivial offences. To guard against these dangerous intrusions, the intervention of a priest or priestess was deemed indispensable; it was his or her business to counteract a spell cast on a family, or to heal a sickness inflicted on an individual by one of these ghostly vagrants.[143] Such was the fear of wandering ghosts that no Marquesan would dare to stir a step abroad at night without the light of a torch; for well he knew that evil spirits lurked beside the path to knock down and throttle any rash wayfarer who should dare to leave his footsteps unillumined.[144] Indeed, we are told that, of all beliefs in the minds of the natives, the belief in ghosts was the most deeply rooted. It is impossible to express the dread which they felt of spectres and apparitions; nobody was exempt from it. But it was only at night that these phantoms were to be feared. Though they remained invisible, they revealed themselves to the terror-stricken wanderer by sound and touch; the least noise heard in the darkness disclosed their presence; the least contact with them was a sentence of death, sudden or slow, but sure. Hence, if a man was obliged to go out after sunset, he would always take somebody with him to bear him company, even if he had to wake a comrade for the purpose. Among the women the fear of ghosts was yet greater, many of them would not stir abroad on a moonless night even in company. In passing by a burial-ground or a solitary tomb, people used to throw food towards it for the purpose of appeasing the ghost, who otherwise would have attacked them.[145] [141] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 40. [142] Mathias G----, _op. cit._ p. 210. [143] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 224 _sq._ [144] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 227, 240. [145] Eyriaud des Vergnes, _op. cit._ pp. 31 _sq._ This deep-seated fear of the dead has survived the conversion, real or nominal, of the Marquesans to Christianity. No native would even now venture into a cave where the remains of the dead have been deposited, not though the greatest treasures were to be found there, for such spots are believed to be constantly haunted by the ghosts of the departed. Nobody, it is said, would live in a house in which somebody has died; every such dwelling is immediately burnt down. Hence, when a person is grievously sick, a little primitive hut is erected beside the house, and he is carried out to die in it, and when he is dead, the hut is in like manner destroyed with fire.[146] A woman will sometimes commit suicide in order that her ghost may haunt and torment her unfaithful husband.[147] [146] Baessler, _op. cit._ p. 234. [147] Baessler, _op. cit._ pp. 193 _sq._ On the other hand, ghosts in the olden time had also their utility, for they could be summoned up by a priest or priestess to give information on various subjects, such as the issue of an illness. On these occasions the wizard would hold a conversation with the spirit, whose voice could be heard by the listeners, though his or her shape, as usual, was invisible in the darkness. Sceptics thought that such communications were made by means of ventriloquism, and indeed a priestess, who had professed to evoke the soul of a dead chieftainess, solemnly maintained that she could make the voice of anybody, whether dead or alive, to speak from her stomach.[148] [148] Radiguet, _op. cit._ pp. 227-238. In such beliefs and customs are contained as in germ the whole theory and practice of the worship of the dead. NOTE.--We possess no thorough account of the native Marquesan society and religion as these existed before they were transformed by European influence. Some of the writers who have described the islanders and their customs spent only a few days or at most a few weeks among them. Captain Cook was at the Marquesas only five days, from the 6th to the 11th of April 1774.[149] The French explorer Marchand spent eight days in the islands from the 13th to the 21st of June 1791.[150] The Russian explorers Krusenstern and Lisiansky were with their two ships, the _Nadeshda_ and _Neva_, at Nukahiva for ten days, from the 7th to the 17th of May 1804; along with them was the naturalist Langsdorff, who wrote an independent account of the voyage.[151] But though their stay was short, they had the advantage of meeting with two Europeans, an Englishman named E. Roberts, and a Frenchman named Jean (or Joseph) Baptiste Cabri, who had lived long in the islands and spoke the native language. These men acted as interpreters to the Russians and supplied them with most of the information which they give in their books concerning the customs and beliefs of the Marquesans. Roberts told them that he had been seven years in Nukahiva and two years previously in Santa Christina (Tau-ata); that he had been put ashore on the latter island out of an English merchant ship, the crew of which had mutinied against their captain and could not prevail upon him to join their party; and that in Nukahiva he had lately married a relation of the king's, by which he acquired great consideration, so that it would be easy for him to be of assistance to them. At the same time he earnestly warned them against the Frenchman, who had also resided for some years in Nukahiva, but whose character he painted in very dark colours. The two Russian captains, Krusenstern and Lisiansky, accordingly put their trust in Roberts and drew most of their information concerning the natives from him. On the other hand their naturalist, Langsdorff, made most use of the Frenchman. He admitted, indeed, that the Englishman was a man of better character, greater natural intelligence, and much higher education; but on the other hand he tells us that the Frenchman had been longer in the island and possessed a more thorough mastery of the language and a greater intimacy with the natives, among whom he had lived as a savage among savages so long that he had almost forgotten his own native tongue. But Langsdorff took care to question both these men and only accepted as true statements in which they agreed with each other, and to this agreement he naturally attached the greater weight because his two informants were bitterly hostile to each other and therefore were unlikely to unite in deceiving him.[152] On the whole, then, the account which Langsdorff gives of Marquesan society and religion is perhaps more trustworthy as well as fuller than that of his two compatriots and companions, Krusenstern and Lisiansky. [149] J. Cook, _Voyages_, iii. 274-281; compare G. Forster, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1777), ii. 5 _sqq._ [150] C. P. Claret Fleurieu, _Voyage round the World performed during the years 1790, 1791, and 1792 by Étienne Marchand_ (London, 1801), i. 31, 51. Marchand's brief account is supplemented from other sources by his editor Fleurieu (_op. cit._ i. 55 _sqq._). [151] A. J. von Krusenstern, _Voyage round the World in the years 1803, 1804, 1805, and 1806_ (London, 1813), i. 108 _sq._, 133 _sqq._; U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_ (London, 1814), pp. 62, 95; G. H. von Langsdorff, _Bemerkungen auf einer Reise um die Welt in den Jahren 1803 bis 1807_ (Frankfurt am Main, 1812), i. 75, 161. [152] Krusenstern, _op. cit._ i. 110-112; Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 79; Langsdorff, _op. cit._ i. 77, 83-85. As to the subsequent history of Roberts and Cabri, see Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _Iles Marquises ou Nouka-hiva_ (Paris, 1843), pp. 356-359. Captain David Porter of the United States Navy was with his ship the _Essex_ at Nukahiva from October 24th till December 9th, 1813.[153] A great part of his time was spent on shore and in close contact with the natives, and though he did not learn the language, he was able to employ as an interpreter an Englishman named Wilson, who had lived for many years in the islands, spoke the language of the natives with the same facility as his own, and had become a Marquesan in every respect except in colour. He proved indispensable to the American as an organ of communication with the people; and much of the information which Porter gives concerning the customs of the Marquesans was derived by him from this man.[154] [153] Captain David Porter, _Journal of a Cruise made to the Pacific Ocean in the United States frigate Essex in the years 1812, 1813, and 1814_, Second Edition (New York, 1822), ii. 5, 141. [154] D. Porter, _op. cit._ ii. 17 _sq._ The American naval chaplain, the Rev. C. S. Stewart, paid about a fortnight's visit to Nukahiva, from July 27th to August 13th, 1829, while his ship, the _Vincennes_, was anchored at the island. But he received much information from the Rev. W. P. Crook, who spent nearly two years (1797 and 1798) in the Marquesas, having been the first missionary landed in the islands by the missionary ship _Duff_. During his residence in the islands Mr. Crook kept a journal, which he allowed Mr. Stewart to consult. The contents of the journal corroborated Mr. Stewart's own observations as to the inhabitants, and the account which he gives of the religion of the islanders is based mainly on the information derived from Mr. Crook[155] and is therefore valuable; for at the time when Mr. Crook landed in the Marquesas the customs and beliefs of the islanders were still practically unaffected by contact with Europeans. [155] C. S. Stewart, _Visit to the South Seas_ (London, 1832), i. pp. x _sq._, 193, 331. The writer speaks (p. 331) of his stay of "a fortnight at the Washington Islands." Mr. Crook first landed in the island of Santa Christina (Tau-ata) on June 6th, 1797. See James Wilson, _Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean_ (London, 1799), pp. 129 _sqq._ As to his subsequent history in the islands, see Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _Iles Marquises ou Nouka-hiva_, pp. 35-40. The surgeon F. D. Bennett, on a whaling voyage spent a few days in Santa Christina (Tau-ata), from February 28th to March 4th, 1835; and his descriptions of what he saw are good so far as they go; but naturally he could collect but little accurate information as to the habits and ideas of the people in so short a time.[156] [156] F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe from the year 1833 to 1836_ (London, 1840), i 296, 346. One of the early Catholic missionaries to the Marquesas, Father Mathias G----, spent two years in the islands and has given us, in a series of letters, an account of the native customs and beliefs, which, though far from complete or systematic, is based on personal observation and is among the best that we possess.[157] [157] Le P. Mathias G----, _Lettres sur les Iles Marquises_ (Paris, 1843). The writer is not explicit as to the dates of his residence in the Marquesas; but he tells us that he spent two years in habitual intercourse with the natives (p. 49), and from other allusions which he makes in his narrative (pp. 28 _sq._) it would seem that the years were 1839 and 1840. The first Catholic missionaries landed in 1838 (_ib._ p. 22), and others in 1839 (_ib._ pp. 23 _sq._). Among the latter were Fathers Garcia and Guilmard (_ib._ p. 24). Father G----may have been one of them. Hermann Melville lived among the Taipiis (Typees) in Nukahiva for more than four months,[158] and wrote a lively narrative of his experiences. His personal observations are valuable, but as he did not master the native language, he was not able to throw much light on the inner life of the people, and in particular on their religious ideas. [158] H. Melville, _Typee_ (London, _Everyman's Library_), p. 254. On the 1st of May, 1842, the Marquesas Islands were taken possession of for France by the French Admiral, Du Petit-Thouars;[159] and next year, to satisfy the interest of the French public in their new possession, a comprehensive work on the islands and their inhabitants was published by MM. Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz.[160] The authors had visited the islands with the expedition of the French navigator, J. Dumont d'Urville, in his ships the _Astrolabe_ and the _Zélée_. But as the expedition stayed only about a week at Nukahiva, from August 26th to September 3rd, 1838,[161] the writers had little opportunity of making personal observations. Their work is mainly a careful compilation from earlier sources, and as such it is a useful and trustworthy summary of what was known about the archipelago and its inhabitants down to the date of publication. [159] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _op. cit._ pp. 119 _sqq._ [160] Vincendon-Dumoulin et C. Desgraz, _Iles Marquises ou Nouka-hiva_ (Paris, 1843). [161] J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage au Pole Sud et dans l'Océanie, Histoire du Voyage_, iv. (Paris, 1842), pp. 5, 49. Max Radiguet, one of the members of the expedition to the Marquesas under Admiral Du Petit-Thouars, passed a considerable time in the islands and wrote a graphic account of his experiences, which contains some valuable information as to the natives, their customs, religion, and mythology.[162] In the part which concerns the mythology he was assisted by an officer of artillery, M. Rohr, who had lived for several years in Nukahiva and was familiar with the language and customs of the people.[163] [162] Max Radiguet, _Les Derniers Sauvages_, Nouvelle Édition (Paris, 1882). The author does not inform us as to the exact length of his stay in the islands. [163] M. Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 221 note. In 1877 a good general account of the archipelago and its inhabitants was published at Paris. The author was a naval lieutenant, P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, who having lived in the islands in the official capacity of Resident for about six years (from 1868 to 1874) had ample time and opportunity for obtaining accurate information on the subject.[164] His work, though somewhat slight, is valuable so far as it goes; but it does not tell us much about the native religion, which in his time had probably lost a good deal of its original character through the influence of the missionaries and of civilisation.[165] [164] P. E. Eyriaud des Vergnes, _L'Archipel des Iles Marquises_ (Paris, 1877). [165] Some years previously a naval lieutenant, M. Jouan, who had been in command of the French military post at Nukahiva, published in the _Revue Coloniale_ (1857-1858) some notes on the Marquesas, which are said to contain some useful information on the archipelago. See M. Radiguet, _op. cit._ p. 310 note. I have not seen the work of M. Jouan; but according to Radiguet it shows that in the twelve years and more which had elapsed since the French occupation of the islands the presence of French missionaries and of a French garrison had done little to civilise the natives. Some years later, in 1881 and 1882, a French naval doctor, Clavel by name, passed six months in the Marquesas. During his stay he made personal observations and collected information on the natives. These he subsequently published in a little work, which contains much of value;[166] but when he wrote almost all the natives had been nominally converted to Christianity and their ancient religion was practically extinct.[167] [166] _Les Marquisiens_, par M. le Docteur Clavel (Paris, 1885). [167] Clavel, _op. cit._ pp. 68-71. Towards the end of the nineteenth century the German traveller Arthur Baessler paid a short visit to the Marquesas. In his book of travel in the South Sea he has given us descriptions of the islands and the people as he saw them, including some account of the scanty remains of their stone monuments and images.[168] [168] Arthur Baessler, _Neue Südsee-Bilder_ (Berlin, 1900), pp. 189-242. The writer omits to mention the date of his visit to the islands, and the length of his stay in them. CHAPTER VII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE HAWAIIANS § 1. _The Sandwich or Hawaiian Islands_ The Sandwich or Hawaiian Islands form an archipelago lying in the North Pacific Ocean just within the northern tropic. They stretch in a direction from north-west to south-east for more than four hundred miles and include eight inhabited islands, of which the most important are Hawaii, Maui, Oahu, and Kauai. Of these Hawaii is by far the largest; indeed it is the largest island in Polynesia with the exception of New Zealand. The islands are all mountainous and of volcanic formation. In Hawaii two of the mountains are between 13,000 and 14,000 feet in height, and two of them are active volcanoes; one of them, named Kilauea, possesses the greatest active crater in the world, a huge cauldron of seething lava, which presents a spectacle of awe-inspiring grandeur when seen on a moonless night. The other and much loftier volcano, Mauna Loa, was the scene of a terrific eruption in 1877 and of another in 1881. Craters, large and small, hot springs, and other evidences of volcanic activity, abound throughout the archipelago. One of the craters on the island of Maui is said to be no less than fifteen miles in circumference and about two thousand feet deep. The islands appear to have been known to the Spaniards as early as the sixteenth century; but they were rediscovered in 1778 by Captain Cook, who was afterwards killed in a fight with the natives in Hawaii.[1] [1] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 4 _sqq._; J. J. Jarves, _History of the Hawaiian or Sandwich Islands_ (London, 1843), pp. 1 _sqq._; J. Remy, _Histoire de l'Archipel Havaiien_ (Paris and Leipzig, 1862), pp. vii _sqq._; C. E. Meinicke, _Die Inseln des Stillen Oceans_, ii. 271 _sqq._; _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, Ninth Edition, xi. 528 _sqq._; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_ (Berlin, 1894), pp. 1 _sqq._; F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, ii. 533 _sqq._ Viewed from the sea the islands are apt to present an appearance of barrenness and desolation. The mountains descend into the sea in precipices often hundreds of feet high: their summits are capped with snow or lost in mist and clouds; and their sides, green and studded with clumps of trees in some places, but black, scorched and bare in others, are rent into ravines, down which in the rainy seasons cataracts rush roaring to the sea. With the changes of sunshine and shadow the landscape as a whole strikes the beholder now as in the highest degree horrid, dismal, and dreary, now as wildly beautiful and romantic with a sort of stern and sombre magnificence.[2] Inland, however, in many places the summits of the ridges crowned with forests of perpetual verdure, the slopes covered with flowering shrubs or lofty trees, the rocks mantled in creepers, the waterfalls dropping from stupendous cliffs, and the distant prospects of snowy peaks, bold romantic headlands, and blue seas, all arched by a summer sky of the deepest azure, combine to make up pictures of fairy-like and enchanting loveliness.[3] [2] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 94; W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 34, 379; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, Fifth Edition (Boston, 1839), pp. 69 _sqq._, 140; D. Tyerman and G. Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 366, 391; Ch. Wilkes, _United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 373. [3] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 13 _sq._; C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ pp. 213 _sqq._, 229 _sqq._; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 426 _sqq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xiv _sq._; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 390 _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe_ (London, 1840), i. 198 _sqq._ The vale of Anuanu, which runs up into the mountains from the plain of Honululu in the island of Oahu, is especially famed for its natural beauty. The climate naturally varies with the height above the sea. On the coasts, though warm, it is remarkably equable, and perhaps no country in the world enjoys a finer or healthier climate than some parts of Hawaii and Maui. On the mountains all varieties of climate are to be found, from the tropical heat of the lowlands to the arctic cold of the two great peaks of Hawaii, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa with their perpetual snows, which are not, however, always visible from the sea or from the foot of these giants. In the lowlands frost is unknown. The fresh breezes, which blow from the sea during the day and from the mountains at night, temper the heat of the sun, and render the evenings delicious; nothing can surpass the splendour and clearness of the moonlight. Rain falls more abundantly on the windward or eastern side of the islands than on the leeward or western side. Thus at Hilo, on the eastern side of Hawaii, it rains almost every day, whereas in Kena, on the western side, rain hardly ever falls, and along the coast not a single water-course is to be seen for many miles. In general it may be said that the archipelago suffers from drought and hence occasionally from dearth.[4] [4] J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xvi _sqq._ Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 99 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 21 _sq._; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iv. 283 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 12 _sqq._; _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 9th edition, xi. 530. § 2. _The Natives and their Mode of Life_ The natives of the Sandwich Islands are typical Polynesians. In general they are rather above the middle stature, well formed, with fine muscular limbs, open countenances, and features frequently resembling those of Europeans. The forehead is usually well developed, the lips thick, and the nostrils full, without any flatness or spreading of the nose. The complexion is tawny or olive in hue, but sometimes reddish brown. The hair is black or brown and occasionally fair or rather ruddy in colour, in texture it is strong, smooth, and sometimes curly. The gait is graceful and even stately. But in these islands, as in other parts of Polynesia, there is a conspicuous difference between the chiefs and the commoners, the superiority being altogether on the side of the chiefs. "The nobles of the land," says Stewart, "are so strongly marked by their external appearance, as at all times to be easily distinguishable from the common people. They seem, indeed, in size and stature to be almost a distinct race. They are all large in their frame, and often excessively corpulent, while the common people are scarce of the ordinary height of Europeans, and of a thin rather than full habit."[5] And the difference between the two ranks is as obvious in their walk and general deportment as in their stature and size, the nobles bearing themselves with a natural dignity and grace which are wanting in their social inferiors. Yet there seems to be no reason to suppose that they belong to a different race from the commoners; the greater care taken of them in childhood, their better living, sexual selection, and the influence of heredity appear sufficient to account for their physical superiority. The women are well built and "beautiful as ancient statues" with a sweet and engaging expression of countenance. Yet on the whole the Hawaiians are judged to be physically inferior both to the Tahitians and to the Marquesans; according to Captain King, they are rather darker than the Tahitians, and not altogether so handsome a people. On the other hand they are said to be more intelligent than either the Tahitians or the Marquesans. Captain King describes them as of a mild and affectionate disposition, equally remote from the extreme levity and fickleness of the Tahitians, and from the distant gravity and reserve of the Tongans.[6] They practised tattooing much less than many other Polynesians, but their faces, hands, arms, and the forepart of their bodies were often tattooed with a variety of patterns.[7] [5] C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 104. [6] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 112 _sq._, 115 _sq._; U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 123 _sq._; L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. Deuxième partie (Paris, 1839), p. 570; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 23; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 104, 106; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 77 _sqq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xxxvii _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 209. The last of these writers speaks in unfavourable terms of the personal appearance of the women, whom he found less handsome than the men and very inferior to the women of the Society Islands. [7] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 213 _sq._, vii. 121; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 23. The staple food of the Hawaiians consists of taro (_kalo_), sweet potatoes, and fish, but above all of taro. That root (_Arum_ or _Caladium esculentum_) is to the Hawaiians what bread-fruit is to the Tahitians, and its cultivation is their most important agricultural industry. It is grown wherever there is water or a marsh, and it is even planted on some arid heights in the island of Hawaii, where it yields excellent crops. Artificial irrigation was practised and even regulated by law or custom in the old days; for it was a rule that water should be conducted over every plantation twice a week in general, and once a week during the dry season. The bread-fruit tree is not so common, and its fruit not so much prized, as in the Marquesas and Tahiti. The natives grew sweet potatoes even before the arrival of Europeans. Yams are found wild, but are hardly eaten except in times of scarcity. There are several sorts of bananas; the fruit for the most part is better cooked than raw. In the old days the cooking was done in the ordinary native ovens, consisting of holes in the ground lined with stones which were heated with fire. After being baked in an oven the roots of the taro are mashed and diluted with water so as to form a paste or pudding called _poe_ or _poi_, which is sometimes eaten sweet but is more generally put aside till it has fermented, in which condition it is preferred by the natives. It is a highly nutritious substance, and though some Europeans complain of the sourness of taro pudding, others find it not unpalatable. Fish used to be generally eaten raw, seasoned with brine or sea-water. But they also commonly salt their fish, not for the sake of preserving it for a season of scarcity, but because they prefer the taste. They construct artificial fish-ponds, into which they let young fish from the sea, principally the fry of the grey mullet, of which the chiefs are particularly fond. Every chief has, or used to have, his own fish-pond. The natives are very skilful fishermen. In the old days they made a great variety of fish-hooks out of mother-of-pearl and tortoise shell as well as out of bone, and these they dragged by means of lines behind their canoes, and so caught bonettas, dolphins, and albicores. They took prodigious numbers of flying fish in nets. At the time when the islands were discovered by Captain Cook, the natives possessed pigs and dogs. The flesh of both of these animals was eaten, but only by persons of higher rank. Fowls were also bred and eaten, but they were not very common, and their flesh was not very much esteemed. The sugar-cane was indigenous in the islands, and the people ate it as a fruit; along with bananas and plantains it occupied a considerable portion of every plantation. Captain Cook found the natives skilful husbandmen, but thought that with a more extensive system of agriculture, the islands could have supported three times the number of the existing inhabitants.[8] He remarked that the chiefs were much addicted to the drinking of kava, and he attributed some of the cutaneous and other diseases from which they suffered to an immoderate use of what he calls the pernicious drug.[9] [8] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 215 _sq._, 219, 224 _sq._, vii. 126 _sq._; U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, p. 126; Archibald Campbell, _Voyage round the World_ (Edinburgh, 1816), pp. 161-63, 182 _sq._, 194-197; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 61, 215 _sq._, 420 (as to irrigation); C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 111-113; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 412, 426, 428, 430, 472; O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_ (Weimar, 1830), ii. 96; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 68 _sq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xxiv _sq._, xliii; F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the World_, i. 213 _sqq._ As to the system of irrigating the taro fields, see especially O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_ (London, 1821), i. 340 _sq._ [9] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 113 _sq._ § 3. _Houses, Mechanical Arts_ Captain King observed that in some respects the natives of the Sandwich Islands approached nearer in their manners and customs to the Maoris of New Zealand than to their less distant neighbours of the Society and Friendly Islands, the Tahitians and the Tongans. In nothing, he says, is this more observable than in their method of living together in small towns or villages, containing from about one hundred to two hundred houses, built pretty close together, without any order, and with a winding path leading through them. They were generally flanked towards the sea with loose detached walls, intended for shelter and defence.[10] The shape of the houses was very simple. They were oblong with very high thatched roofs, so that externally they resembled the top of hay-stacks or rather barns with the thatched roof sloping down steeply to two very low sides, and with gable ends to match. The entrance, placed indifferently in one of the sides or ends, was an oblong hole, so low that one had rather to creep than walk in, and often shut by a board of planks fastened together, which served as a door. No light entered the house but by this opening, for there were no windows. Internally every house consisted of a single room without partitions. In spite of the extreme simplicity of their structure, the houses were kept very clean; the floors were covered with a large quantity of dried grass, over which they spread mats to sit and sleep upon. At one end stood a kind of bench about three feet high, on which were kept the household utensils. These consisted merely of a few wooden bowls and trenchers, together with gourd-shells, serving either as bottles or baskets. The houses varied in size with the wealth or rank of the owners. Those of the poor were mere hovels, which resembled the sties and kennels of pigs and dogs rather than the abodes of men. The houses of the chiefs were generally large and commodious by comparison, some forty to sixty feet long by twenty or thirty feet broad, and eighteen or twenty feet high at the peak of the roof. Chiefs had always a separate eating-house, and even people of the lower ranks had one such house to every six or seven families for the men. The women were forbidden to eat in company with the men and even to enter the eating-house during the meals; they ate in the same houses in which they slept. The houses of the chiefs were enclosed in large yards, and sometimes stood on stone platforms, which rendered them more comfortable.[11] [10] J. Cook, vii. 125. [11] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 214 _sq._; U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, p. 127; A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 180-182; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 107; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 320-322; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 371 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 67 _sq._ In the mechanical arts the Hawaiians displayed a considerable degree of ingenuity and skill. While the men built the houses and canoes and fashioned wooden dishes and bowls, the women undertook the manufacture of bark-cloth (_kapa_) and mats. Bark-cloth was made in the usual way from the bark of the paper-mulberry, which was beaten out with grooved mallets. The cloth was dyed a variety of colours, and patterns at once intricate and elegant were stamped on it and stained in different tints. The mats were woven or braided by hand without the use of any frame or instrument. The materials were rushes or palm-leaves; the mats made of palm-leaves were much the more durable and therefore the more valuable. The coarser and plainer were spread on the floor to sleep on; the finer were of white colour with red stripes, rhombuses, and other figures interwoven on one side. Among the most curious specimens of native carving were the wooden bowls in which the chiefs drank kava. They were perfectly round, beautifully polished, and supported on three or four small human figures in various attitudes. These figures were accurately proportioned and neatly finished; even the anatomy of the muscles strained to support the weight were well expressed. The fishing-hooks made by the men, especially the large hooks made to catch shark, are described by Captain Cook as really astonishing for their strength and neatness; he found them on trial much superior to his own.[12] [12] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 218 _sq._, vii. 133-135; L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 611 _sq._; A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 192-195; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 109-113; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 114-116; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 66 _sq._ The mechanical skill of these people was all the more remarkable because of the extreme rudeness and simplicity of the tools with which they worked. Their chief implement was an adze made of a black or clay-coloured volcanic stone and polished by constant friction with pumice-stone in water. They had also small instruments made each of a single shark's tooth, some of which were fixed to the forepart of a dog's jawbone and others to a thin wooden handle of the same shape. These served as knives, and pieces of coral were used as files. Captain Cook found the natives in possession of two iron tools, one of them a piece of iron hoop, and the other an edge-tool, perhaps the point of a broadsword. These they could only have procured from a European vessel or from a wreck drifted on their coast. No mines of any kind are known to exist in the islands.[13] [13] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 220-224; A. Campbell, _op. cit._ p. 198; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 322; O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 97 (as to the kava bowls); J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 66. As to the absence of mines in the Hawaiian Islands, see J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xvi. Their weapons of war included spears, javelins, daggers, and clubs, all of them made of wood. They also slung stones with deadly effect. But they had no defensive armour; for the war-cloaks and wicker-work helmets, surmounted with lofty crests and decked with the tail feathers of the tropic bird, while they heightened the imposing and martial appearance of the wearers, must have proved rather encumbrances than protections. Captain Cook found the natives in possession of bows and arrows, but from their scarcity and the slenderness of their make he inferred that the Hawaiians, like other Polynesians, never used them in battle.[14] [14] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 227 _sq._, vii. 136 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 156 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 56 _sq._ § 4. _Government, Social Ranks, Taboo_ The government of the Hawaiian Islands was an absolute monarchy or despotism; all rights of power and property vested in the king, whose will and power alone were law, though in important matters he was to a certain extent guided by the opinion of the chiefs in council. The rank of the king and the chiefs was hereditary, descending from father to son; but the appointment to all offices of authority and dignity was made by the king alone. Nevertheless posts of honour, influence, and emolument often continued in the same family for many generations. Nor were hereditary rank and authority confined to men; they were inherited also by women. According to tradition, several of the islands had been once or twice under the government of a queen. The king was supported by an annual tribute paid by all the islands at different periods according to his directions. It comprised both the natural produce of the country and manufactured articles. But besides the regular tribute the king was at liberty to levy any additional tax he might please, and even to seize and appropriate any personal possessions of a chief or other subject. Not infrequently the whole crop of a plantation was thus carried off by his retainers without the least apology or compensation.[15] However, the government of the whole Hawaiian archipelago by a single monarch was a comparatively modern innovation. Down to nearly the end of the eighteenth century the different islands were independent of each other and governed by separate kings, who were often at war one with the other; indeed there were sometimes several independent kingdoms within the same island. But towards the close of the eighteenth century an energetic and able king of Hawaii, by name Kamehameha (Tamehameha), succeeded in extending his sway by conquest over the whole archipelago, and at his death in 1819 he bequeathed the undivided monarchy to his successors.[16] [15] U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ pp. 116 _sq._; A. Campbell, _op. cit._ pp. 169 _sq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 411 _sq._; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 102; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 380; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 30 _sqq._ According to Jarves (_op. cit._ p. 33), "Rank was hereditary, and descended chiefly from the females, who frequently held the reins of government in their own right. This custom originated in the great license existing between the sexes; no child, with certainty, being able to designate his father, while no mistake could be made in regard to the mother." [16] C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 101; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 30; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. lxi _sq._; _Encyclopædia Britannica_, 9th Edition, xi. 528. The whole body of chiefs fell into three classes or ranks. The first included the royal family and all who were intimately connected with it. The second included such as held hereditary offices of power or governorships of islands, after the time when the whole archipelago was united in a single kingdom. The third class embraced the rulers of districts, the headmen of villages, and all inferior chiefs. The members of the first two classes were usually called "high chiefs"; they were few in number and closely related both by blood and marriage. The members of the third class were known as "small" or "low" chiefs. They were by far the most numerous body of chiefs in any island, and were generally called _haku aina_ or landowners, though strictly speaking the king was acknowledged in every island as the supreme lord and proprietor of the soil by hereditary right or the law of conquest. When Kamehameha had subdued the greater part of the islands, he distributed them among his favourite chiefs and warriors on condition of their rendering him not only military service, but a certain proportion of the produce of their lands. In this he appears to have followed the ancient practice invariably observed on the conquest of an island.[17] For "from the earliest periods of Hawaiian history, the tenure of lands has been, in most respects, feudal. The origin of the fiefs was the same as in the northern nations of Europe. Any chieftain who could collect a sufficient number of followers to conquer a district, or an island, and had succeeded in his object, proceeded to divide the spoils, or 'cut up the land,' as the natives termed it. The king, or principal chief, made his choice from the best of the lands. Afterwards the remaining part of the conquered territory was distributed among the leaders, and these again subdivided their shares to others, who became vassals, owing fealty to the sovereigns of the fee. The king placed some of his own particular servants on his portion as his agents, to superintend the cultivation. The original occupants who were on the land, usually remained under their new conqueror, and by them the lands were cultivated, and rent or taxes paid."[18] [17] C. S. Stewart, _op. cit._ p. 97; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 412 _sq._, 414; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 33. Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 137 _sqq._ [18] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iv. 34. Below the chiefs or nobles were the commoners, who included small farmers, fishermen, mechanics, such as house-builders and canoe-builders, musicians and dancers, in short, all the labouring classes, whether they worked for a chief or farmer or cultivated patches of land for their own benefit.[19] According to one account, "the common people are generally considered as attached to the soil, and are transferred with the land from one chief to another."[20] But this statement is contradicted by an earlier and perhaps better-informed writer, who spent some thirteen months in Oahu, while the islands were still independent and before the conversion of the people to Christianity. He tells us that commoners were not slaves nor attached to the soil, but at liberty to change masters when they thought proper.[21] On this subject Captain King observes: "How far the property of the lower class is secured against the rapacity and despotism of the great chiefs, I cannot say, but it should seem that it is sufficiently protected against private theft, or mutual depredation; for not only their plantations, which are spread over the whole country, but also their houses, their hogs, and their cloth, were left unguarded, without the smallest apprehensions. I have already remarked, that they not only separate their possessions by walls in the plain country, but that, in the woods likewise, wherever the horse-plantains grow, they make use of small white flags in the same manner, and for the same purpose of discriminating property, as they do bunches of leaves at Otaheite. All which circumstances, if they do not amount to proofs, are strong indications that the power of the chiefs, where property is concerned, is not arbitrary, but at least so far circumscribed and ascertained, as to make it worth the while for the inferior orders to cultivate the soil, and to occupy their possessions distinct from each other."[22] Yet on the other hand we are told by later writers that "in fact, the condition of the common people is that of slaves; they hold nothing which may not be taken from them by the strong hand of arbitrary power, whether exercised by the sovereign or a petty chief." On one occasion the writers saw nearly two thousand persons, laden with faggots of sandal-wood, coming down from the mountains to deposit their burdens in the royal store-houses, and then departing to their homes, weary with their unpaid labours, yet without a murmur at their bondage.[23] When at last, through contact with civilisation, they had learned to utter their grievances, they complained that "the people was crushed by the numerous forced labours and contributions of every sort exacted from them by the chiefs. It was, indeed, very hard to furnish the chiefs, on every requisition, with pigs, food, and all the good things which the folk possessed, and to see the great despoiling the humble. In truth, the people worked for the chiefs incessantly, they performed every kind of painful task, and they paid the chiefs all the taxes which it pleased them to demand."[24] [19] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 413. [20] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 417. Compare J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 34. [21] A. Campbell, _op. cit._ p. 169. As to the length of Campbell's residence in Wahoo (Oahu), see _id._, p. 153 note. The date of his residence was 1809-1810. Compare O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_ (London, 1821), iii. 246: "The people are almost subject to the arbitrary will of the lord, but there are no slaves or vassals (_glebae adscripti_). The peasant and the labourer may go wherever they please. The man is free, he may be killed, but not sold and not detained." [22] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 141 _sq._ [23] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 415. [24] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. 167. Certainly commoners were bound to pay great outward marks of deference to their social superiors, the chiefs, or nobles. Indeed, the respect almost amounted to adoration, for they were on no occasion allowed to touch their persons, but prostrated themselves before them, and might not enter their houses without first receiving permission.[25] Above all, the system of taboo or _kapu_, as it was called in the Hawaiian dialect,[26] oppressed the common people and tended to keep them in a state of abject subjection to the nobles; for the prescriptions of the system were numerous and vexatious, and the penalty for breaches of them was death. If the shadow of a subject fell on a chief, the subject was put to death; if he robed himself in the cloth or assumed the girdle of a chief, he was put to death; if he climbed on the wall of a chief's courtyard, he was put to death; if he stood upright instead of prostrating himself when a vessel of water was brought for the chief to wash with or his garments to wear, he was put to death; if he stepped on the shadow of a chief's house with his head smeared with white clay, or decked with a garland of flowers, or merely wetted with water, he was put to death; if he slept with his wife on a taboo day, he was put to death; if he made a noise during public prayers, he was put to death; if a woman ate pig, or coco-nuts, or bananas, or lobster, or the fish called _ulua_, she was put to death; if she went in a canoe on a taboo day, she was put to death; if husband and wife ate together, they were both put to death.[27] [25] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 413; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 33 _sq._ Compare J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 137. [26] In the Hawaiian dialect the ordinary Polynesian T is pronounced K, and the Tongan B is pronounced P. Hence the Tongan _taboo_ becomes in Hawaiian _kapoo_ (_kapu_). See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. xxiii. [27] J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. 159, 161, 167. In Hawaii, as in other parts of Polynesia, the taboo formed an important and essential part both of the religious and of the political system, of which it was at once a strong support and a powerful instrument. The proper sense of the word taboo (in Hawaiian _kapu_) is "sacred." This did not, however, imply any moral quality; it expressed rather "a connexion with the gods, or a separation from ordinary purposes, and exclusive appropriation to persons or things considered sacred"; sometimes it meant devoted as by a vow. Chiefs who traced their genealogy to the gods were called _arii taboo_, "chiefs sacred"; a temple was a _wahi taboo_, "place sacred"; the rule which prohibited women from eating with men, and from eating, except on special occasions, any fruits or animals ever offered in sacrifice to the gods, while it allowed the men to partake of them, was called _ai taboo_, "eating sacred." The opposite of _kapu_ was _noa_, which means "general" or "common"; for example, _ai noa_ signifies "eating generally" or "having food in common." Although it was employed for civil as well as sacred purposes, the taboo was essentially a religious ceremony and could be imposed only by the priests. A religious motive was always assigned for laying it on, though it was often done at the instance of the civil authorities; and persons called _kiaimoku_, "island keepers," a kind of police officers, were always appointed by the king to see that the taboo was strictly observed.[28] [28] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 385 _sqq._ Compare L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 597. The application of the restriction implied by taboo was either general or particular, either permanent or occasional. To take examples of permanent taboos, the idols and temples, the persons and names of the king and other members of the royal family, the persons of priests, canoes belonging to the gods, the houses, clothes, and mats of the king and priests, and the heads of men who were the devotees of any particular idol, were always taboo or sacred. The flesh of hogs, fowls, turtles, and several sorts of fish, coco-nuts, and almost everything offered in sacrifice were taboo or consecrated to the use of the gods and the men; hence women were, except in cases of particular indulgence, forbidden to partake of them. Particular places, such as those frequented by the king for bathing, were also permanently taboo. As examples of temporary taboos may be mentioned those which were imposed on an island or district for a certain time, during which no canoe or person was allowed to approach it. Particular fruits, animals, and the fish of certain places were occasionally taboo for several months, during which neither men nor women might eat them.[29] The predecessor of Kamehameha, king of Hawaii, "was taboo to such a degree that he was not allowed to be seen by day. He only showed himself in the night: if any person had but accidentally seen him by daylight he was immediately put to death; a sacred law, the fulfilment of which nothing could prevent."[30] [29] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 387. [30] O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_ (London, 1821), iii. 247. The seasons generally kept taboo were on the approach of some great religious ceremony, immediately before going to war, and during the sickness of chiefs. Their duration was various, and much longer in ancient than in modern times. Tradition tells of a taboo which lasted thirty years, during which men might not trim their beards and were subject to other restrictions. Another was kept for five years. Before the reign of Kamehameha forty days was the usual period; but in his time the period was shortened to ten or five days, or even to a single day. The taboo seasons might be either common or strict. During a common taboo the men were only required to abstain from their usual avocations, and to attend morning and evening prayers at the temple. But during a strict taboo every fire and light in the district or island must be extinguished; no canoe might be launched; no person might bathe or even appear out of doors, unless his attendance was required at the temple; no dog might bark, no pig grunt, and no cock crow; for if any of these things were to happen the taboo would be broken and fail to accomplish its object. To prevent this disaster the mouths of dogs and pigs were tied up, and fowls were put under a calabash, or a cloth was fastened over their eyes.[31] [31] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 387 _sq._ The prohibitions of the taboo were strictly enforced; every breach of them was punished with death, unless the delinquent had powerful friends among the priests or chiefs, who could save him. The culprits were generally offered in sacrifice, being either strangled or clubbed at the temple; according to one account, they were burnt.[32] [32] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 389. As to the taboo in Hawaii, see also J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 146 _sq._; L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 597; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 31 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 50-52; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xxxviii _sq._, 159 _sqq._ The system seems to have been found at last too burdensome to be borne even by the king, who under it was forbidden to touch his food with his own hands, and had to submit to having it put into his mouth by another person, as if he were an infant.[33] Whatever his motive, Liholiho, son of Kamehameha, had hardly succeeded his father on the throne of Hawaii when he abolished the system of taboo and the national religion at a single blow. This remarkable reformation took place in November 1819. When the first Christian missionaries arrived from America, some months later, March 30th, 1820, they were astonished to learn of a peaceful revolution, which had so opportunely prepared the way for their own teaching.[34] [33] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 388. [34] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 603; O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 109 _sqq._; W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 30, 126 _sqq._, 137, 204, 312; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 31, 32 _sq._; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 378 _sq._, 397 _sq._, 442 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 197 _sq._, 201; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. lxv, 133 _sqq._; H. Bingham, _Residence of Twenty-one Years in the Sandwich Islands_ (Hartford, 1849), pp. 69 _sqq._ King Kamehameha the First died 8th May 1819. § 5. _Religion, the Gods_ Of the native Hawaiian religion, as it existed before the advent of Europeans and the conversion of the people to Christianity, we possess no adequate account. The defect is probably due in great measure to the readiness with which the islanders relinquished their old faith and adopted the new one. The transition seems to have been effected with great ease and comparatively little opposition; hence when the missionaries settled in the islands a few months after the formal abolition of the ancient religion, paganism was already almost a thing of the past, and the Christian teachers were either unable or perhaps unwilling to record in detail the beliefs and rites which they regarded as false and pernicious. Be that as it may, we possess no such comparatively full and accurate records of the old Hawaiian religion, as we possess, for example, of the old pagan religion of the Tongans and the Samoans, who clung much more pertinaciously to the creed of their fathers than their more enlightened or more fickle kinsfolk in the Sandwich Islands. Hence we are obliged to content ourselves with some more or less meagre and fragmentary notices of the ancient Hawaiian system of religious belief and practice. But as the Hawaiians are, or were, pure-blooded Polynesians, we may assume with a fair degree of probability that in its broad lines their religious system conformed to the ordinary Polynesian type. On this subject Captain King, the colleague and successor of Captain Cook in his last voyage, observes as follows: "The religion of these people resembles, in most of its principal features, that of the Society and Friendly Islands. Their _Morais_, their _Whattas_, their idols, their sacrifices, and their sacred songs, all of which they have in common with each other, are convincing proofs that their religious notions are derived from the same source. In the length and number of their ceremonies this branch indeed far exceeds the rest; and though in all these countries there is a certain class of men to whose care the performance of their religious rites is committed, yet we had never met with a regular society of priests, till we discovered the cloisters of Kakooa in Karakakooa Bay [in the island of Hawaii]. The head of this order was called _Orono_; a title which we imagined to imply something highly sacred, and which, in the person of Omeeah, was honoured almost to adoration.... It has been mentioned that the title of _Orono_, with all its honours, was given to Captain Cook; and it is also certain that they regarded us generally as a race of people superior to themselves; and used often to say that great _Eatooa_ [_atuas_, spirits] dwelled in our country. The little image, which we have before described as the favourite idol on the _Morai_ in Karakakooa Bay, they called _Koonooraekaiee_, and said it was Terreeoboo's god, and that he also resided amongst us. There are found an infinite variety of these images both on the _Morais_, and within and without their houses, to which they give different names; but it soon became obvious to us in how little estimation they were held, from their frequent expressions of contempt of them, and from their even offering them to sale for trifles. At the same time there seldom failed to be some one particular figure in favour, to which, whilst this preference lasted, all their adoration was addressed. This consisted in arraying it in red cloth, beating their drums, and singing hymns before it, laying bunches of red feathers, and different sorts of vegetables, at its feet, and exposing a pig or a dog to rot on the _whatta_ that stood near it. In a bay to the southward of Karakakooa, a party of our gentlemen were conducted to a large house, in which they found the black figure of a man, resting on his fingers and toes, with his head inclined backward, the limbs well formed and exactly proportioned, and the whole beautifully polished. This figure the natives call _Maee_; and round it were placed thirteen others of rude and distorted shapes, which they said were the _Eatooas_ [spirits] of several deceased chiefs, whose names they recounted. The place was full of _whattas_, on which lay the remains of their offerings. They likewise give a place in their houses to many ludicrous and some obscene idols, like the Priapus of the ancients."[35] [35] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 142-144. The general Hawaiian name for god was _akua_, corresponding to the more usual Polynesian form _atua_.[36] The four principal Hawaiian deities were Ku, Kane, Kanaloa, and Lono.[37] Their names are only dialectically different forms of Tu, Tane, Tangaroa or Tagaloa, and Rongo, four of the greatest Polynesian gods.[38] Of these deities it is said that Ku, Kane, and Lono formed the original Hawaiian triad or trinity, who were worshipped as a unity under the name of Ku-kau-akahi, "the one established."[39] The meaning or essence of the three persons of the trinity is said to be Stability (Ku), Light (Tane), and Sound (Lono).[40] "These gods," we are told, "created the three heavens as their dwelling-place, then the earth, sun, moon, and stars, then, the host of angels and ministers. Kanaloa (Tangaroa), who represented the spirit of evil, was a later introduction into the Hawaiian theology; he it was who led the rebellion of spirits, although Milu is in other traditions credited with this bad pre-eminence."[41] We read that when the trinity were at work on the task of creating the first man, the bad spirit Kanaloa, out of rivalry, also made an image, but he could not endow it with life. So, in a rage, he cried to Kane, "I will take your man, he shall die!" And that, it is said, was the origin of death. The reason why the spirits, under the leadership of Kanaloa, rebelled was that they had been denied the sacrifice of kava. For their rebellion they were thrust down to the lowest depth of Darkness or Night (_Po_).[42] [36] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xxxix; E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 30, _s.v._ "Atua." [37] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xxxix; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 40; H. T. Cheever, _Life in the Sandwich Islands_ (London, 1851), p. 11; A. Bastian, _Die heilige Sage der Polynesier_ (Leipzig, 1881), p. 131; _id._, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_ (Berlin, 1883), p. 225; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, pp. 97 _sq._ [38] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ 425, 461, 464, 540, _s.vv._ "Rongo," "Tane," "Tangaroa," "Tu." [39] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ p. 425, _s.v._ "Rongo." [40] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ pp. 461, 540, _s.vv._ "Tane," "Tu." [41] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ p. 540, _s.v._ "Tu." [42] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ p. 464, _s.v._ "Tangaroa." According to another account, the evil spirit was not Kanaloa, but Ku; Kanaloa was a younger brother of Kane, and helped him in his beneficent labours. See A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, pp. 97 _sq._ This latter version agrees with the view of Kane and Kanaloa as divine twins. See below, pp. 394 _sq._ A fuller account of these momentous transactions presents a close, perhaps a suspicious, resemblance to the Biblical narrative of the same events. It runs as follows: "According to ancient Hawaiian traditions, there existed in the chaos three mighty gods, Kane, Ku, and Lono. By their common action light was brought into the chaos. Then the gods created three heavenly spheres, in which they dwelt, and last of all the earth, sun, moon, and stars. Out of their spittle they thereupon created a host of angels, who had to render service to the three original deities. Last of all came the creation of man. His body was fashioned out of red earth, and his head out of white clay, and Kane, the highest of the gods, breathed into this Hawaiian Adam the breath of life. Out of one of his ribs the Hawaiian Eve was created. The newly formed pair, by name Kumuhonua and Keolakuhonua, were placed in a beautiful paradise called Paliuli, which was watered by the three rivers of life, and planted with many fine trees, among them the sacred bread-fruit tree. The mightiest of the angels, Kanaloa, the Hawaiian Lucifer, desired that the newly created human pair should worship him, which was forbidden by God the Father, Kane. After vain attempts to create a new man devoted to himself, Kanaloa, out of desire for vengeance, resolved to ruin the first human pair created by the gods. In the likeness of a great lizard he crept into Paradise and seduced the two inhabitants of the same into committing sin, whereupon they were driven out of Paradise by a powerful bird sent by Kane. Then follow, as in the Bible, the legends of the Hawaiian Cain (Laka) and the Hawaiian Noah (Nuu), by whom the ancestors of the Hawaiian people are said to have been saved from the universal flood."[43] The story of the creation of the first woman out of a rib of the first man appears to have been widespread in Polynesia, for it is reported also from Tahiti,[44] Fakaofo or Bowditch Island,[45] and New Zealand.[46] [43] A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 97. [44] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, i. 110 _sq._; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 312 _sq._ [45] G. Turner, _Samoa_, pp. 267 _sq._ [46] J. L. Nicholas, _Narrative of a Voyage to New Zealand_ (London, 1817), i. 59. Compare _Folk-lore in the Old Testament_, i. 9 _sq._ Of the three persons in the Hawaiian trinity, Kane (Tane) is said to have been the principal. He was especially associated with light; in a fragment of an ancient liturgy he is called Heaven-father (_Lani-makua_) and in a very ancient chant he is identified with the Creator. When after the great flood the Hawaiian Noah, who is called Nuu, left his vessel, he offered up sacrifice to the moon, saying, "You are doubtless a transformation of Tane." But the deity was angry at this worship of a material object; nevertheless, when Nuu expressed his contrition, the rainbow was left as a pledge of forgiveness.[47] [47] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ p. 461, _s.v._ "Tane." According to one account, the two great gods Kane and Kanaloa were twins. In Hawaii twins are regarded as superior to ordinary mortals both in mind and body; hence it was natural to conceive of a pair of divine twins, like the Dioscuri in Greek mythology. And, like the Dioscuri, the divine Hawaiian twins sometimes appeared together to their worshippers as helpers in time of need. Thus, in a season of dearth, when people were dying of hunger, a poor fisher lad in the island of Lanai set up a tiny hut on the sea-shore, and there day by day he offered a little from the scanty store of fish which his family had caught; and as he did so he prayed, saying, "Here, O god, is fish for thee." One day, as he sat there, racked with unsatisfied yearning for the divine assistance, two men came walking that way and rested at the hut; and, taking them to be weary wanderers, the fisher lad willingly gave them what little food he had left over. They slept there that night, and next day, when they were departing, they revealed themselves to him as the two gods Kane and Kanaloa, and they told him that his prayer had been heard, and that salvation would follow. Sure enough, plenty soon returned to the land, and on the spot where the little hut had stood, a stone temple was built in stately terraces.[48] Again, we hear how when drought had lasted long in the island of Oahu, and death stared the farmers in the face for lack of water, the gods Kane and Kanaloa appeared in the likeness of two young men and showed them a spring, which was afterwards consecrated to the divine twins.[49] Once more, it is said that, when the two deities were in Oahu, it chanced that they could find no water with which to moisten their dry food. Then at Kane's direction Kanaloa struck a stone with his spear, and from the stone there sprang a fountain, which bears the name of Kane to this day, and still it rises and sinks on the day of the moon which is sacred to that divinity.[50] [48] A. Bastian, _Die heilige Sage der Polynesier_, pp. 131, 132. [49] A. Bastian, _op. cit._ pp. 132 _sq._ [50] A. Bastian, _op. cit._ p. 133. As to the divine twins in Hawaii, see also _id._, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 243. The god Lono was, as we have seen, no other than the great Polynesian deity Rongo, the two names being the same word in dialectically different forms. He was one of the most popular gods of Hawaii;[51] the seasons and other natural phenomena were associated with him, and prayers for rain were particularly addressed to him.[52] According to one account, he was an uncreated, self-existent deity;[53] but according to another account he was an ancient king of Hawaii, who rashly killed his wife on a suspicion of infidelity, and then, full of remorse, carried her lifeless body to a temple and made a great wail over it. Thereafter he travelled through Hawaii in a state of frenzy, boxing and wrestling with every one whom he met. The people in astonishment said, "Is Lono entirely mad?" He replied, "I am frantic with my great love." Having instituted games to commemorate his wife's death, he embarked in a triangular canoe for a foreign land. Before he departed, he prophesied, saying, "I will return in after times, on an island bearing coco-nut trees, swine, and dogs." After his departure he was deified by his countrymen, and annual games of boxing and wrestling were instituted in his honour.[54] When Captain Cook arrived in Hawaii, the natives took him to be their god Lono returned according to his prophecy. The priests threw a sacred red mantle on his shoulders and did him reverence, prostrating themselves before him; they pronounced long discourses with extreme volubility, by way of prayer and worship. They offered him pigs and food and clothes, and everything that they offered to the gods. When he landed, most of the inhabitants fled before him, full of fear, and those who remained prostrated themselves in adoration. They led him to a temple, and there they worshipped him. But afterwards in a brawl, when they saw his blood flowing and heard his groans, they said, "No, this is not Rono," and one of them struck him, so that he died. But even after his death, some of them still thought that he was Rono, and that he would come again. So they looked on some of his bones, to wit his ribs and his breastbone, as sacred; they put them in a little basket covered all over with red feathers, and they deposited it in a temple dedicated to Rono. There religious homage was paid to the bones, and thence they were carried every year in procession to several other temples, or borne by the priests round the island, to collect the offerings of the faithful for the support of the worship of the god Rono.[55] [51] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 41. [52] A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 98. [53] E. Tregear, _op. cit._ p. 425, _s.v._ "Rongo." [54] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 135; O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_ (Weimar, 1830), ii. 88 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 41 _sq._; H. Bingham, _Residence of Twenty-one Years in the Sandwich Islands_ (Hartford, 1849), p. 32; A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 246. [55] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 134-136; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 376; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. 29-37; O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 98 _sq._ The great Polynesian god or hero Maui was known in Hawaii, where the stories told of him resembled those current in other parts of the Pacific. He is said to have dragged up the islands on his fishing-hook from the depths of the ocean, and to have brought men their first fire.[56] One day, when his wife was making bark-cloth and had not time to finish it before night, Maui laid his hand on the sun and prevented it from going down till the work was completed.[57] [56] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. 236, _s.v._ "Maui"; A. Marcuse, _Die Haiwaiischen Inseln_, p. 98. [57] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 433; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 26. The national war-god of Hawaii was named Tairi (Kaili). In the evening he used to be seen flitting about near his temple in the form of a sort of luminous vapour, like a flame or the tail of a comet. A similar appearance is also occasionally seen in the Society Islands, where the terrified natives formerly identified it with their god Tane, and supposed that the meteor was the deity flying from temple to temple or seeking whom he might destroy.[58] The image of the war-god Tairi used to be carried to battle by the priest, who held it aloft above the ranks. It was four or five feet high; the upper part was of wicker-work, covered with red feathers; the face grinned hideously; the mouth displayed triple rows of dog's or shark's teeth; the eyes gleamed with mother of pearl; and the head was crowned with a helmet crested with long tresses of human hair. In the battle the priest used to distort his face into a variety of frightful grimaces and to utter appalling yells, which were supposed to proceed from the god whom he bore or attended. But the national war-god was not the only deity whose image was borne to battle. Other chiefs of rank had their war-gods carried near them by their priests; and if the king or chief was killed or taken, the god himself was usually captured also. The presence of their deities inspired the warriors with courage; for they imagined the divine influence to be essential to victory.[59] The diviners were consulted immediately before a battle. They slew the victims, and noticed the face of the heavens, the passage of clouds over the sun, and the appearance of a rainbow. If the omens were favourable, the image of the principal war-god was brought out in front of the whole army and placed near the king. The priest then prayed to the gods, beseeching them to prove themselves stronger than the gods of the enemy in the ensuing engagement, and promising them hecatombs of victims in the event of victory. The bodies of foes slain in the battle were dragged to the king or priest, who offered them as victims to his gods.[60] [58] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 119. [59] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 158 _sq._ [60] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 157 _sq._, 159. The gods of Hawaii fell into two classes, according as they were believed to have been primaeval deities born of Night (Po), or the souls of men who had been deified after death. For it was believed to be possible to detain the soul of a beloved or honoured person at death by keeping his clothes or his bones; and the soul could thereafter be invoked and could speak through the mouth of the person into whom it had entered. Both classes of deities, the primaeval and the human, were credited with the power of making people ill.[61] One way of obtaining a guardian deity for a family was to take the body of a still-born child and throw it into the sea or bury it in the earth; in the former case the embryo was supposed to turn into a shark, in the latter case into a grasshopper. When it was deemed necessary to obtain the help of a deity (_akua_) for a special purpose, such as success in fishing or in canoe-building, the divine spirit could be conjured into an image (_kii_), and could thereafter appear in a dream to his worshipper and reveal to him what food he desired to have dedicated to him, and what accordingly the worshipper must abstain from eating. Often the god showed himself to the dreamer in the shape of a stone or other object; and on awakening the man was bound to procure the object, whatever it was, and to honour it with prayer and sacrifice, in order to ensure the protection of the deity. Prayers addressed to private gods were usually the property of the owner, who was commonly also their author; whereas prayers addressed to a public god, such as Kane, had to be learned from a priest or other adept.[62] [61] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, pp. 269 _sq._ [62] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, pp. 271 _sq._ Among the deities who had once been men would seem to have been the god of medicine, the Hawaiian Aesculapius. It is said that many generations ago a certain man named Koreamoku received all medicinal herbs from the gods, who also taught him the use of them. After his death he was deified, and a wooden image of him was placed in a large temple at Kairua, to which offerings of hogs, fish, and coco-nuts were frequently presented. Oronopuha and Makanuiairomo, two friends and disciples of Koreamoku, continued to practise the healing art after the death of their master, and they too were deified after death, particularly because they were often successful in driving away the evil spirits which afflicted the people and threatened them with death. To these deified men the priests addressed their prayers when they administered medicine to the sick.[63] [63] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 335 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 71. Of all the deities of Hawaii the most dreaded was Pele, the goddess of the volcanic fire, whose home was in the great and ever active volcano of Kilauea. There she dwelt with the other members of her family, brothers and sisters. They were all said to have come to Hawaii from a foreign country called Tahiti after the great deluge had subsided. The cones which rise like islands from the vast sea of boiling lava, vomiting columns of smoke or pyramids of flame, were the houses where these volcanic deities lived and amused themselves by playing at draughts: the crackling of the flames and the roaring of the furnaces were the music of their dance; and the red flaming surge was the surf wherein they sported, swimming on the rolling fiery waves.[64] The filaments of volcanic glass, of a dark olive colour and as fine as human hair, some straight, some crimped or frizzled, which are to be seen abundantly on the sides of the crater, and on the plain for miles round, are called by the natives "Pele's hair"; in some places they lie so thick as to resemble cobwebs covering the surface of the ground.[65] Near the crater grow bushes bearing clusters of red and yellow berries resembling large currants; of these the natives formerly would never eat till they had thrown some of the clusters into the thickest of the smoke and vapour as an offering to the goddess of the volcano.[66] Vast numbers of hogs, some alive, others cooked, used to be cast into the craters when they were in action or when they threatened an eruption; and when they boiled over, the animals were flung into the rolling torrent of lava to appease the gods and arrest the progress of the fiery stream. For the whole island had to pay tribute to the gods of the volcano and to furnish provisions for the support of their ministers; and whenever the chiefs or people failed to send the proper offerings or incurred the displeasure of the dreadful beings by insulting them or their ministers, or by breaking the taboos which had to be observed in the vicinity of the craters, the angry deities would spout lava from the mountain or march by subterranean passages to the abode of the culprits and overwhelm them under a flood of molten matter. And if the fishermen did not offer them enough fish, they would rush down, kill the fish with fire, and, filling up the shoals, destroy the fishing-grounds entirely.[67] People who passed by the volcano of Kilauea often presented locks of hair to Pele by throwing them into the crater with an appropriate address to the deity.[68] On one occasion, when a river of lava threatened destruction to the people of the neighbourhood, and the sacrifice of many hogs, cast alive into the stream, had not availed to stay its devastating course, King Kamehameha cut off some of his own sacred locks and threw them into the torrent, with the result that in a day or two the lava ceased to flow.[69] In the pleasant and verdant valley of Kaua there used to be a temple of the goddess, where the inhabitants of Hamakua, a district of Hawaii, formerly celebrated an annual festival designed to propitiate the dread divinity and to secure their country from earthquakes and floods of lava. On such occasions large offerings of hogs, dogs, and fruit were made, and the priests performed certain rites.[70] Worshippers of Pele also threw some of the bones of their dead into the volcano, in the belief that the spirits of the deceased would then be admitted to the society of the volcanic deities, and that their influence would preserve the survivors from the ravages of volcanic fire.[71] Nevertheless the apprehensions uniformly entertained by the natives of the fearful consequences of Pele's anger prevented them from paying very frequent visits to the vicinity of the volcano; and when on their inland journeys they had occasion to approach the mountain, they were scrupulously attentive to every injunction of her priests, and regarded with a degree of superstitious veneration and awe the appalling spectacle which the crater, with its sea of molten and flaming lava, presented to their eyes.[72] They even requested strangers not to dig or scratch the sand in its neighbourhood for fear of displeasing the goddess and provoking her to manifest her displeasure by an eruption.[73] [64] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 237, 246-249; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 42 _sq._ [65] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 363 _sq._; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iv. 129. [66] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 234-236. [67] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 250. [68] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 350. [69] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 59. _sq._ [70] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 350. [71] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 361. [72] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 275. [73] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 239. The service of Pele was regularly cared for by an hereditary steward (_kahu_) and an hereditary priestess. The duty of the steward was to provide the materials for the public sacrifices, including the food and raiment for the goddess; it was for him to furnish the hogs and fowls, to cultivate the taro, sweet potatoes, and sugar-cane which were to serve her for nourishment, to tend the plants from which her garments were to be made, and to have all things in readiness for the offerings at the appointed seasons. Of the plantations sacred to this use, one was on the sea-shore, and another in the broken ground within the precincts of the crater; and the steward with his family resided sometimes in the one place and sometimes in the other. When the time came for offering the sacrifice, the priestess descended into the depths of the volcano, and there approaching as near as possible to the spot where the fire burned most furiously, she cast into it her gifts, saying, "Here, Pele, is food for you, and here is cloth," whereby she mentioned each article as she flung it into the flames.[74] Sometimes the priestess claimed to be inspired by Pele and even to be the goddess in person. One of the priestesses, in an interview with the missionary William Ellis, assumed a haughty air and declared, "I am Pele; I shall never die; and those who follow me, when they die, if part of their bones be taken to Kilauea, will live with me in the bright fires there." In a song she gave a long account of the deeds and honours of the goddess, who, she said, dwelt in the volcano and had come in former times from the land beyond the sky. This song she chanted or recited in a rapid and vociferous manner, accompanied by extravagant gestures, working herself up to a state of excitement in which she appeared to lose all self-command. She also claimed to be able to heal the sick through the indwelling spirit of the goddess.[75] But the goddess was served also by priests. We read of one such who offered prayers to her and assured the people that thereafter she would do them no harm.[76] [74] C. S. Stewart, _A Visit to the South Seas_ (London, 1832), ii. 104. [75] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 309-311. For other interviews with priestesses of the goddess see _id._, iv. 275 _sq._; C. S. Stewart, _Visit to the South Seas_, ii. 100-103. [76] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 378. The Hawaiians also paid religious reverence to certain birds, fish, and animals. In a village Captain King saw two tame ravens which the people told him were _eatooas_ (_atuas_, _akuas_), that is, gods or spirits, cautioning him at the same time not to hurt or offend them.[77] The native authors of a work on the history of Hawaii, speaking of the ancient religion of their people, tell us that "birds served some as idols; if it was a fowl, the fowl was taboo for the worshippers, and the same for all the birds which were deified. The idol of another was a four-footed animal, and if it was a pig, the pig was taboo for him. So with all the animals who became gods. Another had a stone for his idol; it became taboo, and he could not sit upon the stone. The idol of another was a fish, and if it was a shark, the shark was taboo for him. So with all the fish, and so they deified all things in earth and heaven, and all the bones of men."[78] Further, the same writers observe that "the trees were idols for the people and for the chiefs. If a man had for his idol the _ohia_ tree, the _ohia_ was taboo for him; if the bread-fruit tree was the idol of another, the bread-fruit tree was taboo for him. The taboo existed likewise for all the trees out of which men had made divine images, and it was the same also for food. If taro was a person's idol, taro was taboo for him. It was the same for all the eatables of which they had made gods."[79] This deification of birds, fish, animals, plants, and inanimate objects resembles the Samoan system and may, like it, be a relic of totemism.[80] Among the living creatures to which they thus accorded divine honours were lizards, rats, and owls.[81] [77] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 144. [78] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. 165. [79] J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. 163, 165. [80] See above, pp. 182 _sqq._, 200 _sqq._ [81] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 594. Among the deified fishes it would seem that the shark held a foremost place. On almost every cape jutting out into the sea, a temple used to be built for the worship of the shark. The first fish of each kind, taken by the fishermen, were always carried to the temple and offered to the god, who was supposed to have driven them towards the shore.[82] When the king or the priests imagined that the shark wanted food, they sallied forth with their attendants, one of whom carried a rope with a running noose. On coming to a group or crowd of people, they threw the rope among them, and whoever happened to be taken in the snare, whether man, woman, or child, was strangled on the spot, the body cut in pieces, and flung into the sea, to be bolted by the ravenous monsters.[83] Fishermen sometimes wrapped their dead in red native cloth, and threw them into the sea to be devoured by the sharks. They thought that the soul of the deceased would animate the shark which had eaten his body, and that the sharks would therefore spare the survivors in the event of a mishap at sea.[84] It was especially stillborn children that were thus disposed of. The worshipper of the shark would lay the body of the infant on a mat, and having placed beside it two roots of taro, one of kava, and a piece of sugar-cane, he would recite some prayers, and then throw the whole bundle into the sea, fully persuaded that by means of this offering the transmigration of the soul of the child into the body of a shark would be effected, and that thenceforth the formidable monster would be ready to spare such members of the family as might afterwards be exposed to his attack. In the temples dedicated to sharks there were priests who, at sunrise and sunset, addressed their prayers to the image which represented the shark; and they rubbed themselves constantly with water and salt, which, drying on their skin, made it appear covered with scales. They also dressed in red cloth, uttered piercing yells, and leaped over the wall of the sacred enclosure; moreover they persuaded the islanders that they knew the exact moment when the children that had been thrown into the sea were transformed into sharks, and for this discovery they were rewarded by the happy parents with liberal presents of little pigs, roots of kava, coco-nuts, and so forth.[85] The priests also professed to be inspired by sharks and in that condition to foretell future events. Many people accepted these professions in good faith and contributed to support the professors by their offerings.[86] [82] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 90; compare _id._, pp. 129 _sq._ [83] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 422 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 45. [84] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 361. [85] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 595 _sq._ [86] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ ii. 65. From the foregoing account it appears that some at least of the worshipful sharks were supposed to be animated by the souls of the dead. Whether the worship of other sacred animals in Hawaii was in like manner combined with a theory of transmigration, there seems to be no evidence to decide. We have seen that a similar doubt rests on the worship of animals in Tonga.[87] [87] See above, pp. 92 _sqq._ § 6. _Priests, Sorcerers, Diviners_ The priesthood formed a numerous and powerful body. Their office was hereditary. They owned much property in people and lands, which were heavily taxed for their support. Each chief had his family priest, who followed him to battle, carried his war-god, and superintended all the sacred rites of his household. The priests took rank from their gods and chiefs. The keeper of the national war-god, who was immediately attached to the person of the king, was the high priest.[88] In the inner court of the great temple dedicated to Tairi, the war-god, stood a lofty frame of wicker-work, in shape something like an obelisk, hollow within and measuring four or five feet square at the base. Within this framework the priest stood and gave oracles in the name of the god, whenever the king came to consult the deity on any matter of importance, such as a declaration of war or the conclusion of peace; for the war-god was also the king's oracle. The oracular answer, given by the priest in a distinct and audible voice, was afterwards reported by the king, publicly proclaimed, and generally acted upon.[89] When the villages failed to pay their tribute punctually to the king, he used to send forth a priest bearing the image of the great god Rono, who scoured the country of the defaulters for twenty-three days and obliged them to pay double tribute. The priest who bore the image was strictly tabooed; during his peregrination he might not touch anything with his hands; his food had to be put into his mouth either by the chiefs of the villages where he halted or by the king himself, who accompanied him.[90] [88] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 48. [89] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 97. [90] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 596. Distinct from the regular priests were the diviners or sorcerers who formed a sort of lower priesthood or clergy. Their services were employed for various purposes, such as to discover the cause of illness or to detect a thief. The people generally believed that all deaths, which were not due to acts of violence, were wrought either by the action of a deity or by the incantations of a sorcerer. Hence in cases of protracted illness the aid of one of these inferior clergy was almost invariably sought by all who could procure a dog and a fowl for the necessary sacrifice to the god, and a piece or two of cloth as a fee for the priest. But the offerings to the god and the fees to the priest naturally varied with the rank or wealth of the sufferer. After sacrificing the victims the priest lay down to sleep, and if his prayers were answered, he was usually able to inform the invalid of the cause of his illness, which had been revealed to him in a dream. But the same men, who could thus heal the sick by ascertaining and removing the cause of sickness, were supposed to possess the power of praying or enchanting people to death by the recitation of spells or incantations. The prayers or incantations which they employed for these beneficent or maleficent purposes varied with the individual: every practitioner had his own formulas, the knowledge of which he carefully confined to his own family; and he who was thought to have most influence with his god was most frequently employed by the people and derived the greatest emoluments from his profession.[91] Of this class of men the most dreaded were those who invoked the god Uli as their patron deity. Their special business was to kill people by their spells, which they recited secretly, and for the most part by night; but to render these effectual it was necessary for them to obtain some of the personal refuse of their victim, such as his spittle, the parings of his nails, or the clippings of his hair, which they buried or burned with the appropriate incantations.[92] Hence the king of Hawaii was constantly attended by a servant carrying a spittoon in which he collected the royal saliva to prevent it from being used by the king's enemies for his injury or destruction.[93] Ordinary chiefs seem to have adopted the same precaution; a confidential servant deposited their spittle carefully in a portable spittoon and buried it every morning.[94] [91] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 293-295. Compare U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ pp. 120 _sq._; A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 171 _sqq._; C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 202 _sq._; Tyerman and Bennett, _op. cit._ i. 414; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 36 _sq._, 71 _sq._; A. Marcuse, _op. cit._ pp. 103-105. [92] A. Marcuse, _op. cit._ p. 104. [93] O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_ (London, 1821), i. 313. [94] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ i. 365. A form of divination or magic was employed to detect a thief. The person who had suffered the loss used to apply to a priest, to whom he presented a pig and told his story. Thereupon the priest kindled a fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together, and having taken three nuts he broke the shells and threw one of the kernels into the fire, saying, "Kill or shoot the fellow." If the thief did not appear before the nut was consumed in the flames, the priest repeated the ceremony with the other two nuts. Such was the fear inspired by this rite that the culprit seldom failed to come forward and acknowledge his guilt. But if he persisted in concealing his crime, the king would cause proclamation to be made throughout the island that so-and-so had been robbed, and that the robber or robbers had been prayed to death. So firm was the belief of the people in the power of these prayers, that the criminal, on hearing the proclamation, would pine away, refuse food, and fall a victim to his own credulity.[95] [95] A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 171-173. § 7. _Temples, Images, Human Sacrifices_ Of the Hawaiian temples, as they existed before the abolition of the native religion, we seem to possess no good and clear description. When Captain Cook first visited Hawaii and was sailing along the coast, he noticed from the ship at every village one or more elevated white objects, like pyramids or rather obelisks; one of them he judged to be fifty feet high. On landing to examine it, he could not reach it on account of an intervening pool of water. However, he visited another structure of the same sort in a more accessible situation, and found that it stood in what he calls a burying-ground or _morai_ closely resembling those which he had seen in other Polynesian islands and especially in Tahiti. This particular _morai_ was an oblong space, of considerable extent, surrounded by a wall of stone, about four feet high. The area enclosed was loosely paved with smaller stones; and at one end of it stood the pyramid or obelisk, measuring about four feet square at the base and about twenty feet high. The four sides were composed, not of stones, but of small poles interwoven with twigs and branches, thus forming an indifferent wicker-work, hollow or open within from bottom to top. It seemed to be in a rather ruinous state, but enough remained to show that it had been originally covered with the light grey cloth to which the natives attached a religious significance. It was no doubt with similar cloth that the white pyramids or obelisks were covered which Captain Cook beheld in the distance from the deck of his ship. Beside the particular pyramid which he examined Captain Cook found a sacrificial stage or altar with plantains laid upon it. The pyramids or obelisks which he thus saw and described were presumably the structures in which the priests concealed themselves when they gave oracles in the name of the god. On the farther side of the area of the _morai_ of which Captain Cook has given us a description stood a house or shed about ten feet high, forty feet long, and ten broad in the middle, but tapering somewhat towards the ends. The entrance into it was at the middle of the side, which was in the _morai_. On the farther side of the house, opposite the entrance, stood two wooden images, each cut out of a single piece, with pedestals, in all about three feet high, not badly designed nor executed. They were said to represent goddesses (_eatooa no veheina_). On the head of one of them was a carved helmet, and on the other a cylindrical cap like the head-dress worn at Tahiti. In the middle of the house, and before the two images, was an oblong space, enclosed by a low edging of stone and covered with shreds of the same grey cloth which draped the pyramid or obelisk. Within this enclosure seven chiefs lay buried; and outside the house, just on one side of the entrance, were two small square spaces in which a man and a hog were buried respectively, after being killed and sacrificed to the divinity. At a little distance from these, and near the middle of the _morai_, were three more of these square enclosed places, in which three chiefs had been interred. In front of their graves was an oblong enclosed space in which, as Captain Cook was told, three human victims were buried, each of them having been sacrificed at the funeral of one of the three chiefs. Within the area of the _morai_ or burying-ground, as Captain Cook calls it, were planted trees of various kinds. Similar sanctuaries appeared to Captain Cook to abound in the island; the particular one described by him he believed to be among the least considerable, being far less conspicuous than several others which he had seen in sailing along the coast.[96] [96] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vi. 183-187. The cloth-covered pyramid or obelisk was called a _henananoo_ (_ib._ p. 187). From his description we may infer that the temples (_morais_) observed by him did not contain stone pyramids like those which formed such prominent features in the Tahitian sanctuaries and in the burial grounds of the Tooitongas in Tongataboo; for the pyramids, or rather obelisks, of wicker-work seen by Captain Cook in the Hawaiian sanctuaries were obviously structures of a wholly different kind. But there seem to be some grounds for thinking that stone pyramids, built in steps or terraces, did occur in some of the Hawaiian temples. Thus Captain King saw a _morai_, as he calls it, which consisted of a square solid pile of stones about forty yards long, twenty broad, and fourteen [feet?] in height. The top was flat and well paved, and surrounded by a wooden rail, on which were fixed the skulls of captives who had been sacrificed on the death of chiefs. The ascent to the top of the pile was easy, but whether it was a staircase or an inclined plane is not mentioned by Captain King. At one end of the temple or sacred enclosure was an irregular kind of scaffold supported on poles more than twenty feet high, at the foot of which were twelve images ranged in a semicircle with a sacrificial table or altar in front of them. On the scaffold Captain Cook was made to stand, and there, swathed in red cloth, he received the adoration of the natives, who offered him a hog and chanted a long litany in his honour.[97] [97] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 5-7. When Kamehameha was busy conquering the archipelago in the last years of the eighteenth century, he built a great temple (_heiau_) for his war-god Tairi in the island of Hawaii. Some thirty years later the ruined temple was visited and described by the missionary William Ellis. He says: "Its shape is an irregular parallelogram, 224 feet long, and 100 wide. The walls, though built of loose stones, were solid and compact. At both ends, and on the side next the mountains, they were twenty feet high, twelve feet thick at the bottom, but narrowed in gradually towards the top, where a course of smooth stones, six feet wide, formed a pleasant walk. The walls next the sea were not more than seven or eight feet high, and were proportionally wide. The entrance to the temple is by a narrow passage between two high walls.... The upper terrace within the area was spacious, and much better finished than the lower ones. It was paved with flat smooth stones, brought from a distance. At the south end was a kind of inner court, which might be called the sanctum sanctorum of the temple, where the principal idol used to stand, surrounded by a number of images of inferior deities.... On the outside, near the entrance to the inner court, was the place of the _rere_ (altar) on which human and other sacrifices were offered. The remains of one of the pillars that supported it were pointed out by the natives, and the pavement around was strewed with bones of men and animals, the mouldering remains of those numerous offerings once presented there. About the centre of the terrace was the spot where the king's sacred house stood, in which he resided during the season of strict _tabu_, and at the north end, the place occupied by the houses of priests, who, with the exception of the king, were the only persons permitted to dwell within the sacred enclosures. Holes were seen on the walls, all around this, as well as the lower terraces, where wooden idols of varied size and shape formerly stood, casting their hideous stare in every direction."[98] [98] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 96-98. Compare J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 45 _sq._ From this somewhat indistinct description we gather that the temple was a large oblong area enclosed by high stone walls and open to the sky, and that at some place within the enclosure there rose a structure in a series of terraces, of which the uppermost was paved with flat stones and supported the king's house, while the houses of the priests stood in another part of the sacred enclosure. If this interpretation is correct, we may infer that the temple resembled a Tahitian _morai_, which was a walled enclosure enclosing a sort of stepped and truncated pyramid built of stone.[99] The inference is confirmed by the language used by Captain King in speaking of the temple which he describes, for he calls it a _morai_,[100] and the same term is applied to the sacred edifices in Hawaii by other voyagers.[101] [99] See above, pp. 278 _sqq._ [100] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 5. [101] O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 89 _sq._; A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, p. 175. Another ruined temple (_heiau_) seen by Ellis in Hawaii, is described by him as built of immense blocks of lava, and measuring a hundred and fifty feet long by seventy feet wide. At the north end was a smaller enclosure, sixty feet long and ten wide, partitioned off by a high wall, with but one narrow entrance. The places where the idols formerly stood were apparent, though the idols had been removed. The spot where the altar had been erected could be distinctly traced; it was a mound of earth, paved with smooth stones, and surrounded by a firm curb of lava. The adjacent ground was strewn with bones of the ancient offerings.[102] Another temple (_heiau_), in good preservation, visited by Ellis, measured no less than two hundred and seventy feet in one direction by two hundred and ten in another. The walls were thick and solid; on the top of them the stones were piled in a series of small spires. The temple was said to have been built by a queen of Hawaii about eleven generations back.[103] Once more in one of the _puhonuas_ or cities of refuge, which in Hawaii afforded an inviolable sanctuary to fugitives, Ellis saw another temple (_heiau_), which he describes as "a compact pile of stones, laid up in a solid mass, 126 feet by 65, and ten feet high. Many fragments of rock, or pieces of lava, of two or more tons each, were seen in several parts of the wall, raised at least six feet from the ground." Ellis was told that the city of refuge, of which this temple formed part, had been built for Keave, who reigned in Hawaii about two hundred and fifty years before the time when the missionary was writing.[104] From his descriptions we may infer that some at least of the Hawaiian temples deserved to rank among megalithic structures, and that the natives had definite traditions of the kings or queens by whom the temples had been built. [102] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 116. [103] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 117 _sq._ [104] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 169. In the island of Oahu a temple (_heiau_) visited by the missionary Stewart was forty yards long by twenty yards broad. The walls, of dark stone, were perfectly regular and well built, about six feet high, three feet wide at the level of the ground, and two feet wide at the top. It was enclosed only on three sides, the oblong area formed by the walls being open on the west; from that side there was a descent by three regular terraces or very broad steps.[105] This brief account confirms the inference which I have drawn from the more detailed description of Ellis, as to the terraced structure of some Hawaiian temples. [105] C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 226 _sq._ In the mountains of Hawaii, at a height of about five thousand feet above the sea, Commodore Wilkes saw the ruins of an ancient temple of the god Kaili (Tairi), round about which stood eight small pyramids built of compact blocks of lava laid without cement. These pyramids were said to have been erected at the command of Umi, an ancient king, to commemorate his conquests. They seem to have measured each some ten or twelve feet square. The temple which they surrounded was about ninety-two feet long by seventy-two feet wide; the outer walls were about seven feet high and as many thick. Internally the edifice was divided by partition walls three feet high. The building was said to have been formerly covered with idols, of which no traces remained at the time of Wilkes's visit.[106] [106] Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iv. 99 _sq._, with the plate. Often, apparently, a Hawaiian temple consisted of little more than a walled or palisaded enclosure containing a number of rudely carved images and a place of sacrifice in the form of a platform raised on poles. Such a temple is described by the Russian navigator Lisiansky. The images in it were grouped and arranged so as to form a sort of semicircle. The chief priest of the temple informed the Russians "that the fifteen statues wrapped in cloth represented the gods of war; the two to the right of the place of sacrifice, the gods of spring; those on the opposite side, the guardians of autumn; and that the altar was dedicated to the god of joy, before which the islanders dance and sing on festivals appointed by their religion." With regard to the temples in general, Lisiansky observes that they "were by no means calculated to excite in the mind of a stranger religious veneration. They are suffered to remain in so neglected and filthy a condition, that, were it not for the statues, they might be taken rather for hog-sties than places of worship."[107] [107] U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ pp. 105-107. He says (p. 106) that the temple was "called by the natives _Heavoo_, not _Morai_, as some navigators have said." The word _Heavoo_ is probably identical with the word _heiau_, which other writers give as the Hawaiian name for a temple. As to the form of the temples see also A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 175 _sq._: "Their Morais, or places of worship, consist of one large house or temple, with some smaller ones round it, in which are the images of their inferior gods. The tabooed or consecrated precincts are marked out by four square posts, which stand thirty or forty yards from the building. In the inside of the principal house there is a screen or curtain of white cloth, hung across one end within which the image of Etooah [_atua_, _akua_] is placed." Remy (_op. cit._ p. xl) describes the Hawaiian temples as "simple enclosures of stones, roofless, where the religious ceremonies were performed." The images of the gods were usually carved of wood. When a new idol was to be made, a royal and priestly procession went forth, with great ceremony, to the destined tree, where the king himself, with a stone axe, struck the first blow at the root. After the tree was felled, a man or a hog was killed and buried on the spot where it had grown.[108] Sometimes, apparently, the direction to carve an idol out of a particular tree was given by a god in a dream. There is a tradition that once when the woodmen were felling such a tree with their stone axes, the chips flew out and killed two of them; whereupon the other woodmen covered their faces with masks, and cut down the tree with their daggers.[109] Another famous idol was said to be made of wood so poisonous, that if chips of it were steeped in water, and anybody drank of the water, he would die in less than twenty-four hours.[110] The Hawaiians seem to have made their idols hideous on purpose to inspire terror.[111] The features of some of the images were violently distorted, their mouths set with a double row of the fangs of dogs, their eyes made of large pearl oysters with black nuts in the middle; some had long pieces of carved wood, shaped like inverted cones, rising from the top of their heads;[112] some had tongues of a monstrous size, others had no tongues at all; some had mouths that reached from ear to ear; the heads of some were a great deal larger than their bodies.[113] Some of the idols were stones. In the island of Hawaii there is a pebbly beach from which pebbles used to be carried away to be deified or to represent deities. They were generally taken in couples, a male and a female, and having been wrapt up very carefully together in a piece of native cloth, they were conveyed to a temple (_heiau_), where ceremonies of consecration or deification were performed over them.[114] [108] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 450. [109] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 92 _sq._ [110] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 91. [111] A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 101. [112] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 6, 15; compare A. Campbell, _op. cit._ p. 76. [113] U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 107. [114] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 212 _sq._ The human sacrifice offered at the making of an idol was intended to impart strength to the image.[115] But human sacrifices were offered on many other occasions, such as on the approach of war, on the death of a chief, and so forth. There is a tradition that Umi, a famous king of Hawaii, once offered eighty men to his god as a thank-offering for victory. The victims were generally prisoners of war, but in default of captives any men who had broken taboos or rendered themselves obnoxious to the chiefs were sacrificed. It does not appear that they were slain in the presence of the idol or within the temple, but either on the outside or where they were first taken; in all cases an attempt seems to have been made to preserve the body entire or as little mangled as possible. Generally the victims were despatched by a blow on the head with a club or stone; sometimes, however, they were stabbed. Having been stripped naked, the bodies were carried into the temple and laid in a row, with their faces downwards, on the altar immediately before the idol. The priest thereupon, in a kind of prayer, offered them to the gods; and if hogs were sacrificed at the same time, they were afterwards piled on the human bodies and left there to rot and putrefy together.[116] [115] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. 161. [116] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 150-152; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 47 _sq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. xl _sq._ Compare U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ pp. 121 _sq._; Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 423 _sq._ When a new temple was about to be dedicated, some of the people used to flee into the mountains to escape being sacrificed. The last human sacrifices are said to have been offered in 1807, when the queen of the islands was seriously ill.[117] Whenever war was in contemplation, the diviners used to sacrifice animals, generally hogs and fowls, and to draw omens from the manner in which they expired, from the appearance of their entrails, and from other signs. Sometimes, when the animal was slain, they disembowelled it, took out the spleen, and, holding it in their hands, offered their prayers. But if the contemplated expedition was of any importance or the danger was imminent, human sacrifices were offered to ensure the co-operation of the war-gods in the destruction of their enemies.[118] [117] A. Marcuse, _op. cit._ p. 103. [118] W. Ellis, iv. 150 _sq._ § 8. _Festivals_ In every lunar month the people celebrated four festivals. The festival of the new moon lasted three nights and two days; the three others lasted two nights and one day. These nights and days were taboo or sacred: men who took part in the festivals might not speak to a woman under pain of death, and all the people were forbidden to sail the sea, to fish, to make bark-cloth, and to play games.[119] Besides these monthly festivals there was one called Macahity, which lasted for a whole month and seems to have celebrated the end of the old year. It fell in November, and has been compared by Lisiansky to our festival of Christmas. He tells us that "it continues a whole month, during which the people amuse themselves with dances, plays, and sham-fights of every kind. The king must open this festival wherever he is. On this occasion, his majesty dresses himself in his richest cloak and helmet, and is paddled in a canoe along the shore, followed sometimes by many of his subjects. He embarks early, and must finish his excursion at sun-rise. The strongest and most expert of the warriors is chosen to receive him on his landing. This warrior watches the royal canoe along the beach; and as soon as the king lands, and has thrown off his cloak, he darts his spear at him, from a distance of about thirty paces, and the king must either catch the spear in his hand, or suffer from it: there is no jesting in the business. Having caught it, he carries it under his arm, with the sharp end downwards, into the temple or _heavoo_. On his entrance, the assembled multitude begin their sham-fights, and immediately the air is obscured by clouds of spears, made for the occasion with blunted ends. Hamamea [the king, Kamehameha] has been frequently advised to abolish this ridiculous ceremony, in which he risks his life every year; but to no effect. His answer always is, that he is as able to catch a spear, as any one on the island is to throw it at him. During the Macahity, all punishments are remitted throughout the country; and no person can leave the place in which he commences these holidays, let the affair requiring his absence be ever so important."[120] The ceremony of throwing a spear at the king during the festival of Macahity has been described also by the Scotch sailor Archibald Campbell, who may have witnessed it. He says: "The king remains in the _morai_ for the whole period; before entering it, a singular ceremony takes place. He is obliged to stand till three spears are darted at him: he must catch the first with his hand, and with it ward off the other two. This is not a mere formality. The spear is thrown with the utmost force; and should the king lose his life, there is no help for it."[121] This curious rite may perhaps have been a relic of an old custom which obliged the king to submit once a year to the ordeal of battle, in order to prove his fitness for a renewed tenure of office, death being the penalty of defeat and the kingdom the reward of victory in the combat.[122] During the continuance of the festival the priests were employed in collecting the taxes, which were paid by the chiefs in proportion to the extent of their territories; these taxes consisted of mats, feathers, and the produce of the country. The people celebrated the festival by dancing, wrestling, and other amusements.[123] The victor in the boxing matches and martial evolutions was crowned and treated as king of the festival, which was held in honour of the god Rono.[124] [119] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 595. Compare U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, p. 118. According to the latter writer, there were no taboos (festivals) in the eleventh month. [120] U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 118 _sq._ From A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, p. 178, we learn that the festival fell in November, and from a brief native notice we may gather that the New Year celebration was the festival of Macahity. See J. Remy, _Histoire de l'Archipel Havaiien_, pp. 167, 169, "_à la célébration de la nouvelle année, les citoyens, les chefs, les femmes, les enfants se livraient à des boxes furieuses, et plusieurs recevaient dans ces jeux des blessures très graves_." [121] A. Campbell, _op. cit._ p. 179. [122] Compare _The Golden Bough_, Part III. _The Dying God_, pp. 117 _sq._ [123] A. Campbell, _op. cit._ pp. 178 _sq._ [124] O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 88 _sq._ No one might go to war during the New Year festival; all the people had to repair to the temples (_morais_). Three kinds of idols were worshipped at this season; the principal of them, called Kekou-Aroha, was carried round the island by a priest; everything that he could seize with his left hand he had the right to appropriate, whether it was dogs, pigs, vegetables, or what not; and any person on whom he in like manner laid a hand was bound to assist him in carrying or leading to the temple the tribute or booty he had thus taken possession of.[125] [125] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 596. Of the rigour with which the laws of taboo were enforced during one of these festivals we may gather an idea from a statement of the Russian navigator von Kotzebue. He says: "As Kareimoku's guests, we were present at the celebration of a _Tabu pori_, which lasted from the setting of the sun to sunrise on the third day. It is already known what degree of sanctity is imparted to him who joins in this communion with the gods during the time. Should he accidentally touch a woman, she must be instantly put to death. Should he enter a woman's house, the flames must immediately consume it."[126] [126] O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_, iii. 248 _sq._ Compare A. von Chamisso, _Reise um die Welt_ (Leipzig, 1836), ii. 312. §9. _Death and Funeral Rites_ The Hawaiians explained life as usual by the hypothesis of a soul (_uhane_), which animated the whole body, but had its seat especially in the sockets of the eyes, and above all in the lachrymal gland. During sleep the soul quits the body, wanders away, and sees the places and things which appear to it in dreams; usually it returns in time to resume its functions in the body without endangering the health of the sleeper. Occasionally, however, it happens that in its rambles it loses its way through falling in with a ghost or spectre, who frightens it; but even then it may be brought back with the help of a familiar spirit despatched to seek out and guide home the wanderer. When a man falls sick, his soul begins to feel ill at ease in his body, and if the sickness proves fatal, the soul quits him never to return.[127] According to another account, the Hawaiians held that every man had two souls in his body, of which one never left him in life, while the other went forth from time to time in dreams or ecstasy, but only to return to its corporeal tabernacle. Sometimes a diviner would warn a man that he had seen his dream-soul roaming about, and that perhaps it might never come back, because a certain deity was angry with him. Upon that the terrified owner of the soul would naturally engage the diviner to recover his spiritual property by propitiating the angry deity with a valuable offering.[128] [127] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, pp. 272 _sq._ [128] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 39 note; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 105. Sickness was commonly explained by the presence in the sufferer of an evil spirit, who must be exorcised if the patient was to be restored to health. For this purpose the services of a priest (_kahuna_) were engaged, who by the recitation of a suitable incantation invited or compelled the demon to declare through the mouth of the sick man why he had entered into him, and on what terms he would consent to take his departure. Sometimes, the demon was induced to perch on the head or shoulders of one of the bystanders, and from that coign of vantage to answer the interrogatory of the priest. But at other times he burrowed so deep into the patient's body and held his tongue so obstinately, that the priest had no alternative but to prick the sick man's body with bamboo needles and to drop water into his eyes in order to drive out the evil spirit.[129] [129] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 269. When all remedies had proved vain and death had followed, the bodies of common people were buried in a crouching position. The upper part of the body was raised; the face was bent forwards to meet the knees; the hands were put under the hams and passed up between the knees; then head, hands, and knees were bound together with cinnet or cord. Afterwards the corpse was wrapt up in a coarse mat and interred on the first or second day after death. But the corpses of chiefs and priests were not thus doubled up; they were laid out straight, wrapt up in many folds of native cloth, and buried in that posture. Priests were generally committed to the earth within the precincts of the temple in which they had officiated. A pile of stones or a circle of high poles marked their grave. But it was only the bodies of priests or of persons of some importance that were thus interred. For ordinary people natural graves were preferred, where suitable places could be found, such as caves in the face of cliffs or large subterranean grottos. Sometimes the inhabitants of a village deposited their dead in one great cavern, but generally each family had a distinct sepulchral cave. Their artificial graves were either simple pits dug in the earth or large enclosures, which might be surrounded with high stone walls so as to resemble the ordinary temples (_heiaus_). Occasionally they buried their dead in sequestered spots near their dwellings, but often in their gardens, and sometimes in their houses. The graves were not deep, and the bodies were usually placed in them in a sitting posture.[130] A rude method of embalming by means of the flower of the sugar-cane was often practised, whereby the entrails and brains were extracted and the body desiccated.[131] When the dead was interred in the dwelling, the house was not uncommonly shut up and deserted, the survivors seeking for themselves a new habitation.[132] The custom no doubt sprang from a fear of the ghosts, which were supposed to linger about their final resting-places and to injure such as came within their reach; hence their apparitions were much dreaded. For the same reason burials were conducted in a private manner and by night. If people were seen carrying a dead body past a house, the inmates would abuse or even stone them for not taking it some other way; for they imagined that the ghost would ply to and fro between the grave and his old home along the path by which his corpse had been carried.[133] Sometimes, apparently, to prevent the ghost from straying, his grave was enclosed by a sort of fence composed of long poles stuck in the ground at intervals of three or four inches and fastened together at the top. At all events Ellis saw a priest's tomb thus enclosed, and he received this explanation of the fence from some people; though others merely said that it was a custom so to inter persons of consequence.[134] Nightmare was believed to be caused by a ghost attempting to strangle the dreamer; under the influence of this belief a strong man has been seen to run shrieking down the street, tugging with both hands at his throat to tear the incubus away, till he reached the door of a neighbour's house and, bursting in, fell fainting on the floor. He thought that the ghost of a chief, who had died the day before, had a grip on his throat and was trying to throttle him.[135] Sometimes, however, affection for the dead sufficed to overcome the fear of the ghost, and the mouldering bones were carried about as relics by relations and friends.[136] When the Scotch sailor Archibald Campbell was in the islands in the early years of the nineteenth century, his patroness the queen kept by her the bones of her father wrapt up in a piece of cloth. Whenever she slept in her own house, the bones were placed by her side; in her absence they were set on a feather-bed which she had received from the captain of a ship, and which she used only for this purpose. On being asked by the Scotchman why she observed this singular custom, she replied that it was because she loved her father so dearly.[137] More usually, however, the bones of a beloved chief were carefully hidden to prevent his enemies from finding them and making arrow-heads out of them, with which to hunt rats, or otherwise profaning them. Hence there was a proverb to the effect that the bones of bad chiefs were not concealed. When the great King Kamehameha died in 1819, his bones were hidden and disappeared completely in some secret cave.[138] [130] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 359 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 73 _sq._ [131] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 73; J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xlvii. [132] Tyerman and Bennet, _op. cit._ i. 429. [133] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 360 _sq._; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 74; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inslen_, p. 109. [134] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 129. [135] H. T. Cheever, _Life in the Sandwich Islands_ (London, 1851), pp. 11 _sq._, quoting Sheldon Dibble, _History of the Sandwich Islands_, p. 99. [136] O. von Kotzebue, _Neue Reise um die Welt_, ii. 98; A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 261. [137] A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 206 _sq._ [138] J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. 153. The death of a king or great chief in former days was the occasion for the observance of some singular ceremonies and customs. The grief, real or pretended, of the people found expression in many extravagant forms. Men and women knocked out some of their front teeth with stones; but the custom seems to have been observed even more extensively by men than by women. The kinsmen or friends of the deceased chief set the example, and their retainers were obliged to imitate them. Sometimes a man broke out his own tooth with a stone, but more usually the service was rendered him by another, who fixed one end of a stick against the tooth and hammered the stick with a stone till the tooth broke off. If the men deferred the operation, the women would perform it on them in their sleep. More than one tooth was seldom sacrificed at one time; but as the mutilation was repeated at the decease of every chief of rank or authority, few men of mature years were to be seen with a whole set of teeth, and many lost all their front teeth both in the upper and the lower jaw. Another mutilation practised at such times was to cut one or both ears, but it seems to have been comparatively rare. Much commoner was the custom of burning circles or semi-circles on the face or breast by means of strips of burning bark. The mourners also polled their hair in various ways. Sometimes they made bald a small round piece on the crown of the head, like the tonsure of Catholic priests; sometimes they shaved or cropped close the whole head except round the edge, where a short fringe was left to hang down; sometimes they made their heads quite bald on one side and allowed the hair to remain long on the other; occasionally they cut out a patch in the shape of a horse-shoe either at the back of the head or above the forehead; sometimes they shore a number of curved furrows from ear to ear or from the forehead to the neck. When a chief who had lost a relative or friend had his own hair cut after any particular pattern, his followers and dependants usually cropped their hair in the same style. Not to clip or shave the hair in mourning was regarded as disrespectful to the dead, but the particular manner of cutting it was left to the taste of the individual.[139] Some people in their frenzy knocked out their eyes with clubs and stones and cut as well as burned their flesh.[140] Another peculiar badge of mourning, adopted principally by the chiefs, was a black spot or line tattooed on the tongue. The painful operation was performed by puncturing the tongue with sharp fish-bones dipped in colouring matter.[141] But though these personal mutilations were popular and almost universal on the decease of chiefs, they appear not to have been practised by the common people among themselves. Thus a wife did not knock out her teeth on the death of her husband, and a son did not thus express his grief for the loss of his parents, nor they for the death of a child.[142] [139] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 175 _sqq._, 181. Compare U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 123; A. Campbell, _op. cit._ pp. 142 _sq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xlvii. [140] C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 166; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 65 _sq._ [141] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 177, 180 _sq._ [142] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 180. Similar extravagances in the expression of grief were commonly exhibited by mourners, as we have seen, in other parts of Polynesia; but in Hawaii the rites observed at the death of a king or high chief were in so far peculiar that they assumed the character of a Saturnalia or orgy of unbridled lust and crime. On this subject the Russian navigator Lisiansky, who visited the islands while the ancient system of superstition was still in full vogue, reports as follows: "On the death of the king, a scene of horror takes place that is hardly credible. Twelve men are sacrificed; and shortly after the whole island abandons itself for a month to the utmost disorder and licentiousness. During this period, both sexes go entirely naked, and men cohabit with women without any distinction: the woman who should dare to make resistance, would be considered as violating the laws of the country. The same licentiousness is observed on the death of a noble; but it does not extend beyond the domains of the deceased, and is of a much shorter duration, not continuing, as Mr. Young informed me, more than a few days, though attempts are made by the youth of the party to prolong the period. Those who are put to death on the demise of the king, or any great personage, are such as have offered themselves for the purpose during the life of their master; and they are in consequence considered and treated by him as his best friends, since they have sworn to live and die with him. When I reflect upon the horrid nature of this ceremony, I hardly know how to credit its existence amongst a race of men so mild and good as these islanders in general appear to be; but Mr. Young, whose veracity I had no reason to doubt, assured me of the fact."[143] [143] U. Lisiansky, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 122 _sq._ This John Young, who gave Lisiansky information as to the customs and religion of the Hawaiians, was an Englishman who had resided in the islands for many years at the time of the Russian navigator's visit in 1804. Originally a sailor, born at Liverpool, he had been compulsorily detained by the natives when he landed from his ship in Hawaii in March 1790. But from the first he received the kindest treatment from the king, Kamehameha, whose full confidence and high esteem he enjoyed and deserved. The king gave him a fine estate and appointed him to several responsible offices; in particular Young was governor of Hawaii for no less than nine years during the king's absence. He married a native woman of rank, by whom he had six children. While he remained warmly attached to his native country and rendered essential services to English vessels touching at the islands, he remained a voluntary exile for forty-five years in Hawaii, where he died at the patriarchal age of ninety-two in December 1835. During this long period he enjoyed the favour of the kings, chiefs, and people, and was highly respected and esteemed for his intelligence and good offices by European voyagers to the islands.[144] Thus he had the best opportunities for acquainting himself with the customs and beliefs of the natives, and it is much to be regretted that of the ample store of knowledge which he thus acquired nothing remains but a few scattered notices recorded by travellers to whom he had verbally communicated them. [144] G. Vancouver, _Voyage of Discovery to the North Pacific Ocean and round the World_ (London, 1798), ii. 135 _sq._; W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 96; Tyerman and Bennet, _Journal of Voyages and Travels_, i. 377 _sq._; F. D. Bennett, _Narrative of a Whaling Voyage_, i. 238 _sq._ In 1809, some five years after Lisiansky's visit to Hawaii, the Scotch sailor Archibald Campbell witnessed one of these Saturnalia held on the occasion of the death of the king's brother. He says: "The public mourning that took place on this occasion was of so extraordinary a nature that had I not been an eye-witness, I could not have given credit to it. The natives cut out their hair, and went about completely naked. Many of them, particularly the women, disfigured themselves, by knocking out their front teeth, and branding their faces with red-hot stones, and the small end of calabashes, which they held burning to their faces till a circular mark was produced; whilst, at the same time, a general, I believe I may say an universal, public prostitution of the women took place. The queens, and the widow of the deceased, were alone exempted. When the captain of a ship that lay in the harbour remonstrated with the king upon these disgraceful scenes, he answered, that such was the law, and he could not prevent them."[145] [145] A. Campbell, _Voyage round the World_, pp. 142 _sq._ To these enormities the French navigator L. de Freycinet bore similar testimony a few years later. He says: "The despair which is affected after the loss of royal personages or great nobles presents also a remarkable resemblance to what takes place under similar circumstances among the inhabitants of the Marianne Islands. When we landed in Owhyhi [Hawaii], signs of sorrow everywhere presented themselves to our eyes and witnessed to the excesses that had been committed at the recent death of Tamehameha. At such a crisis anarchy displays all its horrors: the laws and the rules of taboo are broken without shame: the prohibited foods are devoured without scruple, chiefly by the women: the rights of property are ignored; force becomes the supreme law: the voice of chiefs is powerless: old enmities are avenged by blood or pillage: in a word, incredible scenes of disorder, of cruelty, and of lust are everywhere renewed under the stimulus of impunity. Calm does not begin to reign again until the heir is definitely invested with the royal power. Such is the mode in which the common people, freed for the moment from all restraint, express the grief which they are supposed to feel at the death of their sovereign."[146] [146] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 602. The early missionaries to Hawaii also testified to the disorders which prevailed on these occasions, though they seem not to have witnessed them. From their accounts we gather that at such times the rights of property were as little respected as the chastity of women. "On such an occasion," says Stewart, "every restraint was cast off, and all were in the habit of following the impulse of any and every wild passion that might seize them. Rights of person or of property were no longer regarded; and he who had the greatest muscular powers committed whatever depredation he chose, and injured any one he thought proper. Even the chiefs lost their ordinary pre-eminence, and could exert no influence of restraint on the excesses of their subjects. It was the time of redressing private wrongs, by committing violence on the property and person of an enemy; and everything that any one possessed was liable to be taken from him. Their grief was expressed by the most shocking personal outrages, not only by tearing off their clothes entirely, but by knocking out their eyes and teeth with clubs and stones, and pulling out their hair, and by burning and cutting their flesh; while drunkenness, riot, and every species of debauchery continued to be indulged in for days after the death of the deceased."[147] To the same effect Ellis writes that "as soon as the chief had expired, the whole neighbourhood exhibited a scene of confusion, wickedness, and cruelty, seldom witnessed even in the most barbarous society. The people ran to and fro without their clothes, appearing and acting more like demons than human beings; every vice was practised, and almost every species of crime perpetrated. Houses were burnt, property plundered, even murder sometimes committed, and the gratification of every base and savage feeling sought without restraint. Injuries or accidents, long forgotten perhaps by the offending party, were now revenged with unrelenting cruelty."[148] According to Jarves, the early historian of Hawaii, on these occasions no women were exempt from violation except the widows of the deceased.[149] [147] C. S. Stewart, _Residence in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 165 _sq._ [148] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 177. [149] J. J. Jarves, _History of the Hawaiian or Sandwich Islands_, p. 66. Compare J. Remy, _op. cit._ p. xlvii. Such outbursts of passion, released from all restraints of custom or law, are not unknown elsewhere on the occasion of a death. Among the Ba-ila of Northern Rhodesia it is customary at funerals for the women to sing lewd songs. "Under ordinary circumstances it would be reckoned taboo for women to utter such things in the presence of men; but at funerals all restraints are removed. People do as they like. Grass may be plucked out of the thatched roofs; the fields may be robbed of the growing corn; all passions are let loose; and no complaint for damage, theft, or adultery can be made. This last item used to be the case; nowadays fines are claimed."[150] [150] E. W. Smith and A. M. Dale, _The Ila-speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia_ (London, 1920), ii. 113 _sq._ The number of human victims sacrificed at the death of a chief varied with his rank. For a king of Hawaii the general number would seem to have been ten or twelve.[151] But when King Kamehameha died in 1819, the priest declared somewhat differently the custom in regard to human sacrifice on such an occasion. When the corpse had been removed from the king's own dwelling to a consecrated house for the performance of the proper rites, a sacred hog was baked and offered to it by the priest; for the dead king was now deemed to be a god. Then addressing the chiefs and the new king, the priest spoke as follows: "I will now make known to you the rules to be observed respecting persons to be sacrificed on the burial of his body. If you obtain one man before the corpse is removed, one will be sufficient; but after it leaves this house four will be required. If delayed until we carry the corpse to the grave, there must be ten; but after it is deposited in the grave, there must be fifteen. To-morrow morning there will be a tabu, and if the sacrifice be delayed until that time, forty men must die." However, on this occasion, no human blood was shed, but three hundred dogs were sacrificed.[152] The victims who were killed at the death of the king, princes, and distinguished chiefs, and were buried with their remains, belonged to the lowest class of society. In certain families the obligation of dying with the different members of such or such a noble house was hereditary, so that at the birth of a child it was known at whose death he must be sacrificed. The victims knew their destiny, and their lot seems to have had no terror for them.[153] [151] J. Cook, _Voyages_, vii. 145; U. Lisiansky, _op. cit._ p. 122. [152] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ pp. 189, 190. Compare J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. 125, 127; H. Bingham, _Residence of Twenty-one Years in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 71. [153] O. von Kotzebue, _Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea and Beering's Straits_ (London, 1821), iii. 247. At Honaunau, in the island of Hawaii, there was a sort of mausoleum in which the bones of dead kings and princes were deposited. For some reason it was spared in the general destruction of pagan monuments which took place in 1819, and it was still almost intact when the missionary Ellis visited and described it a few years later. It was a compact building, twenty-four feet long by sixteen feet wide, built of the most durable timber, and thatched with leaves. It stood on a bed of lava jutting out into the sea, and was surrounded by a strong fence, leaving a paved area in front and at the two ends. Several rudely carved male and female images of wood were placed on the outside of the enclosure, some on low pedestals under the shade of a tree, others on high posts planted on the jutting rocks which overhung the edge of the water. A number of effigies stood on the fence at unequal distances all around; but the principal assemblage of idols was at the south-east end of the enclosed space, where twelve of them stood in a semicircle on a crescent-shaped basement of stone raised about two feet above the pavement. Some of them rested on small pedestals, others on pillars eight or ten feet high. The principal idol, distinguished by the variety and superiority of the carving on its body and especially on its head, stood in the middle, the others on either side of it, "as if perpetual guardians of 'the mighty dead' reposing in the house adjoining."[154] [154] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 164 _sq._ When a death had taken place, the house in which it occurred, was deemed defiled, and continued in that state until after the burial. But if the deceased was a chief, the whole land was polluted, and the heirs sought a residence in another part of the country, until the corpse was dissected and the bones tied in a bundle; for when that was done the season of defilement terminated. Hence on the death of King Kamehameha, his son and successor, Liholiho, had to retire for a time to another district.[155] [155] J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 191; H. Bingham, _Residence of Twenty-one Years in the Sandwich Islands_, pp. 71 _sq._; J. Remy, _op. cit._ pp. 127, 129. § 10. _Fate of the Soul after Death_ The Hawaiians in general believed that the human soul exists after death, but their notions on the subject were, as usual, vague, confused, and contradictory. Some said that all the souls of the departed went to the Po, or place of night, and were there annihilated or eaten by the gods.[156] According to another account, the souls of the dead that had no claim to divinity fluttered about their old homes till the moment arrived when they became the food of the gods. It is not certain, adds de Freycinet, that they recognised the immortality of the soul in the case of persons of the lowest class.[157] Others said that some souls went to the regions of Akea (Wakea) and Miru (Milu), two ancient kings of Hawaii. Of these two, Akea was reported to have been the first king of the island. When he died, he descended into the nether world and there founded a kingdom. His successor on the throne of Hawaii, by name Miru or Milu, also descended into the underworld at death, and shared the government of the infernal realm with his predecessor Akea. Their land is a place of darkness, their food, lizards and butterflies. But there are streams of water of which they drink, and wide-spreading trees under which they recline.[158] Milu is described as the Hawaiian Pluto, the lord of the lower world to whose dominions departed spirits go. His abode was in the west, hence the ghosts of such as died on the eastern shore of an island always had to cross to the western shore before they could set out for their final place of rest in the spirit land. Some said that Milu had his dwelling under the ocean, and that he was the prince of wicked spirits.[159] However, according to some accounts, the two ancient kings, Milu and Akea, ruled over separate regions in the spirit land, which were tabooed to each other, so that nobody could pass from the one to the other. Akea or Wakea dwelt in the upper region, and there the souls of chiefs dwelt with him; whereas Milu occupied the muddy lower region, and there the souls of common folk abode with him. In the upper region all was peaceful and orderly, and there persons who had faithfully complied with the precepts of religion in life were received after death. On the other hand the lower region, ruled over by Milu, was noisy and disorderly; evil spirits played their pranks there, and the souls of the dead subsisted on lizards and butterflies.[160] When persons recovered from a death-like swoon, it was supposed that their souls had gone to the underworld and been sent back to earth by Milu. The best account of the spirit land was given by one who had spent eight days in it, and on returning to life reported to his family what he had seen. According to his observations, the spirit land is flat and fruitful, it is tolerably well lighted, and everything grows there spontaneously, so that, contrary to some reports, the palace of Milu is a really delightful place. Milu himself is not married to any one particular wife; but from time to time he chooses for his consorts the most beautiful of the female ghosts when they arrive in deadland, and the women thus honoured are naturally taboo for the male ghosts. All souls live there in exactly the same state in which they quitted their bodies. The souls of those who died young, especially of those who fell in battle, are hale and strong; whereas the souls of those who perished of disease are sickly and weak, and weak, too, are the souls of such as died in old age.[161] [156] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 365 _sq._ [157] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 594. [158] W. Ellis, _op. cit._ iv. 366; J. J. Jarves, _op. cit._ p. 38; A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 262. Ellis gives Miru as the form of the name, but the correct Hawaiian form is Milu; for in the Hawaiian dialect the ordinary Polynesian R is replaced by L. See E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, p. xxiii. In New Zealand and Mangaia the name Miru was given to the goddess of hell or of the dead. See E. Tregear, _op. cit._ pp. 243, 244, _s.v._ "Miru." [159] E. Tregear, _Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary_, pp. 243 _sq._, _s.v._ "Miru." [160] H. T. Cheever, _Life in the Sandwich Islands_ (London, 1851), p. 12; A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, pp. 264 _sqq._; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 99. [161] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 264. There were three places in the islands from which the ghosts took their departure for the other world. One was at the northern extremity of the island of Hawaii; one was at the western end of Maui; and one was at the southern point of Oahu.[162] According to one account, the ghosts on their passage to Milu's subterranean realm went westward in the direction of the setting sun, and either leaped from a rock into the sea or vanished into a hole in the ground.[163] [162] H. T. Cheever, _Life in the Sandwich Islands_, p. 12; A. Marcuse, _Die Hawaiischen Inseln_, p. 99. [163] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, p. 265. But before bidding a last farewell to earth, the soul of the deceased was believed to linger for a time in the neighbourhood of the grave or of the house. It had now become an _akua_ or divine spirit, but during its stay on earth it was dreaded as an _akua-lapu_ or "terrifying spirit," because it appeared to the living as a spectre or ghost. In time, however, it grew weaker and weaker and gradually disappeared altogether, like the other spirits (_akuas_). By that time it had found a guide to show it the way to Milu's realm, from which there is no return. Sometimes, however, the guardian god of a family would oppose the passage of a soul to the other world, and send it back to life, so that the seemingly dead man recovered.[164] It is said to have been a firmly established belief that the dead appeared to the living and communicated with them in dreams.[165] The priests in particular were favoured with such messages from the other world.[166] [164] A. Bastian, _op. cit._ p. 266. [165] L. de Freycinet, _Voyage autour du Monde, Historique_, ii. 594. [166] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 367. A legend tells how a certain chief of Hawaii, sorrowing for the death of his wife, applied to a priest, who furnished him with a god called Kane-i-kou-alii (God of Chiefs), to guide him to the nether world of Milu, whither his beloved spouse had departed. Journeying together, the god and the man came to the end of the world, where grew a tree, which split open and allowed them to glide down into the depths. There the god hid behind a rock and allowed the chief to go on alone, but first he rubbed stinking oil over the chief's body. On arriving at Milu's palace the chief found the whole court full of spirits engaged in such noisy and tumultuous sports, that he could steal in among them unobserved, all the more because the nearest spirits mistook him for a ghost newly arrived with the stench of his dead body still on him, so that they turned away from him in disgust and made uncomplimentary remarks on his unsavoury condition. When they had played all sorts of games, the chief suggested that, as a new form of sport, they should all take out their eyes and throw them in a heap. The suggestion was accepted, and every one hastened to comply with it. But the chief took care to mark where the eyes of Milu fell, and snatching them up he hid them in the coco-nut beaker which he carried with him. As all the spirits were now blind, it was easy for the chief to make his way to the neighbouring realm of Akea or Wakea, which was tabooed to the spirits that swarmed in Milu's kingdom and might not be entered by them. However, after long negotiations, Milu was allowed to recover his eyes, on condition that the soul of the chief's wife should be sent back to earth and reunited to her body, which was happily accomplished.[167] [167] A. Bastian, _Inselgruppen in Oceanien_, pp. 265 _sq._ The Hawaiians were not without some notion of a general resurrection of the dead. When the missionary William Ellis was conversing with some of the natives on that subject, they said that they had heard of it before from a native priest named Kapihe, who had lived at their village in the time of King Kamehameha. The priest told the king that at his death he would see his ancestors, and that hereafter all the kings, chiefs, and people of Hawaii would live again. When Ellis asked them how this would be effected, and with what circumstances it would be attended, whether they would live again in Hawaii or in Miru (Milu), the Hades of the Sandwich Islands, they replied that there were two gods, who conducted the departed spirits of their chiefs to some place in the heavens, where the souls of kings and chiefs sometimes dwelt, and that afterwards the two divine conductors returned with the royal and princely souls to earth, where they accompanied the movements and watched over the destinies of their survivors. The name of one of these gods was Kaonohiokala, which means the eyeball of the sun; and the name of the other was Kuahairo. Now Kapihe was priest to the latter god, and professed to have received a revelation, in accordance with which he informed King Kamehameha that, when the monarch should depart this life, the god Kuahairo would carry his spirit to the sky and afterwards accompany it back to earth again, whereupon his body would be restored to life and youth; that he would have his wives again and resume his government in Hawaii; that at the same time the existing generation would see and know their parents and ancestors, and that all the people who had died would rise again from the dead.[168] It is to be feared, however, that the priest was a deceiver; for King Kamehameha has not yet come to life again, and up to the present time the general resurrection has not taken place in Hawaii. [168] W. Ellis, _Polynesian Researches_, iv. 144 _sq._ That must conclude what I have to say about the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead in Polynesia, The notions which the Polynesians entertained on this subject cannot but strike a civilised European as childish, while the customs which they based on them must appear to him in great part foolish, even where they were not barbarous and cruel. How far such childish notions and foolish customs tend to confirm or to refute the widespread, almost universal, belief in the survival of the human soul after death, is a question which I must leave my readers to answer for themselves. NOTE TABOO AMOUNG THE MAORIS The power which Maori chiefs possessed of imposing, or at all events of enforcing, a taboo seems not to have been quite so absolute as might perhaps be inferred from the statement in the text.[1] We are told that the power of the taboo mainly depended on the influence of the person who imposed it. If it were put on by a great chief, it would not be broken, but a powerful man often violated the taboo of an inferior. A chief, for example, would frequently lay one of these sacred interdicts on a road or a river, and then nobody would dare to go by either, unless he felt himself strong enough to set the chief's taboo at defiance. The duration of the taboo was arbitrary, and depended on the will of the person who imposed it. Similarly with the extent to which the prohibition applied: sometimes it was limited to a particular object, sometimes it embraced many: sometimes it was laid on a single spot, at other times it covered a whole district.[2] [1] Above, p. 47. [2] R. Taylor, _Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants_, Second Edition (London, 1870), p. 168. Compare J. Dumont d'Urville, _Voyage autour du Monde et à la recherche de la Pérouse, Histoire du Voyage_ (Paris, 1832-1833), ii. 530. To render a place taboo a chief had only to tie one of his old garments to a pole and stick it up on the spot which he proposed to make sacred, while at the same time he declared that the prohibited area was part of his own body, such as his backbone, or that it bore the name of one of his ancestors. In the latter case all the persons descended from that particular ancestor were in duty bound to rally to the defence of the chief's taboo, and the more distant the ancestor, and the more numerous his descendants, the greater the number of the champions thus pledged to the support of the family honour. Hence the longer a man's pedigree, the better chance he stood of maintaining his taboo against all comers, for the larger was the troop of adherents whom he enlisted in its defence. Thus chiefs, with family trees which reached backward to the gods, were in a far better position to make good their arbitrary interdicts than mere ordinary mortals, who hardly remembered their grandfathers. In this as in other respects the taboo was essentially an aristocratic institution.[3] [3] R. Taylor, _op. cit._ p. 169. INDEX Abortions, spirits of, dreaded, 49 _n._^1 Adam, the Hawaiian, 393 Adoption among the Marquesans, 339 Aesculapius, the Hawaiian, 398 _Afiatouca_, burial-place, 102, 103 Agriculture of Maoris, 8 _sq._; of the Tongans, 59 _sq._; Samoan, 164 _sqq._; of the Hervey Islanders, 221 _sq._; of the Society Islanders, 249; of the Hawaiians, 378 _sq._ Air, gods of the, 277 _Aitu_, Samoan gods embodied in visible objects, animals, birds, etc., 182, 201, 207 Akaanga, a god, spreads a net to catch ghosts, 242, 244 Akea (Wakea), king of the nether world, 427, 428, 430 _Akua_, god, in the Hawaiian dialect, equivalent to _atua_, 392, 398 _Akuas_, spirits, 429 Alai Valoo, a Tongan god, 74 Alo Alo, a Tongan god, 71 _sq._ Altars in the Society Islands, 291 Amable, Father, Catholic missionary, 367 Ambler, English sailor, 84 Amusements of the Marquesans, 339 _sqq._ Ancestors worshipped by Maoris, 32 _sqq._; skulls of, brought out at marriages, 288, 311 Ancestral spirits watch over the living, 33; do not follow their kinsfolk among strangers, 34; cause disease, 49; worshipped by Society Islanders, 300, 315; guardians of newly wedded pairs, 311 Angas, G. F., 48 _n._^1 Animals, gods in form of, 66, 92 _sqq._, 182 _sqq._; deified spirits of men resident in, 227 _sq._; worshipped in Hawaii, 401 _sqq._ Anointing a king of Samoa, 177 Anuanu, vale of, 376 _n._^2 _Ao_, titles of chiefs in Samoa, 172 _sq._ Apolima, Samoan island, 149, 151 Apparitions dreaded, 205, 217 Araia, 241, 242 Aremauku, starting-place for spirit-land, 239 Areois, Society of the, 259 _sqq._ _Arii taboo_, sacred chiefs, 387 _Ariki_, sacred chief, 41; king, 224 Astronomy of priests, 293 _Atua_, the Polynesian word for god or spirit, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42, 44, 46, 64 _n._^3, 89, 277, 322, 323, 348, 349. _Compare akua, eatooa, etua_ _Atuas_, consecrated feathers called, 291; inspired priests called, 294; great national gods, distinguished from _oramatuas tiis_, the spirits of dead relatives, 324 Auraka, a burial cavern, 233, 237, 238, 241 Avaiki, subterranean region, home of the dead, 238, 239, 241, 243, 244 Axes or adzes of stone, 61, 180, 233, 251, 335, 382 Ba-ila, their licence at funerals, 425 Baessler, A., 221 _n._^1, 279 _n._^1, 285, 286, 374 Baganda, superstition as to twins among the, 270 _sq._ Baldness as penalty of impiety, 95; the penalty of breach of taboo, 209 _sq._ Baluba, of the Congo, customs as to twins among the, 273 Banishment of chiefs in Samoa, 176 Banqueting-halls of the Marquesans, 343 _sq._ Baptism among the Maoris, 16 Bark-cloth, manufacture of, 61, 168, 222, 251 _sq._, 334, 381; not made in time of mourning, 234 _sq._ Baronga, of S.E. Africa, their superstitions concerning twins, 268 _sq._ Barundi, of E. Africa, customs as to twins among the, 272 _sq._ Bastian, Adolf, on sun-worship, 131 _n._ Bathing after burial, 21; of king at installation, 255 _n._^1; after contact with a corpse, 313 Bats, goddess incarnate in, 185; local deity, 196 Bay of Plenty, 23 Bennett, F. D., 332 _sq._, 359, 360, 372 Best, Elsdon, 6 _n._, 33, 35 Birds, gods incarnate in, 187 _sq._; sacred, 228; small land birds formerly oracular, 228; gods in the form of, 277, 294; worshipped in Hawaii, 402 Birth, a man's god determined at, 200 _sq._, 223; ceremonies after a, 288 Blackened faces in mourning, 231, 235 Blood of chief sacred, 45 _sq._; human, acceptable offering to deity, 188; offered to the dead, 209; of relatives offered to bride at marriage, 289; of bride's mother offered to bridegroom, 289; of mourners offered to the dead, 303, 304, 311 Bolotoo (Boolotoo, Bulotu), fabulous island, residence of Tongan gods and of noble dead, 65, 66, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89 _sq._, 92, 93, 98, 135 Bones of Captain Cook worshipped, 396 ---- of dead dug up, 21; painted red, 21; concealed, 21; profaned, 21; festival at removal of, 22; burned, 23; of sacrificial victims not broken, 291; of famous men carried off by enemies, 311; thrown into volcano, 400; carried about by relatives, 419 _sq._; hidden to prevent profanation, 420 ---- of dead chiefs buried in temples (_morais_), 311; hidden in caves, 312, 420 Boolotoo Katoa, a Tongan god, 94 Borabora, one of the Society Islands, 246, 281, 317 Bows and arrows, unknown to Maoris, 10; used by the Society Islanders as an amusement, 252 _sq._; unknown to the Marquesans, 335; found among the Hawaiians, 383 Boxing-matches in mourning, 211 Branch plucked from sacred trees, 255 _n._^1 Bread-fruit the staple food of the Society Islanders, 249; of the Rarotongans, 222; and of the Marquesans, 333, 334 Breath of chief sacred, 45 Brenchley, J. L., 124, 125 _n._^1 Brown, Dr. George, 56, 161, 173 _n._^1, 201, 204, 206 _n._^1, 212, 213, 214, 216 _n._^2, 218 Buffoonery in mourning for the dead, 211 Burial, Maori modes of, 20 _sq._; in house, 20, 27; on a stage, 20, 21; on a tree, 20 _sq._; secret, 21; and mourning, rites of, in Tonga, 132 _sqq._; by night, 419 Burial customs in Samoa, 209 _sqq._; in the Hervey Islands, 231 _sqq._; in the Society Islands, 308 _sqq._; in the Marquesas, 356 _sqq._; in the Hawaiian Islands, 418 _sqq._ ---- ground dreaded, 27 ---- places (_morais_) of the Marquesans, 357 _sq._ Burying the sins of the dead, 305 Busoga, superstition as to twins in, 270 Cabri, J. Baptiste, 371 Cain, the Hawaiian, 393 Campbell, A., 385, 412 _n._^1, 415, 419, 423 Cannibalism, 26, 62, 158 _sq._; in the Hervey Islands, 221 Canoe-shaped coffins, 20, 353, 356, 363 Canoes, Maori, 9; Tongan, 59; Marquesan, 337; provided for the dead to enable them to reach the spirit land, 364 _sqq._ Caterpillars, servants of owl-god, 188 Caves, bones or bodies of dead deposited in, 22, 232, 233, 237, 312, 320 _sq._, 357, 418 Centipedes, family god in, 188 _sq._; worshipped in Mangaia, 228 Ceremonies, magical, of Maoris, 13 _sq._; observed at death, 19 _sqq._; to facilitate passage of soul to other world, 24 _sqq._, 29; magical, of Tongans, 67 _sq._; observed for unburied dead, 205 _sq._; of mourning in the Hervey Islands, 234 _sqq._; at the inauguration of a king, 254 _sq._, 255 _n._^1; over dead Areoi, 261; after childbirth, 288; at marriage, 288 _sq._; for the protection of the living against ghosts, 305 _sqq._ _See_ Rites Ceremony of anointing a king of Samoa, 177; performed by parents of twins to fertilise plantains, 271 Chiefs descended from the gods, 29; their souls immortal, 29; tabooed, 41 _sqq._; physical superiority of, 58 _sq._, 377 _sq._; Samoan, 171 _sqq._; deified, 204; embalmed, 205; in the Marquesas, 344; in Hawaii, 384 _sq._ Chiefs' language in Samoa, 173 _sqq._ Chieftainship hereditary in Samoa, 176 Children sacrificed, 75 _sq._, 81 _sq._ Christianity in Tonga Islands, 60 Circumcision, in the Tonga Islands, 81; in the Hervey Islands, 223 _sq._; invented by god Rongo, 224 Civil lords and sacred kings in Mangaia, 224 _sq._ Clans, gods of, in animals or other natural objects, 94, 95 _sq._ Clavel, Dr., 338, 374 Cockles, god in, 183; prayers to cockle-god, 188 Coco-nuts, god in, 183; offered to the dead, 233 Coffins shaped like canoes, 20, 353, 356, 363 Collocot, E. E. V., 65 _n._^2, 93, 94, 96, 97, 98 _n._^1, 267 _n._^2 Comedies acted in mourning, 236 Commoners, the question of their souls, 66, 85 Communistic system in Samoa, 170 _sq._ Confession of sins, 189 Cook, Captain James, 1, 9, 53, 55, 57, 59, 60, 61 _n._^2, 63, 81, 86, 100, 102, 103, 104, 105, 111 _n._, 117, 123, 128, 129, 132, 246, 248, 249, 251, 257, 258 _n._^5, 262, 275, 277 _n._^2 and ^4, 279, 280, 282, 283, 293, 297, 304, 310, 314 _n._^3, 315, 321, 328, 331, 371, 375, 379, 382, 383, 391, 395 _sq._, 406, 407, 408 ---- or Hervey Islands, 219 _sq._ Cooking in ovens of hot stones, 222, 379 Coral reefs, their formation, 55 _sq._ Corpses, sent adrift on the sea or exposed on stages, 210; broken in pieces, 362; flayed, 367 _sq._ Courage seated in liver, 85 Cousin marriage, 223 Creation, Hawaiian tradition of the, 393 Cremation among the Maoris, 23 Crickets, omens from, 231 Crimes, Tongan ideas about, 67 Crook, William P., first missionary to the Marquesas, 328, 349, 361, 372 Cruise, R. A., 31 _n._^2 _Curse of Manaia_, 12 Curses, Maori, 15; Tongan, 67; of sisters specially dreaded, 207 Customs observed at the birth of twins, 268 _sqq._ _See_ Burial customs, Ceremonies, Rites Cuttings in mourning for the dead, 19, 208 _sq._, 231, 302, 309, 311, 353; in Tonga, 133 _sqq._; intention of the, 145 _sq._ Cuttle-fish, household god in, 184; omens from, 190; temple of, 195; myth of the, 202 _sq._; a god in Mangaia,228; myth of Maui and the, 275 Dances at the birth of twins, 270 _sqq._; funeral, 139, 353 _sq._; of widow, 353, 354 Dancing among the Marquesans, 340 _sq._ ---- -places of the Marquesans, 340 _sq._ Danger Island, 230 Darwin, Charles, on coral reefs, 55 De Sainson, 112 D'Urville, J. Dumont, 11, 58, 110, 123, 357 _n._^3, 359 _n._^3, 373 Dead, disposal of the bodies of the (Maori), 20 _sqq._; buried in sitting posture, 20; spirits of, appear in dreams, 31, 91 _sq._; spirits of the dead become gods, 31; taboo entailed by contact with the, 39,137 _sq._; buried in _morais_, 117 _sqq._, 282 _sqq._, 311; worship of the, in Samoa, 204 _sq._; blood offered to the, 209; buried with head to the east, 210; buried with the head to the rising sun, 232; songs sung in honour of the, 236; buried in sitting posture, 262; images of spirits of the, 287 _sq._, 313 _sq._, 324 _sq._; blood of mourners offered to the, 303, 304, 311; fear of the spirits of the, 304 _sq._; disposal of the, in the Society Islands, 308 _sqq._; souls of the, in images, 313 _sq._; worship of the, in the Society Islands, 322 _sqq._; assimilated to deities, 327; disposal of the, among the Marquesans, 356 _sqq._; in the Hawaiian Islands, 418 _sqq._; evocation of the, 370 _sq._; buried in crouching posture, 418. _See_ Ghosts ---- men deified, 276 Death, Maori notion as to the cause of, 16; stories as to the origin of, 16 _sqq._, 392; Maori goddess of, 18; fate of the soul after, 24 _sqq._, 85 _sqq._, 213 _sqq._, 238 _sqq._, 313 _sqq._, 363 _sqq._, 427 _sqq._; the second, 29; theories of the Society Islanders concerning, 299 _sqq._; Marquesan contempt for, 352 _sq._; Hawaiian beliefs and customs concerning,417 _sqq._ Deaths caused by the anger of the gods or by sorcery, 229; traced to the agency of gods or sorcerers, 405 Decadence of magic, 68 Deification of ancestors, 33, 35; of kings in their lifetime, 255; of dead men, 276; of men after death, 351 _sq._, 397; of animals, 402 Deified kings, priests, and warriors, 227 ---- men, 276, 349; the spirits of,resident in animals, 228 ---- spirits of chiefs, 204 Deities, primaeval, personifications of nature, 32, 34 Deity, Maori conception of, 35 _sq._ Democratic spirit of Samoans, 171, 175 Desgraz, C., 118, 358, 373 Despotism in Hawaii, 63 Dieffenbach, E., 6 _n._^2, 8 _n._, 48 _n._^1 Diet of the Samoans, 164 _sq._; of the Hervey Islanders, 222; of the Society Islanders, 249; of the Marquesans, 333 _sq._; of the Hawaiians, 378 _sq._ Dirges in the Hervey Islands, 235 _sq._ Disease, caused by souls of ancestors, 49; and death ascribed to agency of gods, spirits, or ghosts, 206 _sq._, 217; theories of the Society Islanders concerning, 299 _sqq._; of the Marquesans concerning, 325. _See_ Sickness Disorders, internal, supposed to be caused by entrance of a god into the patient, 351 District gods, 182, 185 Divination, in Samoa, 190 _sq._; to detect thieves, 298, 406; to ascertain the cause of death, 301 Diviners consulted before battle, 397, 414; Hawaiian, 404 _sq._, 414, 417 Division of labour among the Samoans, 166 _sqq._ Dogs, sacred, 94; omens from, 190; eaten, 379; sacrificed, 405, 426 Doobludha, land of dead, 86 Dramatic performances of the Areois, 259 _sq._, 263, 266 _n._^4 Dreamers held in repute, 320 Dreams, Maori theories of, 12; souls of the dead appear in, 31, 91 _sq._; Samoan theory of, 205; ideas of the Hervey Islanders concerning, 229; ideas of the Society Islanders concerning, 297 _sq._; souls of the dead communicate with the living in, 320, 429; Marquesan ideas about, 352; revelations to priests in, 405, 429; Hawaiian ideas about, 417 Drums, special, beaten after the birth of twins, 271; accompanying dances, 342, 354 Du Petit-Thouars, 373 Duke of York Island, 212 Earth cleft with axes, as a mourning rite, 235 _sq._; fished up from the sea by Maui, 275 Earthquakes, Tongan theory of, 72; caused by Maui, 275 _Eatooas_, gods, spirits of the dead, 277 _n._^4, 300, 322, 391, 392, 402. See _Atua_ Eclipses, superstitions as to, 287 Eel-god, 227 Eels sacred, 95, 182, 184, 185 Eimeo or Moörea, one of the Society Islands, 246, 266 Ella, S., 206 _n._^1, 212 Ellis, William, 117, 118 _n._^1, 247, 249, 256 _sq._, 262, 265 _n._, 267 _n._^2, 276, 277, 284, 286 _n._^5, 290 _n._^3, 292, 295, 298 _n._^2, 308 _n._^1, 311, 314 _n._^1, 315, 319, 323, 327, 401, 409, 410, 411, 419, 424, 426, 430, 431 Embalmment of the dead, 117, 205; in Samoa, 210, 213; in the Society Islands, 309, 310 _sqq._; in the Marquesas, 356 _sq._; in Hawaii, 418 Erskine, J. E., 114 Ethical influence of the Tongan religion, 146 _sq._ _Etua_, a god, 348. Compare _Atua_ Eua, one of Tonga Islands, 52, 123 Euhemerism, 69 Eve, the Hawaiian, 393 Evocation of the dead, 370 _sq._ Exogamy, Samoan religious system independent of, 201; in the Hervey Islands, 223 Exorcisers, 351 Exorcism practised for the healing of the sick, 206 _sq._, 417 _sq._ Expiation for sacrilege, 74 _sqq._; for eating sacred animal, 184, 185 Eye, spirit or soul thought to reside in, 42, 417; of human victim presented to king, 292 Fafa, subterranean abode of the dead, 215 Fakaofo or Bowditch Island, 394 Family gods embodied in visible objects, 182 _sqq._; analogous to totems, 200 Fan or Fang, of West Africa, their superstition about a twin, 269 Farmer, Sarah S., 57 _n._^1, 61 _n._, 92, 97, 111 _n._ Fasting after a death, 210, 355 Fate of the soul after death, 213 _sqq._, 238 _sqq._, 313 _sqq._, 363 _sqq._, 427 _sqq_. Fear of the dead, its humanising influence, 300; of ghosts, 369 _sq._, 419. _See_ Ghosts Feast of Calabashes, 354 Feasts, funeral, 144, 355, 362 _sq._, 366; annual, in honour of the gods, 187 _sq._ _See_ Festivals Feathers, sacred red, 254; gods conjured into, 265; placed in images of the gods, 290 _sq._; called gods, 291 Female line, nobility traced in, 75 Ferry-boat for souls of dead, 26 Fertilising virtue attributed to twins, 269 _sqq._ Festival, great annual, 289; called "the ripening of the year," 326 _sq._ Festivals, of the Samoans, 188; of the Marquesans, 341 _sq._; Hawaiian, 414 _sqq._ _See_ Feasts _Fiatooka_, place of burial and of worship, 103, 104, 105, 109, 116, 120, 132, 133 Fijian influence in Tonga, 59 Fingers mutilated in mourning, 19; sacrificed, 80 _sq._ Finow, king of Tonga, 79, 80, 81, 82, 91, 92, 103, 105, 120, 121, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140; obsequies of, 135 _sqq._ Finow the Second, king of Fiji, 135 Fire, Polynesian knowledge of, 56 _sq._; kindled by friction of wood, 181; robbed by Ti'iti'i from Mafuie, 203; kept up in house after a death, 209, 212; first brought to men by Maui, 226, 239; hidden in wood by Mauike, 238; stick and groove method of kindling, invented by Maui, 275, 335; stolen by Maui, 350; first given to men by Maui, 396 Fires not kindled near house of death, 355; extinguished during periods of strict taboo, 389 First-born sons, sacrifice of, 89 First-fruits, offerings of, in Tonga, 122; in the Society Islands, 257; of taro presented to eel-god, 188 Fish, sacrifices of, 257, 291; human victims called fish, 292; worshipped, 402; offered to shark god, 402 ---- hooks made out of bones of dead, 21, 23, 311 _sq._ Fishing, modes of, 252, 337, 379 Flax cultivated by Maoris, 9 Flaying the dead, custom of, 367 _sq._ Flood, tradition of a great, 393, 394 Flying-foxes, gods in, 96; incarnations of war-god, omens from, 190 _Fono_, representative assembly, parliament, 159, 179 Food buried with the dead, 24, 232; not to be touched by tabooed person with his hands, 38, 44, 45, 137, 138, 209, 312; not eaten in a house so long as a corpse is in it, 209; offered at tomb, 362 Footprints in magic, 15 Forbes, Dr. Charles, 12 Forster, George, 262, 283, 287 _n._, 397, 314, 331 Forster, J. R., 117 _n._^1, 278 _n._^1, 287 _n._, 314, 323 _n._^1 Foundation sacrifices, 292 Fowls bred and eaten, 379 Freycinet, L. de, 423, 427 Friendly Islands. _See_ Tonga Funeral dances, 139, 353 _sq._; feasts, 144, 355, 362 _sq._, 366 ---- games in Tonga, 140, 144; in the Hervey Islands, 235 _sq._ ---- rites in the Hervey Islands, 231 _sqq._ Futtafaihe or Fatafehi, family name of the Tuitongas, 108, 109 _Fytoca_, grave, burial-place, 67, 82, 102, 103, 137, 139, 141 G----, Father Mathias, 373 Games, funeral, in honour of the dead, 140, 144, 235; athletic, at religious festivals, 188 Garment, evil magic wrought through, 67 Gerland, G., 266 _n._^4 Ghost personated by priest or kinsman, 306 _sqq._ Ghosts, fear of, 27, 31, 304 _sq._, 320 _sq._, 369 _sq._, 419 _sq._; their passage to nether world, 27 _sq._; live on sweet potatoes, 30; slaying the, 234; journeying with the sun, 239 _sqq._; caught in nets, 242, 244; eaten by Miru, 242; driven away by force of arms, 355; food offered to, 355, 356 Gill, W. W., 221 _n._^1, 225 _n._^1, 227, 228 _n._^1, 237, 238 Girdle, sacred, of kings, 254 God, patron, determined at birth, 200 _sq._, 223 "God-boxes," inspired priests, 228 _sq._ Godless, the Samoans called, 181 _sq._ Gods, chiefs and priests descended from the, 29; confused with spirits of the dead, 31; the great Polynesian, 35 _n._; of the Maoris, 36 _sq._; of the Tongans, 64 _sqq._; souls of dead men as, 64 _sq._, 66, 69, 70, 84, 91; men descended from, 66; omens sent by, 67; in form of animals, 66, 92 _sqq._, 182 _sqq._; the primary or non-human, of Tonga, 68 _sqq._; national and tribal, of Tonga, 93 _sq._; temples of, in Tonga, 73 _sqq._, 99 _sqq._; worship of, 79 _sqq._; annual feasts in honour of, 187 _sq._; tame, 191; vegetable, 192; totemic, 202; high gods, 202 _sqq._; the life of the, 238; punished, 257; born of Night (_Po_), 258, 277; of the sea, 276 _sq._; of the air, 277; worship of the gods in the Society Islands, 277 _sqq._; the causes of disease and death, 299, 351; Hawaiian, two classes of, 397 Government, monarchical and aristocratic, of the Tongans, 62 _sq._; democratic, of Samoans, 171 _sqq._; of the Society Islands, 253; in the Marquesas, 344 _sq._; in the Hawaiian Islands, 383 _sq._ Grandfather, soul of, reborn in grandchild, 368 _sq._ Grange, Jérôme, 60 _n._^5, 113 _sq._ Grasshoppers, souls of dead children in, 318 Graves, sacred, 99; in relation to temples, 99 _sqq._; of Tongan kings, 103, 105; prayers at, 121, 217; of great chiefs religiously revered, 120; enclosed with stones, 211; in Society Islands, 309; in Hawaii, 418. _See_ Tombs Guardian deity, how obtained, 398 Gudgeon, W. E., 41, 42 _n._^1, 48 _n._^1 Guillemard, F. H. H., 132 _Haamonga_, megalithic monument in Tonga, 125, 126 Haapai (Haabai), one of the Tonga Islands, 52, 95, 126 Haddon, A. C., 6 _n._^2 Hahunga, Maori festival, 22 Hair cut in mourning, 19, 303 _sq._, 420_sq._; ceremonies at cutting the, 44 _sq._; used in evil magic, 300, 325, 405; offered by mourners to the dead, 303, 304; sacrificed to volcano, 400 Hale, Horatio, 6 _n._^2, 63, 214 Hands tabooed, 38, 45, 137, 138, 209, 312, 404 Happahs (Happas), a tribe of Marquesans, 364, 365 _Harepo_, sacred recorder, 296, 298 Harris, J. Rendel, 267 _n._^1 Havaiki, subterranean region of the dead, 363. _Compare_ Avaiki Hawaii, 375, 376, 378, 394, 400, 406, 409, 410, 411, 413, 426, 429 Hawaiian or Sandwich Islands, 375 _sqq._ Hawaiians or Sandwich Islanders, 377 _sqq._ Hawaiki, original home of Maoris, 5 _sq._, 29, 155 Head, sanctity of the, 44, 212, 388 Heads of dead dried and preserved, 23 _sq._; of chiefs cut off and buried separately, 212; of children moulded, 224; of pigs attached to biers, 355; of slain enemies kept as trophies, 362 Heart the special seat of the soul, 85 Heaven, ascent of souls to, 24 _sqq._, 29 "Heavenly family," gods incarnate in animals, 228 Hebrew prophets, Renan on the, 147 _Heiau_, temple, 409, 410, 411, 412 _n._^1, 418 Herero, of S.W. Africa, customs as to twins among the, 273 _sq._ Herons sacred, 95; omens from, 190; superstition about, 277 _n._^2 Hervey, Philip, 123, 125 _n._^1, 127 Hervey or Cook Islands, 219 _sq._ Hervey Islanders, 220 _sqq._ _Heva_, ceremony observed after a death, 306 Higgolayo, god of the dead, 86 Hikuleo, god of the dead, 88 _sq._, 90 Hina (O-Heena), a goddess, perhaps of the moon, 266, 267, 287 Hine-nui-te-po, the Maori goddess of death, 17 _sq._ Hiro, god of thieves, 326 Hivaoa (Dominica), one of the Marquesas Islands, 328, 337, 364 Hogs, sacrificed, 79; to volcano, 399. _See_ Pigs Holiness and uncleanness blent in taboo, 173 Honolulu, 376 _n._^2 Hos of Togo, customs as to twins among the, 271 _sq._ _Hotooas_ (_atuas_), gods, 64 Houmis, a tribe of Marquesans, 347 House, dead buried in, 20, 27, 418; dying people removed from the, 39; abandoned after a death, 356 Houses, Maori, 8; Samoan, 163 _sq._; in the Society Islands, 250; of the Marquesans, 335 _sqq._; of the Hawaiians, 380 _sq._ Huahine, one of the Society Islands, 117, 246, 280, 283, 284, 289, 293, 326 Human sacrifices at burials, 24; to the sun, tradition of, 158; not offered by Samoans, 158; at making king's girdle, 254; offered to Oro, 258 _sq._; in the Society Islands, 291 _sq._; offered to living men, 349 _sq._; at deification of men, 351 _sq._; at the death of chiefs and priests, 365 _sqq._, 421 _sq._; to sharks, 402 _sq._; in Hawaii, 413 _sq._, 421 _sq._, 425 _sq._ Hunchbacks thought to be favourites of spirits, 153 Hurricanes in Samoa, 153 _sq._ Idols, Hawaiian, 412 _sq._ _See_ Images _Ifi_ tree, 74, 121, 133, 137 Image of basket-work, 275 _sq._; wooden, of deified man, 398 Images of the gods, 290, 391 _sq._; in which the souls of the dead were supposed to lodge, 287 _sq._, 313 _sq._, 324 _sq._; carried to battle, 397; spirits conjured into, 398; of the gods, Hawaiian, 411 _sqq._ Immortality, belief in, its effect on the Maoris, 51; restricted to chiefs and their ministers, 85; of the human soul, 313. _See_ Soul Incantations, Maori, 13 _sqq._; of sorcerers, 325; Hawaiian, 405, 417 Incarnation of gods in animals, 182 _sqq._ Inconsistency of savage thought, 84, 90 _sq._ Indonesians, 3 Infanticide, in Polynesia, 157; among the Areois, 263 Infants, souls of dead, cause disease, 49, 299 Inspiration by drinking kava, 75, 77 _sqq._; by souls of dead, 91; of Samoan priests, 194; of priests, in the Society Islands, 293 _sqq._; of men by deities, 351 Inspired men, 350 _sqq._ Iron in Tonga, 61 _n._^2 ---- tools among the Hawaiians, 382 Irrigation practised by Maoris, 9; artificial, in Hawaii, 378 _sq._ Jarves, J. J., 383 _n._^2, 425 Jaw-bones of human victims hung in temple, 258 Jumping-off stone of souls of the dead, 214, 215. _See_ Leaping-off place Jupiter, the planet, emblem of deified chiefs, 204; the shrine of a god, 228 Justice, administration of, in Samoa, 159 _sq._ _Kahuna_, priest, 417 Kaili. _See_ Tairi Kamehameha (Tamehameha), king of Hawaii, 384, 388, 389, 400, 409, 415, 420, 422, 425, 427, 430, 431 Kanaloa, a great Hawaiian deity, 392, 393, 394, 395 Kane, a great Hawaiian deity, 392, 393, 394, 395, 398 Kaonohiokala, "eye-ball of the sun," a Hawaiian god, 431 Kapihe, a priest, 430, 431 _Kapu_, taboo, in Hawaiian dialect, 387 Karakakooa Bay in Hawaii, 391 _Karakias_, prayers or spells (Maori), 32, 39 Kauai, one of the Sandwich Islands, 375 Kava as source of inspiration, 75, 78, 229; offered to the gods, 79, 187; offered to whales, 93; offered at graves, 121, 205; drunk by the Marquesans, 334; by the Hawaiians, 380 Keolakuhonua, the first woman, 393 Kilauea, volcano in Hawaii, 375, 399, 401 King, Captain, 378, 379, 385 _sq._, 391, 402, 408, 410 King, of Samoa, 176 _sq._; customs observed on the death of a king in Hawaii, 420 _sqq._ "King of Fiji," a Samoan family god, 192 Kingfisher sacred, 93; superstition about, 277 _n._^2 Kingfishers, incarnations of war-god, omens from, 190; gods of families, villages, or districts, embodied in, 193; consulted oracularly, 196 Kings, two, in Tonga, one civil, the other religious, 62 _sq._; the priests or mouthpieces of a god, 224; sacred, in the Hervey Islands, 224 _sq._; primary and secondary, in Mangaia, 225; as gods or descended from gods in the Society Islands, 253 _sq._; as high-priests, 253, 255; in Hawaii, 383 _sq._ Kingship, double, 63 Kitchen, dying chief carried into the, 82 Koreamoku, a deified man, 398 Kotzebue, O. von, 385 _n._^4, 388 _sq._, 416 Kpelle, of Liberia, their superstitions about twins, 269, 274 Krusenstern, A. J. von, 346, 348, 362, 371, 372 Ku, a great Hawaiian deity, 392, 393 Kuahairo, a Hawaiian god, 431 Kumuhonua, the first man, 393 La Pérouse, 149 Labillardière, 81 Langsdorff, G. H. von, 118, 341, 351 _n._^2, 371, 372 Language, Polynesian, 2; special form of, used in speaking of chiefs, 173 _sqq._ Leaping-off place for souls of dead, 27, 241. _See_ Jumping-off stone Leeward Islands, 246, 319 Lifuka (Lefooga), one of the Tonga Islands, 52, 73, 109 Lightning, omens from, 191 Lipolipo, king of Hawaii, 389 _sq._, 427 Lisiansky, U., 338, 366 _sq._, 368 _sq._, 371, 372, 411, 412, 414, 421, 422, 423 Litany chanted after a death, 355 Liturgies, in the Society Islands, 296 Liturgy, ancient Hawaiian, 394 Liver, the seat of courage, 85; a disease of, attributed to breach of taboo, 76 _sq._; of pig a god, 98 Lizard, the tempter in the form of a, 393 Lizards feared as causes of disease, 50; gods in, 66, 92, 94, 96, 182, 227, 228; omens from, 190 Lono (Rono), a great Hawaiian deity, the equivalent of Rongo, 392, 393, 395; Captain Cook identified with, 396 Lord of Mangaia, 224 Lucifer, the Hawaiian, 393 Macahity, a Hawaiian festival, 414 _sqq._ Mafanga, burial-place of chiefs in Tongataboo, 120, 121 Mafuie, god of earthquakes, 203 Magic, among the Maoris, 13 _sqq._; among the Tongans, 68; black, not practised in Samoa, 161; in the Society Islands, 300, 325 _sq._; in Hawaii, 405 _sq_. _See_ Sorcerers Magicians (Maori), 13 _sqq._ Mahoike, god of the infernal regions, original possessor of fire, 350 Mahoui, a god, apparently identical with Maui, 266 _n._^4, 286 _n._^5 Maitea, one of the Society Islands, 246 Malays, how related to the Polynesians, 2 _sqq._ Man, the creation of, 393 _Mana_, 42 Manaia, 13, 23 Mangaia, one of the Hervey Islands, 219, 220, 221, 222, 224, 225, 228, 232, 233, 237, 238, 239, 240, 244 Manona, Samoan island, 149 Manua, group of Samoan islands, 149, 155, 158, 162, 215 Maoris, 5 _sqq._; their culture, 8 _sqq._; beliefs concerning the souls of the living, 10 _sqq._; beliefs concerning the souls of the dead, 19 _sqq._; their notion as to the cause of death, 16; their story of the origin of death, 16 _sqq._; mourning, 19 _sq._; disposal of the dead, 20 _sqq._; their conception of deity, 35 _sq._; taboo among the, 37 _sqq._, 432 Mapuhanui, a Marquesan god, 368 _Marae_. _See Morai_ _Marae_, a sacred grove, 225 _n._^3, 240, 241 _Marai_. _See Morai_ Marchand, Captain E., 358 _n._^6, 371 Marcuse, A., 393 Mariner, William, 62, 64, 67, 70, 71, 73, 74, 75, 76, 78 _sq._, 80, 82, 83, 86, 90, 91, 92, 93, 97, 98 _n._, 99, 102, 103, 110 _n._^1, 127, 135, 136, 138, 141, 142, 143 Marquesan islanders, 331 _sqq._ Marquesas Islands, 328 _sqq._; _morais_ (_marais_) in the, 116 _sqq._ Marriage rites, 288 _sq._, 311 Martin, John, 64 Maruiwi, primitive inhabitants of New Zealand, 8 Mask worn by an actor personifying a ghost, 306 Masons in Tonga, 127 _Matabooles_, minister of Tongan nobles, 65, 66, 74, 85, 76, 77, 79, 85, 87, 121, 136, 139 Mateialona, Governor of Haapai, 126 Mats, fine Samoan, 168 _sq._; Hawaiian, 381 _sq._ Maui, mythical Polynesian hero, 266 _n._^4; his contest with the goddess of death, 16 _sqq._; said to have drawn up the Tongan Islands on a fish-hook, 72; puts god Hikuleo in durance, 88; said to have brought great stones from Uea, 125; a kind of Polynesian Hercules, 126; brought fire to men, 226, 239; his exploits, 275, 287 _n._, 396; his image, 275 _sq._; steals fire from Mahoike, 350 ---- one of the Sandwich Islands, 375, 429 ---- Atalanga, mythical first owner of fire, 57 ---- Kijikiji, the Polynesian Prometheus, 57 Mauike, the fire-god, 226, 238, 239 Mauna Kea, mountain in Hawaii, 376 ---- Loa, volcano in Hawaii, 375, 376 Mausoleum of the kings of Hawaii, 426 Medicine, the Hawaiian god of, 398 Megalithic monuments of the Tooitongas, 119; in the Pacific, Dr. Rivers's theory as to, 119; of the Tongans, 123; in Lefooga (Lifuka), 128 _sq._; their supposed relation to sun-worship, 266 _n._^4; in the Marquesas, 360 _sq._ Megalithic tombs, 119, 123, 132 Meinicke, C. E., 118 _n._^2 Melanesian blood, admixture of, in the Hervey Islands, 221 ---- type, 6; population of New Zealand, 6 _sq._ ---- totemism, 218 Melanesians, now related to Polynesians, 2 _sq._; magic among the, 161; sham-fights at funerals among the, 212 Melville, Hermann, 330, 332, 333, 338, 354, 357 _n._^3, 360 _sq._, 361 _sq._, 373 Men deified in their lifetime, 349; deified after death, 351 _sq._, 397 Metals unknown to the Polynesians, 61, 222, 250, 335 Metempsychosis, theory that Melanesian totemism has been developed out of, 218 Milu (Miru), king of the nether world, 427, 428, 429, 430. _See_ Miru ----, a rebel spirit, 392 Minstrels, wandering, in the Marquesas, 342 Miru, king of the nether world, 427; goddess of hell or of the dead, 428 _n._^1; the Hades of the Sandwich Islanders, 431. _See_ Milu ----, an infernal hag, devours ghosts, 242 Moerenhout, J. A., 118, 263 _n._^2, 264 _n._^3, 266 _n._^4, 284, 286 _n._^5, 297, 308 _n._^1 Monarchy, absolute, in Hawaii, 383 Mooa, old capital of Tongataboo, 106, 108, 111, 112 _Mooas_, middle-class in Tonga, 66, 85 Moomooe (Moomooi), king of Tonga, 83, 91, 108, 133, 141, 145 Moon, family god in, 192; tradition of sacrifice to the, 394; festival of the new, 414 Moon-goddess, 267, 287 _n._ Mo'ooi (Maui), Tongan god, 72 _Morai_ (_marai_, _marae_), burial-place, temple, 103, 116, 117, 118, 119; dead buried in, 117 _sqq._, 282 _sqq._; in the Society Islands, 278 _sqq_. _Morais_, bones of dead chiefs buried in, 311; burial-places, 357 _sq._, 361 _sq._; mummies deposited in, 357; in Hawaii, 391, 406 _sqq._; dead chiefs buried in, 407 _sq._ Morality reinforced by superstitious terrors, 83; not influenced by religion, 318 Mortality of souls of commoners, 66, 85 Motoro, a great god in the Hervey Islands, 241 Mourning for death of divine owl, 186 _sq._ ---- customs of Maoris, 19 _sq._; in Tonga, 132 _sqq._; in Samoa, 208 _sq._; in the Hervey Islands, 231; among the Society Islands, 301 _sqq._; of the Marquesans, 353 _sqq._; in Hawaii, 420 _sqq._ Mouth and nostrils of dying stopped to prevent the escape of the soul, 352 Mueu, a female demon of death, 235 Mukasa, great god of the Baganda, 270 Mullets sacred, 95, 184 Mummies kept in the house or deposited in a _morai_, 357 Muru, a god, spreads a net to catch ghosts, 244 Mythology of the Society Islanders, 257 _sq._, 277; of the Marquesans, 348 _sqq._ Nails, parings of, used in evil magic, 325, 405 Names of relatives changed after a death, 233; of kings sacred, 254; new, given at admission to the Society of the Areois, 261; exchange of, 339 Namuka, one of the Tonga Islands, 52 Nature, personifications of, 32, 34; worship of, 93 Necromancy among the Maoris, 30 _sq._ Negritoes, 3 Net to catch ghosts, 242, 244 New Zealand, the Maoris of, 5 _sqq._; Melanesian population of, 6 _sq._ Neyra, Alvaro Mendana de, 328 Ngati-apa, a Maori tribe, 23 Nicholas, J. L., 16 _n._^3 Night, or the primaeval darkness (_Po_), 258, 276, 277, 298 _n._^1, 305, 315, 323, 393, 397, 427; burials by, 419 Nightmare caused by a ghost, 419 _Noa_, common, 38, 39, 40; general, as opposed to _taboo_, sacred, 388 Noah, the Hawaiian, 393, 394 Nobility traced in female line in Tonga, 75 Nobles, souls of dead, as gods, 64, 66, 84, 91 North Cape of New Zealand, place of departure for souls of the dead, 27, 28, 30 Nukahiva, one of the Marquesas Islands, 328, 337, 350, 352, 360, 361, 364, 368, 371, 372 Nuu, the Hawaiian Noah, 393, 394 O-Heena, a goddess, 287 _n._ _See_ Hina O-rongo, in Mangaia, 225 Oahu, one of the Sandwich Islands, 375, 376 _n._^2, 385, 395, 411, 429 Obsequies of kings and chiefs in Tonga, 133 _sqq._; of the Tooitongas, 140 _sqq._; of Samoan chiefs, 211 _sq._; of chiefs, in the Society Islands, 303 Octopus, god in, 95, 96, 183 Offerings to gods, 79; to Samoan deities, 187, 188, 189; to priests, 195; to the dead, 311; of food at tombs, 362; to volcanic goddess, 401. _See_ Sacrifices Omens sent by gods, 67; from sacred birds, animals, or fish, 189 _sq._; from sacrificial victims, clouds, and rainbow, 397, 414 Opoa, metropolis of idolatry in the Society Islands, 255, 258, 259, 289 Oracles delivered by priests, 295; given by priests in the name of gods, 404 _Oramatuas_ or _oromatuas_, worshipful spirits of departed relatives, 277, 299, 323 _sq._; sacred feathers called, 291 Origin of Samoan gods of families, villages, and districts, 200 _sqq._ Oro, war-god in the Society Islands, 255, 255 _n._^1, 258, 259, 261, 263, 265, 266, 289, 295, 315, 326 Orono, head of a priestly order in Hawaii, 391 Orotetefa, patron deity of the Areoi Society, 263, 265, 267 Ovens, souls of dead in, 26 _sq._; of hot stones, 222, 379 Owl god, festival of, 188; kept tame, 191 Owls sacred, 95, 182; mourning for dead, 186 _sq._; omens from, 190 Pantheon recruited by dead men, 98 Papa, goddess of earth, 34 _n._^2; wife of Vatea, 226 Papatea, mythical island, 158 Papo, Samoan war-god, 186 Paradise of the Society Islanders, 319, 327 Parliamentary form of government in Samoa, 179 _sq._ _Pas_, Maori forts, 8 _n._^3 Pele, goddess of the volcano Kilauea in Hawaii, 399 _sqq._ Personifications of nature, 32, 34; of ghost by an actor, 306 Pied fantail in Maori story of origin of death, 18 _sq._ Pigeons, divine, 184; kept tame, 191 Pigs' liver a god, 96 Pigs offered to the dead, 231; sacrificed, 264, 265, 291; for recovery of sick, 351; to the dead, 368. _See_ Hogs Planets, the shrine of a god, 228 Pleiades, emblems of deified chiefs, 204 Po, region of departed souls (Maori), 27 _Po_, Night or the primaeval darkness, the abode of the gods and of the dead, 258, 277, 298 _n._^1, 305, 308, 315, 316, 317, 323, 393, 397, 427 Pollution caused by death, 312 _sq._, 427 Polack, J. S., 7 _n._^1 Polyandry among the Marquesans, 337 _sq._ Polygamy in the Hervey Islands, 223 Polynesians, 1 _sqq._; their origin and language, 2 _sqq._; mode of life, 4; dispersal from Savaii (Hawaiki), 6, 154 _sq._; or from Tonga, 56; their knowledge of fire, 56 _sq._; ignorant of metals, 61, 250 Polytheism developed out of totemism, 94 Porpoises, gods in, 66, 92 Porter, Captain David, 330, 332, 344 _n._^1, 350, 353, 357 _n._^3, 362, 364 _sq._, 372 Pottery unknown to the Samoans, 181 Prayers to the gods, 79; to the dead, 121; to animal gods, 182; for temporal benefits, 189; before going to war, 189; for the dying, 208; offered to souls of dead relatives at their graves, 217; rhythmical and ancient, 225; offered to kings, 255; of the Society Islanders, 257; for the recovery of the sick, 257, 398; to Oro, 261; liturgical, 295 _sq._; over the dead, 310; for the dead, 318; at temples, 327; before battle, 397 "Praying people," sorcerers, 229 Presents brought to dying people, 207 _sq._ Priestess claiming to personify goddess, 401 Priests practise enchantments, 13 _sq._; descended from the gods, 29; their souls immortal, 29; summon up spirits of dead, 31; Tongan, their inspiration, 77 _sqq._; Samoan, 192 _sq._; inspired, 194; consulted as to cause of sickness, 207; inspired, called "god-boxes," 228 _sq._; speaking in name of gods, 258, 293 _sqq._; of shark gods, 276; in the Society Islands, 292 _sqq._; inspired by sharks, 403; Hawaiian, 404 Property buried with the dead, 20, 140 _sq._, 211, 232 _sq._; private, in relation to taboo, 47 _sq._; rights of, in Samoa, 169 _sqq._ Prostitution, general, of women at the death of a great chief, 423 Pukapuka, Danger Island, 230 Pulotu, Samoan name for abode of the dead and of the gods, 204, 205, 214, 216, 217. _Compare_ Bolotoo Punishments in Samoa, 159 _sq._ Purification of king at installation, 255 _n._^1; of land after defilement, 287 _sq._; after contact with the dead, 210, 313; of the souls of the dead, 316 Pyramidal tombs, 115 Pyramidical temples of Tahiti and the Marquesas, 119 Pyramids, stepped or terraced, 116, 117, 278 _sqq._; of stone, stepped or terraced, in Hawaii, 408 _sqq._ Quiros, Fernandez de, 246 Ra, the sun-god, caught by Maui in nooses, 226 Radiguet, M., 338, 341, 357 _n._^1, 358, 373 Raiatea, one of the Society Islands, 246, 255, 258, 259, 266, 289, 315, 317, 318, 319 Rail-bird sacred, 95; omens from, 190 Rainbow worshipped, 93, 182; omens from, 191, 397; emblem of deified chiefs, 204 _sq._; superstitions about, 267, 269 _Rangatira_, gentleman, 43, 44; landowners, 224 Rangi, god of sky, 34 _n._^2 Rarotonga, one of the Hervey Islands, 219, 221, 222, 224, 226, 228, 232, 243, 244 Raupa, a burial cave, 237 Recorders, sacred, 295 _sq._, 298 Red, bones of dead painted, 21; tabooed, 227; feathers regarded as divine, 290 _sq._ ---- Cave, 239, 240 Reincarnation of the dead, 368 _sq._ Reinga, leaping-off place of souls (Maori), 27 Religion of Maoris concentrated on worship of dead kinsfolk, 34; homogeneity of Polynesian, 35 _n._; the Tongan, 64 _sqq._; ethical influence of the Tongan, 146 _sq._; of the Samoans, 181 _sqq._; of the Hervey Islanders, 225 _sqq._; early stage of, 226; of the Society Islanders, 256 _sqq._; without influence on morality, 318; of the Marquesans, 348 _sqq._; of the Hawaiians, 390 _sqq._ Remy, J., 412 _n._^1, 415 _n._^1 Renan, Ernest, on the Hebrew prophets, 147 Respect for chiefs in Samoa, 171 _sqq._ Resurrection of the dead, Hawaiian notions about the, 430 _sq._ Rewards, posthumous, no belief in, 67, 146 Rhodesia, Northern, belief as to mother of twins in, 269 Rib of the first man, the first woman created out of the, 393 _sq._ Rites, of burial and mourning in Tonga, 132 _sqq._; funeral, in the Hervey Islands, 231 _sqq._; religious, of the Society Islanders, 257; of purification, 288. _See_ Ceremonies River of the Water of Life (Maori), 28; in the nether world, 216 Rivers, W. H. R., 4 _n._^1, 119, 124 _n._^1, 128, 202, 218, 266 _n._^4 Roberts, E., 371 Rohutu, the abode of the dead, 319 _sq._, 327 Rongo, god of peace and agriculture, 35 _n._; a great Polynesian god, 224, 225, 226, 392, 395; his sacred stream and grove, 240, 241; god, inventor of circumcision, 224 Rono, a great Hawaiian god, 404, 416. _See_ Lono Roscoe, J., 271 Routledge, S. and K., 279 _n._^1 Ruahatu, a sea-god, 276 S[=a]-le-Fe'e, the Samoan Tartarus, 216 Sacredness of chiefs, 172 _sqq._ Sacrifice of children, 75 _sq._, 81 _sq._; of hogs, 79; of fingers, 80; of first-born sons, 89; as magical, 83; of pigs to the dead, 368; of hogs to volcano, 399 Sacrifices in the Society Islands, 291 _sq._; of pigs for the recovery of the sick, 351. _See_ Human sacrifices Sacrilege, 67; its expiation, 74 _sqq._, 183 _sqq._ Samoa, general name for the group of islands, 148; original seat of Polynesian race, 154 Samoan Islands, 148 _sqq._; volcanic activity in, 151 _sq._; climate, 152 _sqq._ ---- Islanders, their appearance and character, 156 _sqq._; houses, agriculture, and industries, 163 _sqq._; rights of property, 169 _sqq._; government, 171 _sqq._; religion, 181 _sqq._ ---- worship of natural objects, 93, 96 _sq._; of animals and other natural objects developed out of totemism, 200 _sqq._, 218 Sanctity of kings in the Society Islands, 253 _sq._; of priest of Tani (Tane), 293 Sanctuaries for criminals, 282 Sandwich or Hawaiian Islands, 375 _sqq._ Sandwich Islanders, 377 _sqq._; their four chief gods, 35 _n._ Saturnalia at the death of a king or high chief in Hawaii, 421 _sqq._ Savage thought inconsistent, 84, 90 _sq._ Savages not addicted to sun-worship, 131 Savaii, one of the Samoan islands, centre of Polynesian dispersion, 6, 148 _sq._, 150 _sq._, 154 _sq._, 192, 195, 202, 215 Saveasiuleo, the king of the lower regions, 216 _sq._ Scalps of slain foes taken, 162 Sea, gods of the, 276 _sq._ ---- eels sacred, 93, 94, 185 ---- gull sacred, 93 ---- -snake as god, 185 ---- -urchin, family god in, 183 Second death, 29 Secret burial, 21 Semites sacrifice first-born sons, 89 Serfdom, alleged, in Hawaii, 385 Shadow, soul associated with, 205 _sq._ Sham fights at obsequies of Samoan chiefs, 211, 212; at Melanesian funerals, 212; after a death, 234, 235, 236, 303 Shark-gods, 227, 276 Shark's teeth, omens from, 191 Sharks as ministers of justice, 77; gods in, 96, 182; sacred, 93; still-born children turned into, 398, 403; worshipped in Hawaii, 402 _sqq._ Shells (_Murex namoces_) in which the souls of the dead were supposed to lodge, 325 Shortland, E., 6 _n._^2 Sick people carried to temple, 195 Sickness supposed to be caused by evil spirits, 417. _See_ Disease Sinnet tenanted by a god, 228 Sins of the dead buried in a hole, 305 Sisters, curses of, specially dreaded, 207 Skins of the dead preserved as relics, 367 Skulls of dead kept in houses, 118; of ancestors kept in temple or house, 288, 311; of dead rulers worshipped, 324; of dead hidden in caves, 357 Sky raised by Maui, 226, 275 Slaves killed to accompany their dead lords, 24; in the Society Islands, 253 "Slaying the ghosts," 234 Smith, E. W. and Dale, A. M., 425 ----, S. Percy, 155 Snakes, water, gods in, 66, 92 Sneezing, Hervey Islanders' theory of, 229 Social ranks in Samoa, 171 _sqq._; in Rarotonga, 224; in the Society Islands, 253; among the Marquesans, 344; in Hawaii, 383 _sqq._ Society Islanders, 248 _sqq._ Society Islands, 246 _sqq._ Songs in honour of the dead, 236. _See_ Dirges Sorcerers (Maori), 13 _sqq._; disease and death ascribed to arts of, 300, 325 _sq._; Hawaiian, 405. _See_ Magic Soul, Maori ideas concerning the, 10 _sqq._; as shadow, 11; as breath, 11; departure of soul from body, 12 _sqq._; its fate after death, 24 _sqq._, 66, 86 _sqq._, 213 _sqq._, 238 _sqq._, 313 _sq._, 427 _sqq._; survival of, 24; ascent to heaven, 24 _sqq._, 29; Tongan theory of, 66, 84 _sqq._; Samoan belief concerning the, 205 _sq._; associated with shadow, 205 _sq._; of the same shape as body, 205; belief of the Society Islanders concerning the, 297 _sqq._; beliefs of the Hervey Islanders concerning the, 229 _sqq._; beliefs of the Marquesans concerning the, 352; Hawaiian beliefs concerning the, 417 Souls of commoners mortal, 29; souls of chiefs and priests immortal, 29; of the dead appear in dreams, 31, 91 _sq._; of ancestors cause disease, 49; of dead infants cause disease, 49, 299; of dead nobles as gods, 64 _sq._, 66, 84, 91; of dead men as gods, 64, 66, 69, 85, 91, 351 _sq._, 397; of Tongan commoners mortal, 66, 85; caught in traps, 230 _sq._; leaping-place of, 27, 241; ascribed to animals, trees, and stones, 297; of the dead eaten by the gods, 315, 427; of children supposed to transmigrate into sharks, 403 Spells (Maori), 13 _sqq._ Spencer, Herbert, his theory that temples are derived from tombs, 100 Spirit world, Maori ideas of, 29 _sq._ Spirits of the dead become gods, 31 _sq._; threatened, 208. _See_ Gods, Souls Spittle used in magic, 15, 300, 325, 405; collected to prevent its use in magic, 405 _sq._ Stair, J. B., 152, 173 _n._^1, 203 _n._^2, 206 _n._^1 Star, shooting, worshipped, 93 Stars observed by the Samoans, 161 Sterndale, H. B., 197, 198, 199 Stewart, C. S., 157 _n._^7, 337 _sq._, 340 _sq._, 344 _n._^1, 348 _sq._, 349 _sq._, 358, 372, 377, 424 Stick-and-groove mode of kindling fire, 181 Stilts, racing or combating on, 339 _sq._ Stinging ray fish, divine, 184, 185; taboo to some Marquesans, 347 Stone-cutting in Tonga, craft of, 127 Stone monuments in Samoa, 197 _sqq._ Stone temple, ruins of, in Samoa, 196 _sq._ Stone tools and weapons, 10, 61, 180, 250 _sq._, 335, 382; in Tonga, 61; in Samoa, 180 Stonehenge, trilithons at, 123, 129, 130 Stones worshipped, 182, 187; piled on graves to prevent the dead from rising, 232 Succession of eldest sons at their birth, 255 _sq._ Sugar-cane cultivated, 379 Suicides, their fate after death, 363 Sun, supposed secret worship of the, in the Pacific, 119; Stonehenge supposed by some to be a temple of the, 130; Tongans not worshippers of the, 131; tradition of human sacrifices to, 158; not worshipped in Samoa, 192; ghosts journeying with the, 239 _sqq._; caught and stopped by Maui, 275, 287 _n._, 396; not worshipped by the Society Islanders, 286; souls of the dead gather in the, 320 Sun god caught by Maui, 226; supposed worship of, 266, 286 _n._^5 Sun worship, savages not addicted to, 131 "Sun-dried gods," title applied to embalmed bodies of chiefs, 205 Superstitious terrors reinforce morality, 83 Taaroa (Taroa), a great god, 255 _n._^1, 258, 266, 267, 276, 287 _n._; supreme god of Polynesia, 290. _Compare_ Tanaroa, Tangaloa, Tangaroa Taboo (_tapu_) among the Maoris, 32, 34, 37 _sqq._, 432; contracted by contact with the dead, 39, 209; of sacred chiefs, 41 _sqq._; its effect in confirming the rights of private property, 47 _sq._; ultimate sanction of, 49; supposed effects of breaking a, 76 _sq._; consequent on touching a dead body, 137 _sq._; comprises ideas of holiness and uncleanness, 173; signified by white cloth, 344; in the Marquesas, 345 _sqq._; a definition of, 348; in Hawaii, 387 _sqq._; breaches of, punished with death, 389; abolished in Hawaii, 389 _sq._; rigour of, 416; an aristocratic institution, 432 Tabooed priest, 404 Taboos imposed by chiefs, 175, 432 Tahaa, one of the Society Islands, 246, 258 Tahiti, 246, 247, 255, 266, 279, 282, 283, 314, 321; _morais_ in, 116 _sqq._, 279 _sqq._ _Tahowa_, priest, 293 Tahuata (Santa Christina), one of the Marquesas, 349, 359, 360, 364, 367 Taipii (Typee), valley of, in Nukahiva, 360, 365 Taipiis or Typees, a tribe of Nukahiva, 330, 332, 365, 373 Tairi (Kaili), the national war-god of Hawaii, 396, 397, 404, 411 Takalaua, a Tooitonga, 108 Tali-y-Toobo, Tongan god of royal family, 70, 73, 77, 79, 121 Tame gods, 191 Tamehameha, king of Hawaii, 384, 423. _See_ Kamehameha Tanaroa, Tangaroa, Tagaloa, Taaroa, dialectically different names of a great Polynesian god, 258, 392 Tane (Tani), a great Polynesian god, 35 _n._, 241, 258, 280, 284, 293, 392, 394, 397 Tane-kio, a god, enshrined in the planets Venus and Jupiter, 228 Tangaloa, god, drew up Tonga Islands on a fishing-hook, 65, 72 _sq._; god of artificers, 72; puts god Hikuleo in durance, 88; ancestor of Tui-ta-tui, 127; temple of, 196; principal god of Samoans, the creator, 202 _sq._; said to have fished up the islands, 202, 203 Tangaroa, god of ocean, 35 _n._; a great god, brother of Rongo, 226 _Tapu_. _See_ Taboo Taro the staple food of the Samoans, 165; of the Mangaians, 222; and of the Hawaiians, 378 Tattooing, not applied to the Tooitonga, 81; nor to the sacred kings of Mangaia, 224; as a punishment in Samoa, 160; of the Marquesan islanders, 331 _sq._; marks of, removed from corpse, 368; of the Hawaiians, 378; of the tongue in mourning, 421 _Tauas_, inspired men, 350 _sq._ Tauata (Santa Christina), one of the Marquesas Islands, 337 Taylor, R., 7 _n._^1, 32 _n._^1, _n._^2, 36, 42 _Tee_, _teehee_, _tii_, spirit of the dead, guardian spirit, 313, 322, 323 _n._^1 Teeth, loss of, penalty for breach of taboo, 209 _sq._; knocked out in mourning, 231, 420, 423, 424 Tekuraaki, a god, incarnate in the woodpecker, 228 Temple, dead Areois buried in, 261; bones of human victims buried in, 292; bones of dead chiefs buried in, 311 Temples of the gods in Tonga, 73 _sqq._, 99 _sqq._; and graves, question of, 99 _sqq._; and tombs, 99 _sqq._; Samoan, 194 _sqq._; in the Society Islands, 278 _sqq._; dedicated to sharks, 402, 403; Hawaiian, 406 _sqq._ Theft, ordeal for detection of, 77 Thieves, Hiro the god of, 326; divination to detect, 406 Thunder and lightning, no Tongan god of, 71; Tongan idea concerning, 90 Thunder-god kept in captivity, 191 _sq._ Thomas, Rev. John, 57 _n._^1, 111 _n._ Thomson, A. S., 6 _n._^2 Thomson, Sir Basil, 87 _n._^1, 106, 107, 115, 116, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129 Tiaio, a god of the Hervey Islanders, 227 Tiaraboo (Tiarroboo, Tairaboo), the southern peninsula of Tahiti, 257, 283 Tiburones, a mythical paradise, 352, 364 Ti'iti'i, hero, robs Mafuie of fire, 203 _Tii_, a worshipful spirit of the dead, 324. Compare _Tee_ Tiki, the god of the dead, 231, 232 ----, a heroine, 239; warder of the land of the dead, 244 _sq._ ----, a Marquesan god, 343, 350 _n._^4 Timatekore, a god of the Hervey Islanders, 226 Tofua, Tongan island, 96 Togo, in West Africa, 271 _Tohunga_, Maori priest, 16 _n._^3 Tombs, megalithic, of the Tooitongas, 99 _sqq._, 105 _sqq._, 119, 123, 132; and temples, 99 _sqq._ Tonga or Friendly Islands, 52 _sqq._ ---- Islanders, 57 _sqq._; their religion, 64 _sqq._; their national and tribal gods, 93 _sq._ Tongataboo, 52, 86, 94, 106, 111, 112, 113, 114, 119, 120, 123 Tonga-iti, a god in the Hervey Islands, 227 _Tooas_ (_tuas_), Tongan commoners, 66, 85, 86, 87 Toobo Toty, a Tongan god, 71 Toogoo Ahoo, king of Tonga, 81 Tooi fooa Bolotoo, a Tongan god, 70 _sq._ Tooitonga, sacred chief or king of Tonga, 62, 66, 73, 81, 82, 94, 106, 107, 108, 110, 115, 116, 117, 120, 121, 122, 123, 126, 127, 144, 145; tombs of the Tooitongas, 105 _sqq._; obsequies of the, 140 _sqq._ Tooi-tonga-fafine, sister of the Tooitonga, 110 Totemic gods of Samoa, 202 Totemism, Tongan polytheism developed out of, 94; Samoan worship of animals developed out of, 200 _sqq._, 218; theory that it has been developed out of metempsychosis, 218; relics of, in the Hervey Islands, 227 _sq._; traces of, among the Marquesans, 347; relics of, in Hawaii, 402 Trade guilds among the Samoans, 167 _sq._ Transmigration of souls not believed in by the Samoans, 218; of souls of children into sharks, 403 Traps set for souls, 230 Tree, family god in, 192; on which ghosts perch, 241 Trees, dead deposited on, 20 _sq._; tenanted by gods, 228; sacred, 281 _sq._; worshipped, 402 Tregear, E., 6 _n._^2, 126 _n._^2, 392 Tribes or clans among the Hervey Islanders, 223 Trilithon in Tongataboo, 123 _sqq._ Trilithons at Stonehenge, 123, 129, 130 Trinity, the Hawaiian, 392 Triton-shell, god in, 228 Tropic-bird sacred, 93 Tu, Maori war-god, 35 _n._; a great Polynesian deity, 392 Tuaraatai, a sea god in the Society Islands, 276 Tufoa, volcanic island, 53 Tui-ta-tui, a Tooitonga, 127, 128 _Tulafales_, householders or gentry in Samoa, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180 Tuoro, in Rarotonga, the meeting-place of ghosts, 243, 244 Turnbull, J., 262 Turner, Dr. George, 183 _n._^1, 203 _n._^2, 206 _n._^1, 212, 213 Turtles, family god in, 183 _sq._ Tutuila, Samoan island, 149, 175, 176, 180, 215 Twins, divine, 226; heavenly, 267; customs and superstitions concerning, 267 _sqq._; thought able to influence the weather, 267 _sq._; fertilising power ascribed to, 269 _sqq._; divine Hawaiian, 394 Tyerman and Bennet, 260, 281, 283, 295, 315, 386 Tylor, E. B., 3 _n._^3 Typee. _See_ Taipii Typees or Taipiis, a tribe of Nukahiva, 330, 332 365, 375 Uea (Wallis Island), 125 Uganda, human sacrifice in, 84 _Uhane_, soul, 417 Ui, a heroine, beloved by the sun, 158 Uli, a Hawaiian god, 405 Umi, king of Hawaii, 411, 413 Unburied dead, Samoan ceremonies for, 205 _sq._ Uncleanness, and holiness blent in taboo, 173; caused by contact with a corpse, 312 _sq._, 427 Underworld, home of the souls of the dead, 27 Upolu, Samoan island, 149, 152, 155, 162, 185, 196, 202, 214, 215 Upu, a Marquesan goddess of the dead, 367, 368 Uriwera, a Maori people, 15 Urutetefa, patron deity of the Areoi Society, 263, 265, 267 Utakea, a god incarnate in the woodpecker, 228 Vatea, a primary god, 226 Vavau, a Tongan island, 52, 53, 73 Veachi, sacred personage in Tonga, 66 Veeson, George, 86 Vegetable gods in Samoa, 192 Ventriloquism, 370 Venus, the planet, the shrine of a god, 228 Vergnes, P. E. Eyriaud des, 374 Village gods, 182, 185 Villages, Samoan, self-governing, 178 _sq._ Vincendon-Dumoulin, 118, 358, 373 Virtue, Tongan ideas of, 66 _sq._, 146 _sq._ Volcanic activity in Tonga Islands, 53 _sqq._; in Samoa, 151; in Hawaii, 375 Volcano, goddess of, in Hawaii, 399 _sqq._; offerings to, 399 _sq._ _Wahi taboo_, sacred place, temple, 387 _sq._ _Wahine ariki_, 40 Waimate Plains in New Zealand, 23 Wakea. _See_ Akea Wallis Island (Uea), 125 Wallis rediscovers Society Islands, 246 War gods, Samoan, 186, 188, 189 _sq._ War-gods, images of, carried to battle, 397 Warriors tabooed, 40 _sq._ Warriors, fate of souls of dead, 242 _sq._, 244 _sq._ Water of Life, River of the, 28; in the nether world, 216 Weaving practised by Maoris, 9 West, Thomas, 114 Whale, soul of dead priest in a, 369 Whales worshipped, 93 _Whattas_, altars, 391, 392 White cloth as mark of taboo, 344; flags as marks of property, 386 Widowers tabooed, 39 Widows killed to accompany their dead husbands, 24; tabooed, 39; strangled and buried with their husbands, 145; dances of, 353, 354 Wilkes, Charles (Commodore), 57, 61 _n._, 87, 89 _n._^1, 90, 155 _n._^1, 384 _sq._, 411 Williams, John, 80, 157 _n._^7, 158, 181, 185, 221, 231 Wilson, James, 264 _n._^5 Winds imprisoned by two gods, 277 Windward Islands, 246 Wiro, evil spirit, 27 Woman, the first, created out of a rib of the first man, 393 _sq._ Women well treated by Tongans, 61 _sq._; well treated by the Samoans, 157; excluded from temples, 288 _sq._; forbidden to eat with men, 381; forbidden to partake of sacrifices, 388 Woodpecker, gods incarnate in the, 228 Worms, souls of the dead in the shape of, 29 Worship of ancestors among the Maoris, 32 _sqq._; of the Tongan gods, 79 _sqq._; of nature, 93; of the dead tends to encroach on the worship of the high gods, 97 _sq._; of animals and other natural objects in Samoa, 182 _sqq._, 200 _sqq._; of the dead in Samoa, 204 _sq._; of the dead, elements of the, 205; of the sun, supposed, 266, 286 _n._^5; of the dead in the Society Islands, 322 _sqq._; of animals in Hawaii, 401 _sqq._ _See_ Religion Wrestling matches as funeral rite, 140, 144, 211; at obsequies of chiefs, 303 ---- and boxing matches at obsequies of Samoan chiefs, 211; in honour of Lono (Rono), 395, 416 Yam festival in Tonga, 71 _sq._ Yams, new, offered at grave, 122 Young, John, 422 _sq._ Zulu superstition as to twins, 270 THE END _Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_. WORKS BY SIR J. G. FRAZER THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AND THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD VOL. I. THE BELIEF AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA, THE TORRES STRAITS ISLANDS, NEW GUINEA, AND MELANESIA. THE GIFFORD LECTURES, ST. ANDREWS, 1911-1912. 8vo. 12s. 6d. net. Mr. EDWARD CLODD in the _DAILY CHRONICLE_.--"'If a man die, shall he live again?' is a question asked chiliads before Job put it, and the generations of mankind repeat it. In this profoundly interesting volume, Professor Frazer, out of the treasury of his knowledge, and with consummate art of attractive presentment, gives the answers devised by the Lower Races." _FOLK-LORE_.--"It displays all the best qualities, both in respect of style and matter, that characterise Dr. Frazer's former works." _NEW STATESMAN_.--"Dr. Frazer does not profess to explain the ultimate source of religion, but only to attempt to follow the steps of its growth among the races of men. It is his aim to set before us a continent of facts known, or partly known, to the anthropologists, not a solution of the mystery of the Universe. That aim he has achieved with masterly success and lucidity." Mr. A. E. CRAWLEY in _NATURE_.--"The analysis of belief and practice among the aborigines of Australia, the Torres Straits, New Guinea, and Melanesia, which occupies nearly 400 pages of this volume, is a masterly performance." _GUARDIAN_.--"The bare facts which Dr. Frazer sets before us are of an absorbing interest.... The Biblical student may gain much from the perusal of Dr. Frazer's work." _OBSERVER_.--"The importance of the work which Dr. Frazer has undertaken cannot be overrated. His study of religion is a contribution to human knowledge of such quality that the country to which he belongs may well be proud of him.... Dr. Frazer has arranged the mass of detail from which he has had to draw with a skill and judgment which in the work of another man would be surprising; and he tells each story with the point and clarity of an artist, so that, apart from the book's high mission, it could be read as a storehouse of good tales. His comments, moreover, are always brief and decisive." * * * * * THE GOLDEN BOUGH A STUDY IN MAGIC AND RELIGION Third Edition, revised and enlarged. 8vo. Part I. THE MAGIC ART AND THE EVOLUTION OF KINGS. Two volumes. 25s. net. II. TABOO AND THE PERILS OF THE SOUL. One volume. 12s. 6d. net. III. THE DYING GOD. One volume. 12s. 6d. net. IV. ADONIS, ATTIS, OSIRIS. Two volumes. 25s. net. V. SPIRITS OF THE CORN AND OF THE WILD. Two volumes. 25s. net. VI. THE SCAPEGOAT. One volume, 12s. 6d. net. VII. BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL: THE FIRE-FESTIVALS OF EUROPE AND THE DOCTRINE OF THE EXTERNAL SOUL. Two volumes. 25s. net. Vol. XII. 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With Frontispiece. 8vo. 18s. net. This abridgment has been prepared in response to numerous requests that the work should be issued in a more compendious form. While the book has been greatly reduced in bulk, by omission of all the notes and occasional condensation in the text, all the main principles of the complete work are retained, together with a sufficient amount of evidence to illustrate them clearly. Nothing has been added, and no change has been made in the author's views. It is hoped that in this abridged form the book may prove welcome to students and general readers who cannot afford to buy and read the complete edition. * * * * * FOLK-LORE IN THE OLD TESTAMENT. Studies in Comparative Religion, Legend, and Law. Three vols. 8vo. 37s. 6d. net. _TIMES_.--"The idea of illustrating the Old Testament by analogies drawn from the myths, customs, and superstitions of various primitive peoples is not, of course, a new one ... but no one has hitherto published anything to be compared with the vast and varied store of information which Sir James Frazer now places before us.... His book is a mine of instructive facts for which all future students of the subject will be grateful." _NATURE_.--"These three volumes should be the household companion of every religious teacher, nay, of every one who cares or dares to see what that latest daughter of science, folk-lore, has to say about the cherished beliefs from the Old Testament, absorbed in infancy, and rarely visualised differently in later life." _SPECTATOR_.--"We may say at once that Sir James Frazer's new work is profoundly interesting, and that it throws a flood of light on many familiar episodes and references." * * * * * TOTEMISM AND EXOGAMY. A Treatise on Certain Early Forms of Superstition and Society. With Maps. Four vols. 8vo. 50s. net. Mr. A. E. CRAWLEY in _NATURE_.--"That portion of the book which is concerned with totemism (if we may express our own belief at the risk of offending Prof. Frazer's characteristic modesty) is actually 'The Complete History of Totemism, its Practice and its Theory, its Origin and its End.'... Nearly two thousand pages are occupied with an ethnographical survey of totemism, an invaluable compilation. The maps, including that of the distribution of totemic peoples, are a new and useful feature." * * * * * THE MAGICAL ORIGIN OF KINGS. (Formerly published as "Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship.") 8vo. 10s. 6d. net. _ATHENÆUM_.--"It is the effect of a good book not only to teach, but also to stimulate and to suggest, and we think this the best and highest quality, and one that will recommend these lectures to all intelligent readers, as well as to the learned." * * * * * PSYCHE'S TASK. A Discourse concerning the Influence of Superstition on the Growth of Institutions. Second Edition, revised and enlarged. To which is added "The Scope of Social Anthropology." 8vo. 6s. 6d. net. _OUTLOOK_.--"Whether we disagree or agree with Dr. Frazer's general conclusions, he has provided us with a veritable storehouse of correlated facts, for which, and for the learning that has gone to their collection, and for the intellectual brilliance that has gone to their arrangement, we can never be sufficiently grateful." * * * * * PAUSANIAS'S DESCRIPTION OF GREECE. Translated with a Commentary, Illustrations, and Maps. Second Edition. Six vols. 8vo. 126s. net. _ATHENÆUM_.--"All these writings in many languages Mr. Eraser has read and digested with extraordinary care, so that his book will be for years the book of reference on such matters, not only in England, but in France and Germany. It is a perfect thesaurus of Greek topography, archæology, and art." * * * * * STUDIES IN GREEK SCENERY, LEGEND AND HISTORY. Selected from Sir J. G. FRAZER'S Commentary on Pausanias. Globe 8vo. 5s. net. _GUARDIAN_.--"Here we have material which every one who has visited Greece, or purposes to visit it, most certainly should read and enjoy.... We cannot imagine a more excellent book for the educated visitor to Greece." * * * * * SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY, AND OTHER LITERARY PIECES. Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. net. _DAILY TELEGRAPH_.--"These various studies, biographical, fantastic, and romantic, are the fine flower of scholarship and taste, touched continually by the golden light of imagination, and full of that interpretative sympathy which is half-sister to creation." * * * * * LETTERS OF WILLIAM COWPER. Chosen and Edited, with a Memoir and a few Notes, by Sir J. G. FRAZER. Two vols. Globe 8vo. l0s. net. [_Eversley Series._ Mr. CLEMENT SHORTER in the _DAILY CHRONICLE_.--"The introductory Memoir, of some eighty pages in length, is a valuable addition to the many appraisements of Cowper that these later years have seen.... Dr. Frazer has given us two volumes that are an unqualified joy." * * * * * ESSAYS OF JOSEPH ADDISON. Chosen and Edited, with a Preface and a few Notes, by Sir J. G. FRAZER. Two vols. Globe 8vo. 10s. net. [_Eversley Series._ _NATION_.--"Sir James Frazer, who writes a Preface, quite in the Addison manner, has done his work of selection as only a scholar of his breadth and distinction could achieve." LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES 1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_. 2. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest paragraph break. 3. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the paragraph in which they are referenced. 4. The original text has certain words which use "oe" ligature which is indicated by [oe] within this text. 5. There are certain letters with diacritical marks in the original text which are indicated in this e-text version using: [=a] letter a with macron above [=o] letter o with macron above [)a] letter a with breve 6. In the original text, the words lulu'u, A'ana and Tuia'ana use single high-reversed-9 quotation mark which has been replaced by plain single quotation mark in this e-text version. 7. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained. 
20116	----	page images generously made available by the Humanities Text Initiative (http://www.hti.umich.edu/), a unit of the University of Michigan's Digital Library Production Service Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Humanities Text Initiative, a unit of the University of Michigan's Digital Library Production Service. See http://www.hti.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=genpub;idno=AFL0522.0001.001 THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AND THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD by J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D., Litt.D. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge Professor of Social Anthropology in the University of Liverpool. VOL. I The Belief Among the Aborigines of Australia, the Torres Straits Islands, New Guinea and Melanesia The Gifford Lectures, St. Andrews 1911-1912 MacMillan and Co., Limited St. Martin's Street, London 1913 _Itaque unum illud erat insitum priscis illis, quos cascos appellat Ennius, esse in morte sensum neque excessu vitae sic deleri hominem, ut funditus interiret; idque cum multis aliis rebus; tum e pontificio jure et e caerimoniis sepulchrorum intellegi licet, quas maxumis ingeniis praediti nec tanta cura coluissent nec violatas tam inexpiabili religione sanxissent, nisi haereret in corum mentibus mortem non interitum esse omnia tollentem atque delentem, sed quandam quasi migrationem commutationemque vitae._ Cicero, _Tuscul. Disput._ i. 12. TO MY OLD FRIEND JOHN SUTHERLAND BLACK, LL.D. I DEDICATE AFFECTIONATELY A WORK WHICH OWES MUCH TO HIS ENCOURAGEMENT PREFACE The following lectures were delivered on Lord Gifford's Foundation before the University of St. Andrews in the early winters of 1911 and 1912. They are printed nearly as they were spoken, except that a few passages, omitted for the sake of brevity in the oral delivery, have been here restored and a few more added. Further, I have compressed the two introductory lectures into one, striking out some passages which on reflection I judged to be irrelevant or superfluous. The volume incorporates twelve lectures on "The Fear and Worship of the Dead" which I delivered in the Lent and Easter terms of 1911 at Trinity College, Cambridge, and repeated, with large additions, in my course at St. Andrews. The theme here broached is a vast one, and I hope to pursue it hereafter by describing the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead, as these have been found among the other principal races of the world both in ancient and modern times. Of all the many forms which natural religion has assumed none probably has exerted so deep and far-reaching an influence on human life as the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead; hence an historical survey of this most momentous creed and of the practical consequences which have been deduced from it can hardly fail to be at once instructive and impressive, whether we regard the record with complacency as a noble testimony to the aspiring genius of man, who claims to outlive the sun and the stars, or whether we view it with pity as a melancholy monument of fruitless labour and barren ingenuity expended in prying into that great mystery of which fools profess their knowledge and wise men confess their ignorance. J. G. FRAZER. Cambridge, _9th February 1913._ CONTENTS Dedication Preface Table of Contents Lecture I.--Introduction Natural theology, three modes of handling it, the dogmatic, the philosophical, and the historical, pp. 1 _sq._; the historical method followed in these lectures, 2 _sq._; questions of the truth and moral value of religious beliefs irrelevant in an historical enquiry, 3 _sq._; need of studying the religion of primitive man and possibility of doing so by means of the comparative method, 5 _sq._; urgent need of investigating the native religion of savages before it disappears, 6 _sq._; a portion of savage religion the theme of these lectures, 7 _sq._; the question of a supernatural revelation dismissed, 8 _sq._; theology and religion, their relations, 9; the term God defined, 9 _sqq._; monotheism and polytheism, 11; a natural knowledge of God, if it exists, only possible through experience, 11 _sq._; the nature of experience, 12 _sq._; two kinds of experience, an inward and an outward, 13 _sq._; the conception of God reached historically through both kinds of experience, 14; inward experience or inspiration, 14 _sq._; deification of living men, 16 _sq._; outward experience as a source of the idea of God, 17; the tendency to seek for causes, 17 _sq._; the meaning of cause, 18 _sq._; the savage explains natural processes by the hypothesis of spirits or gods, 19 _sq._; natural processes afterwards explained by hypothetical forces and atoms instead of by hypothetical spirits and gods, 20 _sq._; nature in general still commonly explained by the hypothesis of a deity, 21 _sq._; God an inferential or hypothetical cause, 22 _sq._; the deification of dead men, 23-25; such a deification presupposes the immortality of the human soul or rather its survival for a longer or shorter time after death, 25 _sq._; the conception of human immortality suggested both by inward experience, such as dreams, and by outward experience, such as the resemblances of the living to the dead, 26-29; the lectures intended to collect evidence as to the belief in immortality among certain savage races, 29 _sq._; the method to be descriptive rather than comparative or philosophical, 30. Lecture II.--The Savage Conception of Death The subject of the lectures the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among certain of the lower races, p. 31; question of the nature and origin of death, 31 _sq._; universal interest of the question, 32 _sq._; the belief in immortality general among mankind, 33; belief of many savages that death is not natural and that they would never die if their lives were not cut prematurely short by sorcery, 33 _sq._; examples of this belief among the South American Indians, 34 _sqq._; death sometimes attributed to sorcery and sometimes to demons, practical consequence of this distinction, 37; belief in sorcery as the cause of death among the Indians of Guiana, 38 _sq._, among the Tinneh Indians of North America, 39 _sq._, among the aborigines of Australia, 40-47, among the natives of the Torres Straits Islands and New Guinea, 47, among the Melanesians, 48, among the Malagasy, 48 _sq._, and among African tribes, 49-51; effect of such beliefs in thinning the population by causing multitudes to die for the imaginary crime of sorcery, 51-53; some savages attribute certain deaths to other causes than sorcery, 53; corpse dissected to ascertain cause of death, 53 _sq._; the possibility of natural death admitted by the Melanesians and the Caffres of South Africa, 54-56; the admission marks an intellectual advance, 56 _sq._; the recognition of ghosts or spirits, apart from sorcery, as a cause of disease and death also marks a step in moral and social progress, 57 _sq._ Lecture III.--Myths of the Origin of Death Belief of savages in man's natural immortality, p. 59; savage stories of the origin of death, 59 _sq._; four types of such stories:-- (1) _The Story of the Two Messengers_.--Zulu story of the chameleon and the lizard, 60 _sq._; Akamba story of the chameleon and the thrush, 61 _sq._; Togo story of the dog and the frog, 62 _sq._; Ashantee story of the goat and the sheep, 63 _sq._ (2) _The Story of the Waxing and Waning Moon_.--Hottentot story of the moon, the hare, and death, 65; Masai story of the moon and death, 65 _sq._; Nandi story of the moon, the dog, and death, 66; Fijian story of the moon, the rat, and death, 67; Caroline, Wotjobaluk, and Cham stories of the moon, death, and resurrection, 67; death and resurrection after three days suggested by the reappearance of the new moon after three days, 67 _sq._ (3) _The Story of the Serpent and his Cast Skin_.--New Britain and Annamite story of immortality, the serpent, and death, 69 _sq._; Vuatom story of immortality, the lizard, the serpent, and death, 70; Nias story of immortality, the crab, and death, 70; Arawak and Tamanchier stories of immortality, the serpent, the lizard, the beetle, and death, 70 _sq._; Melanesian story of the old woman and her cast skin, 71 _sq._; Samoan story of the shellfish, two torches, and death, 72. (4) _The Story of the Banana_.--Poso story of immortality, the stone, the banana, and death, 72 _sq._; Mentra story of immortality, the banana, and death, 73. Primitive philosophy in the stories of the origin of death, 73 _sq._; Bahnar story of immortality, the tree, and death, 74; rivalry for the boon of immortality between men and animals that cast their skins, such as serpents and lizards, 74 _sq._; stories of the origin of death told by Chingpaws, Australians, Fijians, and Admiralty Islanders, 75-77; African and American stories of the fatal bundle or the fatal box, 77 _sq._; Baganda story how death originated through the imprudence of a woman, 78-81; West African story of Death and the spider, 81-83; Melanesian story of Death and the Fool, 83 _sq._ Thus according to savages death is not a natural necessity, 84; similar view held by some modern biologists, as A. Weismann and A. R. Wallace, 84-86. Lecture IV.--The Belief in Immortality among the Aborigines of Central Australia In tracing the evolution of religious beliefs we must begin with those of the lowest savages, p. 87; the aborigines of Australia the lowest savages about whom we possess accurate information, 88; savagery a case of retarded development, 88 _sq._; causes which have retarded progress in Australia, 89 _sq._; the natives of Central Australia on the whole more primitive than those of the coasts, 90 _sq._; little that can be called religion among them, 91 _sq._; their theory that the souls of the dead survive and are reborn in their descendants, 92 _sq._; places where the souls of the dead await rebirth, and the mode in which they enter into women, 93 _sq._; local totem centres, 94 _sq._; totemism defined, 95; traditionary origin of the local totem centres (_oknanikilla_) where the souls of the dead assemble, 96; sacred birth-stones or birth-sticks (_churinga_) which the souls of ancestors are thought to have dropped at these places, 96-102; elements of a worship of the dead, 102 _sq._; marvellous powers attributed to the remote ancestors of the _alcheringa_ or dream times, 103 _sq._; the Wollunqua, a mythical water-snake, ancestor of a totemic clan of the Warramunga tribe, 104-106; religious character of the belief in the Wollunqua, 106. Lecture V.--The Belief in Immortality among the Aborigines of Central Australia (_continued_) Beliefs of the Central Australian aborigines concerning the reincarnation of the dead, p. 107; possibility of the development of ancestor worship, 107 _sq._; ceremonies performed by the Warramunga in honour of the Wollunqua, the mythical ancestor of one of their totem clans, 108 _sqq._; union of magic and religion in these ceremonies, 111 _sq._; ground drawings of the Wollunqua, 112 _sq._; importance of the Wollunqua in the evolution of religion and art, 113 _sq._; how totemism might develop into polytheism through an intermediate stage of ancestor worship, 114 _sq._; all the conspicuous features of the country associated by the Central Australians with the spirits of their ancestors, 115-118; dramatic ceremonies performed by them to commemorate the deeds of their ancestors, 118 _sq._; examples of these ceremonies, 119-122; these ceremonies were probably in origin not merely commemorative or historical but magical, being intended to procure a supply of food and other necessaries, 122 _sq._; magical virtue actually attributed to these dramatic ceremonies by the Warramunga, who think that by performing them they increase the food supply of the tribe, 123 _sq._; hence the great importance ascribed by these savages to the due performance of the ancestral dramas, 124; general attitude of the Central Australian aborigines to their dead, and the lines on which, if left to themselves, they might have developed a regular worship of the dead, 124-126. Lecture VI.--The Belief in Immortality among the other Aborigines of Australia Evidence for the belief in reincarnation among the natives of other parts of Australia than the centre, p. 127; beliefs of the Queensland aborigines concerning the nature of the soul and the state of the dead, 127-131; belief of the Australian aborigines that their dead are sometimes reborn in white people, 131-133; belief of the natives of South-Eastern Australia that their dead are not born again but go away to the sky or some distant country, 133 _sq._; beliefs and customs of the Narrinyeri concerning the dead, 134 _sqq._; motives for the excessive grief which they display at the death of their relatives, 135 _sq._; their pretence of avenging the death of their friends on the guilty sorcerer, 136 _sq._; magical virtue ascribed to the hair of the dead, 137 _sq._; belief that the dead go to the sky, 138 _sq._; appearance of the dead to the living in dreams, 139; savage faith in dreams, 139 _sq._; association of the stars with the souls of the dead, 140; creed of the South-Eastern Australians touching the dead, 141; difference of this creed from that of the Central Australians, 141; this difference probably due in the main to a general advance of culture brought about by more favourable natural conditions in South-Eastern Australia, 141 _sq._; possible influence of European teaching on native beliefs, 142 _sq._; vagueness and inconsistency of native beliefs as to the state of the dead, 143; custom a good test of belief, 143 _sq._; burial customs of the Australian aborigines as evidence of their beliefs concerning the state of the dead, 144; their practice of supplying the dead with food, water, fire, weapons, and implements, 144-147; motives for the destruction of the property of the dead, 147 _sq._; great economic loss entailed by developed systems of sacrificing to the dead, 149. Lecture VII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Aborigines of Australia (_concluded_) Huts erected on graves for the use of the ghosts, pp. 150-152; the attentions paid by the Australian aborigines to their dead probably spring from fear rather than affection, 152; precautions taken by the living against the dangerous ghosts of the dead, 152 _sq._; cuttings and brandings of the flesh of the living in honour of the dead, 154-158; the custom of allowing the blood of mourners to drip on the corpse or into the grave may be intended to strengthen the dead for a new birth, 158-162; different ways of disposing of the dead according to the age, rank, manner of death, etc., of the deceased, 162 _sq._; some modes of burial are intended to prevent the return of the spirit, others are designed to facilitate it, 163-165; final departure of the ghost supposed to coincide with the disappearance of the flesh from his bones, 165 _sq._; hence a custom has arisen in many tribes of giving the bones a second burial or otherwise disposing of them when the flesh is quite decayed, 166; tree-burial followed by earth-burial in some Australian tribes, 166-168; general conclusion as to the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the Australian aborigines, 168 _sq._ Lecture VIII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of the Torres Straits Islands Racial affinities of the Torres Straits Islanders, pp. 170 _sq._; their material and social culture, 171 _sq._; no developed worship of the dead among them, 172 _sq._; their fear of ghosts, 173-175; home of the dead a mythical island in the west, 175 _sq._; elaborate funeral ceremonies of the Torres Straits Islanders characterised by dramatic representations of the dead and by the preservation of their skulls, which were consulted as oracles, 176. Funeral ceremonies of the Western Islanders, 177-180; part played by the brothers-in-law of the deceased at these ceremonies, 177 _sq._; removal of the head and preparation of the skull for use in divination, 178 _sq._; great death-dance performed by masked men who personated the deceased, 179 _sq._ Funeral ceremonies of the Eastern Islanders, 180-188; soul of the dead carried away by a masked actor, 181 _sq._; dramatic performance by disguised men representing ghosts, 182 _sq._; blood and hair of relatives offered to the dead, 183 _sq._; mummification of the corpse, 184; costume of mourners, 184; cuttings for the dead, 184 _sq._; death-dance by men personating ghosts, 185-188; preservation of the mummy and afterwards of the head or a wax model of it to be used in divination, 188. Images of the gods perhaps developed out of mummies of the dead, and a sacred or even secular drama developed out of funeral dances, 189. Lecture IX.--The Belief in Immortality Among the Natives Of British New Guinea The two races of New Guinea, the Papuan and the Melanesian, pp. 190 _sq._; beliefs and customs of the Motu concerning the dead, 192; the Koita and their beliefs as to the human soul and the state of the dead, 193-195; alleged communications with the dead by means of mediums, 195 _sq._; fear of the dead, especially of a dead wife, 196 _sq._; beliefs of the Mafulu concerning the dead, 198; their burial customs, 198 _sq._; their use of the skulls and bones of the dead at a great festival, 199-201; worship of the dead among the natives of the Aroma district, 201 _sq._; the Hood Peninsula, 202 _sq._; beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the natives of the Hood Peninsula, 203-206; seclusion of widows and widowers, 203 _sq._; the ghost-seer, 204 _sq._; application of the juices of the dead to the persons of the living, 205; precautions taken by manslayers against the ghosts of their victims, 205 _sq._; purification for homicide originally a mode of averting the angry ghost of the slain, 206; beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the Massim of south-eastern New Guinea, 206-210; Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead, 207; purification of mourners by bathing and shaving, 207 _sq._; foods forbidden to mourners, 208 _sq._; fires on the grave, 209; the land of the dead, 209 _sq._; names of the dead not mentioned, 210; beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the Papuans of Kiwai, 211-214; Adiri, the land of the dead, 211-213; appearance of the dead to the living in dreams, 213 _sq._; offerings to the dead, 214; dreams as a source of the belief in immortality, 214. Lecture X.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of German New Guinea Andrew Lang, pp. 216 _sq._; review of preceding lectures, 217 _sq._ The Papuans of Tumleo, their material culture, 218-220; their temples, 220 _sq._; their bachelors' houses containing the skulls of the dead, 221; spirits of the dead as the causes of sickness and disease, 222 _sq._; burial and mourning customs, 223 _sq._; fate of the human soul after death, 224; monuments to the dead, 225; disinterment of the bones, 225; propitiation of ghosts and spirits, 226; guardian-spirits in the temples, 226 _sq._ The Monumbo of Potsdam Harbour, 227 _sq._; their beliefs concerning the spirits of the dead, 228 _sq._; their fear of ghosts, 229; their treatment of manslayers, 229 _sq._ The Tamos of Astrolabe Bay, 230; their ideas as to the souls of the dead, 231 _sq._; their fear of ghosts, 232 _sqq._; their Secret Society and rites of initiation, 233; their preservation of the jawbones of the dead, 234 _sq._; their sham fights after a death, 235 _sq._; these fights perhaps intended to throw dust in the eyes of the ghost, 236 _sq._ Lecture XI.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of German New Guinea (_continued_) The Papuans of Cape King William, pp. 238 _sq._; their ideas as to spirits and the souls of the dead, 239 _sq._; their belief in sorcery as a cause of death, 240 _sq._; their funeral and mourning customs, 241 _sq._; the fate of the soul after death, 242. The Yabim of Finsch Harbour, their material and artistic culture, 242 _sq._; their clubhouses for men, 243; their beliefs as to the state of the dead, 244 _sq._; the ghostly ferry, 244 _sq._; transmigration of human souls into animals, 245; the return of the ghosts, 246; offerings to ghosts, 246; ghosts provided with fire, 246 _sq._; ghosts help in the cultivation of land, 247 _sq._; burial and mourning customs, 248 _sq._; divination to discover the sorcerer who has caused a death, 249 _sq._; bull-roarers, 250; initiation of young men, 250 _sqq._; the rite of circumcision, the novices supposed to be swallowed by a monster, 251 _sq._; the return of the novices, 253; the essence of the initiatory rites seems to be a simulation of death and resurrection, 253 _sqq._; the new birth among the Akikuyu of British East Africa, 254. Lecture XII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of German New Guinea (_continued_) The Bukaua of Huon Gulf, their means of subsistence and men's clubhouses, pp. 256 _sq._; their ideas as to the souls of the dead, 257; sickness and death caused by ghosts and sorcerers, 257 _sq._; fear of the ghosts of the slain, 258; prayers to ancestral spirits on behalf of the crops, 259; first-fruits offered to the spirits of the dead, 259; burial and mourning customs, 259 _sq._; initiation of young men, novices at circumcision supposed to be swallowed and afterwards disgorged by a monster, 260 _sq._ The Kai, a Papuan tribe of mountaineers inland from Finsch Harbour, 262; their country, mode of agriculture, and villages, 262 _sq._; observations of a German missionary on their animism, 263 _sq._; the essential rationality of the savage, 264-266; the Kai theory of the two sorts of human souls, 267 _sq._; death commonly thought to be caused by sorcery, 268 _sq._; danger incurred by the sorcerer, 269; many hurts and maladies attributed to the action of ghosts, 269 _sq._; capturing lost souls, 270 _sq._; ghosts extracted from the body of a sick man or scraped from his person, 271; extravagant demonstrations of grief at the death of a sick man, 271-273; hypocritical character of these demonstrations, which are intended to deceive the ghost, 273; burial and mourning customs, preservation of the lower jawbone and one of the lower arm bones, 274; mourning costume, seclusion of widow or widower, 274 _sq._; widows sometimes strangled to accompany their dead husbands, 275; house or village deserted after a death, 275. Lecture XIII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of German New Guinea (_continued_) The Kai (continued), their offerings to the dead, p. 276; divination by means of ghosts to detect the sorcerer who has caused a death, 276-278; avenging the death on the sorcerer and his people, 278 _sq._; precautions against the ghosts of the slain, 279 _sq._; attempts to deceive the ghosts of the murdered, 280-282; pretence of avenging the ghost of a murdered man, 282; fear of ghosts by night, 282 _sq._; services rendered by the spirits of the dead to farmers and hunters, 283-285; the journey of the soul to the spirit land, 285 _sq._; life of the dead in the other world, 286 _sq._; ghosts die the second death and turn into animals, 287; ghosts of famous people invoked long after their death, 287-289; possible development of ghosts into gods, 289 _sq._; lads at circumcision supposed to be swallowed and disgorged by a monster, 290 _sq._ The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf, 291; their theory of a double human soul, a long one and a short one, 291 _sq._; departure of the short soul for Lamboam, the nether world of the dead, 292; offerings to the dead, 292; appeasing the ghost, 292 _sq._; funeral and mourning customs, dances in honour of the dead, offerings thrown into the fire, 293 _sq._; bones of the dead dug up and kept in the house for a time, 294 _sq._ Lecture XIV.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of German and Dutch New Guinea The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf (continued), their doctrine of souls and gods, pp. 296 _sq._; dances of masked men representing spirits, 297; worship of ancestral spirits and offerings to them, 297 _sq._; life of the souls in Lamboam, the nether world, 299 _sq._; evocation of ghosts by the ghost-seer, 300; sickness caused by ghosts, 300 _sq._; novices at circumcision supposed to be swallowed and disgorged by a monster, 301 _sq._; meaning of the bodily mutilations inflicted on young men at puberty obscure, 302 _sq._ The natives of Dutch New Guinea, 303-323; the Noofoors of Geelvink Bay, their material culture and arts of life, 303-305; their fear and worship of the dead, 305-307; wooden images (_korwar_) of the dead kept in the houses and carried in canoes to be used as oracles, 307 _sq._; the images consulted in sickness and taken with the people to war, 308-310; offerings to the images, 310 _sq._; souls of those who have died away from home recalled to animate the images, 311; skulls of the dead, especially of firstborn children and of parents, inserted in the images, 312 _sq._; bodies of young children hung on trees, 312 _sq._; mummies of dead relatives kept in the houses, 313; seclusion of mourners and restrictions on their diet, 313 _sq._; tattooing in honour of the dead, 314; teeth and hair of the dead worn by relatives, 314 _sq._; rebirth of parents in their children, 315. The natives of islands off the west coast of New Guinea, their wooden images of dead ancestors and shrines for the residence of the ancestral spirits, 315 _sq._; their festivals in honour of the dead, 316; souls of ancestors supposed to reside in the images and to protect the house and household, 317. The natives of the Macluer Gulf, their images and bowls in honour of the dead, 317 _sq._ The natives of the Mimika district, their burial and mourning customs, their preservation of the skulls of the dead, and their belief in ghosts, 318. The natives of Windessi, their burial customs, 318 _sq._; divination after a death, 319; mourning customs, 319 _sq._; festival of the dead, 320 _sq._; wooden images of the dead, 321; doctrine of souls and of their fate after death, 321 _sq._; medicine-men inspired by the souls of the dead, 322 _sq._; ghosts of slain enemies driven away, 323. Lecture XV.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Southern Melanesia (New Caledonia) The Melanesians in general, their material culture, p. 324; Southern Melanesia, the New Caledonians, and Father Lambert's account of them, 325; their ideas as to the spirit land and the way thither, 325 _sq._; burial customs, 326; cuttings and brandings for the dead, 326 _sq._; property of the dead destroyed, 327; seclusion of gravediggers and restrictions imposed on them, 327; sham fight in honour of the dead, 327 _sq._; skulls of the dead preserved and worshipped on various occasions, such as sickness, fishing, and famine, 328-330; caves used as charnel-houses and sanctuaries of the dead in the Isle of Pines, 330-332; prayers and sacrifices to the ancestral spirits, 332 _sq._; prayer-posts, 333 _sq._; sacred stones associated with the dead and used to cause dearth or plenty, madness, a good crop of bread-fruit or yams, drought, rain, a good catch of fish, and so on, 334-338; the religion of the New Caledonians mainly a worship of the dead tinctured with magic, 338. Evidence as to the natives of New Caledonia collected by Dr. George Turner, 339-342; material culture of the New Caledonians, 339; their burial customs, the skulls and nails of the dead preserved and used to fertilise the yam plantations, 339 _sq._; worship of ancestors and prayers to the dead, 340; festivals in honour of the dead, 340 _sq._; making rain by means of the skeletons of the dead, 341; execution of sorcerers, 341 _sq._; white men identified with the spirits of the dead, 342. Lecture XVI.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Central Melanesia Central Melanesia divided into two archipelagoes, the religion of the Western Islands (Solomon Islands) characterised by a worship of the dead, the religion of the Eastern Islands (New Hebrides, Banks' Islands, Torres Islands, Santa Cruz Islands) characterised by a worship of non-human spirits, pp. 343 _sq._; Central Melanesian theory of the soul, 344 _sq._; the land of the dead either in certain islands or in a subterranean region called Panoi, 345; ghosts of power and ghosts of no account, 345 _sq._; supernatural power (_mana_) acquired through ghosts, 346 _sq._ Burial customs in the Western Islands (Solomon Islands), 347 _sqq._; land-burial and sea-burial, land-ghosts and sea-ghosts, 347 _sq._; funeral feasts and burnt-offerings to the dead, 348 _sq._; the land of the dead and the ghostly ferry, 350 _sq._; ghosts die the second death and turn into the nests of white ants, 350 _sq._; preservation of the skull and jawbone in order to ensure the protection of the ghost, 351 _sq._; human heads sought in order to add fresh spiritual power (_mana_) to the ghost of a dead chief, 352. Beliefs and customs concerning the dead in the Eastern Islands (New Hebrides, Banks' Islands, Torres Islands), 352 _sqq._; Panoi, the subterranean abode of the dead, 353 _sq._; ghosts die the second death, 354; different fates of the souls of the good and bad, 354 _sq._; descent of the living into the world of the dead, 355; burial customs of the Banks' Islanders, 355 _sqq._; dead sometimes temporarily buried in the house, 355; display of property beside the corpse and funeral oration, 355 _sq._; sham burial of eminent men, 356; ghosts driven away from the village, 356-358; deceiving the ghosts of women who have died in child-bed, 358; funeral feasts, 358 _sq._; funeral customs in the New Hebrides, 359 _sqq._; the aged buried alive, 359 _sq._; seclusion of mourners and restrictions on their diet, 360; sacrifice of pigs, 360 _sq._; the journey of the ghost to the spirit land, 361 _sq._; provisions made by the living for the welfare of the dead, 362. Only ghosts of powerful men worshipped, 362 _sq._; institution of the worship of a martial ghost, 363 _sq._; offerings of food and drink to the dead, 364 _sq._; sacrifice of pigs to ghosts in the Solomon Islands, 365 _sq._ Lecture XVII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Central Melanesia (_concluded_) Public sacrifices to ghosts in the Solomon Islands, pp. 367 _sq._; offering of first-fruits to ghosts, 368 _sq._; private ghosts as distinguished from public ghosts, 369 _sq._; fighting ghosts kept as spiritual auxiliaries, 370; ghosts employed to make the gardens grow, 370 _sq._; human sacrifices to ghosts, 371 _sq._; vicarious and other sacrifices to ghosts at Saa in Malanta, 372 _sq._; offerings of first-fruits to ghosts at Saa, 373 _sq._; vicarious sacrifices offered for the sick to ghosts in Santa Cruz, 374; the dead represented by stocks in the houses, 374; native account of sacrifices in Santa Cruz, 374 _sq._; prayers to the dead, 376 _sq._; sanctuaries of ghosts in the Solomon Islands, 377-379; ghosts lodged in animals, birds, and fish, especially in sharks, 379 _sq._ The belief in ghosts underlies the Melanesian conception of magic, 380 _sq._; sickness commonly caused by ghosts and cured by ghost-seers, 381-384; contrast between Melanesian and European systems of medicine, 384; weather regulated by ghosts and spirits and by weather-doctors who have the ear of ghosts and spirits, 384-386; witchcraft or black magic wrought by means of ghosts, 386-388; prophets inspired by ghosts, 388 _sq._; divination operating through ghosts, 389 _sq._; taboos enforced by ghosts, 390 _sq._; general influence which a belief in the survival of the soul after death has exercised on Melanesian life, 391 _sq._ Lecture XVIII.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Northern and Eastern Melanesia The natives of Northern Melanesia or the Bismarck Archipelago (New Britain, New Ireland, etc.), their material culture, commercial habits, and want of regular government, pp. 393-395; their theory of the soul, 395 _sq._; their fear of ghosts, 396; offerings to the dead, 396 _sq._; burial customs, 397 _sq._; preservation of the skulls, 398; customs and beliefs concerning the dead among the Sulka of New Britain, 398-400, among the Moanus of the Admiralty Islands, 400 _sq._ and among the natives of the Kaniet Islands, 401 _sq._; natural deaths commonly attributed to sorcery, 402; divination to discover the sorcerer who caused the death, 402; death customs in the Duke of York Island, cursing the sorcerer, skulls preserved, feasts and dances, 403; prayers to the dead, 403 _sq._; the land of the dead and the fate of the departed souls, hard lot of impecunious ghosts, 404-406. The natives of Eastern Melanesia (Fiji), their material culture and political constitution, 406-408; means of subsistence, 408; moral character, 408 _sq._; scenery of the Fijian islands, 409 _sq._; the Fijian doctrine of souls, 410-412; souls of rascals caught in scarves, 412 _sq._; fear of sorcery and precautions against it, 413 _sq._; beneficial effect of the fear in enforcing habits of personal cleanliness, 414; fear of ghosts and custom of driving them away, 414 _sq._; killing a ghost, 415 _sq._; outwitting grandfather's ghost, 416; special relation of grandfather to grandchild, 416; grandfather's soul reborn in his grandchild, 417 _sq._ Lecture XIX.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Eastern Melanesia (Fiji) (_continued_) Indifference of the Fijians to death, p. 419; their custom of killing the sick and aged with the consent of the victims, 419-424; their readiness to die partly an effect of their belief in immortality, 422 _sq._; wives strangled or buried alive to accompany their husbands to the spirit land, 424-426; servants and dependants killed to attend their dead lords, 426; sacrifices of foreskins and fingers in honour of dead chiefs, 426 _sq._; boys circumcised in order to save the lives of their fathers or fathers' brothers, 427; saturnalia attending such rites of circumcision, 427 _sq._; the _Nanga_, or sacred enclosure of stones, dedicated to the worship of ancestors, 428 _sq._; first-fruits of the yams offered to the ancestors in the _Nanga_, 429; initiation of young men in the _Nanga_, drama of death and resurrection, sacrament of food and water, 429-432; the initiation followed by a period of sexual licence, 433; the initiatory rites apparently intended to introduce the novices to the ancestral spirits and endow them with the powers of the dead, 434 _sq._; the rites seem to have been imported into Fiji by immigrants from the west, 435 _sq._; the licence attending these rites perhaps a reversion to primitive communism for the purpose of propitiating the ancestral spirits, 436 _sq._; description of the _Nanga_ or sacred enclosure of stones, 437 _sq._; comparison with the cromlechs and other megalithic monuments of Europe, 438. Lecture XX.--The Belief in Immortality among the Natives of Eastern Melanesia (Fiji) (_concluded_) Worship of parents and other dead relations in Fiji, pp. 439 _sq._; Fijian notion of divinity (_kalou_), 440; two classes of gods, namely, divine gods and human gods or deified men, 440 _sq._; temples (_bures_) 441 _sq._; worship at the temples, 443; priests (_betes_), their oracular inspiration by the gods, 443-446; human sacrifices on various occasions, such as building a house or launching a new canoe, 446 _sq._; high estimation in which manslaughter was held by the Fijians, 447 _sq._; consecration of manslayers and restrictions laid on them, probably from fear of the ghosts of their victims, 448 _sq._; certain funeral customs based apparently on the fear of ghosts, 450 _sqq._; persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food with their hands, 450 _sq._; seclusion of gravediggers, 451; mutilations, brandings, and fasts in honour of the dead, 451 _sq._; the dead carried out of the house by a special opening to prevent the return of the ghost, 452-461; the other world and the way thither, 462 _sqq._; the ghostly ferry, 462 _sq._; the ghost and the pandanus tree, 463 _sq._; hard fate of the unmarried dead, 464; the Killer of Souls, 464 _sq._; ghosts precipitated into a lake, 465 _sq._; Murimuria, an inferior sort of heaven, 466; the Fijian Elysium, 466 _sq._; transmigration and annihilation, the few that are saved, 467. Concluding observations, 467-471; strength and universality of the belief in immortality among savages, 468; the state of war among savage and civilised peoples often a direct consequence of the belief in immortality, 468 _sq._; economic loss involved in sacrifices to the dead, 469; how does the savage belief in immortality bear on the truth or falsehood of that belief in general? 469; the answer depends to some extent on the view we take of human nature, 469-471; the conclusion left open, 471. Note.--Myth of the Continuance of Death Index LECTURE I INTRODUCTION [Sidenote: Natural theology, and the three modes of handling it, the dogmatic, the philosophical, and the historical.] The subject of these lectures is a branch of natural theology. By natural theology I understand that reasoned knowledge of a God or gods which man may be supposed, whether rightly or wrongly, capable of attaining to by the exercise of his natural faculties alone. Thus defined, the subject may be treated in at least three different ways, namely, dogmatically, philosophically, and historically. We may simply state the dogmas of natural theology which appear to us to be true: that is the dogmatic method. Or, secondly, we may examine the validity of the grounds on which these dogmas have been or may be maintained: that is the philosophic method. Or, thirdly, we may content ourselves with describing the various views which have been held on the subject and tracing their origin and evolution in history: that is the historical method. The first of these three methods assumes the truth of natural theology, the second discusses it, and the third neither assumes nor discusses but simply ignores it: the historian as such is not concerned with the truth or falsehood of the beliefs he describes, his business is merely to record them and to track them as far as possible to their sources. Now that the subject of natural theology is ripe for a purely dogmatic treatment will hardly, I think, be maintained by any one, to whatever school of thought he may belong; accordingly that method of treatment need not occupy us further. Far otherwise is it with the philosophic method which undertakes to enquire into the truth or falsehood of the belief in a God: no method could be more appropriate at a time like the present, when the opinions of educated and thoughtful men on that profound topic are so unsettled, diverse, and conflicting. A philosophical treatment of the subject might comprise a discussion of such questions as whether a natural knowledge of God is possible to man, and, if possible, by what means and through what faculties it is attainable; what are the grounds for believing in the existence of a God; and, if this belief is justified, what may be supposed to be his essential nature and attributes, and what his relations to the world in general and to man in particular. Now I desire to confess at once that an adequate discussion of these and kindred questions would far exceed both my capacity and my knowledge; for he who would do justice to so arduous an enquiry should not only be endowed with a comprehensive and penetrating genius, but should possess a wide and accurate acquaintance with the best accredited results of philosophic speculation and scientific research. To such qualifications I can lay no claim, and accordingly I must regard myself as unfitted for a purely philosophic treatment of natural theology. To speak plainly, the question of the existence of a God is too deep for me. I dare neither affirm nor deny it. I can only humbly confess my ignorance. Accordingly, if Lord Gifford had required of his lecturers either a dogmatic or a philosophical treatment of natural theology, I could not have undertaken to deliver the lectures. [Sidenote: The method followed in these lectures is the historical.] But in his deed of foundation, as I understand it, Lord Gifford left his lecturers free to follow the historical rather than the dogmatic or the philosophical method of treatment. He says: "The lecturers shall be under no restraint whatever in their treatment of their theme: for example, they may freely discuss (and it may be well to do so) all questions about man's conceptions of God or the Infinite, their origin, nature, and truth." In making this provision the founder appears to have allowed and indeed encouraged the lecturers not only to discuss, if they chose to do so, the philosophical basis of a belief in God, but also to set forth the various conceptions of the divine nature which have been held by men in all ages and to trace them to their origin: in short, he permitted and encouraged the lecturers to compose a history of natural theology or of some part of it. Even when it is thus limited to its historical aspect the theme is too vast to be mastered completely by any one man: the most that a single enquirer can do is to take a general but necessarily superficial survey of the whole and to devote himself especially to the investigation of some particular branch or aspect of the subject. This I have done more or less for many years, and accordingly I think that without being presumptuous I may attempt, in compliance with Lord Gifford's wishes and directions, to lay before my hearers a portion of the history of religion to which I have paid particular attention. That the historical study of religious beliefs, quite apart from the question of their truth or falsehood, is both interesting and instructive will hardly be disputed by any intelligent and thoughtful enquirer. Whether they have been well or ill founded, these beliefs have deeply influenced the conduct of human affairs; they have furnished some of the most powerful, persistent, and far-reaching motives of action; they have transformed nations and altered the face of the globe. No one who would understand the general history of mankind can afford to ignore the annals of religion. If he does so, he will inevitably fall into the most serious misconceptions even in studying branches of human activity which might seem, on a superficial view, to be quite unaffected by religious considerations. [Sidenote: An historical enquiry into the evolution of religion prejudices neither the question of the ethical value of religious practice nor the question of the truth or falsehood of religious belief.] Therefore to trace theological and in general religious ideas to their sources and to follow them through all the manifold influences which they have exerted on the destinies of our race must always be an object of prime importance to the historian, whatever view he may take of their speculative truth or ethical value. Clearly we cannot estimate their ethical value until we have learned the modes in which they have actually determined human conduct for good or evil: in other words, we cannot judge of the morality of religious beliefs until we have ascertained their history: the facts must be known before judgment can be passed on them: the work of the historian must precede the work of the moralist. Even the question of the validity or truth of religious creeds cannot, perhaps, be wholly dissociated from the question of their origin. If, for example, we discover that doctrines which we had accepted with implicit faith from tradition have their close analogies in the barbarous superstitions of ignorant savages, we can hardly help suspecting that our own cherished doctrines may have originated in the similar superstitions of our rude forefathers; and the suspicion inevitably shakes the confidence with which we had hitherto regarded these articles of our faith. The doubt thus cast on our old creed is perhaps illogical, since even if we should discover that the creed did originate in mere superstition, in other words, that the grounds on which it was first adopted were false and absurd, this discovery would not really disprove the beliefs themselves, for it is perfectly possible that a belief may be true, though the reasons alleged in favour of it are false and absurd: indeed we may affirm with great probability that a multitude of human beliefs, true in themselves, have been accepted and defended by millions of people on grounds which cannot bear exact investigation for a moment. For example, if the facts of savage life which it will be my duty to submit to you should have the effect of making the belief in immortality look exceedingly foolish, those of my hearers who cherish the belief may console themselves by reflecting that, as I have just pointed out, a creed is not necessarily false because some of the reasons adduced in its favour are invalid, because it has sometimes been supported by the despicable tricks of vulgar imposture, and because the practices to which it has given rise have often been in the highest degree not only absurd but pernicious. [Sidenote: Yet such an enquiry may shake the confidence with which traditional beliefs have been held.] Thus an historical enquiry into the origin of religious creeds cannot, strictly speaking, invalidate, still less refute, the creeds themselves, though it may, and doubtless often does weaken the confidence with which they are held. This weakening of religious faith as a consequence of a closer scrutiny of religious origins is unquestionably a matter of great importance to the community; for society has been built and cemented to a great extent on a foundation of religion, and it is impossible to loosen the cement and shake the foundation without endangering the superstructure. The candid historian of religion will not dissemble the danger incidental to his enquiries, but nevertheless it is his duty to prosecute them unflinchingly. Come what may, he must ascertain the facts so far as it is possible to do so; having done that, he may leave to others the onerous and delicate task of adjusting the new knowledge to the practical needs of mankind. The narrow way of truth may often look dark and threatening, and the wayfarer may often be weary; yet even at the darkest and the weariest he will go forward in the trust, if not in the knowledge, that the way will lead at last to light and to rest; in plain words, that there is no ultimate incompatibility between the good and the true. [Sidenote: To discover the origin of the idea of God we must study the beliefs of primitive man.] Now if we are indeed to discover the origin of man's conception of God, it is not sufficient to analyse the ideas which the educated and enlightened portion of mankind entertain on the subject at the present day; for in great measure these ideas are traditional, they have been handed down with little or no independent reflection or enquiry from generation to generation; hence in order to detect them in their inception it becomes necessary to push our analysis far back into the past. Large materials for such an historical enquiry are provided for us in the literature of ancient nations which, though often sadly mutilated and imperfect, has survived to modern times and throws much precious light on the religious beliefs and practices of the peoples who created it. But the ancients themselves inherited a great part of their religion from their prehistoric ancestors, and accordingly it becomes desirable to investigate the religious notions of these remote forefathers of mankind, since in them we may hope at last to arrive at the ultimate source, the historical origin, of the whole long development. [Sidenote: The beliefs of primitive man can only be understood through a comparative study of the various races in the lower stages of culture.] But how can this be done? how can we investigate the ideas of peoples who, ignorant of writing, had no means of permanently recording their beliefs? At first sight the thing seems impossible; the thread of enquiry is broken off short; it has landed us on the brink of a gulf which looks impassable. But the case is not so hopeless as it appears. True, we cannot investigate the beliefs of prehistoric ages directly, but the comparative method of research may furnish us with the means of studying them indirectly; it may hold up to us a mirror in which, if we do not see the originals, we may perhaps contemplate their reflections. For a comparative study of the various races of mankind demonstrates, or at least renders it highly probable, that humanity has everywhere started at an exceedingly low level of culture, a level far beneath that of the lowest existing savages, and that from this humble beginning all the various races of men have gradually progressed upward at different rates, some faster and some slower, till they have attained the particular stage which each of them occupies at the present time. [Sidenote: Hence the need of studying the beliefs and customs of savages, if we are to understand the evolution of culture in general.] If this conclusion is correct, the various stages of savagery and barbarism on which many tribes and peoples now stand represent, broadly speaking, so many degrees of retarded social and intellectual development, they correspond to similar stages which the ancestors of the civilised races may be supposed to have passed through at more or less remote periods of their history. Thus when we arrange all the known peoples of the world according to the degree of their savagery or civilisation in a graduated scale of culture, we obtain not merely a comparative view of their relative positions in the scale, but also in some measure an historical record of the genetic development of culture from a very early time down to the present day. Hence a study of the savage and barbarous races of mankind is of the greatest importance for a full understanding of the beliefs and practices, whether religious, social, moral, or political, of the most civilised races, including our own, since it is practically certain that a large part of these beliefs and practices originated with our savage ancestors, and has been inherited by us from them, with more or less of modification, through a long line of intermediate generations. [Sidenote: The need is all the more urgent because savages are rapidly disappearing or being transformed.] That is why the study of existing savages at the present day engrosses so much of the attention of civilised peoples. We see that if we are to comprehend not only our past history but our present condition, with all its many intricate and perplexing problems, we must begin at the beginning by attempting to discover the mental state of our savage forefathers, who bequeathed to us so much of the faiths, the laws, and the institutions which we still cherish; and more and more men are coming to perceive that the only way open to us of doing this effectually is to study the mental state of savages who to this day occupy a state of culture analogous to that of our rude progenitors. Through contact with civilisation these savages are now rapidly disappearing, or at least losing the old habits and ideas which render them a document of priceless historical value for us. Hence we have every motive for prosecuting the study of savagery with ardour and diligence before it is too late, before the record is gone for ever. We are like an heir whose title-deeds must be scrutinised before he can take possession of the inheritance, but who finds the handwriting of the deeds so fading and evanescent that it threatens to disappear entirely before he can read the document to the end. With what keen attention, what eager haste, would he not scan the fast-vanishing characters? With the like attention and the like haste civilised men are now applying themselves to the investigation of the fast-vanishing savages. [Sidenote: Savage religion is to be the subject of these lectures.] Thus if we are to trace historically man's conception of God to its origin, it is desirable, or rather essential, that we should begin by studying the most primitive ideas on the subject which are accessible to us, and the most primitive ideas are unquestionably those of the lowest savages. Accordingly in these lectures I propose to deal with a particular side or aspect of savage religion. I shall not trench on the sphere of the higher religions, not only because my knowledge of them is for the most part very slight, but also because I believe that a searching study of the higher and more complex religions should be postponed till we have acquired an accurate knowledge of the lower and simpler. For a similar reason the study of inorganic chemistry naturally precedes the study of organic chemistry, because inorganic compounds are much simpler and therefore more easily analysed and investigated than organic compounds. So with the chemistry of the mind; we should analyse the comparatively simple phenomena of savage thought into its constituent elements before we attempt to perform a similar operation on the vastly more complex phenomena of civilised beliefs. [Sidenote: But only a part of savage religion will be dealt with.] But while I shall confine myself rigidly to the field of savage religion, I shall not attempt to present you with a complete survey even of that restricted area, and that for more reasons than one. In the first place the theme, even with this great limitation, is far too large to be adequately set forth in the time at my disposal; the sketch--for it could be no more than a sketch--would be necessarily superficial and probably misleading. In the second place, even a sketch of primitive religion in general ought to presuppose in the sketcher a fairly complete knowledge of the whole subject, so that all the parts may appear, not indeed in detail, but in their proper relative proportions. Now though I have given altogether a good deal of time to the study of primitive religion, I am far from having studied it in all its branches, and I could not trust myself to give an accurate general account of it even in outline; were I to attempt such a thing I should almost certainly fall, through sheer ignorance or inadvertence, into the mistake of exaggerating some features, unduly diminishing others, and omitting certain essential features altogether. Hence it seems to me better not to commit myself to so ambitious an enterprise but to confine myself in my lectures, as I have always done in my writings, to a comparatively minute investigation of certain special aspects or forms of primitive religion rather than attempt to embrace in a general view the whole of that large subject. Such a relatively detailed study of a single compartment may be less attractive and more tedious than a bird's-eye view of a wider area; but in the end it may perhaps prove a more solid contribution to knowledge. [Sidenote: Introductory observations. The question of a supernatural revelation excluded.] But before I come to details I wish to make a few general introductory remarks, and in particular to define some of the terms which I shall have occasion to use in the lectures. I have defined natural theology as that reasoned knowledge of a God or gods which man may be supposed, whether rightly or wrongly, capable of attaining to by the exercise of his natural faculties alone. Whether there ever has been or can be a special miraculous revelation of God to man through channels different from those through which all other human knowledge is derived, is a question which does not concern us in these lectures; indeed it is expressly excluded from their scope by the will of the founder, who directed the lecturers to treat the subject "as a strictly natural science," "without reference to or reliance upon any supposed special exceptional or so-called miraculous revelation." Accordingly, in compliance with these directions, I dismiss at the outset the question of a revelation, and shall limit myself strictly to natural theology in the sense in which I have defined it. [Sidenote: Theology and religion, how related to each other.] I have called natural theology a reasoned knowledge of a God or gods to distinguish it from that simple and comparatively, though I believe never absolutely, unreasoning faith in God which suffices for the practice of religion. For theology is at once more and less than religion: if on the one hand it includes a more complete acquaintance with the grounds of religious belief than is essential to religion, on the other hand it excludes the observance of those practical duties which are indispensable to any religion worthy of the name. In short, whereas theology is purely theoretical, religion is both theoretical and practical, though the theoretical part of it need not be so highly developed as in theology. But while the subject of the lectures is, strictly speaking, natural theology rather than natural religion, I think it would be not only difficult but undesirable to confine our attention to the purely theological or theoretical part of natural religion: in all religions, and not least in the undeveloped savage religions with which we shall deal, theory and practice fuse with and interact on each other too closely to be forcibly disjoined and handled apart. Hence throughout the lectures I shall not scruple to refer constantly to religious practice as well as to religious theory, without feeling that thereby I am transgressing the proper limits of my subject. [Sidenote: The term God defined.] As theology is not only by definition but by etymology a reasoned knowledge or theory of a God or gods, it becomes desirable, before we proceed further, to define the sense in which I understand and shall employ the word God. That sense is neither novel nor abstruse; it is simply the sense which I believe the generality of mankind attach to the term. By a God I understand a superhuman and supernatural being, of a spiritual and personal nature, who controls the world or some part of it on the whole for good, and who is endowed with intellectual faculties, moral feelings, and active powers, which we can only conceive on the analogy of human faculties, feelings, and activities, though we are bound to suppose that in the divine nature they exist in higher degrees, perhaps in infinitely higher degrees, than the corresponding faculties, feelings, and activities of man. In short, by a God I mean a beneficent supernatural spirit, the ruler of the world or of some part of it, who resembles man in nature though he excels him in knowledge, goodness, and power. This is, I think, the sense in which the ordinary man speaks of a God, and I believe that he is right in so doing. I am aware that it has been not unusual, especially perhaps of late years, to apply the name of God to very different conceptions, to empty it of all implication of personality, and to reduce it to signifying something very large and very vague, such as the Infinite or the Absolute (whatever these hard words may signify), the great First Cause, the Universal Substance, "the stream of tendency by which all things seek to fulfil the law of their being,"[1] and so forth. Now without expressing any opinion as to the truth or falsehood of the views implied by such applications of the name of God, I cannot but regard them all as illegitimate extensions of the term, in short as an abuse of language, and I venture to protest against it in the interest not only of verbal accuracy but of clear thinking, because it is apt to conceal from ourselves and others a real and very important change of thought: in particular it may lead many to imagine that the persons who use the name of God in one or other of these extended senses retain certain theological opinions which they may in fact have long abandoned. Thus the misuse of the name of God may resemble the stratagem in war of putting up dummies to make an enemy imagine that a fort is still held after it has been evacuated by the garrison. I am far from alleging or insinuating that the illegitimate extension of the divine name is deliberately employed by theologians or others for the purpose of masking a change of front; but that it may have that effect seems at least possible. And as we cannot use words in wrong senses without running a serious risk of deceiving ourselves as well as others, it appears better on all accounts to adhere strictly to the common meaning of the name of God as signifying a powerful supernatural and on the whole beneficent spirit, akin in nature to man; and if any of us have ceased to believe in such a being we should refrain from applying the old word to the new faith, and should find some other and more appropriate term to express our meaning. At all events, speaking for myself, I intend to use the name of God consistently in the familiar sense, and I would beg my hearers to bear this steadily in mind. [Sidenote: Monotheism and polytheism.] You will have observed that I have spoken of natural theology as a reasoned knowledge of a God or gods. There is indeed nothing in the definition of God which I have adopted to imply that he is unique, in other words, that there is only one God rather than several or many gods. It is true that modern European thinkers, bred in a monotheistic religion, commonly overlook polytheism as a crude theory unworthy the serious attention of philosophers; in short, the champions and the assailants of religion in Europe alike for the most part tacitly assume that there is either one God or none. Yet some highly civilised nations of antiquity and of modern times, such as the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, and the modern Chinese and Hindoos, have accepted the polytheistic explanation of the world, and as no reasonable man will deny the philosophical subtlety of the Greeks and the Hindoos, to say nothing of the rest, a theory of the universe which has commended itself to them deserves perhaps more consideration than it has commonly received from Western philosophers; certainly it cannot be ignored in an historical enquiry into the origin of religion. [Sidenote: A natural knowledge of God can only be acquired by experience.] If there is such a thing as natural theology, that is, a knowledge of a God or gods acquired by our natural faculties alone without the aid of a special revelation, it follows that it must be obtained by one or other of the methods by which all our natural knowledge is conveyed to us. Roughly speaking, these methods are two in number, namely, intuition and experience. Now if we ask ourselves, Do we know God intuitively in the same sense in which we know intuitively our own sensations and the simplest truths of mathematics, I think most men will acknowledge that they do not. It is true that according to Berkeley the world exists only as it is perceived, and that our perceptions of it are produced by the immediate action of God on our minds, so that everything we perceive might be described, if not as an idea in the mind of the deity, at least as a direct emanation from him. On this theory we might in a sense be said to have an immediate knowledge of God. But Berkeley's theory has found little acceptance, so far as I know, even among philosophers; and even if we regarded it as true, we should still have to admit that the knowledge of God implied by it is inferential rather than intuitive in the strict sense of the word: we infer God to be the cause of our perceptions rather than identify him with the perceptions themselves. On the whole, then, I conclude that man, or at all events the ordinary man, has, properly speaking, no immediate or intuitive knowledge of God, and that, if he obtains, without the aid of revelation, any knowledge of him at all, it can only be through the other natural channel of knowledge, that is, through experience. [Sidenote: The nature of experience.] In experience, as distinct from intuition, we reach our conclusions not directly through simple contemplation of the particular sensations, emotions, or ideas of which we are at the moment conscious, but indirectly by calling up before the imagination and comparing with each other our memories of a variety of sensations, emotions, or ideas of which we have been conscious in the past, and by selecting or abstracting from the mental images so compared the points in which they resemble each other. The points of resemblance thus selected or abstracted from a number of particulars compose what we call an abstract or general idea, and from a comparison of such abstract or general ideas with each other we arrive at general conclusions, which define the relations of the ideas to each other. Experience in general consists in the whole body of conclusions thus deduced from a comparison of all the particular sensations, emotions, and ideas which make up the conscious life of the individual. Hence in order to constitute experience the mind has to perform a more or less complex series of operations, which are commonly referred to certain mental faculties, such as memory, imagination, and judgment. This analysis of experience does not pretend to be philosophically complete or exact; but perhaps it is sufficiently accurate for the purpose of these lectures, the scope of which is not philosophical but historical. [Sidenote: Two kinds of experience, the experience of our own mind and the experience of an external world.] Now experience in the widest sense of the word may be conveniently distinguished into two sorts, the experience of our own mind and the experience of an external world. The distinction is indeed, like the others with which I am dealing at present, rather practically useful than theoretically sound; certainly it would not be granted by all philosophers, for many of them have held that we neither have nor with our present faculties can possibly attain to any immediate knowledge or perception of an external world, we merely infer its existence from our own sensations, which are as strictly a part of our mind as the ideas and emotions of our waking life or the visions of sleep. According to them, the existence of matter or of an external world is, so far as we are concerned, merely an hypothesis devised to explain the order of our sensations; it never has been perceived by any man, woman, or child who ever lived on earth; we have and can have no immediate knowledge or perception of anything but the states and operations of our own mind. On this theory what we call the world, with all its supposed infinitudes of space and time, its systems of suns and planets, its seemingly endless forms of inorganic matter and organic life, shrivels up, on a close inspection, into a fleeting, a momentary figment of thought. It is like one of those glass baubles, iridescent with a thousand varied and delicate hues, which a single touch suffices to shatter into dust. The philosopher, like the sorcerer, has but to wave his magic wand, "And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep." [Sidenote: The distinction rather popular and convenient than philosophically strict.] It would be beyond my province, even if it were within my power, to discuss these airy speculations, and thereby to descend into the arena where for ages subtle dialecticians have battled with each other over the reality or unreality of an external world. For my purpose it suffices to adopt the popular and convenient distinction of mind and matter and hence to divide experience into two sorts, an inward experience of the acts and states of our own minds, and an outward experience of the acts and states of that physical universe by which we seem to be surrounded. [Sidenote: The knowledge or conception of God has been attained both by inward and by outward experience.] Now if a natural knowledge of God is only possible by means of experience, in other words, by a process of reasoning based on observation, it will follow that such a knowledge may conceivably be acquired either by the way of inward or of outward experience; in other words, it may be attained either by reflecting on the processes of our own minds or by observing the processes of external nature. In point of fact, if we survey the history of thought, mankind appears to have arrived at a knowledge, or at all events at a conception, of deity by both these roads. Let me say a few words as to the two roads which lead, or seem to lead, man to God. [Sidenote: The conception of God is attained by inward experience, that is, by the observation of certain remarkable thoughts and feelings which are attributed to the inspiration of a deity. Practical dangers of the theory of inspiration.] In the first place, then, men in many lands and many ages have experienced certain extraordinary emotions and entertained certain extraordinary ideas, which, unable to account for them by reference to the ordinary forms of experience, they have set down to the direct action of a powerful spirit or deity working on their minds and even entering into and taking possession of their bodies; and in this excited state--for violent excitement is characteristic of these manifestations--the patient believes himself to be possessed of supernatural knowledge and supernatural power. This real or supposed mode of apprehending a divine spirit and entering into communion with it, is commonly and appropriately called inspiration. The phenomenon is familiar to us from the example of the Hebrew nation, who believed that their prophets were thus inspired by the deity, and that their sacred books were regularly composed under the divine afflatus. The belief is by no means singular, indeed it appears to be world-wide; for it would be hard to point to any race of men among whom instances of such inspiration have not been reported; and the more ignorant and savage the race the more numerous, to judge by the reports, are the cases of inspiration. Volumes might be filled with examples, but through the spread of information as to the lower races in recent years the topic has become so familiar that I need not stop to illustrate it by instances. I will merely say that among savages the theory of inspiration or possession is commonly invoked to explain all abnormal mental states, particularly insanity or conditions of mind bordering on it, so that persons more or less crazed in their wits, and particularly hysterical or epileptic patients, are for that very reason thought to be peculiarly favoured by the spirits and are therefore consulted as oracles, their wild and whirling words passing for the revelations of a higher power, whether a god or a ghost, who considerately screens his too dazzling light under a thick veil of dark sayings and mysterious ejaculations.[2] I need hardly point out the very serious dangers which menace any society where such theories are commonly held and acted upon. If the decisions of a whole community in matters of the gravest importance are left to turn on the wayward fancies, the whims and vagaries of the insane or the semi-insane, what are likely to be the consequences to the commonwealth? What, for example, can be expected to result from a war entered upon at such dictation and waged under such auspices? Are cattle-breeding, agriculture, commerce, all the arts of life on which a people depend for their subsistence, likely to thrive when they are directed by the ravings of epilepsy or the drivellings of hysteria? Defeat in battle, conquest by enemies, death by famine and widespread disease, these and a thousand other lesser evils threaten the blind people who commit themselves to such blind guides. The history of savage and barbarous tribes, could we follow it throughout, might furnish us with a thousand warning instances of the fatal effects of carrying out this crude theory of inspiration to its logical conclusions; and if we hear less than might be expected of such instances, it is probably because the tribes who consistently acted up to their beliefs have thereby wiped themselves out of existence: they have perished the victims of their folly and left no record behind. I believe that historians have not yet reckoned sufficiently with the disastrous influence which this worship of insanity,--for it is often nothing less--has exercised on the fortunes of peoples and on the development or decay of their institutions. [Sidenote: The belief in inspiration leads to the worship of living men as gods. Outward experience as a source of the idea of God.] To a certain extent, however, the evil has provided its own remedy. For men of strong heads and ambitious temper, perceiving the exorbitant power which a belief in inspiration places in the hands of the feeble-minded, have often feigned to be similarly afflicted, and trading on their reputation for imbecility, or rather inspiration, have acquired an authority over their fellows which, though they have often abused it for vulgar ends, they have sometimes exerted for good, as for example by giving sound advice in matters of public concern, applying salutary remedies to the sick, and detecting and punishing crime, whereby they have helped to preserve the commonwealth, to alleviate suffering, and to cement that respect for law and order which is essential to the stability of society, and without which any community must fall to pieces like a house of cards. These great services have been rendered to the cause of civilisation and progress by the class of men who in primitive society are variously known as medicine-men, magicians, sorcerers, diviners, soothsayers, and so forth. Sometimes the respect which they have gained by the exercise of their profession has won for them political as well as spiritual or ghostly authority; in short, from being simple medicine-men or sorcerers they have grown into chiefs and kings. When such men, seated on the throne of state, retain their old reputation for being the vehicles of a divine spirit, they may be worshipped in the character of gods as well as revered in the capacity of kings; and thus exerting a two-fold sway over the minds of men they possess a most potent instrument for elevating or depressing the fortunes of their worshippers and subjects. In this way the old savage notion of inspiration or possession gradually develops into the doctrine of the divinity of kings, which after a long period of florescence dwindles away into the modest theory that kings reign by divine right, a theory familiar to our ancestors not long ago, and perhaps not wholly obsolete among us even now. However, inspired men need not always blossom out into divine kings; they may, and often do, remain in the chrysalis state of simple deities revered by their simple worshippers, their brows encircled indeed with a halo of divinity but not weighted with the more solid substance of a kingly crown. Thus certain extraordinary mental states, which those who experience and those who witness them cannot account for in any other way, are often explained by the supposed interposition of a spirit or deity. This, therefore, is one of the two forms of experience by which men attain, or imagine that they attain, to a knowledge of God and a communion with him. It is what I have called the road of inward experience. Let us now glance at the other form of experience which leads, or seems to lead, to the same goal. It is what I have called the road of outward experience. [Sidenote: Tendency of the mind to search for causes, and the necessity for their discovery.] When we contemplate the seemingly infinite variety, the endless succession, of events that pass under our observation in what we call the external world, we are led by an irresistible tendency to trace what we call a causal connexion between them. The tendency to discover the causes of things appears indeed to be innate in the constitution of our minds and indispensable to our continued existence. It is the link that arrests and colligates into convenient bundles the mass of particulars drifting pell-mell past on the stream of sensation; it is the cement that binds into an edifice seemingly of adamant the loose sand of isolated perceptions. Deprived of the knowledge which this tendency procures for us we should be powerless to foresee the succession of phenomena and so to adapt ourselves to it. We should be bewildered by the apparent disorder and confusion of everything, we should toss on a sea without a rudder, we should wander in an endless maze without a clue, and finding no way out of it, or, in plain words, unable to avoid a single one of the dangers which menace us at every turn, we should inevitably perish. Accordingly the propensity to search for causes is characteristic of man in all ages and at all levels of culture, though without doubt it is far more highly developed in civilised than in savage communities. Among savages it is more or less unconscious and instinctive; among civilised men it is deliberately cultivated and rewarded at least by the applause of their fellows, by the dignity, if not by the more solid recompenses, of learning. Indeed as civilisation progresses the enquiry into causes tends to absorb more and more of the highest intellectual energies of a people; and an ever greater number of men, renouncing the bustle, the pleasures, and the ambitions of an active life, devote themselves exclusively to the pursuit of abstract truth; they set themselves to discover the causes of things, to trace the regularity and order that may be supposed to underlie the seemingly irregular, confused, and arbitrary sequence of phenomena. Unquestionably the progress of civilisation owes much to the sustained efforts of such men, and if of late years and within our own memory the pace of progress has sensibly quickened, we shall perhaps not err in supposing that some part at least of the acceleration may be accounted for by an increase in the number of lifelong students. [Sidenote: The idea of cause is simply that of invariable sequence suggested by the observation of many particular cases of sequence.] Now when we analyse the conception of a cause to the bottom, we find as the last residuum in our crucible nothing but what Hume found there long ago, and that is simply the idea of invariable sequence. Whenever we say that something is the cause of something else, all that we really mean is that the latter is invariably preceded by the former, so that whenever we find the second, which we call the effect, we may infer that the first, which we call the cause, has gone before it. All such inferences from effects to causes are based on experience; having observed a certain sequence of events a certain number of times, we conclude that the events are so conjoined that the latter cannot occur without the previous occurrence of the former. A single case of two events following each other could not of itself suggest that the one event is the cause of the other, since there is no necessary link between them in the mind; the sequence has to be repeated more or less frequently before we infer a causal connexion between the two; and this inference rests simply on that association of ideas which is established in our mind by the reiterated observation of the things. Once the ideas are by dint of repetition firmly welded together, the one by sheer force of habit calls up the other, and we say that the two things which are represented by those ideas stand to each other in the relation of cause and effect. The notion of causality is in short only one particular case of the association of ideas. Thus all reasoning as to causes implies previous observation: we reason from the observed to the unobserved, from the known to the unknown; and the wider the range of our observation and knowledge, the greater the probability that our reasoning will be correct. [Sidenote: The savage draws his ideas of natural causation from observation of himself. Hence he explains the phenomena of nature by supposing that they are produced by beings like himself. These beings may be called spirits or gods of nature to distinguish them from living human gods.] All this is as true of the savage as of the civilised man. He too argues, and indeed can only argue on the basis of experience from the known to the unknown, from the observed to the hypothetical. But the range of his experience is comparatively narrow, and accordingly his inferences from it often appear to civilised men, with their wider knowledge, to be palpably false and absurd. This holds good most obviously in regard to his observation of external nature. While he often knows a good deal about the natural objects, whether animals, plants, or inanimate things, on which he is immediately dependent for his subsistence, the extent of country with which he is acquainted is commonly but small, and he has little or no opportunity of correcting the conclusions which he bases on his observation of it by a comparison with other parts of the world. But if he knows little of the outer world, he is necessarily somewhat better acquainted with his own inner life, with his sensations and ideas, his emotions, appetites, and desires. Accordingly it is natural enough that when he seeks to discover the causes of events in the external world, he should, arguing from experience, imagine that they are produced by the actions of invisible beings like himself, who behind the veil of nature pull the strings that set the vast machinery in motion. For example, he knows by experience that he can make sparks fly by knocking two flints against each other; what more natural, therefore, than that he should imagine the great sparks which we call lightning to be made in the same way by somebody up aloft, and that when he finds chipped flints on the ground he should take them for thunder-stones dropped by the maker of thunder and lightning from the clouds?[3] Thus arguing from his limited experience primitive man creates a multitude of spirits or gods in his own likeness to explain the succession of phenomena in nature of whose true causes he is ignorant; in short he personifies the phenomena as powerful anthropomorphic spirits, and believing himself to be more or less dependent on their good will he woos their favour by prayer and sacrifice. This personification of the various aspects of external nature is one of the most fruitful sources of polytheism. The spirits and gods created by this train of thought may be called spirits and gods of nature to distinguish them from the human gods, by which I mean the living men and women who are believed by their worshippers to be inspired or possessed by a divine spirit. [Sidenote: In time men reject polytheism as an explanation of natural processes and substitute certain abstract ideas of ethers, atoms, molecules, and so on.] But as time goes on and men learn more about nature, they commonly become dissatisfied with polytheism as an explanation of the world and gradually discard it. From one department of nature after another the gods are reluctantly or contemptuously dismissed and their provinces committed to the care of certain abstract ideas of ethers, atoms, molecules, and so forth, which, though just as imperceptible to human senses as their divine predecessors, are judged by prevailing opinion to discharge their duties with greater regularity and despatch, and are accordingly firmly installed on the vacant thrones amid the general applause of the more enlightened portion of mankind. Thus instead of being peopled with a noisy bustling crowd of full-blooded and picturesque deities, clothed in the graceful form and animated with the warm passions of humanity, the universe outside the narrow circle of our consciousness is now conceived as absolutely silent, colourless, and deserted. The cheerful sounds which we hear, the bright hues which we see, have no existence, we are told, in the external world: the voices of friends, the harmonies of music, the chime of falling waters, the solemn roll of ocean, the silver splendour of the moon, the golden glories of sunset, the verdure of summer woods, and the hectic tints of autumn--all these subsist only in our own minds, and if we imagine them to have any reality elsewhere, we deceive ourselves. In fact the whole external world as perceived by us is one great illusion: if we gave the reins to fancy we might call it a mirage, a piece of witchery, conjured up by the spells of some unknown magician to bewilder poor ignorant humanity. Outside of ourselves there stretches away on every side an infinitude of space without sound, without light, without colour, a solitude traversed only in every direction by an inconceivably complex web of silent and impersonal forces. That, if I understand it aright, is the general conception of the world which modern science has substituted for polytheism. [Sidenote: But while they commonly discard the hypothesis of a deity as an explanation of all the particular processes of nature, they retain it as an explanation of nature in general.] When philosophy and science by their combined efforts have ejected gods and goddesses from all the subordinate posts of nature, it might perhaps be expected that they would have no further occasion for the services of a deity, and that having relieved him of all his particular functions they would have arranged for the creation and general maintenance of the universe without him by handing over these important offices to an efficient staff of those ethers, atoms, corpuscles, and so forth, which had already proved themselves so punctual in the discharge of the minor duties entrusted to them. Nor, indeed, is this expectation altogether disappointed. A number of atheistical philosophers have courageously come forward and assured us that the hypothesis of a deity as the creator and preserver of the universe is quite superfluous, and that all things came into being or have existed from eternity without the help of any divine spirit, and that they will continue to exist without it to the end, if end indeed there is to be. But on the whole these daring speculators appear to be in a minority. The general opinion of educated people at the present day, could we ascertain it, would probably be found to incline to the conclusion that, though every department of nature is now worked by impersonal material forces alone, the universe as a whole was created and is still maintained by a great supernatural spirit whom we call God. Thus in Europe and in the countries which have borrowed their civilisation, their philosophy, and their religion from it, the central problem of natural theology has narrowed itself down to the question, Is there one God or none? It is a profound question, and I for one profess myself unable to answer it. [Sidenote: Whether attained by inward or outward experience, the idea of God is regularly that of a cause inferred, not perceived.] If this brief sketch of the history of natural theology is correct, man has by the exercise of his natural faculties alone, without the help of revelation, attained to a knowledge or at least to a conception of God in one of two ways, either by meditating on the operations of his own mind, or by observing the processes of external nature: inward experience and outward experience have conducted him by different roads to the same goal. By whichever of them the conception has been reached, it is regularly employed to explain the causal connexion of things, whether the things to be explained are the ideas and emotions of man himself or the changes in the physical world outside of him. In short, a God is always brought in to play the part of a cause; it is the imperious need of tracing the causes of events which has driven man to discover or invent a deity. Now causes may be arranged in two classes according as they are perceived or unperceived by the senses. For example, when we see the impact of a billiard cue on a billiard ball followed immediately by the motion of the ball, we say that the impact is the cause of the motion. In this case we perceive the cause as well as the effect. But, when we see an apple fall from a tree to the ground, we say that the cause of the fall is the force of gravitation exercised by the superior mass of the earth on the inferior mass of the apple. In this case, though we perceive the effect, we do not perceive the cause, we only infer it by a process of reasoning from experience. Causes of the latter sort may be called inferential or hypothetical causes to distinguish them from those which are perceived. Of the two classes of causes a deity belongs in general, if not universally, to the second, that is, to the inferential or hypothetical causes; for as a rule at all events his existence is not perceived by our senses but inferred by our reason. To say that he has never appeared in visible and tangible form to men would be to beg the question; it would be to make an assertion which is incapable of proof and which is contradicted by a multitude of contrary affirmations recorded in the traditions or the sacred books of many races; but without being rash we may perhaps say that such appearances, if they ever took place, belong to a past order of events and need hardly be reckoned with at the present time. For all practical purposes, therefore, God is now a purely inferential or hypothetical cause; he may be invoked to explain either our own thoughts and feelings, our impulses and emotions, or the manifold states and processes of external nature; he may be viewed either as the inspirer of the one or the creator and preserver of the other; and according as he is mainly regarded from the one point of view or the other, the conception of the divine nature tends to beget one of two very different types of piety. To the man who traces the finger of God in the workings of his own mind, the deity appears to be far closer than he seems to the man who only infers the divine existence from the marvellous order, harmony, and beauty of the external world; and we need not wonder that the faith of the former is of a more fervent temper and supplies him with more powerful incentives to a life of active devotion than the calm and rational faith of the latter. We may conjecture that the piety of most great religious reformers has belonged to the former rather than to the latter type; in other words, that they have believed in God because they felt, or imagined that they felt, him stirring in their own hearts rather than because they discerned the handiwork of a divine artificer in the wonderful mechanism of nature. [Sidenote: Besides the two sorts of gods already distinguished, namely natural gods and living human gods, there is a third sort which has played an important part in history, namely, the spirits of deified dead men. Euhemerism.] Thus far I have distinguished two sorts of gods whom man discovers or creates for himself by the exercise of his unaided faculties, to wit natural gods, whom he infers from his observation of external nature, and human gods or inspired men, whom he recognises by virtue of certain extraordinary mental manifestations in himself or in others. But there is another class of human gods which I have not yet mentioned and which has played a very important part in the evolution of theology. I mean the deified spirits of dead men. To judge by the accounts we possess not only of savage and barbarous tribes but of some highly civilised peoples, the worship of the human dead has been one of the commonest and most influential forms of natural religion, perhaps indeed the commonest and most influential of all. Obviously it rests on the supposition that the human personality in some form, whether we call it a soul, a spirit, a ghost, or what not, can survive death and thereafter continue for a longer or shorter time to exercise great power for good or evil over the destinies of the living, who are therefore compelled to propitiate the shades of the dead out of a regard for their own safety and well-being. This belief in the survival of the human spirit after death is world-wide; it is found among men in all stages of culture from the lowest to the highest; we need not wonder therefore that the custom of propitiating the ghosts or souls of the departed should be world-wide also. No doubt the degree of attention paid to ghosts is not the same in all cases; it varies with the particular degree of power attributed to each of them; the spirits of men who for any reason were much feared in their lifetime, such as mighty warriors, chiefs, and kings, are more revered and receive far more marks of homage than the spirits of common men; and it is only when this reverence and homage are carried to a very high pitch that they can properly be described as a deification of the dead. But that dead men have thus been raised to the rank of deities in many lands, there is abundant evidence to prove. And quite apart from the worship paid to those spirits which are admitted by their worshippers to have once animated the bodies of living men, there is good reason to suspect that many gods, who rank as purely mythical beings, were once men of flesh and blood, though their true history has passed out of memory or rather been transformed by legend into a myth, which veils more or less completely the real character of the imaginary deity. The theory that most or all gods originated after this fashion, in other words, that the worship of the gods is little or nothing but the worship of dead men, is known as Euhemerism from Euhemerus, the ancient Greek writer who propounded it. Regarded as a universal explanation of the belief in gods it is certainly false; regarded as a partial explanation of the belief it is unquestionably true; and perhaps we may even go further and say, that the more we penetrate into the inner history of natural religion, the larger is seen to be the element of truth contained in Euhemerism. For the more closely we look at many deities of natural religion, the more distinctly do we seem to perceive, under the quaint or splendid pall which the mythical fancy has wrapt round their stately figures, the familiar features of real men, who once shared the common joys and the common sorrows of humanity, who trod life's common road to the common end. [Sidenote: The deification of dead men presupposes the immortality of the human soul, or rather its survival for a longer or shorter time after death.] When we ask how it comes about that dead men have so often been raised to the rank of divinities, the first thing to be observed is that all such deifications must, if our theory is correct, be inferences drawn from experience of some sort; they must be hypotheses devised to explain the unperceived causes of certain phenomena, whether of the human mind or of external nature. All of them imply, as I have said, a belief that the conscious human personality, call it the soul, the spirit, or what you please, can survive the body and continue to exist in a disembodied state with unabated or even greatly increased powers for good or evil. This faith in the survival of personality after death may for the sake of brevity be called a faith in immortality, though the term immortality is not strictly correct, since it seems to imply eternal duration, whereas the idea of eternity is hardly intelligible to many primitive peoples, who nevertheless firmly believe in the continued existence, for a longer or shorter time, of the human spirit after the dissolution of the body. Now the faith in the immortality of the soul or, to speak more correctly, in the continued existence of conscious human personality after death, is, as I remarked before, exceedingly common among men at all levels of intellectual evolution from the lowest upwards; certainly it is not peculiar to adherents of the higher religions, but is held as an unquestionable truth by at least the great majority of savage and barbarous peoples as to whose ideas we possess accurate information; indeed it might be hard to point to any single tribe of men, however savage, of whom we could say with certainty that the faith is totally wanting among them. [Sidenote: The question of immortality is a fundamental problem of natural theology in the wider sense.] Hence if we are to explain the deification of dead men, we must first explain the widespread belief in immortality; we must answer the question, how does it happen that men in all countries and at all stages of ignorance or knowledge so commonly suppose that when they die their consciousness will still persist for an indefinite time after the decay of the body? To answer that question is one of the fundamental problems of natural theology, not indeed in the full sense of the word theology, if we confine the term strictly to a reasoned knowledge of a God; for the example of Buddhism proves that a belief in the existence of the human soul after death is quite compatible with disbelief in a deity. But if we may use, as I think we may, the phrase natural theology in an extended sense to cover theories which, though they do not in themselves affirm the existence of a God, nevertheless appear to be one of the deepest and most fruitful sources of the belief in his reality, then we may legitimately say that the doctrine of human immortality does fall within the scope of natural theology. What then is its origin? How is it that men so commonly believe themselves to be immortal? [Sidenote: If there is any natural knowledge of immortality, it must be acquired either by intuition or experience; it is apparently not given by intuition; hence it must be acquired, if at all, by experience.] If there is any natural knowledge of human immortality, it must be acquired either by intuition or by experience; there is no other way. Now whether other men from a simple contemplation of their own nature, quite apart from reasoning, know or believe themselves intuitively to be immortal, I cannot say; but I can say with some confidence that for myself I have no such intuition whatever of my own immortality, and that if I am left to the resources of my natural faculties alone, I can as little affirm the certain or probable existence of my personality after death as I can affirm the certain or probable existence of a personal God. And I am bold enough to suspect that if men could analyse their own ideas, they would generally find themselves to be in a similar predicament as to both these profound topics. Hence I incline to lay it down as a probable proposition that men as a rule have no intuitive knowledge of their own immortality, and that if there is any natural knowledge of such a thing it can only be acquired by a process of reasoning from experience.[4] [Sidenote: The idea of immortality seems to have been suggested to man both by his inward and his outward experience, notably by dreams, which are a case of inward experience.] What then is the kind of experience from which the theory of human immortality is deduced? Is it our experience of the operations of our own minds? or is it our experience of external nature? As a matter of historical fact--and you will remember that I am treating the question purely from the historical standpoint--men seem to have inferred the persistence of their personality after death both from the one kind of experience and from the other, that is, both from the phenomena of their inner life and from the phenomena of what we call the external world. Thus the savage, with whose beliefs we are chiefly concerned in these lectures, finds a very strong argument for immortality in the phenomena of dreams, which are strictly a part of his inner life, though in his ignorance he commonly fails to discriminate them from what we popularly call waking realities. Hence when the images of persons whom he knows to be dead appear to him in a dream, he naturally infers that these persons still exist somewhere and somehow apart from their bodies, of the decay or destruction of which he may have had ocular demonstration. How could he see dead people, he asks, if they did not exist? To argue that they have perished like their bodies is to contradict the plain evidence of his senses; for to the savage still more than to the civilised man seeing is believing; that he sees the dead only in dreams does not shake his belief, since he thinks the appearances of dreams just as real as the appearances of his waking hours. And once he has in this way gained a conviction that the dead survive and can help or harm him, as they seem to do in dreams, it is natural or necessary for him to extend the theory to the occurrences of daily life, which, as I have said, he does not sharply distinguish from the visions of slumber. He now explains many of these occurrences and many of the processes of nature by the direct interposition of the spirits of the departed; he traces their invisible hand in many of the misfortunes and in some of the blessings which befall him; for it is a common feature of the faith in ghosts, at least among savages, that they are usually spiteful and mischievous, or at least testy and petulant, more apt to injure than to benefit the survivors. In that they resemble the personified spirits of nature, which in the opinion of most savages appear to be generally tricky and malignant beings, whose anger is dangerous and whose favour is courted with fear and trembling. Thus even without the additional assurance afforded by tales of apparitions and spectres, primitive man may come in time to imagine the world around him to be more or less thickly peopled, influenced, and even dominated by a countless multitude of spirits, among whom the shades of past generations of men and women hold a very prominent, often apparently the leading place. These spirits, powerful to help or harm, he seeks either simply to avert, when he deems them purely mischievous, or to appease and conciliate, when he supposes them sufficiently good-natured to respond to his advances. In some such way as this, arguing from the real but, as we think, misinterpreted phenomena of dreams, the savage may arrive at a doctrine of human immortality and from that at a worship of the dead. [Sidenote: It has also been suggested by the resemblance of the living to the dead, which is a case of outward experience.] This explanation of the savage faith in immortality is neither novel nor original: on the contrary it is perhaps the commonest and most familiar that has yet been propounded. If it does not account for all the facts, it probably accounts for many of them. At the same time I do not doubt that many other inferences drawn from experiences of different kinds have confirmed, even if they did not originally suggest, man's confident belief in his own immortality. To take a single example of outward experience, the resemblances which children often bear to deceased kinsfolk appear to have prompted in the minds of many savages the notion that the souls of these dead kinsfolk have been born again in their descendants.[5] From a few cases of resemblances so explained it would be easy to arrive at a general theory that all living persons are animated by the souls of the dead; in other words, that the human spirit survives death for an indefinite period, if not for eternity, during which it undergoes a series of rebirths or reincarnations. However it has been arrived at, this doctrine of the transmigration or reincarnation of the soul is found among many tribes of savages; and from what we know on the subject we seem to be justified in conjecturing that at certain stages of mental and social evolution the belief in metempsychosis has been far commoner and has exercised a far deeper influence on the life and institutions of primitive man than the actual evidence before us at present allows us positively to affirm. [Sidenote: The aim of these lectures is to collect a number of facts illustrative of the belief in immortality and of the customs based on it among some of the lower races.] Be that as it may--and I have no wish to dogmatise on so obscure a topic--it is certain that a belief in the survival of the human personality after death and the practice of a propitiation or worship of the dead have prevailed very widely among mankind and have played a very important part in the development of natural religion. While many writers have duly recognised the high importance both of the belief and of the worship, no one, so far as I know, has attempted systematically to collect and arrange the facts which illustrate the prevalence of this particular type of religion among the various races of mankind. A large body of evidence lies to hand in the voluminous and rapidly increasing literature of ethnology; but it is dispersed over an enormous number of printed books and papers, to say nothing of the materials which still remain buried either in manuscript or in the minds of men who possess the requisite knowledge but have not yet committed it to writing. To draw all those stores of information together and digest them into a single treatise would be a herculean labour, from which even the most industrious researcher into the dusty annals of the human past might shrink dismayed. Certainly I shall make no attempt to perform such a feat within the narrow compass of these lectures. But it seems to me that I may make a useful, if a humble, contribution to the history of religion by selecting a portion of the evidence and submitting it to my hearers. For that purpose, instead of accumulating a mass of facts from all the various races of mankind and then comparing them together, I prefer to limit myself to a few races and to deal with each of them separately, beginning with the lowest savages, about whom we possess accurate information, and gradually ascending to peoples who stand higher in the scale of culture. In short the method of treatment which I shall adopt will be the descriptive rather than the comparative. I shall not absolutely refrain from instituting comparisons between the customs and beliefs of different races, but for the most part I shall content myself with describing the customs and beliefs of each race separately without reference to those of others. Each of the two methods, the comparative and the descriptive, has its peculiar advantages and disadvantages, and in my published writings I have followed now the one method and now the other. The comparative method is unquestionably the more attractive and stimulating, but it cannot be adopted without a good deal of more or less conscious theorising, since every comparison implicitly involves a theory. If we desire to exclude theories and merely accumulate facts for the use of science, the descriptive method is undoubtedly the better adapted for the arrangement of our materials: it may not stimulate enquiry so powerfully, but it lays a more solid foundation on which future enquirers may build. It is as a collection of facts illustrative of the belief in immortality and of all the momentous consequences which have flowed from that belief, that I desire the following lectures to be regarded. They are intended to serve simply as a document of religious history; they make no pretence to discuss philosophically the truth of the beliefs and the morality of the practices which will be passed under review. If any inferences can indeed be drawn from the facts to the truth or falsehood of the beliefs and to the moral worth or worthlessness of the practices, I prefer to leave it to others more competent than myself to draw them. My sight is not keen enough, my hand is not steady enough to load the scales and hold the balance in so difficult and delicate an enquiry. [Footnote 1: Matthew Arnold, _Literature and Dogma_, ch. i., p. 31 (Popular Edition, London, 1893).] [Footnote 2: For a single instance see L. Sternberg, "Die Religion der Giljaken," _Archiv für Religionswissenschaft_, viii. (1905) pp. 462 _sqq._, where the writer tells us that the Gilyaks have boundless faith in the supernatural power of their shamans, and that the shamans are nearly always persons who suffer from hysteria in one form or another.] [Footnote 3: As to the widespread belief that flint weapons are thunderbolts see Sir E. B. Tylor, _Researches into the Early History of Mankind_, Third Edition (London, 1878), pp. 223-227; Chr. Blinkenberg, _The Thunderweapon in Religion and Folklore_ (Cambridge, 1911); W. W. Skeat "Snakestones and Thunderbolts," _Folk-lore_, xxiii. (1912) pp. 60 _sqq._; and the references in _The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings_, ii. 374.] [Footnote 4: Wordsworth, who argues strongly, almost passionately, for "the consciousness of a principle of Immortality in the human soul," admits that "the sense of Immortality, if not a coexistent and twin birth with Reason, is among the earliest of her offspring." See his _Essay upon Epitaphs_, appended to _The Excursion_ (_Poetical Works_, London, 1832, vol. iv. pp. 336, 338). This somewhat hesitating admission of the inferential nature of the belief in immortality carries all the more weight because it is made by so warm an advocate of human immortality.] [Footnote 5: For instance, the Kagoro of Northern Nigeria believe that "a spirit may transmigrate into the body of a descendant born afterwards, male or female; in fact, this is common, as is proved by the likeness of children to their parents or grand-parents, and it is lucky, for the ghost has returned, and has no longer any power to frighten the relatives until the new body dies, and it is free again" (Major A. J. N. Tremearne, "Notes on some Nigerian Head-hunters," _Journal of the R. Anthropological Institute_, xlii. (1912) p. 159). Compare _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 88 _sq._; _The Dying God_, p. 287 (p. 288, Second Impression).] LECTURE II THE SAVAGE CONCEPTION OF DEATH [Sidenote: The subject of these lectures is the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead.] Last day I explained the subject of which I propose to treat and the method which I intend to follow in these lectures. I shall describe the belief in immortality, or rather in the continued existence of the human soul after death, as that belief is found among certain of the lower races, and I shall give some account of the religion which has been based upon it. That religion is in brief a propitiation or worship of the human dead, who according to the degree of power ascribed to them by the living are supposed to vary in dignity from the humble rank of a mere common ghost up to the proud position of deity. The elements of such a worship appear to exist among all races of men, though in some they have been much more highly developed than in others. [Sidenote: Preliminary account of savage beliefs concerning the nature and origin of death.] But before I address myself to the description of particular races, I wish in this and the following lecture to give you some general account of the beliefs of savages concerning the nature and origin of death. The problem of death has very naturally exercised the minds of men in all ages. Unlike so many problems which interest only a few solitary thinkers this one concerns us all alike, since simpletons as well as sages must die, and even the most heedless and feather-brained can hardly help sometimes asking themselves what comes after death. The question is therefore thrust in a practical, indeed importunate form on our attention; and we need not wonder that in the long history of human speculation some of the highest intellects should have occupied themselves with it and sought to find an answer to the riddle. Some of their solutions of the problem, though dressed out in all the beauty of exquisite language and poetic imagery, singularly resemble the rude guesses of savages. So little, it would seem, do the natural powers even of the greatest minds avail to pierce the thick veil that hides the end of life. [Sidenote: The problem of death is one of universal interest.] In saying that the problem is thrust home upon us all, I do not mean to imply that all men are constantly or even often engaged in meditating on the nature and origin of death. Far from it. Few people trouble themselves about that or any other purely abstract question: the common man would probably not give a straw for an answer to it. What he wants to know, what we all want to know, is whether death is the end of all things for the individual, whether our conscious personality perishes with the body or survives it for a time or for eternity. That is the enigma propounded to every human being who has been born into the world: that is the door at which so many enquirers have knocked in vain. Stated in this limited form the problem has indeed been of universal interest: there is no race of men known to us which has not pondered the mystery and arrived at some conclusions to which it more or less confidently adheres. Not that all races have paid an equal attention to it. On some it has weighed much more heavily than on others. While some races, like some individuals, take death almost lightly, and are too busy with the certainties of the present world to pay much heed to the uncertainties of a world to come, the minds of others have dwelt on the prospect of a life beyond the grave till the thought of it has risen with them to a passion, almost to an obsession, and has begotten a contempt for the fleeting joys of this ephemeral existence by comparison with the hoped-for bliss of an eternal existence hereafter. To the sceptic, examining the evidence for immortality by the cold light of reason, such peoples and such individuals may seem to sacrifice the substance for the shadow: to adopt a homely comparison, they are like the dog in the fable who dropped the real leg of mutton, from his mouth in order to snap at its reflection in the water. Be that as it may, where such beliefs and hopes are entertained in full force, the whole activity of the mind and the whole energy of the body are apt to be devoted to a preparation for a blissful or at all events an untroubled eternity, and life becomes, in the language of Plato, a meditation or practising of death. This excessive preoccupation with a problematic future has been a fruitful source of the most fatal aberrations both for nations and individuals. In pursuit of these visionary aims the few short years of life have been frittered away: wealth has been squandered: blood has been poured out in torrents: the natural affections have been stifled; and the cheerful serenity of reason has been exchanged for the melancholy gloom of madness. "Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain--_This_ Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies." [Sidenote: The belief in immortality general among mankind.] The question whether our conscious personality survives after death has been answered by almost all races of men in the affirmative. On this point sceptical or agnostic peoples are nearly, if not wholly, unknown. Accordingly if abstract truth could be determined, like the gravest issues of national policy, by a show of hands or a counting of heads, the doctrine of human immortality, or at least of a life after death, would deserve to rank among the most firmly established of truths; for were the question put to the vote of the whole of mankind, there can be no doubt that the ayes would have it by an overwhelming majority. The few dissenters would be overborne; their voices would be drowned in the general roar. For dissenters there have been even among savages. The Tongans, for example, thought that only the souls of noblemen are saved, the rest perish with their bodies.[6] However, this aristocratic view has never been popular, and is not likely to find favour in our democratic age. [Sidenote: Belief of many savages that they would never die if their lives were not cut short by sorcery. Belief of the Abipones.] But many savage races not only believe in a life after death; they are even of opinion that they would never die at all if it were not for the maleficent arts of sorcerers who cut the vital thread prematurely short. In other words, they disbelieve in what we call a natural death; they think that all men are naturally immortal in this life, and that every death which takes place is in fact a violent death inflicted by the hand of a human enemy, though in many cases the foe is invisible and works his fell purpose not by a sword or a spear but by magic. Thus the Abipones, a now extinct tribe of horse Indians in Paraguay, used to allege that they would be immortal and that none of them would ever die if only the Spaniards and the sorcerers could be banished from America; for they were in the habit of attributing every death, whatever its cause, either to the baleful arts of sorcerers or to the firearms of the Spaniards. Even if a man died riddled with wounds, with his bones smashed, or through the exhaustion of old age, these Indians would all deny that the wounds or old age was the cause of his death; they firmly believed that the death was brought about by magic, and they would make careful enquiries to discover the sorcerer who had cast the fatal spell on their comrade. The relations of the deceased would move every stone to detect and punish the culprit; and they imagined that they could do this by cutting out the heart and tongue of the dead man and throwing them to a dog to be devoured. They thought that this in some way killed the wicked magician who had killed their friend. For example, it happened that in a squabble between two men about a horse a third man who tried to make peace between the disputants was mortally wounded by their spears and died in a few days. To us it might seem obvious that the peacemaker was killed by the spear-wounds which he had received, but none of the Abipones would admit such a thing for a moment. They stoutly affirmed that their comrade had been done to death by the magical arts of some person unknown, and their suspicions fell on a certain old woman, known to be a witch, to whom the deceased had lately refused to give a water-melon, and who out of spite had killed him by her spells, though he appeared to the European eye to have died of a spear-wound.[7] [Sidenote: Belief of the Araucanians.] Similarly the warlike Araucanians of Chili are said to disbelieve in natural death. Even if a man dies peaceably at the age of a hundred, they still think that he has been bewitched by an enemy. A diviner or medicine-man is consulted in order to discover the culprit. Some of these wizards enjoy a great reputation and the Indians will send a hundred miles or more to get the opinion of an eminent member of the profession. In such cases they submit to him some of the remains of the dead man, for example, his eyebrows, his nails, his tongue, or the soles of his feet, and from an examination of these relics the man of skill pronounces on the author of the death. The person whom he accuses is hunted down and killed, sometimes by fire, amid the yells of an enraged crowd.[8] [Sidenote: Belief of the Bakaïri.] When the eminent German anthropologist was questioning a Bakaïri Indian of Brazil as to the language of his tribe, he gave the sentence, "Every man must die" to be translated into the Bakaïri language. To his astonishment, the Indian remained long silent. The same long pause always occurred when an abstract proposition, with which he was unfamiliar, was put before the Indian for translation into his native tongue. On the present occasion the enquirer learned that the Indian has no idea of necessity in the abstract, and in particular he has no conception at all of the necessity of death. The cause of death, in his opinion, is invariably an ill turn done by somebody to the deceased. If there were only good men in the world, he thinks that there would be neither sickness nor death. He knows nothing about a natural end of the vital process; he believes that all sickness and disease are the effects of witchcraft.[9] [Sidenote: Belief of the Indians of Guiana in sorcery as the cause of sickness and death.] Speaking of the Indians of Guiana, an English missionary, who knew them well, says that the worst feature in their character is their proneness to blood revenge, "by which a succession of retaliatory murders may be kept up for a long time. It is closely connected with their system of sorcery, which we shall presently consider. A person dies,--and it is supposed that an enemy has secured the agency of an evil spirit to compass his death. Some sorcerer, employed by the friends of the deceased for that purpose, pretends by his incantations to discover the guilty individual or family, or at any rate to indicate the quarter where they dwell. A near relative of the deceased is then charged with the work of vengeance. He becomes a _kanaima_, or is supposed to be possessed by the destroying spirit so called, and has to live apart, according to strict rule, and submit to many privations, until the deed of blood be accomplished. If the supposed offender cannot be slain, some innocent member of his family--man, woman, or little child--must suffer instead."[10] The same writer tells us that these Indians of Guiana attribute sickness and death directly to the agency of certain evil spirits called _yauhahu_, who delight in inflicting miseries upon mankind. Pain, in the language of the Arawaks (one of the best-known tribes of Guiana), is called _yauhahu simaira_ or "the evil spirit's arrow."[11] It is these evil spirits whom wicked sorcerers employ to accomplish their fell purpose. Thus while the demon is the direct cause of sickness and death, the sorcerer who uses him as his tool is the indirect cause. The demon is thought to do his work by inserting some alien substance into the body of the sufferer, and a medicine-man is employed to extract it by chanting an invocation to the maleficent spirit, shaking his rattle, and sucking the part of the patient's frame in which the cause of the malady is imagined to reside. "After many ceremonies he will produce from his mouth some strange substance, such as a thorn or gravel-stone, a fish-bone or bird's claw, a snake's tooth, or a piece of wire, which some malicious _yauhahu_ is supposed to have inserted in the affected part. As soon as the patient fancies himself rid of this cause of his illness his recovery is generally rapid, and the fame of the sorcerer greatly increased. Should death, however, ensue, the blame is laid upon the evil spirit whose power and malignity have prevailed over the counteracting charms. Some rival sorcerer will at times come in for a share of the blame, whom the sufferer has unhappily made his enemy, and who is supposed to have employed the _yauhahu_ in destroying him. The sorcerers being supposed to have the power of causing, as well as of curing diseases, are much dreaded by the common people, who never wilfully offend them. So deeply rooted in the Indian's bosom is this belief concerning the origin of diseases, that they have little idea of sickness arising from other causes. Death may arise from a wound or a contusion, or be brought on by want of food, but in other cases it is the work of the _yauhahu_"[12] or evil spirit. [Sidenote: Some deaths attributed to sorcery and others to evil spirits: practical consequence of this distinction.] In this account it is to be observed that while all natural deaths from sickness and disease are attributed to the direct action of evil spirits, only some of them are attributed to the indirect action of sorcerers. The practical consequences of this theoretical distinction are very important. For whereas death by sorcery must, in the opinion of savages, be avenged by killing the supposed sorcerer, death by the action of a demon cannot be so avenged; for how are you to get at the demon? Hence, while every death by sorcery involves, theoretically at least, another death by violence, death by a demon involves no such practical consequence. So far, therefore, the faith in sorcery is far more murderous than the faith in demons. This practical distinction is clearly recognised by these Indians of Guiana; for another writer, who laboured among them as a missionary, tells us that when a person dies a natural death, the medicine-man is called upon to decide whether he perished through the agency of a demon or the agency of a sorcerer. If he decides that the deceased died through the malice of an evil spirit, the body is quietly buried, and no more is thought of the matter. But if the wizard declares that the cause of death was sorcery, the corpse is closely inspected, and if a blue mark is discovered, it is pointed out as the spot where the invisible poisoned arrow, discharged by the sorcerer, entered the man. The next thing is to detect the culprit. For this purpose a pot containing a decoction of leaves is set to boil on a fire. When it begins to boil over, the side on which the scum first falls is the quarter in which the supposed murderer is to be sought. A consultation is then held: the guilt is laid on some individual, and one of the nearest relations of the deceased is charged with the duty of finding and killing him. If the imaginary culprit cannot be found, any other member of his family may be slain in his stead. "It is not difficult to conceive," adds the writer, "how, under such circumstances, no man's life is secure; whilst these by no means unfrequent murders must greatly tend to diminish the number of the natives."[13] [Sidenote: Among the Indians of Guiana death is oftener attributed to sorcery than to demons.] However, it would seem that among the Indians of Guiana sickness and death are oftener ascribed to the agency of sorcerers than to the agency of demons acting alone. For another high authority on these Indians, Sir Everard F. im Thurn, tells us that "every death, every illness, is regarded not as the result of natural law, but as the work of a _kenaima_" or sorcerer. "Often indeed," he adds, "the survivors or the relatives of the invalid do not know to whom to attribute the deed, which therefore perforce remains unpunished; but often, again, there is real or fancied reason to fix on some one as the _kenaima_, and then the nearest relative of the injured individual devotes himself to retaliate. Strange ceremonies are sometimes observed in order to discover the secret _kenaima_. Richard Schomburgk describes a striking instance of this. A Macusi boy had died a natural death, and his relatives endeavoured to discover the quarter to which the _kenaima_ who was supposed to have slain him belonged. Raising a terrible and monotonous dirge, they carried the body to an open piece of ground, and there formed a circle round it, while the father, cutting from the corpse both the thumbs and little fingers, both the great and the little toes, and a piece of each heel, threw these pieces into a new pot, which had been filled with water. A fire was kindled, and on this the pot was placed. When the water began to boil, according to the side on which one of the pieces was first thrown out from the pot by the bubbling of the water, in that direction would the _kenaima_ be. In thus looking round to see who did the deed, the Indian thinks it by no means necessary to fix on anyone who has been with or near the injured man. The _kenaima_ is supposed to have done the deed, not necessarily in person, but probably in spirit."[14] For these Indians believe that each individual man has a body and a spirit within it, and that sorcerers can despatch their spirits out of their bodies to harm people at a distance. It is not always in an invisible form that these spirits of sorcerers are supposed to roam on their errands of mischief. The wizard can put his spirit into the shape of an animal, such as a jaguar, a serpent, a sting-ray, a bird, an insect, or anything else he pleases. Hence when an Indian is attacked by a wild beast, he thinks that his real foe is not the animal, but the sorcerer who has transformed himself into it. Curiously enough they look upon some small harmless birds in the same light. One little bird, in particular, which flits across the savannahs with a peculiar shrill whistle at morning and evening, is regarded by the Indians with especial fear as a transformed sorcerer. They think that for every one of these birds that they shoot they have an enemy the less, and they burn its little body, taking great care that not even a single feather escapes to be blown about by the wind. On a windy day a dozen men and women have been seen chasing the floating feathers of these birds about the savannah in order utterly to extinguish the imaginary wizard. Even the foreign substance, the stick, bone, or whatever it is, which the good medicine-man pretends to suck from the body of the sufferer "is often, if not always, regarded not simply as a natural body, but as the materialised form of a hostile spirit."[15] [Sidenote: Belief of the Tinneh Indians in sorcery as the cause of death.] Beliefs and practices of the same general character are reported to have formerly prevailed among the Tinneh or Déné Indians of North-west America. When any beloved or influential person died, nobody, we are told, would think of attributing the death to natural causes; it was assumed that the demise was an effect of sorcery, and the only difficulty was to ascertain the culprit. For that purpose the services of a shaman were employed. Rigged out in all his finery he would dance and sing, then suddenly fall down and feign death or sleep. On awaking from the apparent trance he would denounce the sorcerer who had killed the deceased by his magic art, and the denunciation generally proved the death-warrant of the accused.[16] [Sidenote: Belief of the Australian aborigines in sorcery as the cause of death.] Again, similar beliefs and customs in regard to what we should call natural death appear to have prevailed universally amongst the aborigines of Australia, and to have contributed very materially to thin the population. On this subject I will quote the words of an observer. His remarks apply to the Australian aborigines in general but to the tribes of Victoria in particular. He says: "The natives are much more numerous in some parts of Australia than they are in others, but nowhere is the country thickly peopled; some dire disease occasionally breaks out among the natives, and carries off large numbers.... But there are two other causes which, in my opinion, principally account for their paucity of numbers. The first is that infanticide is universally practised; the second, that a belief exists that no one can die a natural death. Thus, if an individual of a certain tribe dies, his relatives consider that his death has been caused by sorcery on the part of another tribe. The deceased's sons, or nearest relatives, therefore start off on a _bucceening_ or murdering expedition. If the deceased is buried, a fly or a beetle is put into the grave, and the direction in which the insect wings its way when released is the one the avengers take. If the body is burnt, the whereabouts of the offending parties is indicated by the direction of the smoke. The first unfortunates fallen in with are generally watched until they encamp for the night; when they are buried in sleep, the murderers steal quietly up until they are within a yard or two of their victims, rush suddenly upon and butcher them. On these occasions they always abstract the kidney-fat, and also take off a piece of the skin of the thigh. These are carried home as trophies, as the American Indians take the scalp. The murderers anoint their bodies with the fat of their victims, thinking that by that process the strength of the deceased enters into them. Sometimes it happens that the _bucceening_ party come suddenly upon a man of a strange tribe in a tree hunting opossums; he is immediately speared, and left weltering in his blood at the foot of the tree. The relatives of the murdered man at once proceed to retaliate; and thus a constant and never-ending series of murders is always going on.... I do not mean to assert that for every man that dies or is killed another is murdered; for it often happens that the deceased has no sons or relatives who care about avenging his death. At other times a _bucceening_ party will return without having met with any one; then, again, they are sometimes repelled by those they attack."[17] [Sidenote: Belief of the natives of Western Australia in sorcery as a cause of death. Beliefs of the tribes of Victoria and South Australia.] Again, speaking of the tribes of Western Australia, Sir George Grey tells us that "the natives do not allow that there is such a thing as a death from natural causes; they believe, that were it not for murderers or the malignity of sorcerers, they might live for ever; hence, when a native dies from the effect of an accident, or from some natural cause, they use a variety of superstitious ceremonies, to ascertain in what direction the sorcerer lives, whose evil practices have brought about the death of their relative; this point being satisfactorily settled by friendly sorcerers, they then attach the crime to some individual, and the funeral obsequies are scarcely concluded, ere they start to revenge their supposed wrongs."[18] Again, speaking of the Watch-an-die tribe of Western Australia, another writer tells us that they "possess the comfortable assurance that nearly all diseases, and consequently deaths, are caused by the enchantments of hostile tribes, and that were it not for the malevolence of their enemies they would (with a few exceptions) live for ever. Consequently, on the first approach of sickness their first endeavour is to ascertain whether the _boollia_ [magic] of their own tribe is not sufficiently potent to counteract that of their foes. Should the patient recover, they are, of course, proud of the superiority of their enchantment over that of their enemies: but should the _boollia_ [magical influence] within the sick man prove stronger than their own, as there is no help for it, he must die, the utmost they can do in this case is to revenge his death."[19] But the same writer qualifies this general statement as follows: "It is not true," he says, "that the New Hollanders impute _all_ natural deaths to the _boollia_ [magic] of inimical tribes, for in most cases of persons wasting visibly away before death, they do not entertain the notion. It is chiefly in cases of sudden death, or when the body of the deceased is fat and in good condition, that this belief prevails, and it is only in such contingencies that it becomes an imperative duty to have revenge."[20] Similarly, speaking of the tribes of Victoria in the early days of European settlement among them, the experienced observer Mr. James Dawson says that "natural deaths are generally--but not always--attributed to the malevolence and the spells of an enemy belonging to another tribe."[21] Again, with regard to the Encounter Bay tribe of South Australia we read that "there are but few diseases which they regard as the consequences of natural causes; in general they consider them the effects of enchantment, and produced by sorcerers."[22] Similarly of the Port Lincoln tribes in South Australia it is recorded that "in all cases of death that do not arise from old age, wounds, or other equally palpable causes, the natives suspect that unfair means have been practised; and even where the cause of death is sufficiently plain, they sometimes will not content themselves with it, but have recourse to an imaginary one, as the following case will prove:--A woman had been bitten by a black snake, across the thumb, in clearing out a well; she began to swell directly, and was a corpse in twenty-four hours; yet, another woman who had been present when the accident occurred, stated that the deceased had named a certain native as having caused her death. Upon this statement, which was in their opinion corroborated by the circumstance that the snake had drawn no blood from the deceased, her husband and other friends had a fight with the accused party and his friends; a reconciliation, however, took place afterwards, and it was admitted on the part of the aggressors that they had been in error with regard to the guilty individual; but nowise more satisfied as to the bite of the snake being the true cause of the woman's death, another party was now suddenly discovered to be the real offender, and accordingly war was made upon him and his partisans, till at last the matter was dropped and forgotten. From this case, as well as from frequent occurrences of a similar nature, it appears evident that thirst for revenge has quite as great a share in these foul accusations as superstition."[23] [Sidenote: Other testimonies as to the belief of the natives of South Australia and Victoria.] However, other experienced observers of the Australian aborigines admit no such limitations and exceptions to the native theory that death is an effect of sorcery. Thus in regard to the Narrinyeri tribe of South Australia the Rev. George Taplin, who knew them intimately for years, says that "no native regards death as natural, but always as the result of sorcery."[24] Again, to quote Mr. R. Brough Smyth, who has collected much information on the tribes of Victoria: "Mr. Daniel Bunce, an intelligent observer, and a gentleman well acquainted with the habits of the blacks, says that no tribe that he has ever met with believes in the possibility of a man dying a natural death. If a man is taken ill, it is at once assumed that some member of a hostile tribe has stolen some of his hair. This is quite enough to cause serious illness. If the man continues sick and gets worse, it is assumed that the hair has been burnt by his enemy. Such an act, they say, is sufficient to imperil his life. If the man dies, it is assumed that the thief has choked his victim and taken away his kidney-fat. When the grave is being dug, one or more of the older men--generally doctors or conjurors (_Buk-na-look_)--stand by and attentively watch the laborers; and if an insect is thrown out of the ground, these old men observe the direction which it takes, and having determined the line, two of the young men, relations of the deceased, are despatched in the path indicated, with instructions to kill the first native they meet, who they are assured and believe is the person directly chargeable with the crime of causing the death of their relative. Mr. John Green says that the men of the Yarra tribe firmly believe that no one ever dies a natural death. A man or a woman dies because of the wicked arts practised by some member of a hostile tribe; and they discover the direction in which to search for the slayer by the movements of a lizard which is seen immediately after the corpse is interred."[25] Again, speaking of the aborigines of Victoria, another writer observes: "All deaths from natural causes are attributed to the machinations of enemies, who are supposed to have sought for and burned the excrement of the intended victim, which, according to the general belief, causes a gradual wasting away. The relatives, therefore, watch the struggling feet of the dying person, as they point in the direction whence the injury is thought to come, and serve as a guide to the spot where it should be avenged. This is the duty of the nearest male relative; should he fail in its execution, it will ever be to him a reproach, although other relatives may have avenged the death. If the deceased were a chief, then the duty devolves upon the tribe. Chosen men are sent in the direction indicated, who kill the first persons they meet, whether men, women, or children; and the more lives that are sacrificed, the greater is the honour to the dead."[26] Again, in his account of the Kurnai tribe of Victoria the late Dr. A. W. Howitt remarks: "It is not difficult to see how, among savages, who have no knowledge of the real causes of diseases which are the common lot of humanity, the very suspicion even of such a thing as death from disease should be unknown. Death by accident they can imagine; death by violence they can imagine; but I question if they can, in their savage condition, imagine death by mere disease. Rheumatism is believed to be produced by the machinations of some enemy. Seeing a Tatungolung very lame, I asked him what was the matter? He said, 'Some fellow has put _bottle_ in my foot.' I asked him to let me see it. I found he was probably suffering from acute rheumatism. He explained that some enemy must have found his foot track, and have buried in it a piece of broken bottle. The magic influence, he believed, caused it to enter his foot.... Phthisis, pneumonia, bowel complaints, and insanity are supposed to be produced by an evil spirit--Brewin--'who is like the wind,' and who, entering his victims, can only be expelled by suitable incantations.... Thus the belief arises that death occurs only from accident, open violence, or secret magic; and, naturally, that the latter can only be met by counter-charms."[27] [Sidenote: Belief of the aborigines of New South Wales in sorcery as the cause of sickness and death.] The beliefs and practices of the aborigines of New South Wales in respect of death were similar. Thus we are told by a well-informed writer that "the natives do not believe in death from natural causes; therefore all sickness is attributed to the agency of sorcery, and counter charms are used to destroy its effect.... As a man's death is never supposed to have occurred naturally, except as the result of accident, or from a wound in battle, the first thing to be done when a death occurs is to endeavour to find out the person whose spells have brought about the calamity. In the Wathi-Wathi tribe the corpse is asked by each relative in succession to signify by some sign the person who has caused his death. Not receiving an answer, they watch in which direction a bird flies, after having passed over the deceased. This is considered an indication that the sorcerer is to be found in that direction. Sometimes the nearest relative sleeps with his head on the corpse, which causes him, they think, to dream of the murderer. There is, however, a good deal of uncertainty about the proceedings, which seldom result in more than a great display of wrath, and of vowing of vengeance against some member of a neighbouring tribe. Unfortunately this is not always the case, the man who is supposed to have exercised the death-spell being sometimes waylaid and murdered in a most cruel manner."[28] With regard to the great Kamilaroi tribe of New South Wales we read that "in some parts of the country a belief prevails that death, through disease, is, in many, if not in all cases, the result of an enemy's malice. It is a common saying, when illness or death comes, that some one has thrown his belt (_boor_) at the victim. There are various modes of fixing upon the murderer. One is to let an insect fly from the body of the deceased and see towards whom it goes. The person thus singled out is doomed."[29] [Sidenote: Belief of the aborigines of Central Australia in sorcery as the cause of death.] Speaking of the tribes of Central Australia, Messrs. Spencer and Gillen observe that "in the matter of morality their code differs radically from ours, but it cannot be denied that their conduct is governed by it, and that any known breaches are dealt with both surely and severely. In very many cases there takes place what the white man, not seeing beneath the surface, not unnaturally describes as secret murder, but, in reality, revolting though such slaughter may be to our minds at the present day, it is simply exactly on a par with the treatment accorded to witches not so very long ago in European countries. Every case of such secret murder, when one or more men stealthily stalk their prey with the object of killing him, is in reality the exacting of a life for a life, the accused person being indicated by the so-called medicine-man as one who has brought about the death of another man by magic, and whose life must therefore be forfeited. It need hardly be pointed out what a potent element this custom has been in keeping down the numbers of the tribe; no such thing as natural death is realised by the native; a man who dies has of necessity been killed by some other man, or perhaps even by a woman, and sooner or later that man or woman will be attacked. In the normal condition of the tribe every death meant the killing of another individual."[30] [Sidenote: Belief of the natives of the Torres Straits Islands and New Guinea in sorcery as the cause of death.] Passing from Australia to other savage lands we learn that according to the belief of the Torres Straits Islanders all sickness and death were due to sorcery.[31] The natives of Mowat or Mawatta in British New Guinea "do not believe in a natural death, but attribute even the decease of an old man to the agency of some enemy known or unknown."[32] In the opinion of the tribes about Hood Peninsula in British New Guinea no one dies a natural death. Every such death is caused by the evil magic either of a living sorcerer or of a dead relation.[33] Of the Roro-speaking tribes of British New Guinea Dr. Seligmann writes that "except in the case of old folk, death is not admitted to occur without some obvious cause such as a spear-thrust. Therefore when vigorous and active members of the community die, it becomes necessary to explain their fate, and such deaths are firmly believed to be produced by sorcery. Indeed, as far as I have been able to ascertain, the Papuasian of this district regards the existence of sorcery, not, as has been alleged, as a particularly terrifying and horrible affair, but as a necessary and inevitable condition of existence in the world as he knows it."[34] Amongst the Yabim of German New Guinea "every case of death, even though it should happen accidentally, as by the fall of a tree or the bite of a shark, is laid at the door of the sorcerers. They are blamed even for the death of a child. If it is said that a little child never hurt anybody and therefore cannot have an enemy, the reply is that the intention was to injure the mother, and that the malady had been transferred to the infant through its mother's milk."[35] [Sidenote: Belief of the Melanesians in sorcery as the cause of sickness and death.] Again, in the island of Malo, one of the New Hebrides, a Catholic missionary reports that according to a belief deeply implanted in the native mind every disease is the effect of witchcraft, and that nobody dies a natural death but only as a consequence of violence, poison, or sorcery.[36] Similarly in New Georgia, one of the Solomon Islands, when a person is sick, the natives think that he must be bewitched by a man or woman, for in their opinion nobody can be sick or die unless he is bewitched; what we call natural sickness and death are impossible. In case of illness suspicion falls on some one who is supposed to have buried a charmed object with intent to injure the sufferer.[37] Of the Melanesians who inhabit the coast of the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain it is said that all deaths by sickness or disease are attributed by them to the witchcraft of a sorcerer, and a diviner is called in to ascertain the culprit who by his evil magic has destroyed their friends.[38] "Amongst the Melanesians few, if any, are believed to die from natural causes only; if they are not killed in war, they are supposed to die from the effects of witchcraft or magic. Whenever any one was sick, his friends made anxious inquiries as to the person who had bewitched (_agara'd_) him. Some one would generally be found to admit that he had buried some portion of food or something belonging to the sick man, which had caused his illness. The friends would pay him to dig it up, and after that the patient would generally get well. If, however, he did not recover, it was assumed that some other person had also _agara'd_ him."[39] [Sidenote: The belief of the Malagasy in sorcery as a cause of death.] Speaking of the Malagasy a Catholic missionary tells us that in Madagascar nobody dies a natural death. With the possible exception of centenarians everybody is supposed to die the victim of the sorcerer's diabolic art. If a relation of yours dies, the people comfort you by saying, "Cursed be the sorcerer who caused his death!" If your horse falls down a precipice and breaks its back, the accident has been caused by the malicious look of a sorcerer. If your dog dies of hydrophobia or your horse of a carbuncle, the cause is still the same. If you catch a fever in a district where malaria abounds, the malady is still ascribed to the art of the sorcerer, who has insinuated some deadly substances into your body.[40] Again, speaking of the Sakalava, a tribe in Madagascar, an eminent French authority on the island observes: "They have such a faith in the power of talismans that they even ascribe to them the power of killing their enemies. When they speak of poisoning, they do not allude, as many Europeans wrongly suppose, to death by vegetable or mineral poisons; the reference is to charms or spells. They often throw under the bed of an enemy an _ahouli_ [talisman], praying it to kill him, and they are persuaded that sooner or later their wish will be accomplished. I have often been present at bloody vendettas which had no other origin but this. The Sakalava think that a great part of the population dies of poison in this way. In their opinion, only old people who have attained the extreme limits of human longevity die a natural death."[41] [Sidenote: Belief of African tribes in sorcery as the cause of sickness and death.] In Africa similar beliefs are widely spread and lead, as elsewhere, to fatal consequences. Thus the Kagoro of Northern Nigeria refuse to believe in death from natural causes; all illnesses and deaths, in their opinion, are brought about by black magic, however old and decrepit the deceased may have been. They explain sickness by saying that a man's soul wanders from his body in sleep and may then be caught, detained, and even beaten with a stick by some evil-wisher; whenever that happens, the man naturally falls ill. Sometimes an enemy will abstract the patient's liver by magic and carry it away to a cave in a sacred grove, where he will devour it in company with other wicked sorcerers. A witch-doctor is called in to detect the culprit, and whomever he denounces is shut up in a room, where a fire is kindled and pepper thrown into it; and there he is kept in the fumes of the burning pepper till he confesses his guilt and returns the stolen liver, upon which of course the sick man recovers. But should the patient die, the miscreant who did him to death by kidnapping his soul or his liver will be sold as a slave or choked.[42] In like manner the Bakerewe, who inhabit the largest island in the Victoria Nyanza lake, believe that all deaths and all ailments, however trivial, are the effect of witchcraft; and the person, generally an old woman, whom the witch-doctor accuses of having cast the spell on the patient is tied up, severely beaten, or stabbed to death on the spot.[43] Again, we are told that "the peoples of the Congo do not believe in a natural death, not even when it happens through drowning or any other accident. Whoever dies is the victim of witchcraft or of a spell. His soul has been eaten. He must be avenged by the punishment of the person who has committed the crime." Accordingly when a death has taken place, the medicine-man is sent for to discover the criminal. He pretends to be possessed by a spirit and in this state he names the wretch who has caused the death by sorcery. The accused has to submit to the poison ordeal by drinking a decoction of the red bark of the _Erythrophloeum guiniense_. If he vomits up the poison, he is innocent; but if he fails to do so, the infuriated crowd rushes on him and despatches him with knives and clubs. The family of the supposed culprit has moreover to pay an indemnity to the family of the supposed victim.[44] "Death, in the opinion of the natives, is never due to a natural cause. It is always the result either of a crime or of sorcery, and is followed by the poison ordeal, which has to be undergone by an innocent person whom the fetish-man accuses from selfish motives."[45] [Sidenote: Effect of such beliefs in thinning the population by causing multitudes to die for the imaginary crime of sorcery.] Evidence of the same sort could be multiplied for West Africa, where the fear of sorcery is rampant.[46] But without going into further details, I wish to point out the disastrous effects which here, as elsewhere, this theory of death has produced upon the population. For when a death from natural causes takes place, the author of the death being of course unknown, suspicion often falls on a number of people, all of whom are obliged to submit to the poison ordeal in order to prove their innocence, with the result that some or possibly all of them perish. A very experienced American missionary in West Africa, the Rev. R. H. Nassau, the friend of the late Miss Mary H. Kingsley, tells us that for every person who dies a natural death at least one, and often ten or more have been executed on an accusation of witchcraft.[47] Andrew Battel, a native of Essex, who lived in Angola for many years at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century, informs us that "in this country none on any account dieth, but they kill another for him: for they believe they die not their own natural death, but that some other has bewitched them to death. And all those are brought in by the friends of the dead whom they suspect; so that there many times come five hundred men and women to take the drink, made of the foresaid root _imbando_. They are brought all to the high-street or market-place, and there the master of the _imbando_ sits with his water, and gives every one a cup of water by one measure; and they are commanded to walk in a certain place till they make water, and then they are free. But he that cannot urine presently falls down, and all the people, great and small, fall upon him with their knives, and beat and cut him into pieces. But I think the witch that gives the water is partial, and gives to him whose death is desired the strongest water, but no man of the bye-standers can perceive it. This is done in the town of Longo, almost every week throughout the year."[48] A French official tells us that among the Neyaux of the Ivory Coast similar beliefs and practices were visibly depopulating the country, every single natural death causing the death of four or five persons by the poison ordeal, which consisted in drinking the decoction of a red bark called by the natives _boduru_. At the death of a chief fifteen men and women perished in this way. The French Government had great difficulty in suppressing the ordeal; for the deluded natives firmly believed in the justice of the test and therefore submitted to it willingly in the full consciousness of their innocence.[49] In the neighbourhood of Calabar the poison ordeal, which here consists in drinking a decoction of a certain bean, the _Physostigma venenosum_ of botanists, has had similar disastrous results, as we learn from the testimony of a missionary, the Rev. Hugh Goldie. He tells us that the people have firm faith in the ordeal and therefore not only accept it readily but appeal to it, convinced that it will demonstrate their innocence. A small tribe named Uwet in the hill-country of Calabar almost swept itself off the face of the earth by its constant use of the ordeal. On one occasion the whole population drank the poison to prove themselves pure, as they said; about half perished, "and the remnant," says Mr. Goldie, "still continuing their superstitious practice, must soon become extinct"[50] These words were written a good many years ago, and it is probable that by this time these poor fanatics have actually succeeded in exterminating themselves. So fatal may be the practical consequences of a purely speculative error; for it is to be remembered that these disasters flow directly from a mistaken theory of death. [Sidenote: General conclusion as to the belief in sorcery as the great cause of death.] Much more evidence of the same kind could be adduced, but without pursuing the theme further I think we may lay it down as a general rule that at a certain stage of social and intellectual evolution men have believed themselves to be naturally immortal in this life and have regarded death by disease or even by accident or violence as an unnatural event which has been brought about by sorcery and which must be avenged by the death of the sorcerer. If that has been so, we seem bound to conclude that a belief in magic or sorcery has had a most potent influence in keeping down the numbers of savage tribes; since as a rule every natural death has entailed at least one, often several, sometimes many deaths by violence. This may help us to understand what an immense power for evil the world-wide faith in magic or sorcery has been among men. [Sidenote: But some savages have attributed death to other causes than sorcery.] But even savages come in time to perceive that deaths are sometimes brought about by other causes than sorcery. We have seen that some of them admit extreme old age, accidents, and violence as causes of death which are independent of sorcery. The admission of these exceptions to the general rule certainly marks a stage of intellectual progress. I will give a few more instances of such admissions before concluding this part of my subject. [Sidenote: Some savages dissect the corpse to ascertain whether death was due to natural causes or to sorcery.] In the first place, certain savage tribes are reported to dissect the bodies of their dead in order to ascertain from an examination of the corpse whether the deceased died a natural death or perished by magic. This is reported by Mr. E. R. Smith concerning the Araucanians of Chili, who according to other writers, as we saw,[51] believe all deaths to be due to sorcery. Mr. Smith tells us that after death the services of the _machi_ or medicine-man "are again required, especially if the deceased be a person of distinction. The body is dissected and examined. If the liver be found in a healthy state, the death is attributed to natural causes; but if the liver prove to be inflamed, it is supposed to indicate the machinations of some evil-intentioned persons, and it rests with the medicine-man to discover the conspirator. This is accomplished by much the same means that were used to find out the nature of the disease. The gall is extracted, put in the magic drum, and after various incantations taken out and placed over the fire, in a pot carefully covered; if, after subjecting the gall to a certain amount of roasting, a stone is found in the bottom of the pot, it is declared to be the means by which death was produced. These stones, as well as the frogs, spiders, arrows, or whatever else may be extracted from the sick man, are called _Huecuvu_--the 'Evil One.' By aid of the _Huecuvu_ the _machi_ [medicine-man] throws himself into a trance, in which state he discovers and announces the person guilty of the death, and describes the manner in which it was produced."[52] Again, speaking of the Pahouins, a tribe of the Gaboon region in French Congo, a Catholic missionary writes thus: "It is so rare among the Pahouins that a death is considered natural! Scarcely has the deceased given up the ghost when the sorcerer appears on the scene. With three cuts of the knife, one transverse and two lateral, he dissects the breast of the corpse and turns down the skin on the face. Then he grabbles in the breast, examines the bowels attentively, marks the last muscular contractions, and thereupon pronounces whether the death was natural or not." If he decides that the death was due to sorcery, the suspected culprit has to submit to the poison ordeal in the usual manner to determine his guilt or innocence.[53] [Sidenote: The possibility of natural death admitted by the Melanesians.] Another savage people who have come to admit the possibility of merely natural death are the Melanesians of the New Hebrides and other parts of Central Melanesia. Amongst them "any sickness that is serious is believed to be brought about by ghosts or spirits; common complaints such as fever and ague are taken as coming in the course of nature. To say that savages are never ill without supposing a supernatural cause is not true of Melanesians; they make up their minds as the sickness comes whether it is natural or not, and the more important the individual who is sick, the more likely his sickness is to be ascribed to the anger of a ghost whom he has offended, or to witchcraft. No great man would like to be told that he was ill by natural weakness or decay. The sickness is almost always believed to be caused by a ghost, not by a spirit.... Generally it is to the ghosts of the dead that sickness is ascribed in the eastern islands as well as in the western; recourse is had to them for aid in causing and removing sickness; and ghosts are believed to inflict sickness not only because some offence, such as a trespass, has been committed against them, or because one familiar with them has sought their aid with sacrifice and spells, but because there is a certain malignity in the feeling of all ghosts towards the living, who offend them by being alive."[54] From this account we learn, first, that the Melanesians admit some deaths by common diseases, such as fever and ague, to be natural; and, second, that they recognise ghosts and spirits as well as sorcerers and witches, among the causes of death; indeed they hold that ghosts are the commonest of all causes of sickness and death. [Sidenote: The possibility of natural death admitted by the Caffres of South Africa.] The same causes of death are recognised also by the Caffres of South Africa, as we learn from Mr. Dudley Kidd, who tells us that according to the beliefs of the natives, "to start with, there is sickness which is supposed to be caused by the action of ancestral spirits or by fabulous monsters. Secondly, there is sickness which is caused by the magical practices of some evil person who is using witchcraft in secret. Thirdly, there is sickness which comes from neither of these causes, and remains unexplained. It is said to be 'only sickness, and nothing more.' This third form of sickness is, I think, the commonest. Yet most writers wholly ignore it, or deny its existence. It may happen that an attack of indigestion is one day attributed to the action of witch or wizard; another day the trouble is put down to the account of ancestral spirits; on a third occasion the people may be at a loss to account for it, and so may dismiss the problem by saying that it is merely sickness. It is quite common to hear natives say that they are at a loss to account for some special case of illness. At first they thought it was caused by an angry ancestral spirit; but a great doctor has assured them that it is not the result of such a spirit. They then suppose it to be due to the magical practices of some enemy; but the doctor negatives that theory. The people are, therefore, driven to the conclusion that the trouble has no ascertainable cause. In some cases they do not even trouble to consult a diviner; they speedily recognise the sickness as due to natural causes. In such a case it needs no explanation. If they think that some friend of theirs knows of a remedy, they will try it on their own initiative, or may even go off to a white man to ask for some of his medicine. They would never dream of doing this if they thought they were being influenced by magic or by ancestral spirits. The Kafirs quite recognise that there are types of disease which are inherited, and have not been caused by magic or by ancestral spirits. They admit that some accidents are due to nothing but the patient's carelessness or stupidity. If a native gets his leg run over by a waggon, the people will often say that it is all his own fault through being clumsy. In other cases, with delightful inconsistency, they may say that some one has been working magic to cause the accident. In short, it is impossible to make out a theory of sickness which will satisfy our European conception of consistency."[55] [Sidenote: The admission that death may be due to natural causes, marks an intellectual advance. The recognition of ghosts or spirits as a cause of disease, apart from sorcery, also marks a step in intellectual, moral, and social progress.] From the foregoing accounts we see that the Melanesians and the Caffres, two widely different and widely separated races, agree in recognising at least three distinct causes of what we should call natural death. These three causes are, first, sorcery or witchcraft; second, ghosts or spirits; and third, disease.[56] That the recognition of disease in itself as a cause of death, quite apart from sorcery, marks an intellectual advance, will not be disputed. It is not so clear, though I believe it is equally true, that the recognition of ghosts or spirits as a cause of disease, quite apart from witchcraft, marks a real step in intellectual, moral, and social progress. In the first place, it marks a step in intellectual and moral progress; for it recognises that effects which before had been ascribed to human agency spring from superhuman causes; and this recognition of powers in the universe superior to man is not only an intellectual gain but a moral discipline: it teaches the important lesson of humility. In the second place it marks a step in social progress because when the blame of a death is laid upon a ghost or a spirit instead of on a sorcerer, the death has not to be avenged by killing a human being, the supposed author of the calamity. Thus the recognition of ghosts or spirits as the sources of sickness and death has as its immediate effect the sparing of an immense number of lives of men and women, who on the theory of death by sorcery would have perished by violence to expiate their imaginary crime. That this is a great gain to society is obvious: it adds immensely to the security of human life by removing one of the most fruitful causes of its destruction. It must be admitted, however, that the gain is not always as great as might be expected; the social advantages of a belief in ghosts and spirits are attended by many serious drawbacks. For while ghosts or spirits are commonly, though not always, supposed to be beyond the reach of human vengeance, they are generally thought to be well within the reach of human persuasion, flattery, and bribery; in other words, men think that they can appease and propitiate them by prayer and sacrifice; and while prayer is always cheap, sacrifice may be very dear, since it can, and often does, involve the destruction of an immense deal of valuable property and of a vast number of human lives. Yet if we could reckon up the myriads who have been slain in sacrifice to ghosts and gods, it seems probable that they would fall far short of the untold multitudes who have perished as sorcerers and witches. For while human sacrifices in honour of deities or of the dead have been for the most part exceptional rather than regular, only the great gods and the illustrious dead being deemed worthy of such costly offerings, the slaughter of witches and wizards, theoretically at least, followed inevitably on every natural death among people who attributed all such deaths to sorcery. Hence if natural religion be defined roughly as a belief in superhuman spiritual beings and an attempt to propitiate them, we may perhaps say that, while natural religion has slain its thousands, magic has slain its ten thousands. But there are strong reasons for inferring that in the history of society an Age of Magic preceded an Age of Religion. If that was so, we may conclude that the advent of religion marked a great social as well as intellectual advance upon the preceding Age of Magic: it inaugurated an era of what might be described as mercy by comparison with the relentless severity of its predecessor. [Footnote 6: W. Martin, _An Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands_, Second Edition (London, 1818), ii. 99.] [Footnote 7: M. Dobrizhoffer, _Historia de Abiponibus_ (Vienna, 1784), ii. 92 _sq._, 240 _sqq._ The author of this valuable work lived as a Catholic missionary in the tribe for eighteen years.] [Footnote 8: C. Gay, "Fragment d'un Voyage dans le Chili et au Cusco," _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_ (Paris), Deuxième Série, xix. (1843) p. 25; H. Delaporte, "Une visite chez les Araucaniens," _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_ (Paris), Quatrième Série, x. (1855) p. 30.] [Footnote 9: K. von den Steinen, _Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens_ (Berlin, 1894), pp. 344, 348.] [Footnote 10: Rev. W. H. Brett, _The Indian Tribes of Guiana_ (London, 1868), p. 357.] [Footnote 11: W. H. Brett, _op. cit._ pp. 361 _sq._] [Footnote 12: Rev. W. H. Brett, _op. cit._ pp. 364 _sq._] [Footnote 13: Rev. J. H. Bernau, _Missionary Labours in British Guiana_ (London, 1847), pp. 56 _sq._, 58.] [Footnote 14: (Sir) E. F. im Thurn, _Among the Indians of Guiana_ (London, 1883), pp. 330 _sq._ For the case described see R. Schomburgk, _Reisen in Britisch-Guiana_, i. (Leipsic, 1847) pp. 324 _sq._ The boy died of dropsy. Perhaps the mode of divination adopted, by boiling some portions of him in water, had special reference to the nature of the disease.] [Footnote 15: (Sir) E. F. im Thurn, _op. cit._ pp. 332 _sq._] [Footnote 16: Father A. G. Morice, "The Canadian Dénés," _Annual Archaeological Report, 1905_ (Toronto, 1906), p. 207.] [Footnote 17: Albert A. C. Le Souëf, "Notes on the Natives of Australia," in R. Brough Smyth's _Aborigines of Victoria_ (Melbourne and London, 1878), ii. 289 _sq._] [Footnote 18: (Sir) George Grey, _Journals of two Expeditions of Discovery in Northwest and Western Australia_ (London, 1841), ii. 238.] [Footnote 19: A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, N.S. iii. (1865) p. 236.] [Footnote 20: A. Oldfield, _op. cit._ p. 245.] [Footnote 21: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_ (Melbourne, Sydney and Adelaide, 1881), p. 63.] [Footnote 22: H. E. A. Meyer, "Manners and Customs of the Aborigines of the Encounter Bay Tribe," _Native Tribes of South Australia_ (Adelaide, 1879), p. 195.] [Footnote 23: C. W. Schürmann, "The Aboriginal Tribes of Port Lincoln in South Australia," _Native Tribes of South Australia_, pp. 237 _sq._] [Footnote 24: Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri," _Native Tribes of South Australia_ (Adelaide, 1879), p. 25.] [Footnote 25: R. Brough Smyth, _The Aborigines of Victoria_ (Melbourne and London, 1878) i. 110.] [Footnote 26: W. E. Stanbridge, "Some Particulars of the General Characteristics, Astronomy, and Mythology of the Tribes in the Central Part of Victoria, Southern Australia," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, New Series, i. (1861) p. 299.] [Footnote 27: Lorimer Fison and A. W. Howitt, _Kamilaroi and Kurnai_ (Melbourne, Sydney, Adelaide, and Brisbane, 1880), pp. 250 _sq._] [Footnote 28: A. L. P. Cameron, "Notes on some Tribes of New South Wales," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_ xiv. (1885) pp. 361, 362 _sq._] [Footnote 29: Rev. W. Ridley, _Kamilaroi_, Second Edition (Sydney, 1875), p. 159.] [Footnote 30: Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1899), pp. 46-48.] [Footnote 31: _Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. (Cambridge, 1904) pp. 248, 323.] [Footnote 32: E. Beardmore, "The Natives of Mowat, British New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xix. (1890) p. 461.] [Footnote 33: R. E. Guise, "On the Tribes inhabiting the Mouth of the Wanigela River, New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxviii. (1899) p. 216.] [Footnote 34: C. G. Seligmann, _The Melanesians of British New Guinea_ (Cambridge, 1910), p. 279.] [Footnote 35: K. Vetter, _Komm herüber und hilf uns! oder die Arbeit der Neuen-Dettelsauer Mission_, iii. (Barmen, 1898) pp. 10 _sq._; _id._, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser-Wilhelms-Land und den Bismarck-Archipel, 1897_, pp. 94, 98. Compare B. Hagen, _Unter den Papuas_ (Wiesbaden, 1899), p. 256; _Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie, und Urgeschichte, 1900_, p. (415).] [Footnote 36: Father A. Deniau, "Croyances religieuses et moeurs des indigènes de l'Ile Malo," _Missions Catholiques_, xxxiii. (1901) pp. 315 _sq._] [Footnote 37: C. Ribbe, _Zwei Jahre unter den Kannibalen der Salomo-Inseln_ (Dresden-Blasewitz, 1903), p. 268.] [Footnote 38: P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küstenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_ (Hiltrup bei Münster, N.D.), p. 344. As to beliefs of this sort among the Sulka of New Britain, see _P._ Rascher, "Die Sulka," _Archiv für Anthropologie_, xxix. (1904) pp. 221 _sq._; R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_ (Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 199-201.] [Footnote 39: G. Brown, D.D., _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), p. 176. Dr. Brown's account, of the Melanesians applies to the natives of New Britain and more particularly of the neighbouring Duke of York islands.] [Footnote 40: Father Abinal, "Astrologie Malgache," _Missions Catholiques_, xi. (1879) p. 506.] [Footnote 41: A. Grandidier, "Madagascar," _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_ (Paris), Sixième Série, iii. (1872) pp. 399 _sq._ The talismans (_ahouli_) in question consist of the horns of oxen stuffed with a variety of odds and ends, such as sand, sticks, nails, and so forth.] [Footnote 42: Major A. J. N. Tremearne, _The Tailed Head-hunters of Nigeria_ (London, 1912), pp. 171 _sq._; _id._, "Notes on the Kagoro and other Headhunters," _Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute_, xlii. (1912) pp. 160, 161.] [Footnote 43: E. Hurel, "Religion et vie domestique des Bakerewe," _Anthropos_, vi. (1912) pp. 85-87.] [Footnote 44: Father Campana, "Congo Mission Catholique de Landana," _Missions Catholiques_, xxvii. (1895) pp. 102 _sq_.] [Footnote 45: Th. Masui, _Guide de la Section de l'�tat Indépendant du Congo à l'Exposition de Bruxelles--Tervueren en 1874_ (Brussels, 1897), p. 82.] [Footnote 46: See for example O. Lenz, _Skizzen aus Westafrika_ (Berlin, 1878), pp. 184 _sq._; C. Cuny, "De Libreville au Cameroun," _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_ (Paris), Septième Série, xvii. (1896) p. 341; Ch. Wunenberger, "La mission et le royaume de Humbé, sur les bords du Cunène," _Missions Catholiques_, xx. (1888) p. 262; Lieut. Herold, "Bericht betreffend religiöse Anschauungen und Gebräuche der deutschen Ewe-Neger," _Mittheilungen aus den deutschen Schutzgebieten_, v. (1892) p. 153; Dr. R. Plehn, "Beiträge zur Völkerkunde des Togo-Gebietes," _Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin_, ii. Dritte Abtheilung (1899), p. 97; R. Fisch, "Die Dagbamba," _Baessler-Archiv_, iii. (1912) p. 148. For evidence of similar beliefs and practices in other parts of Africa, see Brard, "Der Victoria-Nyanza," _Petermann's Mittheilungen_, xliii. (1897) pp. 79 _sq._; Father Picarda, "Autour du Mandéra," _Missions Catholiques_, xviii. (1886) p. 342.] [Footnote 47: Rev. R. H. Nassau, _Fetichism in West Africa_ (London, 1904), pp. 241 _sq._] [Footnote 48: "Strange Adventures of Andrew Battel," in John Pinkerton's _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. (London, 1814) p. 334.] [Footnote 49: _Gouvernement Général de l'Afrique Occidentale Française, Notices publiées par le Gouvernement Central à l'occasion de l'Exposition Coloniale de Marseille, La Côte d'Ivoire_ (Corbeil, 1906), pp. 570-572.] [Footnote 50: Hugh Goldie, _Calabar and its Mission_, New Edition (Edinburgh and London, 1901), pp. 34 _sq._, 37 _sq._] [Footnote 51: Above, p. 35.] [Footnote 52: E. R. Smith, _The Araucanians_ (London, 1855), pp. 236 _sq._] [Footnote 53: Father Trilles, "Milles lieues dans l'inconnu; à travers le pays Fang, de la côte aux rives du Djah," _Missions Catholiques_, xxxv. (1903) pp. 466 _sq._, and as to the poison ordeal, _ib._ pp. 472 _sq._] [Footnote 54: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), p. 194.] [Footnote 55: Dudley Kidd, _The Essential Kafir_ (London, 1904), pp. 133 _sq._] [Footnote 56: In like manner the Baganda generally ascribed natural deaths either to sorcery or to the action of a ghost; but when they could not account for a person's death in either of these ways they said that Walumbe, the God of Death, had taken him. This last explanation approaches to an admission of natural death, though it is still mythical in form. The Baganda usually attributed any illness of the king to ghosts, because no man would dare to practise magic on him. A much-dreaded ghost was that of a man's sister; she was thought to vent her spite on his sons and daughters by visiting them with sickness. When she proved implacable, a medicine-man was employed to catch her ghost in a gourd or a pot and throw it away on waste land or drown it in a river. See Rev. J. Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 98, 100, 101 _sq._, 286 _sq._, 315 _sq._] LECTURE III MYTHS OF THE ORIGIN OF DEATH [Sidenote: Belief of savages in man's natural immortality.] In my last lecture I shewed that many savages do not believe in what we call a natural death; they imagine that all men are naturally immortal and would never die, if their lives were not cut prematurely short by sorcery. Further, I pointed out that this mistaken view of the nature of death has exercised a disastrous influence on the tribes who entertain it, since, attributing all natural deaths to sorcery, they consider themselves bound to discover and kill the wicked sorcerers whom they regard as responsible for the death of their friends. Thus in primitive society as a rule every natural death entails at least one and often several deaths by violence; since the supposed culprit being unknown suspicion may fall upon many persons, all of whom may be killed either out of hand or as a consequence of failing to demonstrate their innocence by means of an ordeal. [Sidenote: Savage stories of the origin of death.] Yet even the savages who firmly believe in man's natural immortality are obliged sorrowfully to admit that, as things are at the present day, men do frequently die, whatever explanation we may give of so unexpected and unnatural an occurrence. Accordingly they are hard put to it to reconcile their theory of immortality with the practice of mortality. They have meditated on the subject and have given us the fruit of their meditation in a series of myths which profess to explain the origin of death. For the most part these myths are very crude and childish; yet they have a value of their own as examples of man's early attempts to fathom one of the great mysteries which encompass his frail and transient existence on earth; and accordingly I have here collected, in all their naked simplicity, a few of these savage guesses at truth. [Sidenote: Four types of such stories.] Myths of the origin of death conform to several types, among which we may distinguish, first, what I will call the type of the Two Messengers; second, the type of the Waxing and Waning Moon; third, the type of the Serpent and his Cast Skin; and fourth, the type of the Banana-tree. I will illustrate each type by examples, and will afterwards cite some miscellaneous instances which do not fall under any of these heads. [Sidenote: I. The tale of the Two Messengers. Zulu story of the chameleon and the lizard. The same story among other Bantu tribes.] First, then, we begin with the type of the Two Messengers. Stories of this pattern are widespread in Africa, especially among tribes belonging to the great Bantu family, which occupies roughly the southern half of the continent. The best-known example of the tale is the one told by the Zulus. They say that in the beginning Unkulunkulu, that is, the Old Old One, sent the chameleon to men with a message saying, "Go, chameleon, go and say, Let not men die." The chameleon set out, but it crawled very slowly, and it loitered by the way to eat the purple berries of the _ubukwebezane_ tree, or according to others it climbed up a tree to bask in the sun, filled its belly with flies, and fell fast asleep. Meantime the Old Old One had thought better of it and sent a lizard posting after the chameleon with a very different message to men, for he said to the animal, "Lizard, when you have arrived, say, Let men die." So the lizard went on his way, passed the dawdling chameleon, and arriving first among men delivered his message of death, saying, "Let men die." Then he turned on his heel and went back to the Old Old One who had sent him. But after he was gone, the chameleon at last arrived among men with his glad tidings of immortality, and he shouted, saying, "It is said, Let not men die!" But men answered, "O! we have heard the word of the lizard; it has told us the word, 'It is said, Let men die.' We cannot hear your word. Through the word of the lizard, men will die." And died they have ever since from that day to this. That is why some of the Zulus hate the lizard, saying, "Why did he run first and say, 'Let people die?'" So they beat and kill the lizard and say, "Why did it speak?" But others hate the chameleon and hustle it, saying, "That is the little thing which delayed to tell the people that they should not die. If he had only brought his message in time we should not have died; our ancestors also would have been still living; there would have been no diseases here on the earth. It all comes from the delay of the chameleon."[57] The same story is told in nearly the same form by other Bantu tribes, such as the Bechuanas,[58] the Basutos,[59] the Baronga,[60] and the Ngoni.[61] To this day the Baronga and the Ngoni owe the chameleon a grudge for having brought death into the world, so when children find a chameleon they will induce it to open its mouth, then throw a pinch of tobacco on its tongue, and watch with delight the creature writhing and changing colour from orange to green, from green to black in the agony of death; for thus they avenge the wrong which the chameleon has done to mankind.[62] [Sidenote: Akamba story of the chameleon and the thrush.] A story of the same type, but with some variations, is told by the Akamba, a Bantu tribe of British East Africa; but in their version the lizard has disappeared from the legend and has been replaced by the _itoroko_, a small bird of the thrush tribe, with a black head, a bluish-black back, and a buff-coloured breast. The tale runs thus:--Once upon a time God sent out the chameleon, the frog, and the thrush to find people who died one day and came to life again the next. So off they set, the chameleon leading the way, for in those days he was a very important personage. Presently they came to some people lying like dead, so the chameleon went up to them and said, _Niwe, niwe, niwe_. The thrush asked him testily what he was making that noise for, to which the chameleon replied mildly, "I am only calling the people who go forward and then came back again," and he explained that the dead people would come to life again. But the thrush, who was of a sceptical turn of mind, derided the idea. Nevertheless, the chameleon persisted in calling to the dead people, and sure enough they opened their eyes and listened to him. But here the thrush broke in and told them roughly that dead they were and dead they must remain. With that away he flew, and though the chameleon preached to the corpses, telling them that he had come from God on purpose to bring them to life again, and that they were not to believe the lies of that shallow sceptic the thrush, they obstinately refused to pay any heed to him; not one of those dead corpses would budge. So the chameleon returned crestfallen to God and reported to him how, when he preached the gospel of resurrection to the corpses, the thrush had roared him down, so that the corpses could not hear a word he said. God thereupon cross-questioned the thrush, who stated that the chameleon had so bungled his message that he, the thrush, felt it his imperative duty to interrupt him. The simple deity believed the thrush, and being very angry with the chameleon he degraded him from his high position and made him walk very slow, lurching this way and that, as he does down to this very day. But the thrush he promoted to the office of wakening men from their slumber every morning, which he still does punctually at 2 A.M. before the note of any other bird is heard in the tropical forest.[63] [Sidenote: Togo story of the dog and the frog.] In this version, though the frog is sent out by God with the other two messengers he plays no part in the story; he is a mere dummy. But in another version of the story, which is told by the negroes of Togoland in German West Africa, the frog takes the place of the lizard and the thrush as the messenger of death. They say that once upon a time men sent a dog to God to say that when they died they would like to come to life again. So off the dog trotted to deliver the message. But on the way he felt hungry and turned into a house, where a man was boiling magic herbs. So the dog sat down and thought to himself, "He is cooking food." Meantime the frog had set off to tell God that when men died they would like not to come to life again. Nobody had asked him to give that message; it was a piece of pure officiousness and impertinence on his part. However, away he tore. The dog, who still sat watching the hell-broth brewing, saw him hurrying past the door, but he thought to himself, "When I have had something to eat, I will soon catch froggy up." However, froggy came in first and said to the deity, "When men die, they would like not to come to life again." After that, up comes the dog, and says he, "When men die, they would like to come to life again." God was naturally puzzled and said to the dog, "I really do not understand these two messages. As I heard the frog's request first, I will comply with it. I will not do what you said." That is the real reason why men die and do not come to life again. If the frog had only minded his own business instead of meddling with other people's, the dead would all have come to life again to this day.[64] In this version of the story not only are the persons of the two messengers different, the dog and the frog having replaced the chameleon and the lizard of the Bantu version, but the messengers are sent from men to God instead of from God to men. [Sidenote: Ashantee story of the goat and the sheep.] In another version told by the Ashantees of West Africa the persons of the messengers are again different, but as in the Bantu version they are sent from God to men. The Ashantees say that long ago men were happy, for God dwelt among them and talked with them face to face. For example, if a child was roasting yams at the fire and wanted a relish to eat with the yams, he had nothing to do but to throw a stick in the air and say, "God give me fish," and God gave him fish at once. However, these happy days did not last for ever. One unlucky day it happened that some women were pounding a mash with pestles in a mortar, while God stood by looking on. For some reason they were annoyed by the presence of the deity and told him to be off; and as he did not take himself off fast enough to please them, they beat him with their pestles. In a great huff God retired altogether from the world and left it to the direction of the fetishes; and still to this day people say, "Ah, if it had not been for that old woman, how happy we should be!" However, after he had withdrawn to heaven, the long-suffering deity sent a kind message by a goat to men upon earth to say, "There is something which they call Death. He will kill some of you. But even if you die, you will not perish completely. You will come to me in heaven." So off the goat set with this cheering intelligence. But before he came to the town he saw a tempting bush by the wayside and stopped to browse on it. When God in heaven saw the goat thus loitering by the way, he sent off a sheep with the same message to carry the glad tidings to men without delay. But the sheep did not give the message aright. Far from it: he said, "God sends you word that you will die and that will be an end of you." Afterwards the goat arrived on the scene and said, "God sends you word that you will die, certainly, but that will not be the end of you, for you will go to him." But men said to the goat, "No, goat, that is not what God said. We believe that the message which the sheep brought us is the one which God sent to us." That was the beginning of death among men.[65] However, in another Ashantee version of the tale the parts played by the sheep and the goat are reversed. It is the sheep who brings the tidings of immortality from God to men, but the goat overruns him and offers them death instead. Not knowing what death was, men accepted the seeming boon with enthusiasm and have died ever since.[66] [Sidenote: II. The story of the Waxing and Waning Moon. Hottentot story of the Moon, the hare, and death.] So much for the tale of the Two Messengers. In the last versions of it which I have quoted, a feature to be noticed is the perversion of the message by one of the messengers, who brings tidings of death instead of life eternal to men. The same perversion of the message reappears in some examples of the next type of story which I shall illustrate, namely the type of the Waxing and Waning Moon. Thus the Namaquas or Hottentots say that once the Moon charged the hare to go to men and say, "As I die and rise to life again, so shall you die and rise to life again." So the hare went to men, but either out of forgetfulness or malice he reversed the message and said, "As I die and do not rise to life again, so you shall also die and not rise to life again." Then he went back to the Moon, and she asked him what he had said. He told her, and when she heard how he had given the wrong message, she was so angry that she threw a stick at him and split his lip, which is the reason why the hare's lip is still split. So the hare ran away and is still running to this day. Some people, however, say that before he fled he clawed the Moon's face, which still bears the marks of the scratching, as anybody may see for himself on a clear moonlight night. So the Hottentots are still angry with the hare for bringing death into the world, and they will not let initiated men partake of its flesh.[67] There are traces of a similar story among the Bushmen.[68] In another Hottentot version two messengers appear, an insect and a hare; the insect is charged by the Moon with a message of immortality or rather of resurrection to men, but the hare persuades the insect to let him bear the tidings, which he perverts into a message of annihilation.[69] Thus in this particular version the type of the Two Messengers coincides with the Moon type. [Sidenote: Masai story of the moon and death.] A story of the same type, though different in details, is told by the Masai of East Africa. They say that in the early days a certain god named Naiteru-kop told a man named Le-eyo that if a child were to die he was to throw away the body and say, "Man, die, and come back again; moon, die, and remain away." Well, soon afterwards a child died, but it was not one of the man's own children, so when he threw the body away he said, "Man, die, and remain away; moon, die, and return." Next one of his own children died, and when he threw away the body he said, "Man, die, and return; moon, die, and remain away." But the god said to him, "It is of no use now, for you spoilt matters with the other child." That is why down to this day when a man dies he returns no more, but when the moon dies she always comes to life again.[70] [Sidenote: Nandi story of the moon, the dog, and death.] Another story of the origin of death which belongs to this type is told by the Nandi of British East Africa. They say that when the first people lived upon the earth a dog came to them one day and said: "All people will die like the moon, but unlike the moon you will not return to life again unless you give me some milk to drink out of your gourd, and beer to drink through your straw. If you do this, I will arrange for you to go to the river when you die and to come to life again on the third day." But the people laughed at the dog, and gave him some milk and beer to drink off a stool. The dog was angry at not being served in the same vessels as a human being, and though he put his pride in his pocket and drank the milk and the beer from the stool, he went away in high dudgeon, saying, "All people will die, and the moon alone will return to life." That is the reason why, when people die, they stay away, whereas when the moon goes away she comes back again after three days' absence.[71] The Wa-Sania of British East Africa believe that in days gone by people never died, till one unlucky day a lizard came and said to them, "All of you know that the moon dies and rises again, but human beings will die and rise no more." They say that from that day people began to die and have persisted in dying ever since.[72] [Sidenote: Fijian story of the moon, the rat, and death. Caroline Islands story of the moon, death, and resurrection. Wotjobaluk story of the moon, death, and resurrection. Cham story of the moon, death, and resurrection.] With these African stories of the origin of death we may compare one told by the Fijians on the other side of the world. They say that once upon a time the Moon contended that men should be like himself (for the Fijian moon seems to be a male); that is, he meant that just as he grows old, disappears, and comes in sight again, so men grown old should vanish for a while and then return to life. But the rat, who is a Fijian god, would not hear of it. "No," said he, "let men die like rats." And he had the best of it in the dispute, for men die like rats to this day.[73] In the Caroline Islands they say that long, long ago death was unknown, or rather it was a short sleep, not a long, long one, as it is now. Men died on the last day of the waning moon and came to life again on the first appearance of the new moon, just as if they had awakened from a refreshing slumber. But an evil spirit somehow contrived that when men slept the sleep of death they should wake no more.[74] The Wotjobaluk of south-eastern Australia relate that, when all animals were men and women, some of them died and the moon used to say, "You up-again," whereupon they came to life again. But once on a time an old man said, "Let them remain dead"; and since then nobody has ever come to life again except the moon, which still continues to do so down to this very day.[75] The Chams of Annam and Cambodia say that the goddess of good luck used to resuscitate people as fast as they died, till the sky-god, tired of her constant interference with the laws of nature, transferred her to the moon, where it is no longer in her power to bring the dead to life again.[76] [Sidenote: Cycle of death and resurrection after three days, like the monthly disappearance and reappearance of the moon.] These stories which associate human immortality with the moon are products of a primitive philosophy which, meditating on the visible changes, of the lunar orb, drew from the observation of its waning and waxing a dim notion that under a happier fate man might have been immortal like the moon, or rather that like it he might have undergone an endless cycle of death and resurrection, dying then rising again from the dead after three days. The same curious notion of death and resurrection after three days is entertained by the Unmatjera and Kaitish, two savage tribes of Central Australia. They say that long ago their dead used to be buried either in trees or underground, and that after three days they regularly rose from the dead. The Kaitish tell how this happy state of things came to an end. It was all through a man of the Curlew totem, who finding some men of the Little Wallaby totem burying a Little Wallaby man, fell into a passion and kicked the body into the sea. Of course after that the dead man could not come to life again, and that is why nowadays nobody rises from the dead after three days, as everybody used to do long ago.[77] Although no mention is made of the moon in this Australian story, we may conjecture that these savages, like the Nandi of East Africa, fixed upon three days as the normal interval between death and resurrection simply because three days is the interval between the disappearance of the old and the reappearance of the new moon. If that is so, the aborigines of Central Australia may be added to the many races of mankind who have seen in the waning and waxing moon an emblem of human immortality. Nor does this association of ideas end with a mere tradition that in some former age men used to die with the old moon and come to life again with the new moon. Many savages, on seeing the new moon for the first time in the month, observe ceremonies which seem to be intended to renew and increase their life and strength with the renewal and the increase of the lunar light. For example, on the day when the new moon first appeared, the Indians of San Juan Capistrano in California used to call together all the young men and make them run about, while the old men danced in a circle, saying, "As the moon dieth and cometh to life again, so we also having to die will again live."[78] Again, an old writer tells us that at the appearance of every new moon the negroes of the Congo clapped their hands and cried out, sometimes falling on their knees, "So may I renew my life as thou art renewed."[79] [Sidenote: III. Story of the Serpent and his Cast Skin. New Britain story of immortality, the serpent, and death. Annamite story of immortality, the serpent, and death. Vuatom story of immortality, the lizard, the serpent, and death.] Another type of stories told to explain the origin of death is the one which I have called the type of the Serpent and his Cast Skin. Some savages seem to think that serpents and all other animals, such as lizards, which periodically shed their skins, thereby renew their life and so never die. Hence they imagine that if man also could only cast his old skin and put on a new one, he too would be immortal like a serpent. Thus the Melanesians, who inhabit the coast of the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain, tell the following story of the origin of death. They say that To Kambinana, the Good Spirit, loved men and wished to make them immortal; but he hated the serpents and wished to kill them. So he called his brother To Korvuvu and said to him, "Go to men and take them the secret of immortality. Tell them to cast their skin every year. So will they be protected from death, for their life will be constantly renewed. But tell the serpents that they must thenceforth die." But To Korvuvu acquitted himself badly of his task; for he commanded men to die and betrayed to the serpents the secret of immortality. Since then all men have been mortal, but the serpents cast their skins every year and are immortal.[80] In this story we meet again with the incident of the reversed message; through a blunder or through the malice of the messenger the glad tidings of immortality are perverted into a melancholy message of death. A similar tale, with a similar incident, is told in Annam. They say that Ngoc hoang sent a messenger from heaven to men to say that when they had reached old age they should change their skins and live for ever, but that when serpents grew old they must die. The messenger came down to earth and said, rightly enough, "When man is old, he shall cast his skin; but when serpents are old, they shall die and be laid in coffins." So far, so good. But unfortunately there happened to be a brood of serpents within hearing, and when they heard the doom pronounced on their kind they fell into a fury and said to the messenger, "You must say it over again and just the contrary, or we will bite you." That frightened the messenger and he repeated his message, changing the words thus: "When he is old, the serpent shall cast his skin; but when he is old, man shall die and be laid in the coffin." That is why all creatures are now subject to death, except the serpent, who, when he is old, casts his skin and lives for ever.[81] The natives of Vuatom, an island in the Bismarck Archipelago, say that a certain To Konokonomiange bade two lads fetch fire, promising that if they did so they should never die, but that if they refused their bodies would perish, though their shades or souls would survive. They would not hearken to him, so he cursed them, saying, "What! You would all have lived! Now you shall die, though your soul shall live. But the iguana (_Goniocephalus_) and the lizard (_Varanus indicus_) and the snake (_Enygrus_), they shall live, they shall cast their skin and they shall live for evermore." When the lads heard that, they wept, for bitterly they rued their folly in not going to fetch the fire for To Konokonomiange.[82] [Sidenote: Nias story of immortality, the crab, and death. Arawak and Tamanachier stories of immortality, the serpent, the lizard, the beetle, and death.] Other peoples tell somewhat different stories to explain how men missed the boon of immortality and serpents acquired it. Thus the natives of Nias, an island off the coast of Sumatra, say that, when the earth was created, a certain being was sent down by God from heaven to put the last touches to the work of creation. He should have fasted for a month, but unable to withstand the pangs of hunger he ate some bananas. The choice of food was most unlucky, for had he only eaten river-crabs instead of bananas men would have cast their skins like crabs and would never have died.[83] The Arawaks of British Guiana relate that once upon a time the Creator came down to earth to see how his creature man was getting on. But men were so wicked that they tried to kill him so he deprived them of eternal life and bestowed it on the animals which renew their skin, such as serpents, lizards, and beetles.[84] A somewhat different version of the story is told by the Tamanachiers, an Indian tribe of the Orinoco. They say that after residing among them for some time the Creator took boat to cross to the other side of the great salt water from which he had come. Just as he was shoving off from the shore, he called out to them in a changed voice, "You will change your skins," by which he meant to say, "You will renew your youth like the serpents and the beetles." But unfortunately an old woman, hearing these words, cried out "Oh!" in a tone of scepticism, if not of sarcasm, which so annoyed the Creator that he changed his tune at once and said testily, "Ye shall die." That is why we are all mortal.[85] [Sidenote: Melanesian story of the old woman who renewed her youth by casting her skin.] The natives of the Banks' Islands and the New Hebrides believe that there was a time in the beginning of things when men never died but cast their skins like snakes and crabs and so renewed their youth. But the unhappy change to mortality came about at last, as it so often does in these stories, through an old woman. Having grown old, this dame went to a stream to change her skin, and change it she did, for she stripped off her wizened old hide, cast it upon the waters, and watched it floating down stream till it caught on a stick. Then she went home a buxom young woman. But the child whom she had left at home did not know her and set up such a prodigious squalling that to quiet it the woman went straight back to the river, fished out her cast-off old skin, and put it on again. From that day to this people have ceased to cast their skins and to live for ever.[86] The same legend of the origin of death has been recorded in the Shortlands Islands[87] and among the Kai of German New Guinea.[88] It is also told with some variations by the natives of the Admiralty Islands. They say that once on a time there was an old woman and she was frail. She had two sons, and they went a-fishing, and she herself went to bathe. She stripped off her wrinkled old skin and came forth as young as she had been long ago. Her sons came home from the fishing, and very much astonished were they to see her. The one said, "It is our mother," but the other said, "She may be your mother, but she shall be my wife." Their mother heard them and said, "What were you two saying?" The two said, "Nothing! We only said that you are our mother." "You are liars," said she, "I heard you both. If I had had my way, we should have grown to be old men and women, and then we should have cast our skin and been young men and young women. But you have had your way. We shall grow old men and old women and then we shall die." With that she fetched her old skin, and put it on, and became an old woman again. As for us, her descendants, we grow up and we grow old. And if it had not been for those two young men there would have been no end of our days, we should have lived for ever and ever.[89] [Sidenote: Samoan story of the shellfish, two torches, and death.] The Samoans tell how the gods held a council to decide what was to be done with men. One of them said, "Bring men and let them cast their skin; and when they die, let them be turned to shellfish or to a coco-nut leaf torch, which when shaken in the wind blazes out again." But another god called Palsy (_Supa_) rose up and said, "Bring men and let them be like the candle-nut torch, which when it is once out cannot be blown up again. Let the shellfish change their skin, but let men die." While they were debating, a heavy rain came on and broke up the meeting. As the gods ran for shelter to their houses, they cried, "Let it be according to the counsel of Palsy! Let it be according to the counsel of Palsy!" So men died, but shellfish cast their skins.[90] [Sidenote: IV. The Banana Story. Poso story of immortality, the stone, the banana, and death. Mentra story of immortality, the banana, and death.] The last type of tales of the origin of death which I shall notice is the one which I have called the Banana type. We have already seen that according to the natives of Nias human mortality is all due to eating bananas instead of crabs.[91] A similar opinion is entertained by other people in that region of the world. Thus the natives of Poso, a district of Central Celebes, say that in the beginning the sky was very near the earth, and that the Creator, who lived in it, used to let down his good gifts to men at the end of a rope. One day he thus lowered a stone; but our first father and mother would have none of it and they called out to their Maker, "What have we to do with this stone? Give us something else." The Creator complied and hauled away at the rope; the stone mounted up and up till it vanished from sight. Presently the rope was seen coming down from heaven again, and this time there was a banana at the end of it instead of a stone. Our first parents ran at the banana and took it. Then there came a voice from heaven, saying: "Because ye have chosen the banana, your life shall be like its life. When the banana-tree has offspring, the parent stem dies; so shall ye die and your children shall step into your place. Had ye chosen the stone, your life would have been like the life of the stone changeless and immortal." The man and his wife mourned over their fatal choice, but it was too late; that is how through the eating of a banana death came into the world.[92] The Mentras or Mantras, a shy tribe of savages in the jungles of the Malay Peninsula, allege that in the early days of the world men did not die, but only grew thin at the waning of the moon and then waxed fat again as she waxed to the full. Thus there was no check whatever on the population, which increased to a truly alarming extent. So a son of the first man brought this state of things to his father's notice and asked him what was to be done. The first man said, "Leave things as they are"; but his younger brother, who took a more Malthusian view of the situation, said, "No, let men die like the banana, leaving their offspring behind." The question was submitted to the Lord of the Underworld, and he decided in favour of death. Ever since then men have ceased to renew their youth like the moon and have died like the banana.[93] [Sidenote: Primitive philosophy in the stories of the origin of death.] Thus the three stories of the origin of death which I have called the Moon type, the Serpent type, and the Banana type appear to be products of a primitive philosophy which sees a cheerful emblem of immortality in the waxing and waning moon and in the cast skins of serpents, but a sad emblem of mortality in the banana-tree, which perishes as soon as it has produced its fruit. But, as I have already said, these types of stories do not exhaust the theories or fancies of primitive man on the question how death came into the world. I will conclude this part of my subject with some myths which do not fall under any of the preceding heads. [Sidenote: Bahnar story of immortality, the tree, and death. Rivalry for the boon of immortality between men and animals that cast their skins, such as serpents and lizards.] The Bahnars of eastern Cochinchina say that in the beginning when people died they used to be buried at the foot of a tree called Lông Blô, and that after a time they always rose from the dead, not as infants but as full-grown men and women. So the earth was peopled very fast, and all the inhabitants formed but one great town under the presidency of our first parents. In time men multiplied to such an extent that a certain lizard could not take his walks abroad without somebody treading on his tail. This vexed him, and the wily creature gave an insidious hint to the gravediggers. "Why bury the dead at the foot of the Lông Blô tree?" said he; "bury them at the foot of Lông Khung, and they will not come to life again. Let them die outright and be done with it." The hint was taken, and from that day the dead have not come to life again.[94] In this story there are several points to be noticed. In the first place the tree Lông Blô would seem to have been a tree of life, since all the dead who were buried at its foot came to life again. In the second place the lizard is here, as in so many African tales, the instrument of bringing death among men. Why was that so? We may conjecture that the reason is that the lizard like the serpent casts its skin periodically, from which primitive man might infer, as he infers with regard to serpents, that the creature renews its youth and lives for ever. Thus all the myths which relate how a lizard or a serpent became the maleficent agent of human mortality may perhaps be referred to an old idea of a certain jealousy and rivalry between men and all creatures which cast their skin, notably serpents and lizards; we may suppose that in all such cases a story was told of a contest between man and his animal rivals for the possession of immortality, a contest in which, whether by mistake or by guile, the victory always remained with the animals, who thus became immortal, while mankind was doomed to mortality. [Sidenote: Chingpaw story of the origin of death. Australian story of the tree, the bat, and death. Fijian story of the origin of death.] The Chingpaws of Upper Burma say that death originated in a practical joke played by an old man who pretended to be dead in the ancient days when nobody really died. But the Lord of the Sun, who held the threads of all human lives in his hand, detected the fraud and in anger cut short the thread of life of the practical joker. Since then everybody else has died; the door for death to enter into the world was opened by the folly of that silly, though humorous, old man.[95] The natives about the Murray River in Australia used to relate how the first man and woman were forbidden to go near a tree in which a bat lived, lest they should disturb the creature. One day, however, the woman was gathering firewood and she went near the tree. The bat flew away, and after that death came into the world.[96] Some of the Fijians accounted for human mortality as follows. When the first man, the father of the human race, was being buried, a god passed by the grave and asked what it meant, for he had never seen a grave before. On learning from the bystanders that they had just buried their father, "Do not bury him," said he, "dig the body up again." "No," said they, "we cannot do that. He has been dead four days and stinks." "Not so," pleaded the god; "dig him up, and I promise you that he will live again." Heedless of the divine promise, these primitive sextons persisted in leaving their dead father in the grave. Then said the god to these wicked men, "By disobeying me you have sealed your own fate. Had you dug up your ancestor, you would have found him alive, and you yourselves, when you passed from this world, should have been buried, as bananas are, for the space of four days, after which you should have been dug up, not rotten, but ripe. But now, as a punishment for your disobedience, you shall die and rot." And still, when they hear this sad tale told, the Fijians say, "O that those children had dug up that body!"[97] [Sidenote: Admiralty Islanders' stories of the origin of death.] The Admiralty Islanders tell various stories to explain why man is mortal. One of them has already been related. Here is another. A Souh man went once to catch fish. A devil tried to devour him, but he fled into the forest and took refuge in a tree. The tree kindly closed on him so that the devil could not see him. When the devil was gone, the tree opened up and the man clambered down to the ground. Then said the tree to him, "Go to Souh and bring me two white pigs." He went and found two pigs, one was white and one was black. He took chalk and chalked the black pig so that it was white. Then he brought them to the tree, but on the way the chalk fell off the black pig. And when the tree saw the white pig and the black pig, he chid the man and said, "You are thankless. I was good to you. An evil will overtake you; you will die. The devil will fall upon you, and you will die." So it has been with us as it was with the man of Souh. An evil overtakes us or a spirit falls upon us, and we die. If it had been as the tree said, we should not have died.[98] Another story told by the Admiralty Islanders to account for the melancholy truth of man's mortality runs thus. Kosi, the chief of Moakareng, was in his house. He was hungry. He said to his two sons, "Go and climb the breadfruit trees and bring the fruit, that we may eat them together and not die." But they would not. So he went himself and climbed the breadfruit tree. But the north-west wind blew a storm, it blew and threw him down. He fell and his body died, but his ghost went home. He went and sat in his house. He tied up his hair and he painted his face with red ochre. Now his wife and his two sons had gone after him into the wood. They went to fetch home the breadfruits. They came and saw Kosi, and he was dead. The three returned home, and there they saw the ghost of Kosi sitting in his house. They said, "You there! Who's that dead at the foot of the breadfruit tree? Kosi, he is dead at the foot of the breadfruit tree." Kosi, he said, "Here am I. I did not fall. Perhaps somebody else fell down. I did not. Here I am." "You're a liar," said they. "I ain't," said he. "Come," said they, "we'll go and see." They went. Kosi, he jumped into his body. He died. They buried him. If his wife had behaved well, we should not die. Our body would die, but our ghost would go about always in the old home.[99] [Sidenote: Stories of the origin of death: the fatal bundle or the fatal box.] The Wemba of Northern Rhodesia relate how God in the beginning created a man and a woman and gave them two bundles; in one of them was life and in the other death. Most unfortunately the man chose "the little bundle of death."[100] The Cherokee Indians of North America say that a number of beings were engaged in the work of creation. The Sun was made first. Now the creators intended that men should live for ever. But when the Sun passed over them in the sky, he told the people that there was not room enough for them all and that they had better die. At last the Sun's own daughter, who was with the people on earth, was bitten by a snake and died. Then the Sun repented him and said that men might live always; and he bade them take a box and go fetch his daughter's spirit in the box and bring it to her body, that she might live. But he charged them straitly not to open the box until they arrived at the dead body. However, moved by curiosity, they unhappily opened the box too soon; away flew the spirit, and all men have died ever since.[101] Some of the North American Indians informed the early Jesuit missionaries that a certain man had received the gift of immortality in a small packet from a famous magician named Messou, who repaired the world after it had been seriously damaged by a great flood. In bestowing on the man this valuable gift the magician strictly enjoined him on no account to open the packet. The man obeyed, and so long as the packet was unopened he remained immortal. But his wife was both curious and incredulous; she opened the packet to see what was in it, the precious contents flew away, and mankind has been subject to death ever since.[102] [Sidenote: Baganda story how death came into the world through the forgetfulness and imprudence of a woman.] As these American Indians tell how death came through the curiosity and incredulity of one woman, the Baganda of Central Africa relate how it came through the forgetfulness and imprudence of another. According to the Baganda the first man who came to earth in Uganda was named Kintu. He brought with him one cow and lived on its milk, for he had no other food. But in time a woman named Nambi, a daughter of Gulu, the king of heaven, came down to earth with her brother or sister, and seeing Kintu she fell in love with him and wished to have him for her husband. But her proud father doubted whether Kintu was worthy of his daughter's hand, and accordingly he insisted on testing his future son-in-law before he would consent to the marriage. So he carried off Kintu's cow and put it among his own herds in heaven. When Kintu found that the cow was stolen, he was in a great rage, but hunger getting the better of anger, he made shift to live by peeling the bark of trees and gathering herbs and leaves, which he cooked and ate. In time his future wife Nambi happened to spy the stolen cow among her father's herds and she told Kintu, who came to heaven to seek and recover the lost animal. His future father-in-law Gulu, Lord of Heaven, obliged him to submit to many tests designed to prove his fitness for marriage with the daughter of so exalted a being as the Lord of Heaven. All these tests Kintu successfully passed through. At last Gulu was satisfied, gave him his daughter Nambi to wife, and allowed him to return to earth with her. [Sidenote: The coming of Death.] But Nambi had a brother and his name was Death (_Walumbe_). So before the Lord of Heaven sent her away with her husband he called them both to him and said, "You must hurry away before Death comes, or he will wish to go with you. You must not let him do so, for he would only cause you trouble and unhappiness." To this his daughter agreed, and she went to pack up her things. She and her husband then took leave of the Lord of Heaven, who gave them at parting a piece of advice. "Be sure," said he, "if you have forgotten anything, not to come back for it; because, if you do, Death will wish to go with you, and you must go without him." So off they set, the man and his wife, taking with them his cow and its calves, also a sheep, a goat, a fowl, and a banana tree. But on the way the woman remembered that she had forgotten the grain to feed the fowl, so she said to her husband, "I must go back for the grain to feed the fowl, or it will die." Her husband tried to dissuade her, but in vain. She said, "I will hurry back and get it without any one seeing me." So back she went in an evil hour and said to her father the Lord of Heaven, "I have forgotten the grain for the fowl and I am come back to fetch it from the doorway where I put it." Her father said sadly, "Did I not tell you that you were not to return if you had forgotten anything, because your brother Death would wish to go with you? Now he will accompany you." The woman fled, but Death saw her and followed hard after her. When she rejoined her husband, he was angry, for he saw Death and said, "Why have you brought your brother with you? Who can live with him?" [Sidenote: The importunity of Death.] When they reached the earth, Nambi planted her garden, and the bananas sprang up quickly and formed a grove. They lived happily for a time till one day Death came and asked for one of their daughters, that she might go away with him and be his cook. But the father said, "If the Lord of Heaven comes and asks me for one of my children, what am I to say? Shall I tell him that I have given her to you to be your cook?" Death was silent and went away. But he came back another day and asked again for a child to be his cook. When the father again refused, Death said, "I will kill your children." The father did not know what that meant, so he asked Death, "What is that you will do?" However, in a short time one of the children fell ill and died, and then another and another. So the man went to the Lord of Heaven and complained that Death was taking away his children one by one. The Lord of Heaven said, "Did I not tell you, when you were going away, to go at once with your wife and not to return if you had forgotten anything, but you let your wife return to fetch the grain? Now you have Death living with you. If you had obeyed me, you would have been free from him and not lost any of your children." [Sidenote: The hunt for Death.] However, the man pleaded with him, and the Lord Heaven at last consented to send Death's brother Kaikuzi to help the woman and to prevent Death from killing her children. So down came Kaikuzi to earth, and when he met his brother Death they greeted each other lovingly. Then Kaikuzi told Death that he had come to fetch him away from earth to heaven. Death was willing to go, but he said, "Let us take our sister too." "Nay," said his brother, "that cannot be, for she is a wife and must stay with her husband." The dispute waxed warm, Death insisting on carrying off his sister, and his brother refusing to allow him to do so. At last the brother angrily ordered Death to do as he was bid, and so saying he made as though he would seize him. But Death slipped from between his hands and fled into the earth. For a long time after that there was enmity between the two brothers. Kaikuzi tried in every way to catch Death, but Death always escaped. At last Kaikuzi told the people that he would have one final hunt for Death, and while the hunt was going on they must all stay in their houses; not a man, a woman, a child, nor even an animal was to be allowed to pass the threshold; and if they saw Death passing the window, they were not to utter a cry of terror but to keep still. Well, for some days his orders were obeyed. Not a living soul, not an animal, stirred abroad. All without was solitude, all within was silence. Encouraged by the universal stillness Death emerged from his lair, and his brother was just about to catch him, when some children, who had ventured out to herd their goats, saw Death and cried out. Death's good brother rushed to the spot and asked them why they had cried out. They said, "Because we saw Death." So his brother was angry because Death had again made good his escape into the earth, and he went to the first man and told him that he was weary of hunting Death and wished to return home to heaven. The first man thanked him kindly for all he had done, and said, "I fear there is nothing more to be done. We must only hope that Death will not kill all the people." It was a vain hope. Since then Death has lived on earth and killed everybody who is born into the world; and always, after the deed of murder is done, he escapes into the earth at Tanda in Singo.[103] [Sidenote: In the preceding story Death is distinctly personified. Death personified in a West African story of the origin of death. Death and the spider and the spider's daughter.] If this curious tale of the origin of death reveals no very deep philosophy, it is at least interesting for the distinctness with which Death is conceived as a personal being, the son of the Lord of Heaven, the brother of the first man's wife. In this personification of Death the story differs from all the others which we have examined and marks an intellectual advance upon them; since the power of picturing abstract ideas to the mind with all the sharpness of outline and vividness of colour which are implied by personification is a faculty above the reach of very low intelligences. It is not surprising that the Baganda should have attained to this power, for they are probably the most highly cultured and intellectual of all the many Bantu tribes of Africa. The same conception of Death as a person occurs in a story of the origin of death which is told by the Hos, a negro tribe in Togoland, a district of West Africa. These Hos belong to the Ewe-speaking family of the true negroes, who have reached a comparatively high level of barbarism in the notorious kingdom of Dahomey. The story which the Hos tell as to the origin of death is as follows. Once upon a time there was a great famine in which even the hunters could find no flesh to eat. Then Death went and made a road as broad as from here to Sokode, and there he set many snares. Every animal that tried to pass that way fell into a snare. So Death had much flesh to eat. One day the Spider came to Death and said to him, "You have so much meat!" and she asked if she might have some to take home with her. Death gave her leave. So the Spider made a basket as long as from Ho to Akoviewe (a distance of about five miles), crammed it full of meat, and dragged it home. In return for this bounty the Spider gave Death her daughter Yiyisa to wife. So when Death had her for his wife, he gave her a hint. He said, "Don't walk on the broad road which I have made. Walk on the footpath which I have not made. When you go to the water, be sure to take none but the narrow way through the wood." Well, some time afterwards it had rained a little; the grass was wet, and Yiyisa wished to go to the watering-place. When she tried to walk on the narrow path through the forest, the tall damp grass wet her through and through, so she thought to herself, "In future I will only go on the broad road." But scarce had she set foot on the beautiful broad road when she fell into a snare and died on the spot. When Death came to the snare and saw his wife in it dead, he cut her up into bits and toasted them on the fire. One day the Spider paid a visit to her son-in-law Death, and he set a good meal before her. When she had eaten and drunk her fill and had got up to go home, she asked Death after her daughter. "If you take that meat from the fire," said Death, "you will see her." So the Spider took the flesh from the fire and there, sure enough, she found her dead daughter. Then she went home in great wrath and whetted her knife till it was so sharp that a fly lighting on the edge was cut in two. With that knife she came back to attack Death. But Death shot an arrow at her. She dodged it, and the arrow whizzed past her and set all the forest on fire. Then the Spider flung her sharp knife at Death, but it missed him and only sliced off the tops of the palms and all the other trees of the wood. Seeing that her stroke had failed, the Spider fled away home and shut herself up in her house. But Death waited for her on the edge of the town to kill her as soon as she ventured out. Next morning some women came out of the town to draw water at the watering-place, and as they went they talked with one another. But Death shot an arrow among them and killed several. The rest ran away home and said, "So and so is dead." Then Death came and looked at the bodies and said, "That is my game. I need go no more into the wood to hunt." That is how Death came into the world. If the Spider had not done what she did, nobody would ever have died.[104] [Sidenote: Death personified in a Melanesian story of the origin of death.] Again, the Melanesians of the Banks Islands tell a story of the origin of Death, in which that grim power is personified. They say that Death (_Mate_) used to live underground in a shadowy realm called Panoi, while men on earth changed their skins like serpents and so renewing their youth lived for ever. But a practical inconvenience of immortality was that property never changed hands; newcomers had no chance, everything was monopolised by the old, old stagers. To remedy this state of things and secure a more equitable distribution of property Death was induced to emerge from the lower world and to appear on earth among men; he came relying on an assurance that no harm would be done him. Well, when they had him, they laid him out on a board, covered him with a pall as if he were a corpse, and then proceeded with great gusto to divide his property and eat the funeral feast. On the fifth day they blew the conch shell to drive away the ghost, as usual, and lifted the pall to see what had become of Death. But there was no Death there; he had absconded leaving only his skeleton behind. They naturally feared that he had made off with an intention to return to his home underground, which would have been a great calamity; for if there were no Death on earth, how could men die and how could other people inherit their property? The idea was intolerable; so to cut off the retreat of the fugitive, the Fool was set to do sentinel duty at the parting of the ways, where one road leads down to the underworld, Death's home, and the other leads up to the upper world, the abode of the living. Here accordingly the Fool was stationed with strict orders to keep his eye on Death if he should attempt to sneak past him and return to the nether world. However, the Fool, like a fool as he was, sat watching the road to the upper world, and Death slipped behind him and so made good his retreat. Since then all men have followed Death down that fatal path.[105] [Sidenote: Thus according to savages death is not a necessary part of the order of nature. A similar view is held by some eminent modern biologists.] So much for savage stories of the origin of death. They all imply a belief that death is not a necessary part of the order of nature, but that it originated in a pure mistake or misdeed of some sort on somebody's part, and that we should all have lived happy and immortal if it had not been for that disastrous blunder or crime. Thus the tales reflect the same frame of mind which I illustrated in the last lecture, when I shewed that many savages still to this day believe all men to be naturally immortal and death to be nothing but an effect of sorcery. In short, whether we regard the savage's attitude to death at the present day or his ideas as to its origin in the remote past, we must conclude that primitive man cannot reconcile himself to the notion of death as a natural and necessary event; he persists in regarding it as an accidental and unnecessary disturbance of the proper order of nature. To a certain extent, perhaps, in these crude speculations he has anticipated certain views of modern biology. Thus it has been maintained by Professor August Weissmann that death is not a natural necessity, that many of the lowest species of living animals do in fact live for ever; and that in the higher animals the custom of dying has been introduced in the course of evolution for the purpose of thinning the population and preventing the degeneration of the species, which would otherwise follow through the gradual and necessary deterioration of the immortal individuals, who, though they could not die, might yet sustain much bodily damage through hard knocks in the hurly-burly of eternal existence on earth. [Sidenote: Weissmann's view that death is not a natural necessity but an adaptation acquired in the course of evolution for the advantage of the race.] On this subject I will quote some sentences from Professor Weissmann's essay on the duration of life. He says, "The necessity of death has been hitherto explained as due to causes which are inherent in organic nature, and not to the fact that it may be advantageous. I do not however believe in the validity of this explanation; I consider that death is not a primary necessity, but that it has been secondarily acquired as an adaptation. I believe that life is endowed with a fixed duration, not because it is contrary to its nature to be unlimited, but because the unlimited existence of individuals would be a luxury without any corresponding advantage. The above-mentioned hypothesis upon the origin and necessity of death leads me to believe that the organism did not finally cease to renew the worn-out cell material because the nature of the cells did not permit them to multiply indefinitely, but because the power of multiplying indefinitely was lost when it ceased to be of use.... John Hunter, supported by his experiments on _anabiosis_, hoped to prolong the life of man indefinitely by alternate freezing and thawing; and the Veronese Colonel Aless. Guaguino made his contemporaries believe that a race of men existed in Russia, of which the individuals died regularly every year on the 27th of November, and returned to life on the 24th of the following April. There cannot however be the least doubt, that the higher organisms, as they are now constructed, contain within themselves the germs of death. The question however arises as to how this has come to pass; and I reply that death is to be looked upon as an occurrence which is advantageous to the species as a concession to the outer conditions of life, and not as an absolute necessity, essentially inherent in life itself. Death, that is the end of life, is by no means, as is usually assumed, an attribute of all organisms. An immense number of low organisms do not die, although they are easily destroyed, being killed by heat, poisons, etc. As long, however, as those conditions which are necessary for their life are fulfilled, they continue to live, and they thus carry the potentiality of unending life in themselves. I am speaking not only of the Amoebae and the low unicellular Algae, but also of far more highly organized unicellular animals, such as the Infusoria."[106] [Sidenote: Similar view expressed by Alfred Russel Wallace.] A similar suggestion that death is not a natural necessity but an innovation introduced for the good of the breed, has been made by our eminent English biologist, Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace. He says: "If individuals did not die they would soon multiply inordinately and would interfere with each other's healthy existence. Food would become scarce, and hence the larger individuals would probably decompose or diminish in size. The deficiency of nourishment would lead to parts of the organism not being renewed; they would become fixed, and liable to more or less slow decomposition as dead parts within a living body. The smaller organisms would have a better chance of finding food, the larger ones less chance. That one which gave off several small portions to form each a new organism would have a better chance of leaving descendants like itself than one which divided equally or gave off a large part of itself. Hence it would happen that those which gave off very small portions would probably soon after cease to maintain their own existence while they would leave a numerous offspring. This state of things would be in any case for the advantage of the race, and would therefore, by natural selection, soon become established as the regular course of things, and thus we have the origin of _old age, decay, and death_; for it is evident that when one or more individuals have provided a sufficient number of successors they themselves, as consumers of nourishment in a constantly increasing degree, are an injury to their successors. Natural selection therefore weeds them out, and in many cases favours such races as die almost immediately after they have left successors. Many moths and other insects are in this condition, living only to propagate their kind and then immediately dying, some not even taking any food in the perfect and reproductive state."[107] [Sidenote: Savages and some men of science agree that death is not a natural necessity.] Thus it appears that two of the most eminent biologists of our time agree with savages in thinking that death is by no means a natural necessity for all living beings. They only differ from savages in this, that whereas savages look upon death as the result of a deplorable accident, our men of science regard it as a beneficent reform instituted by nature as a means of adjusting the numbers of living beings to the quantity of the food supply, and so tending to the improvement and therefore on the whole to the happiness of the species. [Footnote 57: H. Callaway, _The Religious System of the Amazulu_, Part i. pp. 1, 3 _sq._, Part ii. p. 138; Rev. L. Grout, _Zululand, or Life among the Zulu-Kafirs_ (Philadelphia, N.D.), pp. 148 _sq._; Dudley Kidd, _The Essential Kafir_ (London, 1904), pp. 76 _sq._ Compare A. F. Gardiner, _Narrative of a Journey to the Zoolu Country_ (London, 1836), pp. 178 _sq._, T. Arbousset et F. Daumas, _Relation d'un voyage d'Exploration au Nord-Est de la Colonie du Cap de Bonne-Espérance_ (Paris, 1842), p. 472; Rev. J. Shooter, _The Kafirs of Natal and the Zulu Country_ (London, 1857), p. 159; W. H. I. Bleek, _Reynard the Fox in South Africa_ (London, 1864), p. 74; D. Leslie, _Among the Zulus and Amatongas_, Second Edition (Edinburgh, 1875), p. 209; F. Speckmann, _Die Hermannsburger Mission in Afrika_ (Hermannsburg, 1876), p. 164.] [Footnote 58: J. Chapman, _Travels in the Interior of South Africa_ (London, 1868), i. 47.] [Footnote 59: E. Casalis, _The Basutos_ (London, 1861), p. 242; E. Jacottet, _The Treasury of Ba-suto Lore_, i. (Morija, Basutoland, 1908), pp. 46 _sqq._] [Footnote 60: H. A. Junod, _Les Ba-Ronga_ Neuchâtel (1898), pp. 401 _sq._] [Footnote 61: W. A. Elmslie, _Among the Wild Ngoni_ (Edinburgh and London, 1899), p. 70.] [Footnote 62: H. A. Junod and W. A. Elmslie, _ll.cc._] [Footnote 63: C. W. Hobley, _Ethnology of A-Kamba and other East African Tribes_ (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 107-109.] [Footnote 64: Fr. Müller, "Die Religionen Togos in Einzeldarstellungen," _Anthropos_, ii. (1907) p. 203. In a version of the story reported from Calabar a sheep appears as the messenger of mortality, while a dog is the messenger of immortality or rather of resurrection. See "Calabar Stories," _Journal of the African Society_, No. 18 (January 1906), p. 194.] [Footnote 65: E. Perregaux, _Chez les Achanti_ (Neuchâtel, 1906), pp. 198 _sq._] [Footnote 66: E. Perregaux, _op. cit._ p. 199.] [Footnote 67: Sir J. E. Alexander, _Expedition of Discovery into the Interior of Africa_ (London, 1838), i. 169; C. J. Andersson, _Lake Ngami_, Second Edition (London, 1856), pp. 328 _sq._; W. H. I. Bleek, _Reynard the Fox in South Africa_ (London, 1864), pp. 71-73; Th. Hahn, _Tsuni-Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi_ (London, 1881), p. 52.] [Footnote 68: W. H. I. Bleek, _A Brief Account of Bushman Folk-lore_ (London, 1875), pp. 9 _sq._] [Footnote 69: W. H. I. Bleek, _Reynard the Fox in South Africa_, pp. 69 _sq._] [Footnote 70: A. C. Hollis, _The Masai_ (Oxford, 1905), pp. 271 _sq._] [Footnote 71: A. C. Hollis, _The Nandi_ (Oxford, 1909), p. 98.] [Footnote 72: Captain W. E. H. Barrett, "Notes on the Customs and Beliefs of the Wa-Giriama, etc., British East Africa," _Journal of the R. Anthropological Institute_, xli. (1911) p. 37.] [Footnote 73: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 205.] [Footnote 74: _Lettres �difiantes et Curieuses_, Nouvelle �dition, xv. (Paris, 1781) pp. 305 _sq._] [Footnote 75: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_ (London, 1904), pp. 428 _sq._] [Footnote 76: Antoine Cabaton, _Nouvelles Recherches sur les Chams_ (Paris, 1901), pp. 18 _sq._] [Footnote 77: Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1904), pp. 513 _sq._] [Footnote 78: Father G. Boscana, "Chinigchinich," in _Life in California, by an American_ [A. Robinson] (New York, 1846), pp. 298 _sq._] [Footnote 79: Merolla, "Voyage to Congo," in J. Pinkerton's _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. (London, 1814) p. 273.] [Footnote 80: P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küstenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_ (Hiltrup bei Münster, N.D.), p. 334.] [Footnote 81: A. Landes, "Contes et Légendes Annamites," _Cochinchine française, Excursions et Reconnaissances_, No. 25 (Saigon, 1886), pp. 108 _sq._] [Footnote 82: Otto Meyer, "Mythen und Erzählungen von der Insel Vuatom (Bismarck-Archipel, Südsee)," _Anthropos_, v. (1910) p. 724.] [Footnote 83: H. Sundermann, "Die Insel Nias und die Mission daselbst," _Allgemeine Missions-Zeitschrift_, xi. (1884) p. 451; E. Modigliani, _Un Viaggio a Nías_ (Milan, 1890), p. 295.] [Footnote 84: R. Schomburgk, _Reisen in Britisch-Guiana_ (Leipsig, 1847-1848), ii. 319.] [Footnote 85: R. Schomburgk, _op. cit._ ii. 320.] [Footnote 86: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), p. 265; W. Gray, "Some Notes on the Tannese," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, vii. (1894) p. 232.] [Footnote 87: C. Ribbe, _Zwei Jahre unter den Kannibalen der Salomo-Inseln_ (Dresden-Blasowitz, 1903), p. 148.] [Footnote 88: Ch. Keysser, "Aus dem Leben der Kaileute," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_ (Berlin, 1911), iii. 161 _sq._] [Footnote 89: Josef Meier, "Mythen und Sagen der Admiralitätsinsulaner," _Anthropos_, iii. (1908) p. 193.] [Footnote 90: George Brown, D.D., _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), p. 365; George Turner, LL.D., _Samoa_ (London, 1884), pp. 8 _sq._] [Footnote 91: See above, p. 70.] [Footnote 92: A. C. Kruijt, "De legenden der Poso-Alfoeren aangaande de erste menschen," _Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap_, xxxviii. (1894) p. 340.] [Footnote 93: D. F. A. Hervey, "The Mêntra Traditions," _Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society_, No. 10 (December 1882), p. 190; W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, _Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula_ (London, 1906), ii. 337 _sq._] [Footnote 94: Guerlach, "Moeurs et Superstitions des sauvages Ba-hnars," _Missions Catholiques_, xix. (1887) p. 479.] [Footnote 95: (Sir) J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, _Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States_, Part i. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) pp. 408 _sq._] [Footnote 96: R. Brough Smyth, _The Aborigines of Victoria_ (Melbourne and London, 1878), i. 428. On this narrative the author remarks: "This story appears to bear too close a resemblance to the Biblical account of the Fall. Is it genuine or not? Mr. Bulmer admits that it may have been invented by the aborigines after they had heard something of Scripture history."] [Footnote 97: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 204 _sq._ For another Fijian story of the origin of death, see above, p. 67.] [Footnote 98: Josef Meier, "Mythen und Sagen der Admiralitätsinsulaner," _Anthropos_, iii. (1908) p. 194.] [Footnote 99: Josef Meier, _op. cit._ pp. 194 _sq._] [Footnote 100: C. Gouldsbury and H. Sheane, _The Great Plateau of Northern Rhodesia_ (London, 1911), pp. 80 _sq._ A like tale is told by the Balolo of the Upper Congo. See _Folk-lore_, xii. (1901) p. 461; and below, p. 472.] [Footnote 101: J. Mooney, "Myths of the Cherokee," _Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology_, Part i. (Washington, 1900) p. 436, quoting "the Payne manuscript, of date about 1835." Compare _id._, pp. 252-254, 436 _sq._] [Footnote 102: _Relations des Jésuites_, 1634, p. 13 (Canadian reprint, Quebec, 1858).] [Footnote 103: Sir Harry Johnston, _The Uganda Protectorate_ (London, 1904), ii. 700-705 (the story was taken down by Mr. J. F. Cunningham); Rev. J. Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 460-464. The story is briefly told by Mr. L. Decle, _Three Years in Savage Africa_ (London, 1898), pp. 439 _sq._] [Footnote 104: J. Spieth, _Die Ewe-Stämme_ (Berlin, 1906), pp. 590-593.] [Footnote 105: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), pp. 265 _sq._] [Footnote 106: A. Weissmann, _Essays upon Heredity and Kindred Biological Problems_, vol. i. (Oxford, 1891) pp. 25 _sq._] [Footnote 107: A. R. Wallace, quoted in A. Weissmann's _Essays upon Heredity_, i. (Oxford, 1891) p. 24 note.] LECTURE IV THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF CENTRAL AUSTRALIA [Sidenote: Proposed survey of the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead, as these are found among the various races of men, beginning with the lowest savages.] In previous lectures we have considered the ideas which savages in general entertain of death and its origin. To-day we begin our survey of the beliefs and practices of particular races in regard to the dead. I propose to deal separately with some of the principal races of men and to shew in detail how the belief in human immortality and the worship of the dead, to which that belief naturally gives rise, have formed a more or less important element of their religion. And in order to trace as far as possible the evolution of that worship in history I shall begin with the lowest savages about whom we possess accurate information, and shall pass from them to higher races until, if time permitted, we might come to the civilised nations of antiquity and of modern times. In this way, by comparing the ideas and practices of peoples on different planes of culture we may be able approximately to reconstruct or represent to ourselves with a fair degree of probability the various stages through which this particular phase of religion may be supposed to have passed in the great civilised races before the dawn of history. Of course all such reconstructions must be more or less conjectural. In the absence of historical documents that is inevitable; but our reconstruction will be more or less probable according to the degree in which the corresponding stages of evolution are found to resemble or differ from each other in the various races of men. If we find that tribes at approximately the same level of culture in different parts of the world have approximately the same religion, we may fairly infer that religion is in a sense a function of culture, and therefore that all races which have traversed the same stages of culture in the past have traversed also the same stages of religion; in short that, allowing for many minor variations, which flow inevitably from varying circumstances such as climate, soil, racial temperament, and so forth, the course of religious development has on the whole been uniform among mankind. This enquiry may be called the embryology of religion, in as much as it seeks to do for the development of religion what embryology in the strict sense of the word attempts to do for the development of life. And just as biology or the science of life naturally begins with the study of the lowest sorts of living beings, the humble protozoa, so we shall begin our enquiry with a study of the lowest savages of whom we possess a comparatively full and accurate record, namely, the aborigines of Australia. [Sidenote: Savagery a case not of degeneracy but of arrested or rather retarded development.] At the outset I would ask you to bear in mind that, so far as evidence allows us to judge, savagery in all its phases appears to be nothing but a case of arrested or rather retarded development. The old view that savages have degenerated from a higher level of culture, on which their forefathers once stood, is destitute alike of evidence and of probability. On the contrary, the information which we possess as to the lower races, meagre and fragmentary as it unfortunately is, all seems to point to the conclusion that on the whole even the most savage tribes have reached their low level of culture from one still lower, and that the upward movement, though so slow as to be almost imperceptible, has yet been real and steady up to the point where savagery has come into contact with civilisation. The moment of such contact is a critical one for the savages. If the intellectual, moral, and social interval which divides them from the civilised intruders exceeds a certain degree, then it appears that sooner or later the savages must inevitably perish; the shock of collision with a stronger race is too violent to be withstood, the weaker goes to the wall and is shattered. But if on the other hand the breach between the two conflicting races is not so wide as to be impassable, there is a hope that the weaker may assimilate enough of the higher culture of the other to survive. It was so, for example, with our barbarous forefathers in contact with the ancient civilisations of Greece and Rome; and it may be so in future with some, for example, of the black races of the present day in contact with European civilisation. Time will shew. But among the savages who cannot permanently survive the shock of collision with Europe may certainly be numbered the aborigines of Australia. They are rapidly dwindling and wasting away, and before very many years have passed it is probable that they will be extinct like the Tasmanians, who, so far as we can judge from the miserably imperfect records of them which we possess, appear to have been savages of an even lower type than the Australians, and therefore to have been still less able to survive in the struggle for existence with their vigorous European rivals. [Sidenote: Physical causes which have retarded progress in Australia.] The causes which have retarded progress in Australia and kept the aboriginal population at the lowest level of savagery appear to be mainly two; namely, first, the geographical isolation and comparatively small area of the continent, and, second, the barren and indeed desert nature of a great part of its surface; for the combined effect of these causes has been, by excluding foreign competitors and seriously restricting the number of competitors at home, to abate the rigour of competition and thereby to restrain the action of one of the most powerful influences which make for progress. In other words, elements of weakness have been allowed to linger on, which under the sterner conditions of life entailed by fierce competition would long ago have been eliminated and have made way for elements better adapted to the environment. What is true of the human inhabitants of Australia in this respect is true also of its fauna and flora. It has long been recognised that the animals and plants of Australia represent on the whole more archaic types of life than the animals and plants of the larger continents; and the reason why these antiquated creatures have survived there rather than elsewhere is mainly that, the area of competition being so much restricted through the causes I have mentioned, these comparatively weak forms of animal and vegetable life have not been killed off by stronger competitors. That this is the real cause appears to be proved by the rapidity with which many animals and plants introduced into Australia from Europe tend to overrun the country and to oust the old native fauna and flora.[108] [Sidenote: In the centre of Australia the natural conditions of life are most unfavourable; hence the central aborigines have remained in a more primitive state than those of the coasts, where food and water are more plentiful.] I have said that among the causes which have kept the aborigines of Australia at a very low level of savagery must be reckoned the desert nature of a great part of the country. Now it is the interior of the continent which is the most arid, waste, and barren. The coasts are comparatively fertile, for they are watered by showers condensed from an atmosphere which is charged with moisture by the neighbouring sea; and this condensation is greatly facilitated in the south-eastern and eastern parts of the continent by a high range of mountains which here skirts the coast for a long distance, attracting the moisture from the ocean and precipitating it in the form of snow and rain. Thus the vegetation and hence the supply of food both animal and vegetable in these well-watered portions of the continent are varied and plentiful. In striking contrast with the fertility and abundance of these favoured regions are the stony plains and bare rocky ranges of the interior, where water is scarce, vegetation scanty, and animal life at certain seasons of the year can only with difficulty be maintained. It would be no wonder if the natives of these arid sun-scorched wildernesses should have lagged behind even their savage brethren of the coasts in respect of material and social progress; and in fact there are many indications that they have done so, in other words, that the aborigines of the more fertile districts near the sea have made a greater advance towards civilisation than the tribes of the desert interior. This is the view of men who have studied the Australian savages most deeply at first hand, and, so far as I can judge of the matter without any such first-hand acquaintance, I entirely agree with their opinion. I have given my reasons elsewhere and shall not repeat them here. All that I wish to impress on you now is that in aboriginal Australia a movement of social and intellectual progress, slow but perceptible, appears to have been setting from the coast inwards, and that, so far as such things can be referred to physical causes, this particular movement in Australia would seem to have been initiated by the sea acting through an abundant rainfall and a consequent abundant supply of food.[109] [Sidenote: Backward state of the Central Australian aborigines. They have no idea of a moral supreme being.] Accordingly, in attempting to give you some account of the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the various races of mankind, I propose to begin with the natives of Central Australia, first, because the Australian aborigines are the most primitive savages about whom we have full and accurate information, and, second, because among these primitive savages the inhabitants of the central deserts are on the whole the most primitive. Like their brethren in the rest of the continent they were in their native condition absolutely ignorant of metals and of agriculture; they had no domestic animals except the dog, and they subsisted wholly by the products of the chase and the natural fruits, roots, and seeds, which the ground yielded without cultivation of any sort. In regard to their intellectual outlook upon the world, they were deeply imbued, as I shewed in a former lecture, with a belief in magic, but it can hardly be said that they possessed any religion in the strict sense of the word, by which I mean a propitiation of real or imaginary powers regarded as personal beings superior to man: certainly the Australian aborigines appear to have believed in no beings who deserve to be called gods. On this subject Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, our best authorities on these tribes, observe as follows: "The Central Australian natives--and this is true of the tribes extending from Lake Eyre in the south to the far north and eastwards across to the Gulf of Carpentaria--have no idea whatever of the existence of any supreme being who is pleased if they follow a certain line of what we call moral conduct and displeased if they do not do so. They have not the vaguest idea of a personal individual other than an actual living member of the tribe who approves or disapproves of their conduct, so far as anything like what we call morality is concerned. Any such idea as that of a future life of happiness or the reverse, as a reward for meritorious or as a punishment for blameworthy conduct, is quite foreign to them.... We know of no tribe in which there is a belief of any kind in a supreme being who rewards or punishes the individual according to his moral behaviour, using the word moral in the native sense."[110] [Sidenote: Central Australian theory that the souls of the dead survive and are afterwards reborn as infants.] But if the aborigines of Central Australia have no religion properly so called, they entertain beliefs and they observe practices out of which under favourable circumstances a religion might have been developed, if its evolution had not been arrested by the advent of Europeans. Among these elements of natural religion one of the most important is the theory which these savages hold as to the existence and nature of the dead. That theory is a very remarkable one. With a single exception, which I shall mention presently, they unanimously believe that death is not the end of all things for the individual, but that the human personality survives, apparently with little change, in the form of a spirit, which may afterwards be reborn as a child into the world. In fact they think that every living person without exception is the reincarnation of a dead person who lived on earth a longer or shorter time ago. This belief is held universally by the tribes which occupy an immense area of Australia from the centre northwards to the Gulf of Carpentaria.[111] The single exception to which I have referred is furnished by the Gnanji, a fierce and wild-looking tribe who eat their dead enemies and perhaps also their dead friends.[112] These savages deny that women have spirits which live after death; when a woman dies, that, they say, is the end of her. On the other hand, the spirit of a dead man, in their opinion, survives and goes to and fro on the earth visiting the places where his forefathers camped in days of old and destined to be born again of a woman at some future time, when the rains have fallen and bleached his bones.[113] But why these primitive philosophers should deny the privilege of immortality to women and reserve it exclusively for men, is not manifest. All other Central Australian tribes appear to admit the rights of women equally with the rights of men in a life beyond the grave. [Sidenote: Central Australian theory as to the state of the dead. Certain conspicuous features of the landscape supposed to be tenanted by the souls of the dead waiting to be born again.] With regard to the state of the souls of the dead in the intervals between their successive reincarnations, the opinions of the Central Australian savages are clear and definite. Most civilised races who believe in the immortality of the soul have found themselves compelled to confess that, however immortal the spirits of the departed may be, they do not present themselves commonly to our eyes or ears, nor meddle much with the affairs of the living; hence the survivors have for the most part inferred that the dead do not hover invisible in our midst, but that they dwell somewhere, far away, in the height of heaven, or in the depth of earth, or in Islands of the Blest beyond the sea where the sun goes down. Not so with the simple aborigines of Australia. They imagine that the spirits of the dead continue to haunt their native land and especially certain striking natural features of the landscape, it may be a pool of water in a deep gorge of the barren hills, or a solitary tree in the sun-baked plains, or a great rock that affords a welcome shade in the sultry noon. Such spots are thought to be tenanted by the souls of the departed waiting to be born again. There they lurk, constantly on the look-out for passing women into whom they may enter, and from whom in due time they may be born as infants. It matters not whether the woman be married or unmarried, a matron or a maid, a blooming girl or a withered hag: any woman may conceive directly by the entrance into her of one of these disembodied spirits; but the natives have shrewdly observed that the spirits shew a decided preference for plump young women. Hence when such a damsel is passing near a plot of haunted ground, if she does not wish to become a mother, she will disguise herself as an aged crone and hobble past, saying in a thin cracked voice, "Don't come to me. I am an old woman." Such spots are often stones, which the natives call child-stones because the souls of the dead are there lying in wait for women in order to be born as children. One such stone, for example, may be seen in the land of the Arunta tribe near Alice Springs. It projects to a height of three feet from the ground among the mulga scrub, and there is a round hole in it through which the souls of dead plum-tree people are constantly peeping, ready to pounce out on a likely damsel. Again, in the territory of the Warramunga tribe the ghosts of black-snake people are supposed to gather in the rocks round certain pools or in the gum-trees which border the generally dry bed of a water-course. No Warramunga woman would dare to strike one of these trees with an axe, because she is firmly convinced that in doing so she would set free one of the lurking black-snake spirits, who would immediately dart into her body. They think that the spirits are no larger than grains of sand and that they make their way into women through the navel. Nor is it merely by direct contact with one of these repositories of souls, nor yet by passing near it, that women may be gotten with child against their wish. The Arunta believe that any malicious man may by magic cause a woman or even a child to become a mother: he has only to go to one of the child-stones and rub it with his hands, muttering the words, "Plenty of young women. You look and go quickly."[114] [Sidenote: As a rule, only the souls of persons of one particular totemic clan are thought to congregate in one place.] A remarkable feature in these gathering-places of the dead remains to be noticed. The society at each of them is very select. The ghosts are very clannish; as a rule none but people of one particular totemic clan are supposed to for-gather at any one place. For example, we have just seen that in the Arunta tribe the souls of dead people of the plum-tree totem congregate at a certain stone in the mulga scrub, and that in the Warramunga tribe the spirits of deceased persons who had black snakes for their totem haunt certain gum-trees. The same thing applies to most of the other haunts of the dead in Central Australia. Whether the totem was a kangaroo or an emu, a rat or a bat, a hawk or a cockatoo, a bee or a fly, a yam or a grass seed, the sun or the moon, fire or water, lightning or the wind, it matters not what the totem was, only the ghosts of people of one totemic clan meet for the most part in one place; thus one rock will be tenanted by the spirits of kangaroo folk only, and another by spirits of emu folk only; one water-pool will be the home of dead rat people alone, and another the haunt of none but dead bat people; and so on with most of the other abodes of the souls. However, in the Urabunna tribe the ghosts are not so exclusive; some of them consent to share their abode with people of other totems. For example, a certain pool of water is haunted by the spirits of folk who in their lifetime had for their totems respectively the emu, rain, and a certain grub. On the other hand a group of granite boulders is inhabited only by the souls of persons of the pigeon totem.[115] [Sidenote: Totemism defined.] Perhaps for the sake of some of my hearers I should say a word as to the meaning of totems and totemism. The subject is a large one and is still under discussion. For our present purpose it is not necessary that I should enter into details; I will therefore only say that a totem is commonly a class of natural objects, usually a species of animals or plants, with which a savage identifies himself in a curious way, imagining that he himself and his kinsfolk are for all practical purposes kangaroos or emus, rats or bats, hawks or cockatoos, yams or grass-seed, and so on, according to the particular class of natural objects which he claims as his totem. The origin of this remarkable identification of men with animals, plants, or other things is still much debated; my own view is that the key to the mystery is furnished by the Australian beliefs as to birth and rebirth which I have just described to you; but on that subject I will not now dwell.[116] All that I ask you to remember is that in Central Australia there is no general gathering-place for the spirits of the departed; the souls are sorted out more or less strictly according to their totems and dwell apart each in their own little preserve or preserves, on which ghosts of other totems are supposed seldom or never to trespass. Thus the whole country-side is dotted at intervals with these spiritual parks or reservations, which are respected by the natives as the abodes of their departed kinsfolk. In size they vary from a few square yards to many square miles.[117] [Sidenote: Traditionary origin of the local totem centres (_oknanikilla_) where the souls of the dead are supposed to assemble. The sacred sticks or stones (_churinga_) which the totemic ancestors carried about with them.] The way in which these spiritual preserves originated is supposed to be as follows. In the earliest days of which the aborigines retain a tradition, and to which they give the name of the _alcheringa_ or dream times, their remote ancestors roamed about the country in bands, each band composed of people of the same totem. Thus one band would consist of frog people only, another of witchetty grub people only, another of Hakea flower people only, and so on. Now in regard to the nature of these remote totemic ancestors of the _alcheringa_ or dream times, the ideas of the natives are very hazy; they do not in fact clearly distinguish their human from their totemic nature; in speaking, for example, of a man of the kangaroo totem they seem unable to discriminate sharply between the man and the animal: perhaps we may say that what is before their mind is a blurred image, a sort of composite photograph, of a man and a kangaroo in one: the man is semi-bestial, the kangaroo is semi-human. And similarly with their ancestors of all other totems: if the particular ancestors, for example, had the bean-tree for their totem, then their descendants in thinking of them might, like the blind man in the Gospel, see in their mind's eye men walking like trees and trees perambulating like men. Now each of these semi-human ancestors is thought to have carried about with him on his peregrinations one or more sacred sticks or stones of a peculiar pattern, to which the Arunta give the name of _churinga_: they are for the most part oval or elongated and flattened stones or slabs of wood, varying in length from a few inches to over five feet, and inscribed with a variety of patterns which represent or have reference to the totems. But the patterns are purely conventional, consisting of circles, curved lines, spirals, and dots with no attempt to represent natural objects pictorially. Each of these sacred stones or sticks was intimately associated with the spirit part of the man or woman who carried it; for women as well as men had their _churinga_. When these semi-human ancestors died, they went into the ground, leaving their sacred stones or sticks behind them on the spot, and in every case some natural feature arose to mark the place, it might be a tree, a rock, a pool of water, or what not. The memory of all such spots has been carefully preserved and handed down from generation to generation by the old men, and it is to these spots that down to the present day the souls of all the dead regularly repair in order to await reincarnation. The Arunta call the places _oknanikilla_, and we may call them local totem centres, because they are the centres where the spirits of the departed assemble according to their totems.[118] [Sidenote: Every living person has also his or her sacred stick or stone (_churinga_), with which his or her spirit is closely bound up.] But it is not merely the remote forefathers of the Central Australian savages who are said to have been possessed of these sacred sticks or stones: every man and woman who is born into the world has one of them, with which his or her spirit is believed to be closely bound up. This is intelligible when we remember that every living person is believed to be simply the reincarnation of an ancestor; for that being so he naturally comes to life with all the attributes which belonged to him in his previous state of existence on earth. The notion of the natives is that when a spirit child enters into a woman to be born, he immediately drops his sacred stick or stone on the spot, which is necessarily one of what we have called the local totem centres, since in the opinion of the natives it is only at or near them that a woman can conceive a child. Hence when her child is born, the woman tells her husband the place where she fancies that the infant entered into her, and he goes with some old men to find the precious object, the stick or stone dropped by the spirit of the infant when it entered into the mother. If it cannot be found, the men cut a wooden one from the nearest hard-wood tree, and this becomes the sacred stick or _churinga_ of the newborn child. The exact spot, whether a tree or a stone or what not, in which the child's spirit is supposed to have tarried in the interval between its incarnations, is called its _nanja_ tree or stone or what not. A definite relation is supposed to exist between each individual and his _nanja_ tree or stone. The tree or stone and any animal or bird that lights upon it is sacred to him and may not be molested. A native has been known earnestly to intercede with a white man to spare a tree because it was his _nanja_ or birth-tree, and he feared that evil would befall him if it were cut down.[119] [Sidenote: Sanctity of the _churinga_.] Thus in these Central Australian tribes every man, woman, and child has his or her sacred birth-stone or stick. But though every woman, like every man, has her sacred birth-stone or stick, she is never allowed to see it under pain of death or of being blinded with a fire-stick. Indeed none but old women are aware even of the existence of such things. Uninitiated men are likewise forbidden under the same severe penalties ever to look upon these most sacred objects.[120] The sanctity ascribed to the sticks and stones is intelligible when we remember that the spirits of all the people both living and dead are believed to be intimately associated with them. Each of them, we are told, is supposed to be so closely bound up with a person's spirit that it may be regarded as his or her representative, and those of dead people are believed to be endowed with the attributes of their former owners and actually to impart them to any one who happens to carry them about with him. Hence these apparently insignificant sticks and stones are, in the opinion of the natives, most potent instruments for conveying to the living the virtues and powers of the dead. For example, in a fight the possession of one of these holy sticks or stones is thought to endow the possessor with courage and accuracy of aim and also to deprive his adversary of these qualities. So firmly is this belief held, that if two men were fighting and one of them knew that the other carried a sacred birth-stone or stick while he himself did not, he would certainly lose heart and be beaten. Again, when a man is sick, he will sometimes have one of these sacred stones brought to him and will scrape a little dust off it, mix the dust with water, and drink it. This is supposed to strengthen him. Clearly he imagines that with the scrapings of the stone he absorbs the strength and other qualities of the person to whom the stone belonged.[121] [Sidenote: Sacred store-houses (_ertnatulunga_) of the _churinga_.] All the birth-stones or sticks (_churinga_) belonging to any particular totemic group are kept together, hidden away from the eyes of women and uninitiated men, in a sacred store-house or _ertnatulunga_, as the Arunta and Unmatjera call it. This store-house is always situated in one of the local totem centres or _oknanikilla_, which, as we have seen, vary in size from a few yards to many square miles. In itself the sacred treasure-house is usually a small cave or crevice in some lonely spot among the rugged hills. The entrance is carefully blocked up with stones arranged so artfully as to simulate nature and to awake no suspicion in the mind of passing strangers that behind these tumbled blocks lie concealed the most prized possessions of the tribe. The immediate neighbourhood of any one of these sacred store-houses is a kind of haven of refuge for wild animals, for once they have run thither, they are safe; no hunter would spear a kangaroo or opossum which cowered on the ground at one of these hallowed spots. The very plants which grow there are sacred and may not be plucked or broken or interfered with in any way. Similarly, an enemy who succeeds in taking refuge there, is safe from his pursuer, so long as he keeps within the sacred boundaries: even the avenger of blood, pursuing the murderer hot-foot, would not dare to lift up his hand against him on the holy ground. Thus, these places are sanctuaries in the strict sense of the word; they are probably the most primitive examples of their class and contain the germ out of which cities of refuge for manslayers and others might be developed. It is instructive, therefore, to observe that these rudimentary sanctuaries in the heart of the Australian wilderness derive their sacredness mainly, it would seem, from their association with the spirits of the dead, whose repose must not be disturbed by tumult, violence, and bloodshed. Even when the sacred birth-stones and sticks have been removed from the store-house in the secret recesses of the hills and have been brought into the camp for the performance of certain solemn ceremonies, no fighting may take place, no weapons may be brandished in their neighbourhood: if men will quarrel and fight, they must take their weapons and go elsewhere to do it.[122] And when the men go to one of the sacred store-houses to inspect the treasures which it contains, they must each of them put his open hand solemnly over the mouth of the rocky crevice and then retire, in order to give the spirits due notice of the approach of strangers; for if they were disturbed suddenly, they would be angry.[123] [Sidenote: Exhibition of the _churinga_ to young men.] It is only after a young man has passed through the severe ceremonies of initiation, which include most painful bodily mutilations, that he is deemed worthy to be introduced to the tribal arcana, the sacred sticks and stones, which repose in their hallowed cave among the mountain solitudes. Even when he has passed through all the ordeals, many years may elapse before he is admitted to a knowledge of these mysteries, if he shews himself to be of a light and frivolous disposition. When at last by the gravity of his demeanour he is judged to have proved himself indeed a man, a day is fixed for revealing to him the great secret. Then the headman of his local group, together with other grave and reverend seniors, conducts him to the mouth of the cave: the stones are rolled away from the entrance: the spirits within are duly warned of the approach of visitors; and then the sacred sticks and stones, tied up in bundles, are brought forth. The bundles are undone, the sticks and stones are taken out, one by one, reverently scrutinised, and exhibited to the novice, while the old men explain to him the meaning of the patterns incised on each and reveal to him the persons, alive or dead, to whom they belong. All the time the other men keep chanting in a low voice the traditions of their remote ancestors in the far-off dream times. At the close the novice is told the secret and sacred name which he is thenceforth to bear, and is warned never to allow it to pass his lips in the hearing of anybody except members of his own totemic group.[124] Sometimes this secret name is that of an ancestor of whom the man or woman is supposed to be a reincarnation: for women as well as men have their secret and sacred names.[125] [Sidenote: Number of _churinga_ in a store-house. Significance of the _churinga_. Use of the _churinga_ in magic.] The number of sacred birth-stones and sticks kept in any one store-house naturally varies from group to group; but whatever their number, whether more or less, in any one store-house they all normally belong to the same totem, though a few belonging to other totems may be borrowed and deposited for a time with them. For example, a sacred store-house of the honey-ant totem was found to contain sixty-eight birth-sticks of that totem with a few of the lizard totem and two of the wild-cat totem.[126] Any store-house will usually contain both sticks and stones, but as a rule perhaps the sticks predominate in number.[127] Time after time these tribal repositories are visited by the men and their contents taken out and examined. On each examination the sacred sticks and stones are carefully rubbed over with dry and powdered red ochre or charcoal, the sticks being rubbed with red ochre only, but the stones either with red ochre or charcoal.[128] Further, it is customary on these occasions to press the sacred objects against the stomachs and thighs of all the men present; this is supposed to untie their bowels, which are thought to be tightened and knotted by the emotion which the men feel at the sight of these venerated sticks and stones. Indeed, the emotion is sometimes very real: men have been seen to weep on beholding these mystic objects for the first time after a considerable interval.[129] Whenever the sacred store-house is visited and its contents examined, the old men explain to the younger men the marks incised on the sticks and stones, and recite the traditions associated with the dead men to whom they belonged;[130] so that these rude objects of wood and stone, with the lines and dots scratched on them, serve the savages as memorials of the past; they are in fact rudimentary archives as well as, we may almost say, rudimentary idols; for a stone or stick which represents a revered ancestor and is supposed to be endowed with some portion of his spirit, is not far from being an idol. No wonder, therefore, that they are guarded and treasured by a tribe as its most precious possession. When a group of natives have been robbed of them by thoughtless white men and have found the sacred store-house empty, they have tried to kill the traitor who betrayed the hallowed spot to the strangers, and have remained in camp for a fortnight weeping and wailing for the loss and plastering themselves with pipeclay, which is their token of mourning for the dead.[131] Yet, as a great mark of friendship, they will sometimes lend these sacred sticks and stones to a neighbouring group; for believing that the sticks and stones are associated with the spiritual parts of their former and present owners, they naturally wish to have as many of them as possible and regard their possession as a treasure of great price, a sort of reservoir of spiritual force,[132] which can be turned to account not only in battle by worsting the enemy, but in various other ways, such as by magically increasing the food supply. For instance, when a man of the grass-seed totem wishes to increase the supply of grass-seed in order that it may be eaten by people of other totems, he goes to the sacred store-house, clears the ground all around it, takes out a few of the holy sticks and stones, smears them with red ochre and decorates them with birds' down, chanting a spell all the time. Then he rubs them together so that the down flies off in all directions; this is supposed to carry with it the magical virtue of the sticks or stones and so to fertilise the grass-seed.[133] [Sidenote: Elements of a worship of the dead. Marvellous powers attributed by the Central Australians to their remote ancestors of the _alcheringa_ or dream time.] On the whole, when we survey these practices and beliefs of the Central Australian aborigines, we may perhaps conclude that, if they do not amount to a worship of the dead, they at least contain the elements out of which such a worship might easily be developed. At first sight, no doubt, their faith in the transmigration of souls seems and perhaps really is a serious impediment to a worship of the dead in the strict sense of the word. For if they themselves are the dead come to life again, it is difficult to see how they can worship the spirits of the dead without also worshipping each other, since they are all by hypothesis simply these worshipful spirits reincarnated. But though in theory every living man and woman is merely an ancestor or ancestress born again and therefore should be his or her equal, in practice they appear to admit that their forefathers of the remote _alcheringa_ or dream time were endowed with many marvellous powers which their modern reincarnations cannot lay claim to, and that accordingly these ancestral spirits were more to be reverenced, were in fact more worshipful, than their living representatives. On this subject Messrs. Spencer and Gillen observe: "The Central Australian native is firmly convinced, as will be seen from the accounts relating to their _alcheringa_ ancestors, that the latter were endowed with powers such as no living man now possesses. They could travel underground or mount into the sky, and could make creeks and water-courses, mountain-ranges, sand-hills, and plains. In very many cases the actual names of these natives are preserved in their traditions, but, so far as we have been able to discover, there is no instance of any one of them being regarded in the light of a 'deity.' Amongst the Central Australian natives there is never any idea of appealing for assistance to any one of these Alcheringa ancestors in any way, nor is there any attempt made in the direction of propitiation, with one single exception in the case of the mythic creature called Wollunqua, amongst the Warramunga tribe, who, it may be remarked, is most distinctly regarded as a snake and not as a human being."[134] Thus far Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. From their testimony it appears that with a single possible exception, to which I will return immediately, the Central Australian aborigines are not known to worship any of their dead ancestors; they indeed believe their remote forefathers of the _alcheringa_ age to have been endowed with marvellous powers which they themselves do not possess; but they do not regard these ancestral spirits as deities, nor do they pray and sacrifice to them for help and protection. The single possible exception to this general rule known to Messrs. Spencer and Gillen is the case of the mythical water-snake called Wollunqua, who is in a sense revered and propitiated by the Warramunga tribe. The case is interesting and instructive as indicative of an advance from magic towards religion in the strict sense of the word. Accordingly I propose to consider it somewhat fully. [Sidenote: The Wollunqua, a mythical water-snake, one of the Warramunga totems.] The Wollunqua is one of the many totems of the Warramunga tribe. It is to be borne in mind that, though every Australian tribe has many totems which are most commonly animals or plants and more rarely other natural objects, all the totems are not respected by all the members of the tribe; each totem is respected only by a particular group of men and women in the tribe, who believe themselves to be descended from the same totemic ancestor. Thus the whole tribe is broken up into many groups or bodies of men and women, each group knit together by a belief in a common descent from the totem, by a common respect for the totemic species, whether it be a species of animals or plants, or what not, and finally by the possession of a common name derived from the totem. Thus, for example, we have a group of men and women who believe themselves descended from an ancestor who had the bandicoot for his totem; they all respect bandicoots; and they are all called bandicoot people. Similarly with all the other totemic groups within the tribe. It is convenient to have a name for these totemic groups or tribal subdivisions, and accordingly we may call them clans, provided we remember that a totemic clan in this sense is not an independent political community such as the Scottish Highland clans used to be; it is merely a subdivision of the tribe, and the members of it do not usually keep to themselves but live more or less interfused with members of all the other totemic clans which together compose the tribe. Now amongst the Warramunga the Wollunqua or mythical water-snake is the totem of such a clan or tribal subdivision, the members of which believe themselves to be descended from the creature and call themselves by its name. So far, therefore, the Wollunqua is merely a totem of the ordinary sort, an object of respect for a particular section of the tribe. Like other totemic ancestors the Wollunqua is supposed to have wandered about the country leaving supplies of spirit individuals at various points, individuals who are constantly undergoing reincarnation. But on the other hand the Wollunqua differs from almost all other Australian totems in this, that whereas they are real objects, such as animals, plants, water, wind, the sun and moon, and so on, the Wollunqua is a purely mythical creature, which exists only in the imagination of the natives; for they believe it to be a water-snake so huge that if it were to stand up on its tail, its head would reach far up into the sky. It now lives in a large pool called Thapauerlu, hidden away in a lonely valley of the Murchison Range; but the Warramunga fear that it may at any moment sally out and do some damage. They say that it actually killed a number of them on one of its excursions, though happily they at last succeeded in beating it off. So afraid are they of the creature, that in speaking of it amongst themselves they will not use its proper name of Wollunqua but call it instead _urkulu nappaurinnia_, because, as they told Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, if they were to name it too often by its real name they would lose control over the beast and it would rush forth and devour them.[135] Thus the natives do not distinguish the Wollunqua from the rest of their actually existing totems, as we do: they have never beheld him with their bodily eyes, yet to them he is just as real as the kangaroos which they see hopping along the sands, as the flies which buzz about their heads in the sunshine, or as the cockatoos which flap screaming past in the thickets. How real this belief in the mythical snake is with these savages, was brought vividly home to Messrs. Spencer and Gillen when they visited, in company with some natives, the deep and lonely pool among the rocky hills in which the awful being is supposed to reside. Before they approached the spot, the natives had been talking and laughing freely, but when they drew near the water their voices were hushed and their demeanour became solemn. When all stood silent on the brink of the deep still pool, enclosed by a sandy margin on one side and by a line of red rocks on the other, two old men, the leaders of the totemic group of the Wollunqua, went down to the edge of the water and, with bowed heads, addressed the Wollunqua in whispers, asking him to remain quiet and do them no harm, for they were mates of his, and had brought two great white men to see where he lived and to tell them all about him. "We could plainly see," add Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, "that it was all very real to them, and that they implicitly believed that the Wollunqua was indeed alive beneath the water, watching them, though they could not see him."[136] [Sidenote: Religious character of the belief in the Wollunqua.] I need hardly point out what a near approach all this is to religion in the proper sense of the word. Here we have a firm belief in a purely imaginary being who is necessarily visible to the eye of faith alone, since I think we may safely assume that a water-snake, supposed to be many miles long and capable of reaching up to the sky, has no real existence either on the earth or in the waters under the earth. Yet to these savages this invisible being is just as real as the actually existing animals and men whom they perceive with their bodily senses; they not only pray to him but they propitiate him with a solemn ritual; and no doubt they would spurn with scorn the feeble attempts of shallow sceptics to question the reality of his existence or the literal truth of the myths they tell about him. Certainly these savages are far on the road to religion, if they have not already passed the Rubicon which divides it from the common workaday world. If an unhesitating faith in the unseen is part of religion, the Warramunga people of the Wollunqua totem are unquestionably religious. [Footnote 108: On the zoological peculiarities of Australia regarded as effects of its geographical isolation, see Alfred Newton, _Dictionary of Birds_ (London, 1893-96), pp. 317-319. He observes (p. 318) that "the isolation of Australia is probably the next oldest in the world to that of New Zealand, having possibly existed since the time when no mammals higher than marsupials had appeared on the face of the earth."] [Footnote 109: For details see _Totemism and Exogamy_, i. 314 _sqq._] [Footnote 110: Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1904), p. 491.] [Footnote 111: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. xi.] [Footnote 112: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 545.] [Footnote 113: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 546.] [Footnote 114: Baldwin Spencer and F. J. Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_ (London, 1899), pp. 119-127, 335-338, 552; _id., Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 145-153, 162, 271, 330 _sq._, 448-451, 512-515. Compare _Totemism and Exogamy_, i. 188 _sqq._] [Footnote 115: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 147.] [Footnote 116: See _Totemism and Exogamy_, i. 155 _sqq._, iv. 40 _sqq._] [Footnote 117: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 123, 126.] [Footnote 118: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 119-127, 128 _sqq._, 513; _id., Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 145 _sqq._, 257 _sqq._] [Footnote 119: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 132-135; _id._, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 258, 268 _sqq._] [Footnote 120: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 128, 134.] [Footnote 121: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 134 _sq._] [Footnote 122: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 133, 135; _id._, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 269.] [Footnote 123: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 267.] [Footnote 124: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 139 _sq._] [Footnote 125: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 273.] [Footnote 126: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 141.] [Footnote 127: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 140] [Footnote 128: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, pp. 144, 145.] [Footnote 129: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, pp. 164, _sq._; _id._, _Northern Tribes_, pp. 261, 264.] [Footnote 130: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, p. 145.] [Footnote 131: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, p. 136.] [Footnote 132: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, pp. 158 _sq._] [Footnote 133: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes_, pp. 271 _sq._] [Footnote 134: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 490 _sq._] [Footnote 135: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 226 _sq._ Another mythical being in which the Warramunga believe is _the pau-wa_, a fabulous animal, half human and somewhat resembling a dog. See Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ pp. 195, 197, 201, 210 _sq._ But the creature seems not to be a totem, for it is not included in the list of totems given by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen (_op. cit._ pp. 768-773).] [Footnote 136: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 252 _sq._] LECTURE V THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF CENTRAL AUSTRALIA (_continued_) [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Central Australian aborigines concerning the reincarnation of the dead. The mythical water-snake Wollunqua.] In the last lecture we began our survey of the belief in immortality and the practices to which it has given rise among the aboriginal tribes of Central Australia. I shewed that these primitive savages hold a very remarkable theory of birth and death. They believe that the souls of the dead do not perish but are reborn in human form after a longer or shorter interval. During that interval the spirits of the departed are supposed to congregate in certain parts of the country, generally distinguished by some conspicuous natural feature, which accordingly the natives account sacred, believing them to be haunted by the souls of the dead. From time to time one of these disembodied spirits enters into a passing woman and is born as an infant into the world. Thus according to the Central Australian theory every living person without exception is the reincarnation of a dead man, woman, or child. At first sight the theory seems to exclude the possibility of any worship of the dead, since it appears to put the living on a footing of perfect equality with the dead by identifying the one with the other. But I pointed out that as a matter of fact these savages do admit, whether logically or not, the superiority of their remote ancestors to themselves: they acknowledge that these old forefathers of theirs did possess many marvellous powers to which they themselves can lay no claim. In this acknowledgment, accordingly, we may detect an opening or possibility for the development of a real worship of ancestors. Indeed, as I said at the close of last lecture, something closely approaching to ancestor worship has actually grown up in regard to the mythical ancestor of the Wollunqua clan in the Warramunga tribe. The Wollunqua is a purely fabulous water-snake, of gigantic dimensions, which is supposed to haunt the waters of a certain lonely pool called Thapauerlu, in the Murchison Range of mountains. Unlike the ancestors of the other totemic clans, this mythical serpent is never reborn in human form; he always lives in his solitary pool among the barren hills; but the natives think that he has it in his power to come forth and do them an injury, and accordingly they pray to him to remain quiet and not to harm them. Indeed so afraid of him are they that speaking of the creature among themselves they avoid using his proper name of Wollunqua and call him by a different name, lest hearing himself called by his true name he should rush forth and devour them. More than that they even endeavour to propitiate him by the performance of certain rites, which, however childish and absurd they may seem to us, are very solemn affairs for these simple folk. The rites were witnessed by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, whose description I will summarise. It offers an interesting and instructive example of a ritual observed by primitive savages, who are clearly standing on, if they have not already crossed, the threshold of religion. [Sidenote: Wanderings of the Wollunqua. Dramatic ceremonies in honour of the Wollunqua.] Like all other totemic ancestors the Wollunqua is said to have arisen at a particular spot, to have wandered about the country, and finally to have gone down into the ground. Starting from the deep rocky pool in the Murchison Range he travelled at first underground, coming up, however, at various points where he performed ceremonies and left many spirit children, who issued from his body and remained behind, forming local totemic centres when he had passed on. It is these spirit children who have formed the Wollunqua clan ever since, undergoing an endless series of reincarnations. Now the ceremonies which the clan perform in honour of their mythical ancestor the Wollunqua all refer to his wanderings about the country. Thus there is a particular water-hole called Pitingari where the great old water-snake is said to have emerged from the ground and looked about him. Here, accordingly, two men performed a ceremony. Each of them was decorated with a broad band of red down, which curved round both the front and the back of the performer and stood sharply out from the mass of white down with which all the rest of the upper part of his body was covered. These broad red bands represented the Wollunqua. Each man also wore a tall, conical helmet adorned with a curved band of red down, which, no doubt, likewise symbolised the mythical serpent. When the two actors in the little drama had been attired in this quaint costume of red and white down, they retired behind a bush, which served for the side scenes of a theatre. Then, when the orchestra, composed of adult men, struck up the music on the ceremonial ground by chanting and beating boomerangs and sticks together, the performers ran in, stopping every now and then to shake themselves in imitation of the snake. Finally, they sat down close together with their heads bowed down on a few green branches of gum-trees. A man then stepped up to them, knocked off their head-dresses, and the simple ceremony came to an end.[137] [Sidenote: Ceremony in honour of the Wollunqua.] The next ceremony was performed on the following day at another place called Antipataringa, where the mythical snake is said to have halted in his wanderings. The same two men acted as before, but this time one of them carried on his head a curious curved bundle shaped like an enormous boomerang. It was made of grass-stalks bound together with human hair-string and decorated with white down. This sacred object represented the Wollunqua himself.[138] From this spot the snake was believed to have travelled on to another place called Tjunguniari, where he popped up his head among the sand-hills, the greater part of his body remaining underground. Indeed, of such an enormous length was the serpent, that though his head had now travelled very many miles his tail still remained at the starting-point and had not yet begun to take part in the procession. Here accordingly the third ceremony, perhaps we may say the third act in the drama, was performed on the third day. In it one of the actors personated the snake himself, while the other stood for a sand-hill.[139] [Sidenote: Further ceremony in honour of the Wollunqua: the white mound with the red wavy band to represent the mythical snake.] After an interval of three days a fourth ceremony was performed of an entirely different kind. A keel-shaped mound was made of wet sand, about fifteen feet long by two feet high. The smooth surface of the mound was covered with a mass of little dots of white down, except for a long wavy band of red down which ran all along both sides of the mound. This wavy red band represented the Wollunqua, his head being indicated by a small round swelling at one end and his tail by a short prolongation at the other. The mound itself represented a sand-hill beside which the snake is said to have stood up and looked about. The preparation of this elaborate emblem of the Wollunqua occupied the greater part of the day, and it was late in the afternoon before it was completed. When darkness fell, fires were lighted on the ceremonial ground, and as the night grew late more fires were kindled, and all of the men sat round the mound singing songs which referred to the mythical water-snake. This went on for hours. At last, about three o'clock in the morning, a ring of fires was lit all round the ceremonial ground, in the light of which the white trunks of the gum-trees and the surrounding scrub stood out weird and ghastly against the blackness of darkness beyond. Amid the wildest excitement the men of the Wollunqua totem now ranged themselves in single file on their knees beside the mound which bore the red image of their great mythical forefather, and with their hands on their thighs surged round and round it, every man bending in unison first to one side and then to the other, each successive movement being accompanied by a loud and simultaneous shout, or rather yell, while the other men, who were not of the Wollunqua totem, stood by, clanging their boomerangs excitedly, and one old man, who acted as a sort of choregus, walked backwards at the end of the kneeling procession of Wollunqua men, swaying his body about and lifting high his knees at every step. In this way, with shouts and clangour, the men of the totem surged twice round the mound on their knees. After that, as the fires died down, the men rose from their knees, and for another hour every one sat round the mound singing incessantly. The last act in the drama was played at four o'clock in the morning at the moment when the first faint streaks of dawn glimmered in the east. At sight of them every man jumped to his feet, the smouldering fires were rekindled, and in their blaze the long white mound stood out in strong relief. The men of the totem, armed with spears, boomerangs, and clubs, ranged themselves round it, and encouraged by the men of the other totems attacked it fiercely with their weapons, until in a few minutes they had hacked it to pieces, and nothing was left of it but a rough heap of sandy earth. The fires again died down and for a short time silence reigned. Then, just as the sun rose above the eastern horizon, the painful ceremony of subincision was performed on three youths, who had recently passed through the earlier stages of initiation.[140] [Sidenote: The rite aims both at pleasing and at coercing the mythical snake.] This remarkable rite is supposed, we are informed, "in some way to be associated with the idea of persuading, or almost forcing, the Wollunqua to remain quietly in his home under the water-hole at Thapauerlu, and to do no harm to any of the natives. They say that when he sees the mound with his representation drawn upon it he is gratified, and wriggles about underneath with pleasure. The savage attack upon the mound is associated with the idea of driving him down, and, taken altogether, the ceremony indicates their belief that, at one and the same time, they can both please and coerce the mythic beast. It is necessary to do things to please him, or else he might grow sulky and come out and do them harm, but at the same time they occasionally use force to make him do what they want."[141] In fact the ritual of the mound with its red image of the snake combines the principles of religion and magic. So far as the rite is intended to please and propitiate the mythical beast, it is religious; so far as it is intended to constrain him, it is magical. The two principles are contradictory and the attempt to combine them is illogical; but the savage is heedless, or rather totally unaware, of the contradiction and illogicality: all that concerns him is to accomplish his ends: he has neither the wish nor the ability to analyse his motives. In this respect he is in substantial agreement with the vast majority of mankind. How many of us scrutinise the reasons of our conduct with the view of detecting and eliminating any latent inconsistencies in them? And how many, or rather how few of us, on such a scrutiny would be so fortunate as to discover that there were no such inconsistencies to detect? The logical pedant who imagines that men cannot possibly act on inconsistent and even contradictory motives only betrays his ignorance of life. It is not therefore for us to cast stones at the Warramunga men of the Wollunqua totem for attempting to propitiate and constrain their mythical serpent at the same time. Such contradictions meet us again and again in the history of religion: it is interesting but by no means surprising to find them in one of its rudimentary stages. [Sidenote: Thunder the voice of the Wollunqua.] On the evening of the day which succeeded the construction of the emblematic mound the old men who had made the emblem said they had heard the Wollunqua talking, and that he was pleased with what had been done and was sending them rain. What they took for the voice of the Wollunqua was thunder rumbling in the distance. No rain fell, but a few days later thunder was again heard rolling afar off and a heavy bank of clouds lay low on the western horizon. The old men now said that the Wollunqua was growling because the remains of the mound had been left uncovered; so they hastily cut down branches and covered up the ruins. After that the Wollunqua ceased to growl: there was no more thunder.[142] [Sidenote: Ground drawings of the Wollunqua.] On the four following days ceremonies of an entirely different kind from all the preceding were performed in honour of the Wollunqua. A space of sandy ground was smoothed down, sprinkled with water, and rubbed so as to form a compact surface. The smooth surface was then overlaid with a coat of red or yellow ochre, and on this coloured background a number of designs were traced, one after the other, by a series of white dots, which together made up a pattern of curved lines and concentric circles. These patterns represented the Wollunqua and some of his traditionary adventures. The snake himself was portrayed by a broad wavy band, but all the other designs were purely conventional; for example, trees, ant-hills, and wells were alike indicated by circles. Altogether there were eight such drawings on the earth, some of them very elaborate and entailing, each of them, not less than six or seven hours' labour: one of them was ten feet long. Each drawing was rubbed out before the next one was drawn. Moreover, the drawings were accompanied by little dramas acted by decorated men. In one of these dramas no fewer than eight actors took part, some of whom wore head-dresses adorned with a long wavy band to represent the Wollunqua. The last drawing of all was supposed to portray the mythical snake as he plunged into the earth and returned to his home in the rocky pool called Thapauerlu among the Murchison Ranges.[143] [Sidenote: Religious importance of the Wollunqua.] I have dwelt at some length on these ceremonies of the Wollunqua totem, because they furnish a remarkable and perhaps unique instance in Australia of a totemic ancestor in the act of developing into something like a god. In the Warramunga tribe there are other snake totems besides the Wollunqua; for example, there is the black snake totem and the deaf adder totem. But this purely mythical water-snake, the Wollunqua, is the most important of them all and is regarded as the great father of all the snakes. "It is not easy," say Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, "to express in words what is in reality rather a vague feeling amongst the natives, but after carefully watching the different series of ceremonies we were impressed with the feeling that the Wollunqua represented to the native mind the idea of a dominant totem."[144] Thus he is at once a fabulous animal and the mythical ancestor of a human clan, but his animal nature apparently predominates over his semi-human nature, as shewn by the drawings and effigies of him, all of which are in serpent form. The prayers offered to him at the pool which he is supposed to haunt, and the attempt to please him by drawing his likeness can only be regarded as propitiatory rites and therefore as rudimentary forms of worship. And the idea that thunder is his voice, and that the rain is a gift sent by him in return for the homage paid to him by the people, appears to prove that in course of time, if left to himself, he might easily have been elevated to the sky and have ranked as a celestial deity, who dwells aloft and sends down or withholds the refreshing showers at his good pleasure. Thus the Wollunqua, a rude creation of the savage Australian imagination, possesses a high interest for the historian of religion, since he combines elements of ancestor worship and totem worship with a germ of heaven worship; while on the purely material side his representation, both in plastic form by a curved bundle of grass-stalks and in graphic form by broad wavy bands of red down, may be said in a sense to stand at the starting-point of that long development of religious art, which in so many countries and so many ages has attempted to represent to the bodily eye the mysteries of the unseen and invisible, and which, whatever we may think of the success or failure of that attempt, has given to the world some of the noblest works of sculpture and painting. [Sidenote: Possible religious evolution of totemism.] I have already pointed out the difficulty of seeing how a belief in the reincarnation of the dead, such as prevails universally among the aborigines of Central Australia, could ever be reconciled with or develop into a worship of the dead; for by identifying the living with the dead, the theory of reincarnation seems to abolish that distinction between the worshipper and the worshipped which is essential to the existence of worship. But, as I also indicated, what seems a loophole or mode of escape from the dilemma may be furnished by the belief of these savages, that though they themselves are nothing but their ancestors come to life again, nevertheless in their earliest incarnations of the _alcheringa_ or dream times their ancestors possessed miraculous powers which they have admittedly lost in their later reincarnations; for this suggests an incipient discrimination or line of cleavage between the living and the dead; it hints that perhaps after all the first ancestors, with their marvellous endowments, may have been entirely different persons from their feebler descendants, and if this vague hint could only grow into a firm conviction of the essential difference between the two, then the course would be clear for the development of ancestor worship: the dead forefathers, viewed as beings perfectly distinct from and far superior to the living, might easily come to receive from the latter the homage of prayer and sacrifice, might be besought by their descendants to protect them in danger and to succour them in all the manifold ills of life, or at least to abstain from injuring them. Now, this important step in religious evolution appears to have been actually taken by the Wollunqua, the mythical water-snake, who is the totem of one of the Warramunga clans. Unlike all the other totems he is supposed to exist only in his invisible and animal form and never to be reincarnated in a man.[145] Hence, withdrawn as he is from the real world of sense, the imagination is free to play about him and to invest him more and more with those supernatural attributes which men ascribe to their deities. And what has actually happened to this particular totemic ancestor might under favourable circumstances happen to many others. Each of them might be gradually detached from the line of his descendants, might cease to be reincarnated in them, and might gradually attain to the lonely pre-eminence of godhead. Thus a system of pure totemism, such as prevails among the aborigines of Central Australia, might develop through a phase of ancestor worship into a pantheon of the ordinary type. [Sidenote: Conspicuous features of the landscape associated with ancestral spirits.] Although none of the other totemic ancestors of the Central Australian aborigines appears to have advanced so far on the road to religion as the Wollunqua, yet they all contain in germ the elements out of which a religion might have been developed. It is difficult for us civilised men to conceive the extent to which the thoughts and lives of these savages are dominated by the memories and traditions of the dead. Every conspicuous feature in the landscape is not only associated with the legendary doings of some ancestors but is commonly said to have arisen as a direct result of their actions. The mountains, the plains, the rivers, the seas, the islands of ancient Greece itself were not more thickly haunted by the phantoms of a fairy mythology than are the barren sun-scorched steppes and stony hills of the Australian wilderness; but great indeed is the gulf which divides the beautiful creations of Greek fancy from the crude imaginings of the Australian savage, whose legendary tales are for the most part a mere tissue of trivial absurdities unrelieved by a single touch of beauty or poetry. [Sidenote: A journey through the Warramunga country.] To illustrate at once the nature and the abundance of these legends I will quote a passage in which Messrs. Spencer and Gillen describe a journey they took in company with some Warramunga natives over part of their country:--"For the first two days our way lay across miserable plain country covered with poor scrub, with here and there low ranges rising. Every prominent feature of any kind was associated with some tradition of their past. A range some five miles away from Tennant Creek arose to mark the path traversed by the great ancestor of the Pittongu (bat) totem. Several miles further on a solitary upstanding column of rock represented an opossum man who rested here, looked about the country, and left spirit children behind him; a low range of remarkably white quartzite hills indicated a large number of white ant eggs thrown here in the _wingara_[146] by the Munga-munga women as they passed across the country. A solitary flat-topped hill arose to mark the spot where the Wongana (crow) ancestor paused for some time to pierce his nose; and on the second night we camped by the side of a waterhole where the same crow lived for some time in the _wingara_, and where now there are plenty of crow spirit children. All the time, as we travelled along, the old men were talking amongst themselves about the natural features associated in tradition with these and other totemic ancestors of the tribe, and pointing them out to us. On the third day we travelled, at first for some hours, by the side of a river-bed,--perfectly dry of course,--and passed the spot where two hawks first made fire by rubbing sticks together, two fine gum-trees on the banks now representing the place where they stood up. A few miles further on we came to a water-hole by the side of which the moon-man met a bandicoot woman, and while the two were talking together the fire made by the hawks crept upon them and burnt the woman, who was, however, restored to life again by the moon-man, with whom she then went up into the sky. Late in the afternoon we skirted the eastern base of the Murchison Range, the rugged quartzite hills in this part being associated partly with the crow ancestor and partly with the bat. Following up a valley leading into the hills we camped, just after sunset, by the side of a rather picturesque water-pool amongst the ranges. A short distance before reaching this the natives pointed out a curious red cliff, standing out amongst the low hills which were elsewhere covered with thin scrub. This, which is called Tjiti, represents the spot where an old woman spent a long time digging for yams, the latter being indicated by great heaps of stones lying all around. On the opposite side of the valley a column of stone marks the spot where the woman went into the earth. The water-hole by which we were camped was called Wiarminni. It was in reality a deep pool in the bed of a creek coming down from the hills. Behind it the rocks rose abruptly, and amongst them there was, or rather would have been if a stream had been flowing, a succession of cascades and rocky water-holes. Two of the latter, just above Wiarminni, are connected with a fish totem, and represent the spot where two fish men arose in the _alcheringa_, fought one another, left spirit children behind, and finally went down into the ground. We were now, so to speak, in the very midst of _mungai_ [i.e. of places associated with the totems], for the old totemic ancestors of the tribe, who showed a most commendable fondness for arising and walking about in the few picturesque spots which their country contained, had apparently selected these rocky gorges as their central home. All around us the water-holes, gorges, and rocky crags were peopled with spirit individuals left behind by one or other of the following totemic ancestors:--Wollunqua, Pittongu (bat), Wongana (crow), wild dog, emu, bandicoot, and fish, whose lines of travel in the _alcheringa_ formed a regular network over the whole countryside."[147] [Sidenote: Dramatic ceremonies to commemorate the doings of ancestors.] Similar evidence could be multiplied, but this may suffice to teach us how to the minds of these Central Australian savages the whole country is haunted, in the literal sense, not merely by the memories of their dead, but by the spirits which they left behind them and which are constantly undergoing reincarnation. And not only are the minds of the aborigines preoccupied by the thought of their ancestors, who are recalled to them by all the familiar features of the landscape, but they spend a considerable part of their time in dramatically representing the legendary doings of their rude forefathers of the remote past. It is astonishing, we are told, how large a part of a native's life is occupied with the performance of these dramatic ceremonies. The older he grows, the greater is the share he takes in them, until at last they actually absorb the greater part of his thoughts. The rites which seem so trivial to us are most serious matters to him. They are all connected with the great ancestors of the tribe, and he is firmly convinced that when he dies his spirit will rejoin theirs and live in communion with them until the time comes for him to be born again into the world. With such solemnity does he look on the celebration of these commemorative services, as we may call them, that none but initiated men are allowed to witness them; women and children are strictly excluded from the spectacle. These sacred dramas are often, though by no means always, associated with the rites of initiation which young men have to pass through before they are admitted to full membership of the tribe and to participation in its deepest mysteries. The rites of initiation are not all undergone by a youth at the same time; they succeed each other at longer or shorter intervals of time, and at each of them he is privileged to witness some of the solemn ceremonies in which the traditions of the tribal ancestors are dramatically set forth before him, until, when he has passed through the last of the rites and ordeals, he is free to behold and to take part in the whole series of mystery plays or professedly historical dramas. Sometimes the performance of these dramas extends over two or three months, during which one or more of them are acted daily.[148] For the most part, they are very short and simple, each of them generally lasting only a few minutes, though the costumes of the actors are often elaborate and may have taken hours to prepare. I will describe a few of them as samples. [Sidenote: Ceremony of the Hakea flower totem.] We will begin with a ceremony of the Hakea flower totem in the Arunta tribe, as to which it may be premised that a decoction of the Hakea flower is a favourite drink of the natives. The little drama was acted by two men, each of whom was decorated on his bare body by broad bands of pearly grey edged with white down, which passed round his waist and over his shoulders, contrasting well with the chocolate colour of his skin. On his head each of them wore a kind of helmet made of twigs, and from their ears hung tips of the tails of rabbit-bandicoots. The two sat on the ground facing each other with a shield between them. One of them held in his hand some twigs representing the Hakea flower in bloom; these he pretended to steep in water so as to brew the favourite beverage of the natives, and the man sitting opposite him made believe to suck it up with a little mop. Meantime the other men ran round and round them shouting _wha! wha!_ This was the substance of the play, which ended as usual by several men placing their hands on the shoulders of the performers as a signal to them to stop.[149] [Sidenote: Ceremony of a fish totem.] Again, to take another Arunta ceremony of a fish totem called _interpitna_. The fish is the bony bream (_Chatoessus horni_), which abounds in the water-holes of the country. The play was performed by a single actor, an old man, whose face was covered with a mass of white down contrasting strongly with a large bunch of black eagle-hawk feathers which he wore on his head. His body was decorated with bands of charcoal edged with white down. Squatting on the ground he moved his body and extended his arms from his sides, opening and closing them as he leaned forwards, so as to imitate a fish swelling itself out and opening and closing its gills. Then, holding twigs in his hands, he moved along mimicking the action of a man who drives fish before him with a branch in a pool, just as the natives do to catch the fish. Meantime an orchestra of four men squatted beside him singing and beating time with a stick on the ground.[150] [Sidenote: Ceremony of a plum-tree totem.] Again, another Arunta ceremony of the plum-tree totem was performed by four actors, who simply pretended to knock down and eat imaginary plums from an imaginary plum-tree.[151] An interesting point in this very simple drama is that in it the men of the plum-tree totem are represented eating freely of their totem, which is quite contrary to the practice of the present day, but taken along with many similar ceremonies it goes far to prove that in the ancient days, to which all these dramatic ceremonies refer, it was the regular practice for men and women of a totem to eat their totemic animals or plants. As another example of a drama in which the performers are represented eating their totem we may take a ceremony of the ant totem in the Warramunga tribe. The legendary personages who figure in it are two women of the ant totem, ancestresses of the ant clan, who are said to have devoted all their time to catching and eating ants, except when they were engaged in the performance of ceremonies. The two men who personated these women in the drama (for no woman is allowed to witness, much less to act in, these sacred dramas) had the whole of the upper parts of their bodies, including their faces and the cylindrical helmets which they wore on their heads, covered with a dense mass of little specks of red down. These specks stood for the ants, alive or dead, and also for the stones and trees on the spots where the two women encamped. In the drama the two actors thus arrayed walked about the ground as if they were searching for ants to eat. Each of them carried a wooden trough and stooping down from time to time he turned over the ground and picked up small stones which he placed in the trough till it was full. The stones represented the masses of ants which the women gathered for food. After carrying on this pantomime for a time the two actors pretended to discover each other with surprise and to embrace with joy, much to the amusement of the spectators.[152] [Sidenote: In these ceremonies the action is appropriate to the totem. Ceremony of the witchetty grub totem.] In all these ceremonies you will observe that the action of the drama is strictly appropriate to the totem. In the drama of the Hakea flower totem the actors pretend to make and drink the beverage brewed from Hakea flowers; in the ceremony of the fish totem the actor feigns to be a fish and also to catch fish; in the ceremony of the plum-tree totem the actors pretend to knock down and eat plums; and in the ceremony of the ant totem the actors make believe to gather ants for food. Similarly, to take a few more examples, in a ceremony of the witchetty grub totem of the Arunta tribe the body of the actor was decorated with lines of white and red down, and he had a shield adorned with a number of concentric circles of down. The smaller circles represented the bush on which the grub lives first of all, and the larger circles represented the bush on which the adult insect lays its eggs. When all was ready, the performer seated himself on the ground and imitated the grub, alternately doubling himself up and rising on his knees, while he extended his arms and made them quiver in imitation of the insect's wings; and every now and then he would bend over the shield and sway to and fro, and up and down, in imitation of the insect hovering over the bushes on which it lays its eggs.[153] In another ceremony of the witchetty grub totem, which followed immediately the one I have just described, the actor had two shields beside him. The smaller of the shields was ornamented with zigzag lines of white pipe-clay which were supposed to indicate the tracks of the grub; the larger shield was covered with larger and smaller series of concentric circles, the larger representing the seeds of a bush on which the insect feeds, while the smaller stood for the eggs of the adult insect. As before, the actor wriggled and flapped his arms in imitation of the fluttering of the insect when it first leaves its chrysalis case in the ground and attempts to fly. In acting thus he was supposed to represent a celebrated ancestor of the witchetty grub totem.[154] [Sidenote: Ceremony of the emu totem.] The last example of such ceremonies which I shall cite is one of the emu totem in the Arunta tribe. The body of the actor was decorated with perpendicular lines of white down reaching from his shoulders to his knees; and on his head he supported a towering head-piece tipped with a bunch of emu feathers in imitation of the neck and head of an emu. Thus arrayed he stalked backwards and forwards in the aimless fashion of the bird.[155] [Sidenote: These dramatic ceremonies were probably at first magical rites intended to supply the people with food and other necessaries.] What are we to think of the intention of these little dramas which the Central Australian aborigines regard as sacred and to the performance of which they devote so much time and labour? At first sight they are simply commemorative services, designed to represent the ancestors as they lived and moved in the far-past times, to recall their adventures, of which legend has preserved the memory, and to set them dramatically before the eyes of their living descendants. So far, therefore, the dramas might be described as purely historical in intention, if not in reality. But there are reasons for thinking that in all cases a deeper meaning underlies, or formerly underlay, the performance of all these apparently simple historical plays; in fact, we may suspect that originally they were all magical ceremonies observed for the practical purpose of supplying the people with food, water, sunshine, and everything else of which they stand in need. This conclusion is suggested first of all by the practice of the Arunta and other Central Australian tribes, who observe very similar ceremonies with the avowed intention of thereby multiplying the totemic animals and plants in order that they may be eaten by the tribe, though not by the particular clan which has these animals or plants for its totem. It is true that the Arunta distinguish these magical ceremonies for the multiplication of the totems from what we may call the more purely commemorative or historical performances, and they have a special name for the former, namely _intichiuma_, which they do not bestow on the latter. Yet these _intichiuma_ or magical ceremonies resemble the commemorative ceremonies so closely that it is difficult to suppose they can always have been wholly distinct. For example, in the magical ceremonies for the multiplication of witchetty grubs the performers pretend to be the insects emerging from their chrysalis cases,[156] just as the actors do in the similar commemorative ceremony which I have described; and again in a magical ceremony for the multiplication of emus the performers wear head-dresses to represent the long neck and small head of the bird, and they mimic its gait,[157] exactly as the actors do in the commemorative ceremony. It seems reasonable, therefore, to conjecture that the ceremonies which now are, or seem to be, purely commemorative or historical were originally magical in intention, being observed for the practical purpose of multiplying edible animals and plants or supplying other wants of the tribe. [Sidenote: Among the Warramunga these dramatic ceremonies are avowedly performed as magical rites.] Now this conjecture is strongly confirmed by the actual usage of the Warramunga tribe, amongst whom the commemorative or historical dramas are avowedly performed as magical rites: in other words, the Warramunga attribute a magical virtue to the simple performance of such dramas: they think that by merely acting the parts of their totemic ancestors they thereby magically multiply the edible animals or plants which these ancestors had for their totems. Hence in this tribe the magical ceremonies and the dramatic performances practically coincide: with them, as Messrs. Spencer and Gillen say, the _intichiuma_ or magical ceremonies (called by the Warramunga _thalamminta_) "for the most part simply consist in the performance of a complete series representing the _alcheringa_ history of the totemic ancestor. In this tribe each totemic group has usually one great ancestor, who arose in some special spot and walked across the country, making various natural features as he did so,--creeks, plains, ranges, and water-holes,--and leaving behind him spirit individuals who have since been reincarnated. The _intichiuma_ [or magical] ceremony of the totem really consists in tracking these ancestors' paths, and repeating, one after the other, ceremonies commemorative of what are called the _mungai_ spots, the equivalent of the _oknanikilla_ amongst the Arunta--that is, the places where he left the spirit children behind."[158] Apparently the Warramunga imagine that by imitating a totemic ancestor at the very place where he left spirit children of the same totem behind him, they thereby enable these spirit children to be born again and so increase the food supply, whenever their totem is an edible animal or plant; for we must always remember that in the mind of these savages the idea of a man or woman is inextricably confused with the idea of his or her totem; they seem unable to distinguish between the two, and therefore they believe that in multiplying human beings at their local totemic centres (_mungai_ or _oknanikilla_) they simultaneously multiply their totems; and as the totems are commonly edible animals and plants, it follows that in the opinion of the Warramunga the general effect of performing these ancestral plays is to increase the supply of food of the tribe. No wonder, therefore, that the dramas are sacred, and that the natives attribute the most serious significance to their performance: the neglect to perform them might, in their judgment, bring famine and ruin on the whole tribe. As Messrs. Spencer and Gillen, speaking of these ceremonies, justly observe: "Their proper performance is a matter of very great importance in the eyes of the natives, because, not only do they serve to keep alive and hand down from generation to generation the traditions of the tribe, but they are, at least amongst the Warramunga, intimately associated with the most important object of maintaining the food supply, as every totemic group is held responsible for the maintenance of the material object the name of which it bears."[159] [Sidenote: General view of the attitude of the Central Australian natives towards their dead.] To sum up the attitude of the Central Australian natives towards their dead. They believe that their dead are constantly undergoing reincarnation by being born again of women into the world, in fact that every living man, woman, and child is nothing but a dead person come to life again, that so it has been from the beginning and that so it will be to the end. Of a special world of the departed, remote and different from the material world in which they live and from the familiar scenes to which they have been accustomed from infancy, they have no conception; still less, if that is possible, have they any idea of a division of the world of the dead into a realm of bliss and a realm of woe, where the spirits of the good live ineffably happy and the spirits of the bad live unspeakably miserable. To their simple minds the spirits of the dead dwell all about them in the rocky gorges, the barren plains, the wooded dells, the rustling trees, the still waters of their native land, haunting in death the very spots where they last entered into their mothers' wombs to be born, and where in future they will again enter into the wombs of other women to be born again as other children into the world. And so, they think, it will go on for ever and ever. Such a creed seems at first sight, as I have pointed out, irreconcilable with a worship of the dead in the proper sense of the word; and so perhaps it would be, if these savages were strictly consistent and logical in their theories. But they are not. They admit that their remote ancestors, in other words, that they themselves in former incarnations, possessed certain marvellous powers to which in the present degenerate days they can lay no claim; and in this significant admission we may detect a rift, a real distinction of kind, between the living and the dead, which in time might widen out into an impassable gulf. In other words, we may suppose that the Central Australians, if left to themselves, might come to hold that the dead return no more to the land of the living, and that, acknowledging as they do the vast superiority of their remote ancestors to themselves, they might end by worshipping them, at first simply as powerful ancestral spirits, and afterwards as supernatural deities, whose original connexion with humanity had been totally forgotten. In point of fact we saw that among the Warramunga the mythical water-snake Wollunqua, who is regarded as an ancestor of a totemic clan, has made some progress towards deification; for while he is still regarded as the forefather of the clan which bears his name, it is no longer supposed that he is born again of women into the world, but that he lives eternal and invisible under the water of a haunted pool, and that he has it in his power both to help and to harm his people, who pray to him and perform ceremonies in his honour. This awful being, whose voice is heard in the peal of thunder and whose dreadful name may not be pronounced in common life, is not far from godhead; at least he is apparently the nearest approach to it which the imagination of these rude savages has been able to conceive. Lastly, as I have pointed out, the reverence which the Central Australians entertain for their dead ancestors is closely bound up with their totemism; they fail to distinguish clearly or at all between men and their totems, and accordingly the ceremonies which they perform to commemorate the dead are at the same time magical rites designed to ensure an abundant supply of food and of all the other necessaries and conveniences which savage life requires or admits of; indeed, we may with some probability conjecture that the magical intention of these ceremonies is the primary and original one, and that the commemorative intention is secondary and derivative. If that could be proved to be so (which is hardly to be expected), we should be obliged to conclude that in this as in so many enquiries into the remote human past we detect evidence of an Age of Magic preceding anything that deserves to be dignified with the name of religion. That ends what I have to say at present as to the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the Central Australian aborigines. In my next lecture I propose to pursue the enquiry among the other tribes of Australia. [Footnote 137: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 228 _sq._] [Footnote 138: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 229 _sq._] [Footnote 139: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ pp. 230 _sq._] [Footnote 140: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 231-238.] [Footnote 141: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 238.] [Footnote 142: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ pp. 238 _sq._] [Footnote 143: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 239-247.] [Footnote 144: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 248.] [Footnote 145: "On the other hand there is a great difference between the Wollunqua and any other totem, inasmuch as the particular animal is purely mythical, and except for the one great progenitor of the totemic group, is not supposed to exist at the present day" (Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 248).] [Footnote 146: The _wingara_ is the equivalent of the Arunta _alcheringa_, that is, the earliest legendary or mythical times of which the natives profess to have knowledge.] [Footnote 147: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 249 _sq._] [Footnote 148: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 33 _sq._, 177 _sq._] [Footnote 149: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 297 _sq._] [Footnote 150: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 316 _sq._] [Footnote 151: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 320.] [Footnote 152: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 199-204.] [Footnote 153: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 179 _sq._] [Footnote 154: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 179 _sq._] [Footnote 155: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 358 _sq._, and p. 343, fig 73.] [Footnote 156: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 176.] [Footnote 157: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ pp. 182 _sq._] [Footnote 158: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 297.] [Footnote 159: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 197.] LECTURE VI THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE OTHER ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA [Sidenote: Customs and beliefs concerning the dead in the other tribes of Australia.] In the last lecture I concluded my account of the beliefs and practices of the Central Australian aborigines in regard to the dead. To-day I propose to consider the customs and beliefs concerning the dead which prevail among the native tribes in other parts of Australia. But at the outset I must warn you that our information as to these other tribes is far less full and precise than that which we possess as to the tribes of the centre, which have had the great advantage of being observed and described by two highly qualified scientific observers, Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. Our knowledge of all other Australian tribes is comparatively fragmentary, and accordingly it is impossible to give even an approximately complete view of their notions concerning the state of the human spirit after death, and of the rites which they observe for the purpose of disarming or propitiating the souls of the departed. We must therefore content ourselves with more or less partial glimpses of this side of native religion. [Sidenote: Belief in the reincarnation of the dead among the natives of Queensland. The _ngai_ spirits.] The first question we naturally ask is whether the belief in the reincarnation of the dead, which prevails universally among the Central tribes, reappears among tribes in other parts of the continent. It certainly does so, and although the evidence on this subject is very imperfect it suffices to raise presumption that a similar belief in the rebirth or reincarnation of the dead was formerly universal among the Australian aborigines. Unquestionably the belief is entertained by some of the natives of Queensland, who have been described for us by Mr. W. E. Roth. Thus, for example, the aborigines on the Pennefather River think that every person's spirit undergoes a series of reincarnations, and that in the interval between two reincarnations the spirit resides in one or other of the haunts of Anjea, a mythical being who causes conception in women by putting mud babies into their bodies. Such spots, haunted by the fabulous being Anjea and by the souls of the dead awaiting rebirth, may be a tree, a rock, or a pool of water; they clearly correspond to the local totem centres (_oknanikilla_ among the Arunta, _mungai_ among the Warramunga) of the Central Australian tribes which I described in former lectures. The natives of the Pennefather River observe a ceremony at the birth of a child in order to ascertain the exact spot where its spirit tarried in the interval since its last incarnation; and when they have discovered it they speak of the child as obtained from a tree, a rock, or a pool of water, according to the place from which its spirit is supposed to have passed into its mother.[160] Readers of the classics can hardly fail to be reminded of the Homeric phrase to be "born of an oak or a rock,"[161] which seems to point to a similar belief in the possibility of human souls awaiting reincarnation in the boughs of an oak-tree or in the cleft of a rock. In the opinion of the Pennefather natives all disembodied human spirits or _choi_, as they call them, are mischief-makers and evildoers, for they make people sick or crazy; but the medicine-men can sometimes control them for good or evil. They wander about in the bush, but there are certain hollow trees or clumps of trees with wide-spreading branches, which they most love to haunt, and they can be heard in the rustling of the leaves or the crackling of the boughs at night. Anjea himself, who puts babies into women, is never seen, but you may hear him laughing in the depths of the forest, among the rocks, in the lagoons, and along the mangrove swamps; and when you hear his laugh you may be sure that he has got a baby.[162] If a native happens to hurt himself near a tree, he imagines that the spirit of some dead person is lurking among the branches, and he will never cut that tree down lest a worse thing should befall him at the hands of the vengeful ghost.[163] A curious feature in the beliefs of these Pennefather natives is that apart from the spirit called _choi_, which lives in a disembodied state between two incarnations, every person is supposed to have a spirit of a different sort called _ngai_, which has its seat in the heart; they feel it beating within their breast; it talks to them in sleep and so is the cause of dreams. At death a man's _ngai_ spirit does not go away into the bush to await reincarnation like his _choi_ spirit; on the contrary, it passes at once into his children, boys and girls alike; for before their father's death children are supposed not to possess a _ngai_ spirit; if a child dies before its father, they think that it never had a _ngai_ spirit at all. And the _ngai_ spirit may leave a man in his lifetime as well as at death; for example, when a person faints, the natives think that he does so because his _ngai_ spirit has departed from him, and they will stamp on the ground to make it return. On the other hand the _choi_ spirit is supposed never to quit a man during life; it is thought to be in some undefined way related to the shadow, whereas the _ngai_ spirit, as we saw, manifests itself in the beating of the heart. When a woman dies, her _ngai_ spirit goes not into her children but into her sisters, one after the other; and when all the sisters are dead, the woman's _ngai_ spirit goes away among the mangroves and perishes altogether.[164] Thus these savages explain the phenomena of birth and death, of conscious and unconscious life, by a theory of a double human spirit, one associated with the heart and the other with the shadow. The psychology is rudimentary, still it is interesting as an attempt to solve problems which still puzzle civilised man. [Sidenote: Beliefs of the natives of Cape Bedford in Queensland.] Other Queensland aborigines associate the vital principle not with the heart but with the breath. For example, at Cape Bedford the natives call it _wau-wu_ and think that it never leaves the body sleeping or waking till death, when it haunts its place of burial for a time and may communicate with the living. Thus, like the ghost of Hamlet's father, it will often appear to a near kinsman or intimate friend, tell him the pitiful tale how he was done to death by an enemy, and urge him to revenge. Again, the soul of a man's dead father or friend may bear him company on a journey and, like the beryl-stone in Rossetti's poem _Rose Mary_, warn him of an ambuscade lurking for him in a spot where the man himself sees nothing. But the spirits of the dead do not always come with such friendly intent; they may drive the living distracted; a peculiar form of mental excitement and bewilderment is attributed to their action. Further, these aborigines at Cape Bedford, in Queensland, believe that all spirits of nature are in fact souls of the dead. Such spirits usually leave their haunts in the forests and caves at night. Stout-hearted old men can see and converse with them and receive from them warnings of danger; but women and children fear these spirits and never see them. But some spirits of the dead, when they have ceased to haunt their places of burial, go away eastward and are reincarnated in white people; hence these savages often look for a resemblance to some deceased tribesman among Europeans, and frequently wonder why it is that the white man, on whom their fancy has pitched, remembers nothing about his former life as a black man among blacks.[165] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the natives of the Tully River in Queensland.] The natives of the Tully River in Queensland associate the principle of life both with the breath and with the shadow. It departs from the body temporarily in sleep and fainting-fits and permanently in death, after which it may be heard at night tapping on the top of huts or creaking in the branches of trees. It is everlasting, so far as these savages have any idea of eternity, and further it is intangible; hence in its disembodied state it needs no food, and none is set out for it. The disposition of these disembodied spirits of the dead is good or bad, according to their disposition in life. Yet when a man is alone by himself, the spirit even of one of his own dead kinsfolk will sometimes come and do him a mischief. On the other hand it can do nothing to several people together; there is safety in numbers. They may all see and hear the ghost, but he will not attack them. Hence these savages have been taught from childhood to beware of going alone: solitary people are liable at any moment to be assailed by the spirits of the dead. The only means they know of warding off these ghostly assailants is by lighting good fires.[166] [Sidenote: Belief of the Australian aborigines that their dead are reborn in white people.] I have mentioned the belief of the Cape Bedford natives that the spirits of their dead are sometimes reincarnated in white people. A similar notion is reported from other and widely separated parts of Australia, and wherever it exists may be taken as evidence of a general belief as to the rebirth or reincarnation of the dead, even where such a belief is not expressly recorded. This superstition has sometimes proved of service to white people who have been cast among the blacks, for it has ensured them a hospitable and even affectionate welcome, where otherwise they might have encountered suspicion and hostility, if not open violence. Thus, for example, the convict Buckley, who escaped from the penal settlement on Port Phillip Bay in 1803, was found by some of the Wudthaurung tribe carrying a piece of a broken spear, which he had abstracted from the grave of one of their people. So they took him to be the dead man risen from the grave; he received the name of the deceased, was adopted by his relations, and lived with the tribe for thirty-two years without ever conversing with a white man; when at last he met one, he had forgotten the English language.[167] Again, a Mr. Naseby, who lived in the Kamilaroi country for fifty years, happened to have the marks of cupping on his back, and the natives could not be persuaded that he was not one of themselves come to life again with the family scars on his body,[168] for the Australian aborigines commonly raise scars on the bodies of young men at initiation. The late Sir George Grey was identified by an old Australian woman as her dead son come to life again. It may be worth while to quote his account of this unlooked-for meeting with his long-lost mother; for it will impress on you, better than any words of mine could do, the firmness of the faith which these savages repose in the resurrection of the body, or at all events in the reincarnation of the soul. Grey writes as follows:-- [Sidenote: Experience of Sir George Grey.] "After we had tethered the horses, and made ourselves tolerably comfortable, we heard loud voices from the hills above us: the effect was fine,--for they really almost appeared to float in the air; and as the wild cries of the women, who knew not our exact position, came by upon the wind, I thought it was well worth a little trouble to hear these savage sounds under such circumstances. Our guides shouted in return, and gradually the approaching cries came nearer and nearer. I was, however, wholly unprepared for the scene that was about to take place. A sort of procession came up, headed by two women, down whose cheeks tears were streaming. The eldest of these came up to me, and looking for a moment at me, said,--'_Gwa, gwa, bundo, bal_,'--'Yes, yes, in truth it is him'; and then throwing her arms round me, cried bitterly, her head resting on my breast; and although I was totally ignorant of what their meaning was, from mere motives of compassion, I offered no resistance to her caresses, however disagreeable they might be, for she was old, ugly, and filthily dirty; the other younger one knelt at my feet, also crying. At last the old lady, emboldened by my submission, deliberately kissed me on each cheek, just in the manner a Frenchwoman would have done; she then cried a little more, and at length relieving me, assured me that I was the ghost of her son, who had some time before been killed by a spear-wound in his breast. The younger female was my sister; but she, whether from motives of delicacy, or from any imagined backwardness on my part, did not think proper to kiss me. My new mother expressed almost as much delight at my return to my family, as my real mother would have done, had I been unexpectedly restored to her. As soon as she left me, my brothers, and father (the old man who had previously been so frightened), came up and embraced me after their manner,--that is, they threw their arms round my waist, placed their right knee against my right knee, and their breast against my breast, holding me in this way for several minutes. During the time that the ceremony lasted, I, according to the native custom, preserved a grave and mournful expression of countenance. This belief, that white people are the souls of departed blacks, is by no means an uncommon superstition amongst them; they themselves never having an idea of quitting their own land, cannot imagine others doing it;--and thus, when they see white people suddenly appear in their country, and settling themselves down in particular spots, they imagine that they must have formed an attachment for this land in some other state of existence; and hence conclude the settlers were at one period black men and their own relations. Likenesses, whether real or imagined, complete the delusion; and from the manner of the old woman I have just alluded to, from her many tears, and from her warm caresses, I feel firmly convinced that she really believed I was her son, whose first thought, upon his return to earth, had been to re-visit his old mother, and bring her a present."[169] [Sidenote: In South-eastern Australia the natives believed that the souls of the dead were not reborn but went up to the sky.] On the whole then we may conclude that a belief in the reincarnation of the dead has not been confined to the tribes of Central Australia, but has been held by the tribes in many, perhaps at one time in all, other parts of the continent. Yet, if we may judge from the imperfect records which we possess, this faith in the return of the dead to life in human form would seem to have given way and been replaced to some extent by a different creed among many tribes of South-eastern Australia. In this part of the continent it appears to have been often held by the natives that after death the soul is not born again among men, but goes away for ever to some distant country either in the sky or beyond the sea, where all the spirits of the dead congregate. Thus Lieutenant-Colonel Collins, who was Governor of New South Wales in the early days of the colony, at the end of the eighteenth century, reports that when the natives were often questioned "as to what became of them after their decease, some answered that they went either on or beyond the great water; but by far the greater number signified, that they went to the clouds."[170] Again, the Narrinyeri tribe of South Australia believed that all the dead went up to the sky and that some of them at least became stars. We possess an excellent description of the beliefs and customs of this tribe from the pen of a missionary, the Rev. George Taplin, who lived among them for many years. His account of their theory of the state of the dead is instructive. It runs thus:-- [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Narrinyeri concerning the dead.] "The Narrinyeri point out several stars, and say that they are deceased warriors who have gone to heaven (_Wyirrewarre_). There are Wyungare, and Nepalle, and the Manchingga, and several others. Every native expects to go to _Wyirrewarre_ after death. They also believe that the dead descend from thence, and walk the earth; and that they are able to injure those whom they dislike. Consequently, men who have been notorious in life for a domineering and revengeful disposition are very much dreaded after death. For instance, there is Karungpe, who comes in the dead of night, when the camp fire has burned low, and like a rushing wind scatters the dying embers, and then takes advantage of the darkness to rob some sleeper of life; and it is considered dangerous to whistle in the dark, for Karungpe is especially attracted by a whistle. There is another restless spirit--the deceased father of a boy whom I well know--who is said to rove about armed with a rope, with which he catches people. All the Narrinyeri, old and young, are dreadfully afraid of seeing ghosts, and none of them will venture into the scrub after dark, lest he should encounter the spirits which are supposed to roam there. I have heard some admirable specimens of ghost stories from them. In one case I remember the ghost was represented to have set fire to a _wurley_ [hut], and ascended to heaven in the flame. The Narrinyeri regard the disapprobation of the spirits of the dead as a thing to be dreaded; and if a serious quarrel takes place between near relatives, some of the friends are sure to interpose with entreaties to the contentious parties to be reconciled, lest the spirits of the dead should be offended at unseemly disputes between those who ought to be at peace. The name of the dead must not be mentioned until his body has decayed, lest a want of sorrow should seem to be indicated by the common and flippant use of his name. A native would have the deceased believe that he cannot hear or speak his name without weeping."[171] [Sidenote: Narrinyeri fear of the dead. Mourning customs.] From this account it would appear that the Narrinyeri have no belief in the reincarnation of the dead; they suppose that the souls of the departed live up aloft in the sky, from which they descend at night in the form of ghosts to haunt and trouble the living. On the whole the attitude of the Narrinyeri towards their dead kinsfolk seems to be dominated by fear; of affection there is apparently little or no trace. It is true that like most Australian tribes they indulge in extravagant demonstrations of grief at the death of their kinsfolk. A great lamentation and wailing is made by all the relations and friends of the deceased. They cut off their hair close to the head and besmudge themselves with oil and pounded charcoal. The women besmear themselves with the most disgusting filth. All beat and cut themselves and make a violent show of sorrow; and all the time that the corpse, rubbed over with grease and red ochre, is being dried over a slow fire in the hut, the women take it by turns to weep and wail before it, so that the lamentation never ceases for days. Yet Mr. Taplin was persuaded "that fear has more to do with most of these exhibitions than grief"; and he tells us that "for one minute a woman will appear in the deepest agony of grief and tears; a few minutes after, the conventional amount of weeping having been accomplished, they will laugh and talk with the merriest."[172] The principal motive, in fact, for all this excessive display of sorrow would seem to be a fear lest the jealous ghost should think himself slighted and should avenge the slight on the cold-hearted relatives who do not mourn sufficiently for the irreparable loss they have sustained by his death. We may conjecture that the same train of thought explains the ancient and widespread custom of hiring professional mourners to wail over the dead; the tears and lamentations of his kinsfolk are not enough to soothe the wounded feelings of the departed, they must be reinforced by noisier expressions of regret. [Sidenote: Deaths attributed by the Narrinyeri to sorcery.] But there is another powerful motive for all these violent demonstrations of grief, into the secret of which we are let by Mr. Taplin. He says that "all the relatives are careful to be present and not to be wanting in the proper signs of sorrow, lest they should be suspected of complicity in causing the death."[173] In fact the Narrinyeri, like many other savages, attribute all, or most, natural deaths to sorcery. When a person dies, they think that he or she has been killed by the evil magic of some ill-wisher, and one of the first things to be done is to discover the culprit in order that his life may be taken in revenge. For this purpose the Narrinyeri resort to a form of divination. On the first night after the death the nearest relation of the deceased sleeps with his head on the corpse, hoping thus to dream of the sorcerer who has done the mischief. Next day the corpse is placed on a sort of bier supported on men's shoulders. The friends of the deceased gather round and call out the names of suspected persons to see whether the corpse will give any sign. At last the next of kin calls out the name of the person of whom he has dreamed, and if at the sound the corpse makes a movement towards him, which the bearers say they cannot resist, it is regarded as a clear token that the man so named is the malefactor. It only remains for the kinsfolk of the dead to hunt down the culprit and kill him.[174] Thus not only the relations but everybody in the neighbourhood has the strongest motive for assuming at least an appearance of sorrow at a death, lest the suspicion of having caused it by sorcery should fall upon him. [Sidenote: Pretence made by the Narrinyeri of avenging the death of their friends on the guilty sorcerer.] It deserves to be noted, that while the Narrinyeri nominally acknowledged the duty of killing the sorcerer who in their opinion had caused the death of their friend, they by no means always discharged the duty, but sometimes contented themselves with little more than a pretence of revenge. Mr. Taplin's account of the proceedings observed on such an occasion is instructive. It runs thus: "The spirit of the dead is not considered to have been appeased until his relatives have avenged his death. They will kill the sorcerer who has caused it if they can catch him; but generally they cannot catch him, and often do not wish it. Most probably he belongs to some other tribe of the Narrinyeri. Messengers pass between the tribes relative to the affair, and the friends of the accused person at last formally curse the dead man and all his dead relatives. This constitutes a _casus belli_. Arrangements are forthwith made for a pitched battle, and the two tribes meet in company with their respective allies. The tribe to which the dead man belongs weep and make a great lamentation for him, and the opposing tribe sets some fellows to dance about and play antics in derision of their enemies. Then the whole tribe will set up a great laugh by way of further provocation. If there is any other cause of animosity between the tribes besides the matter of avenging the dead there will now be a pretty severe fight with spears. If, however, the tribes have nothing but the dead man to fight about, they will probably throw a few spears, indulge in considerable abuse of each other, perhaps one or two will get slightly wounded, and then some of the old men will declare that enough has been done. The dead man is considered to have been appeased by the efforts of his friends to avenge his death by fighting, and the two tribes are friendly again. In such a case the fight is a mere ceremony."[175] Thus among the Narrinyeri the duty of blood revenge was often supposed to be sufficiently discharged by a sham fight performed apparently for the satisfaction of the ghost, who was supposed to be looking on and to be gratified by the sight of his friends hurling spears at the author of his death. Merciful pretences of the same sort have been practised by other savages in order to satisfy the vengeful ghost without the effusion of blood. Examples of them will come before us later on.[176] [Sidenote: Magical virtue ascribed to the hair of the dead.] However, the attitude of the Narrinyeri towards their dead was not purely one of fear and aversion. They imagined that they could derive certain benefits from their departed kinsfolk, and the channel through which these benefits flowed was furnished by their hair. They cut off the hair of the dead and spun it into a cord, and this cord was commonly worn by the men as a head-band. They said that thereby they "smelled the dead," and that the smell made their eyes large and their sight keen, so that in a fight they could see the spears coming and could parry or avoid them.[177] Similar magical virtues are ascribed to the hair of the dead by the Arunta. Among them the hair of a dead man is cut off and made into a magic girdle, which is a valued possession and is only worn when a man is going out to engage in a tribal fight or to stalk a foe for the purpose of destroying him by witchcraft. The girdle is supposed to be endowed with magic power and to impart to its possessor all the warlike qualities of the dead man from whose hair it was made; in particular, it is thought to ensure accuracy of aim in the wearer, while at the same time it destroys that of his adversary.[178] Hence the girdle is worn by the man who takes the lead in avenging the death of the deceased on his supposed murderer; the mere sight of it, they think, so terrifies the victim that his legs tremble under him, he becomes incapable of fighting, and is easily speared.[179] [Sidenote: Belief that the souls of the dead go up to the sky.] Among the tribes of South-eastern Australia the Narrinyeri were not alone in holding the curious belief that the souls of the dead go up into the sky to live there for ever, but that their ghosts come down again from time to time, roam about their old haunts on earth, and communicate with the living. This, for example, was the belief of the Dieri, the Buandik, the Kurnai, and the Kulin tribes.[180] The Buandik thought that everything in skyland was better than on earth; a fat kangaroo, for example, was compared to a kangaroo of heaven, where, of course, the animals might be expected to abound.[181] The Kulin imagined that the spirits of the dead ascended to heaven by the bright rays of the setting sun.[182] The Wailwun natives in New South Wales used to bury their dead in hollow trees, and when they dropped the body into its place, the bearers and the bystanders joined in a loud whirring sound, like the rush of the wind. They said that this represented the upward flight of the soul to the sky.[183] [Sidenote: Appearance of the dead to the living, especially in dreams.] With regard to the ghosts on earth, some tribes of South-eastern Australia believe that they can be seen by the living, can partake of food, and can warm themselves at a fire. It is especially the graves, where their mouldering bodies are deposited, that these restless spirits are supposed to haunt; it is there that they shew themselves either to people generally or to such as have the second sight.[184] But it is most commonly in dreams that they appear to the living and hold communication with them. Often these communications are believed to be helpful. Thus the tribes of the Wotjobaluk nation thought that the ghosts of their dead relations could visit them in sleep to protect them. A Mukjarawaint man told Dr. Howitt that his father came to him in a dream and warned him to beware or he would be killed. This, the man believed, was the saving of his life; for he afterwards came to the place which he had seen in his dream; whereupon, instead of going on, he turned back, so that his enemies, who might have been waiting for him there, did not catch him.[185] Another man informed Dr. Howitt that his dead uncle appeared to him in sleep and taught him charms against sickness and other evils; and the Chepara tribe similarly believed that male ancestors visited sleepers and imparted to them charms to avert evil magic.[186] [Sidenote: Savage faith in the truth of dreams. Association of the stars with the souls of the dead.] Such notions follow naturally from the savage theory of dreams. Almost all savages appear to believe firmly in the truth of dreams; they fail to draw the distinction, which to us seems obvious, between the imaginary creations of the mind in sleep and the waking realities of the physical world. Whatever they dream of must, they think, be actually existing; for have they not seen it with their own eyes? To argue that the visions of sleep have no real existence is, therefore, in their opinion, to argue against the plain evidence of their senses; and they naturally treat such exaggerated scepticism with incredulity and contempt. Hence when they dream of their dead friends and relations they necessarily conclude that these persons are still alive somewhere and somehow, though they do not commonly appear by daylight to people in their waking hours. Unquestionably this savage faith in the reality of dreams has been one of the principal sources of the widespread, almost universal, belief in the survival of the human soul after death. It explains why ghosts are supposed to appear rather by night than by day, since it is chiefly by night that men sleep and dream dreams. Perhaps it may also partly account for the association of the stars with the souls of the dead. For if the dead appear to the living mainly in the hours of darkness, it seems not unnatural to imagine that the bright points of light which then bespangle the canopy of heaven are either the souls of the departed or fires kindled by them in their home aloft. For example, the Central Australian aborigines commonly suppose the stars to be the camp-fires of natives who live on the banks of the great river which we civilised men, by a survival of primitive mythology, call the Milky Way. However, these rude savages, we are told, as a general rule "appear to pay very little attention to the stars in detail, probably because they enter very little into anything which is connected with their daily life, and more especially with their food supply."[187] The same observation which Messrs. Spencer and Gillen here make as to the natives of Central Australia might be applied to most savages who have remained in the purely hunting stage of social development. Such men are not much addicted to star-gazing, since the stars have little or nothing to tell them that they wish to know. It is not till people have betaken themselves to sowing and reaping crops that they begin to scan the heavens more carefully in order to determine the season of sowing by observation of the great celestial time-keepers, the rising and setting of certain constellations, above all, apparently, of the Pleiades.[188] In short, the rise of agriculture favours the rise of astronomy. [Sidenote: Creed of the South-eastern Australians touching the dead.] But to return to the ideas of the Australian aborigines concerning the dead, we may say of the natives of the south-eastern part of the continent, in the words of Dr. Howitt, that "there is a universal belief in the existence of the human spirit after death, as a ghost, which is able to communicate with the living when they sleep. It finds its way to the sky-country, where it lives in a land like the earth, only more fertile, better watered, and plentifully supplied with game."[189] This belief is very different from that of the Central Australian natives, who think that the souls of the dead tarry on earth in their old familiar haunts until the time comes for them to be born again into the world. Of the two different creeds that of the south-eastern tribes may be regarded as the more advanced, since it admits that the dead do not return to life, and that their disembodied spirits do not haunt perpetually a multitude of spiritual parks or reservations dotted over the face of the country. [Sidenote: The creed seems to form part of a general advance of culture in this part of the continent.] But how are we to account for this marked difference of belief between the natives of the Centre and the natives of the South-east? Perhaps the most probable explanation is that the creed of the south-eastern tribes in this respect is part of a general advance of culture brought about by the more favourable natural conditions under which they live as compared with the forlorn state of the rude inhabitants of the Central deserts. That advance of culture manifests itself in a variety of ways. On the material side it is seen in more substantial and permanent dwellings and in warmer and better clothing. On the social side it is seen in an incipient tendency to the rise of a regular chieftainship, a thing which is quite unknown among the democratic or rather oligarchic savages of the Centre, who are mainly governed by the old men in council.[190] But the rise of chieftainship is a great step in political progress; since a monarchical government of some sort appears to be essential to the emergence of mankind from savagery. On the whole, then, the beliefs of the South-eastern Australian aborigines seem to mark a step on the upward road towards civilisation. [Sidenote: Possible influence of European teaching on native beliefs.] At the same time we must not forget that these beliefs may have been influenced by the lessons which they have learned from white settlers with whom in this part of Australia they have been so long in contact. The possibility of such a transfusion of the new wine of Europe into the old bottles of Australia did not escape the experienced Mr. James Dawson, an early settler in Victoria, who has given us a valuable account of the natives of that region in the old days when they were still comparatively little contaminated by intercourse with the whites. He describes as follows the views which prevailed as to the dead among the tribes of Western Victoria:--"After the disposal of the body of a good person, its shade walks about for three days; and although it appears to people, it holds no communication with them. Should it be seen and named by anyone during these three days, it instantly disappears. At the expiry of three days it goes off to a beautiful country above the clouds, abounding with kangaroo and other game, where life will be enjoyed for ever. Friends will meet and recognize each other there; but there will be no marrying, as the bodies have been left on earth. Children under four or five years have no souls and no future life. The shades of the wicked wander miserably about the earth for one year after death, frightening people, and then descend to Ummekulleen, never to return." After giving us this account of the native creed Mr. Dawson adds very justly: "Some of the ideas described above may possibly have originated with the white man, and been transmitted from Sydney by one tribe to another."[191] The probability of white influence on this particular doctrine of religion is increased by the frank confession which these same natives made of the religious deterioration (as they regarded it) which they had suffered in another direction through the teaching of the missionaries. On this subject, to quote again from Mr. Dawson, the savages are of opinion that "the good spirit, Pirnmeheeal, is a gigantic man, living above the clouds; and as he is of a kindly disposition, and harms no one, he is seldom mentioned, but always with respect. His voice, the thunder, is listened to with pleasure, as it does good to man and beast, by bringing rain, and making grass and roots grow for their benefit. But the aborigines say that the missionaries and government protectors have given them a dread of Pirnmeheeal; and they are sorry that the young people, and many of the old, are now afraid of a being who never did any harm to their forefathers."[192] [Sidenote: Vagueness and inconsistency of native beliefs as to the state of the dead. Custom or ritual as the interpreter of belief.] However, it is very difficult to ascertain the exact beliefs of savages as to the dead. The thought of the savage is apt to be vague and inconsistent; he neither represents his ideas clearly to his own mind nor can he express them lucidly to others, even if he wishes to do so. And his thought is not only vague and inconsistent; it is fluid and unstable, liable to shift and change under alien influence. For these and other reasons, such as the distrust of strangers and the difficulty of language, which often interposes a formidable barrier between savage man and the civilised enquirer, the domain of primitive beliefs is beset by so many snares and pitfalls that we might almost despair of arriving at the truth, were it not that we possess a clue to guide us on the dark and slippery way. That clue is action. While it is generally very difficult to ascertain what any man thinks, it is comparatively easy to ascertain what he does; and what a man does, not what he says, is the surest touchstone to his real belief. Hence when we attempt to study the religion of backward races, the ritual which they practise is generally a safer indication of their actual creed than the loudest profession of faith. In regard to the state of the human soul after death the beliefs of the Australian aborigines are clearly reflected in many of the customs which they observe at the death and burial of their friends and enemies, and it is accordingly with an account of some of these customs that I propose to conclude this part of my subject. [Sidenote: Burial customs of the Australian aborigines as evidence of their beliefs concerning the state of the soul after death. Food placed on the grave for the use of the ghost and fires kindled to warm him.] Now some of the burial customs observed by the Australian savages reveal in the clearest manner their belief that the human soul survives the death of the body, that in its disembodied state it retains consciousness and feeling, and can do a mischief to the living; in short, they shew that in the opinion of these people the departed live in the form of dangerous ghosts. Thus, for example, when the deceased is a person of importance, the Dieri place food for many days on the grave, and in winter they kindle a fire in order that the ghost may warm himself at it. If the food remains untouched on the grave, they think that the dead is not hungry.[193] The Blanch-water section of that tribe fear the spirits of the dead and accordingly take steps to prevent their resurrection. For that purpose they tie the toes of the corpse together and the thumbs behind the back, which must obviously make it difficult for the dead man to arise in his might and pursue them. Moreover, for a month after the death they sweep a clear space round the grave at dusk every evening, and inspect it every morning. If they find any tracks on it, they assume that they have been made by the restless ghost in his nocturnal peregrinations, and accordingly they dig up his mouldering remains and bury them in some other place, where they hope he will sleep sounder.[194] The Kukata tribe think that the ghost may be thirsty, so they obligingly leave a drinking vessel on the grave, that he may slake his thirst. Also they deposit spears and other weapons on the spot, together with a digging-stick, which is specially intended to ward off evil spirits who may be on the prowl.[195] The ghosts of the natives on the Maranoa river were also thirsty souls, so vessels full of water were sometimes suspended for their use over the grave.[196] A custom of lighting a fire on the grave to warm the poor shivering ghost seems to have been not uncommon among the aboriginal Australians. The Western Victorians, for example, kept up large fires all night for this purpose.[197] In the Wiimbaio tribe two fires were kept burning for a whole month on the grave, one to the right and the other to the left, in order that the ghost might come out and warm himself at them in the chill night air. If they found tracks near the grave, they inferred, like the Dieri, that the perturbed spirit had quitted his narrow bed to pace to and fro in the long hours of darkness; but if no footprints were visible they thought that he slept in peace.[198] In some parts of Western Australia the natives maintained fires on the grave for more than a month for the convenience of the ghost; and they clearly expected him to come to life again, for they detached the nails from the thumb and forefinger of the corpse and deposited them in a small hole beside the grave, in order that they might know their friend at his resurrection.[199] The length of time during which fires were maintained or kindled daily on the grave is said to have varied, according to the estimation in which the man was held, from a few days to three or four years.[200] We have seen that the Dieri laid food on the grave for the hungry ghost to partake of, and the same custom was observed by the Gournditch-mara tribe.[201] However, some intelligent old aborigines of Western Victoria derided the custom as "white fellow's gammon."[202] [Sidenote: Property of the dead buried with them.] Further, in some tribes of South-eastern Australia it was customary to deposit the scanty property of the deceased, usually consisting of a few rude weapons or implements, on the grave or to bury it with him. Thus the natives of Western Victoria buried all a dead man's ornaments, weapons, and property with him in the grave, only reserving his stone axes, which were too valuable to be thus sacrificed: these were inherited by the next of kin.[203] The Wurunjerri also interred the personal property of the dead with him; if the deceased was a man, his spear-thrower was stuck in the ground at the head of the grave; if the deceased was a woman, the same thing was done with her digging-stick. That these implements were intended for the use of the ghost and not merely as headstones to mark the situation of the tomb and the sex of the departed, is clear from a significant exception to the custom. When the departed brother was a man of violent temper, who had been quarrelsome and a brawler in his life, no weapons were buried with him, obviously lest in a fit of ill-temper he should sally from the grave and assault people with them.[204] Similarly the Turrbal tribe, who deposited their dead in the forks of trees, used to leave a spear and club near the corpse "that the spirit of the dead might have weapons wherewith to kill game for his sustenance in the future state. A yam-stick was placed in the ground at a woman's grave, so that she might go away at night and seek for roots."[205] The Wolgal tribe were very particular about burying everything that belonged to a dead man with him; spears and nets, though valuable articles of property, were thus sacrificed; even a canoe has been known to be cut up in order that the pieces of it might be deposited in the grave. In fact "everything belonging to a dead man was put out of sight."[206] Similarly in the Geawe-gal tribe all the implements and inanimate property of a warrior were interred with him.[207] In the Gringai country not only was all a man's property buried with him, but every native present at the burial contributed something, and these contributions were piled together at the head of the corpse before the grave was filled in.[208] Among the tribes of Southern Victoria, when the grave has been dug and lined with fresh leaves and twigs so as to make a soft bed, the dead man's property is brought in two bags, and the sorcerer shakes out the contents. They consist of such small articles as pieces of hard stone suitable for cutting or paring skins, bones for boring holes, twine made of opossum wool, and so forth. These are placed in the grave, and the bags and rugs of the deceased are torn up and thrown in likewise. Then the sorcerer asks whether the dead man had any other property, and if he had, it is brought forward and laid beside the torn fragments of the bags and rugs. Everything that a man owned in life must be laid beside him in death.[209] Again, among the tribes of the Lower Murray, Lachlan, and Darling rivers in New South Wales, all a dead man's property, including his weapons and nets, was buried with his body in the grave.[210] Further, we are told that among the natives of Western Australia the weapons and personal property of the deceased are placed on the grave, "so that when he rises from the dead they may be ready to his hand."[211] In the Boulia district of Queensland the things which belonged to a dead man, such as his boomerangs and spears, are either buried with him, destroyed by fire, or sometimes, though rarely, distributed among his tribal brothers, but never among his children.[212] [Sidenote: Intention of destroying the property of the dead. The property of the dead not destroyed in Central Australia.] Thus among certain tribes of Australia, especially in the south-eastern part of the continent, it appears that the custom of burying or destroying a dead man's property has been very common. That the intention of the custom in some cases is to supply the supposed needs of the ghost, seems to be fairly certain; but we may doubt whether this explanation would apply to the practice of burning or otherwise destroying the things which had belonged to the deceased. More probably such destruction springs from an overpowering dread of the ghost and a wish to sever all connexion with him, so that he may have no excuse for returning and haunting the survivors, as he might do if his property were either kept by them or deposited in the grave. Whatever the motive for the burial or destruction of a dead man's property may be, the custom appears not to prevail among the tribes of Central Australia. In the eastern Arunta tribe, indeed, it is said that sometimes a little wooden vessel used in camp for holding small objects may be buried with the man, but this is the only instance which Messrs. Spencer and Gillen could hear of in which any article of ordinary use is buried in the grave. Far from wasting property in that way, these economical savages preserve even a man's personal ornaments, such as his necklaces, armlets, and the fur string which he wore round his head; indeed, as we have seen, they go so far as to cut off the hair from the head of the deceased and to keep it for magical uses.[213] In the Warramunga tribe all the belongings of a dead man go to the tribal brothers of his mother.[214] [Sidenote: Property of the dead hung up on trees, then washed and distributed. Economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the dead.] The difference in this respect between the practice of the Central tribes and that of the tribes nearer the sea, especially in Victoria and New South Wales, is very notable. A custom intermediate between the two is observed by some tribes of the Darling River, who hang up the weapons, nets, and other property of the deceased on trees for about two months, then wash them, and distribute them among the relations.[215] The reason for hanging the things up and washing them is no doubt to rid them of the infection of death in order that they may be used with safety by the survivors. Such a custom points clearly to a growing fear of the dead; and that fear or reverence comes out still more clearly in the practice of either burying the property of the dead with them or destroying it altogether, which is observed by the aborigines of Victoria and other parts of Australia who live under more favourable conditions of life than the inhabitants of the Central deserts. This confirms the conclusion which we have reached on other grounds, that among the aboriginal population of Australia favourable natural conditions in respect of climate, food, and water have exercised a most important influence in stimulating social progress in many directions, and not least in the direction of religion. At the same time, while we recognise that the incipient tendency to a worship of the dead which may be detected in these regions marks a step forward in religious development, we must acknowledge that the practice of burying or destroying the property of the dead, which is one of the ways in which the tendency manifests itself, is, regarded from the side of economic progress, a decided step backward. It marks, in fact, the beginning of a melancholy aberration of the human mind, which has led mankind to sacrifice the real interests of the living to the imaginary interests of the dead. With the general advance of society and the accompanying accumulation of property these sacrifices have at certain stages of evolution become heavier and heavier, as the demands of the ghosts became more and more exacting. The economic waste which the belief in the immortality of the soul has entailed on the world is incalculable. When we contemplate that waste in its small beginnings among the rude savages of Australia it appears insignificant enough; the world is not much the poorer for the loss of a parcel of boomerangs, spears, fur string, and skin rugs. But when we pass from the custom in this its feeble source and follow it as it swells in volume through the nations of the world till it attains the dimensions of a mighty river of wasted labour, squandered treasure, and spilt blood, we cannot but wonder at the strange mixture of good and evil in the affairs of mankind, seeing in what we justly call progress so much hardly earned gain side by side with so much gratuitous loss, such immense additions to the substantial value of life to be set off against such enormous sacrifices to the shadow of a shade. [Footnote 160: W. E. Roth, _North Queensland Ethnography, Bulletin No. 5, Superstition, Magic, and Medicine_ (Brisbane, 1903), pp. 18, 23, §§ 68, 83.] [Footnote 161: Homer, _Odyssey_, xix. 163.] [Footnote 162: W. E. Roth, _ll. cc._] [Footnote 163: W. E. Roth, _North Queensland Ethnography, Bulletin No. 5_ (Brisbane, 1903), p. 29. § 116.] [Footnote 164: W. E. Roth. _op. cit._ p. 18, § 68.] [Footnote 165: W. E. Roth, _op. cit._ pp. 17, 29, §§ 65, 116.] [Footnote 166: W. E. Roth, _op. cit._ p. 17, § 65.] [Footnote 167: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_ (Melbourne, Sydney, and Adelaide, 1881), pp. 110 _sq._; A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_ (London, 1904), p. 442.] [Footnote 168: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 445.] [Footnote 169: (Sir) George Grey, _Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North-West and Western Australia_ (London, 1841), i. 301-303.] [Footnote 170: Lieutenant-Colonel David Collins, _An Account of the English Colony in New South Wales_, Second Edition (London, 1804), p. 354.] [Footnote 171: Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri," in _Native Tribes of South Australia_ (Adelaide, 1879), pp. 18 _sq._] [Footnote 172: Rev. G. Taplin, "The Narrinyeri," _op. cit._ pp. 20 _sq._] [Footnote 173: Rev. G. Taplin, _op. cit._ p. 20.] [Footnote 174: Rev. G. Taplin, _op. cit._ pp. 19 _sq._, 21.] [Footnote 175: Rev. G. Taplin, _op. cit._ p. 21.] [Footnote 176: See below, pp. 235 _sqq._, 327 _sq._] [Footnote 177: Rev. G. Taplin, _op. cit._ p. 21.] [Footnote 178: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 538 _sq._] [Footnote 179: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 544 _sq._] [Footnote 180: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, pp. 434, 436, 437, 438. Compare E. J. Eyre, _Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia_ (London, 1845), ii. 357.] [Footnote 181: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 434.] [Footnote 182: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 438.] [Footnote 183: Rev. W. Ridley, _Kamilaroi_ (Sydney, 1875), p. 160.] [Footnote 184: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, pp. 434, 438, 439; J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 50.] [Footnote 185: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 435.] [Footnote 186: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 437.] [Footnote 187: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 628.] [Footnote 188: As to the place occupied by the Pleiades in primitive calendars, see _Spirits of the Corn and of the Wild_, i. 309-319.] [Footnote 189: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, pp. 439 _sq._] [Footnote 190: See _Totemism and Exogamy_, i. 314 _sqq._] [Footnote 191: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 51. A man of the Ta-ta-thi tribe in New South Wales informed Mr. A. L. P. Cameron that the natives believed in a pit of fire where bad men were roasted after death. This reported belief, resting apparently on the testimony of a single informant, may without doubt be ascribed to the influence of Christian teaching. See A. L. P. Cameron, "Notes on some Tribes of New South Wales," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) pp. 364 _sq._] [Footnote 192: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 49.] [Footnote 193: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, p. 448.] [Footnote 194: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._. p. 449. Compare E. M. Curr, _The Australian Race_, i. 87: "The object sought in tying up the remains of the dead is to prevent the deceased from escaping from the tomb and frightening or injuring the survivors."] [Footnote 195: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 451.] [Footnote 196: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 467.] [Footnote 197: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 50.] [Footnote 198: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, p. 452.] [Footnote 199: R. Salvado, _Mémoires historiques sur l' Australie_ (Paris, 1854), p. 261; _Missions Catholiques_, x. (1878) p. 247. For more evidence as to the lighting of fires for this purpose see A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ pp. 455, 470.] [Footnote 200: A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, New Series, iii. (1865) p. 245.] [Footnote 201: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 455.] [Footnote 202: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, pp. 50 _sq._] [Footnote 203: J. Dawson, _op. cit._ p. 63.] [Footnote 204: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, p. 458.] [Footnote 205: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 470.] [Footnote 206: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ pp. 461 _sq._] [Footnote 207: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 464.] [Footnote 208: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 464.] [Footnote 209: R. Brough Smyth, _The Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 104.] [Footnote 210: P. Beveridge, "Of the Aborigines Inhabiting the Great Lacustrine and Riverine Depression of the Lower Murray, Lower Murrumbidgee, Lower Lachlan, and Lower Darling," _Journal and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New South Wales_, xvii. (1883) p. 29.] [Footnote 211: A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Australia," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, New Series, iii. (1865) p. 245.] [Footnote 212: W. E. Roth, _Ethnological Studies among the North-West-Central Queensland Aborigines_ (Brisbane and London, 1897), p. 164.] [Footnote 213: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 466, 497 _sq._, 538 _sq._ See above, p. 138.] [Footnote 214: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 524.] [Footnote 215: F. Bonney, "On some Customs of the Aborigines of the River Darling, New South Wales," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiii. (1884) p. 135.] LECTURE VII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA (_concluded_) [Sidenote: Attention to the comfort of the dead. Huts erected on graves for the use of the ghosts.] In the last lecture I shewed that in the maritime regions of Australia, where the conditions of life are more favourable than in the Central deserts, we may detect the germs of a worship of the dead in certain attentions which the living pay to the spirits of the departed, for example by kindling fires on the grave for the ghost to warm himself at, by leaving food and water for him to eat and drink, and by depositing his weapons and other property in the tomb for his use in the life after death. Another mark of respect shewn to the dead is the custom of erecting a hut on the grave for the accommodation of the ghost. Thus among the tribes of South Australia we are told that "upon the mounds, or tumuli, over the graves, huts of bark, or boughs, are generally erected to shelter the dead from the rain; they are also frequently wound round with netting."[216] Again, in Western Australia a small hut of rushes, grass, and so forth is said to have been set up by the natives over the grave.[217] Among the tribes of the Lower Murray, Lower Lachlan, and Lower Darling rivers, when a person died who had been highly esteemed in life, a neat hut was erected over his grave so as to cover it entirely. The hut was of oval shape, about five feet high, and roofed with thatch, which was firmly tied to the framework by cord many hundreds of yards in length. Sometimes the whole hut was enveloped in a net. At the eastern end of the hut a small opening was left just large enough to allow a full-grown man to creep in, and the floor was covered with grass, which was renewed from time to time as it became withered. Each of these graves was enclosed by a fence of brushwood forming a diamond-shaped enclosure, within which the tomb stood exactly in the middle. All the grass within the fence was neatly shaved off and the ground swept quite clean. Sepulchres of this sort were kept up for two or three years, after which they were allowed to fall into disrepair, and when a few more years had gone by the very sites of them were forgotten.[218] The intention of erecting huts on graves is not mentioned in these cases, but on analogy we may conjecture that they are intended for the convenience and comfort of the ghost. This is confirmed by an account given of a native burial on the Vasse River in Western Australia. We are told that when the grave had been filled in, the natives piled logs on it to a considerable height and then constructed a hut upon the logs, after which one of the male relations went into the hut and said, "I sit in his house."[219] Thus it would seem that the hut on the grave is regarded as the house of the dead man. If only these sepulchral huts were kept up permanently, they might develop into something like temples, in which the spirits of the departed might be invoked and propitiated with prayer and sacrifice. It is thus that the great round huts, in which the remains of dead kings of Uganda are deposited, have grown into sanctuaries or shrines, where the spirits of the deceased monarchs are consulted as oracles through the medium of priests.[220] But in Australia this development is prevented by the simple forgetfulness of the savages. A few years suffice with them to wipe out the memory of the deceased and with it his chance of developing into an ancestral deity. Like most savages, the Australian aborigines seem to fear only the ghosts of the recently departed; one writer tells us that they have no fear of the ghost of a man who has been dead say forty years.[221] [Sidenote: Fear of the dead and precautions taken by the living against them.] The burial customs of the Australian aborigines which I have described betray not only a belief in the existence of the ghost, but also a certain regard for his comfort and convenience. However, we may suspect that in most, if not in all, cases the predominant motive of these attentions is fear rather than affection. The survivors imagine that any want of respect for the dead, any neglect of his personal comforts in the grave, would excite his resentment and draw down on them his vengeance. That these savages are really actuated by fear of the dead is expressly affirmed of some tribes. Thus we are told that the Yuin "were always afraid that the dead man might come out of the grave and follow them."[222] After burying a body the Ngarigo were wont to cross a river in order to prevent the ghost from pursuing them;[223] obviously they shared the common opinion that ghosts for some reason are unable to cross water. The Wakelbura took other measures to throw the poor ghost off the scent. They marked all the trees in a circle round the place where the dead man was buried; so that when he emerged from the grave and set off in pursuit of his retiring relations, he would follow the marks on the trees in a circle and always come back to the point from which he had started. And to make assurance doubly sure they put coals in the dead man's ears, which, by bunging up these apertures, were supposed to keep his ghost in the body till his friends had got a good start away from him. As a further precaution they lit fires and put bushes in the forks of trees, with the idea that the ghost would roost in the bushes and warm himself at the fires, while they were hastening away.[224] Here, therefore, we see that the real motive for kindling fires for the use of the dead is fear, not affection. In this respect the burial customs of the tribes at the Herbert River are still more significant. These savages buried with the dead man his weapons, his ornaments, and indeed everything he had used in life; moreover, they built a hut on the grave, put a drinking-vessel in the hut, and cleared a path from it down to the water for the use of the ghost; and often they placed food and water on the grave. So far, these measures might be interpreted as marks of pure and disinterested affection for the soul of the departed. But such an interpretation is totally excluded by the ferocious treatment which these savages meted out to the corpse. To frighten the spirit, lest he should haunt the camp, the father or brother of the deceased, or the husband, if it was a woman, took a club and mauled the body with such violence that he often smashed the bones; further, he generally broke both its legs in order to prevent it from wandering of nights; and as if that were not enough, he bored holes in the stomach, the shoulders, and the lungs, and filled the holes with stones, so that even if the poor ghost should succeed by a desperate effort in dragging his mangled body out of the grave, he would be so weighed down by this ballast of stones that he could not get very far. However, after roaming up and down in this pitiable condition for a time in their old haunts, the spirits were supposed at last to go up aloft to the Milky Way.[225] The Kwearriburra tribe, on the Lynd River, in Queensland, also took forcible measures to prevent the resurrection of the dead. Whenever a person died, they cut off his or her head, roasted it in a fire on the grave, and when it was thoroughly charred they smashed it in bits and left the fragments among the hot coals. They calculated that when the ghost rose from the grave with the view of following the tribe, he would miss his head and go groping blindly about for it till he scorched himself in the embers of the fire and was glad to shrink back into his narrow bed.[226] Thus even among those Australian tribes which have progressed furthest in the direction of religion, such approaches as they have made towards a worship of the dead appear to be determined far more by fear than by affection and reverence. And we are told that it is the nearest relations and the most influential men whose ghosts are most dreaded.[227] [Sidenote: Cuttings and brandings of the flesh of the living in honour of the dead.] There is another custom observed by the Australian aborigines in mourning which deserves to be mentioned. We all know that the Israelites were forbidden to make cuttings in their flesh for the dead.[228] The custom was probably practised by the heathen Canaanites, as it has been by savages in various parts of the world. Nowhere, perhaps, has the practice prevailed more generally or been carried out with greater severity than in aboriginal Australia. For example, with regard to the tribes in the central part of Victoria we are told that "the parents of the deceased lacerate themselves fearfully, especially if it be an only son whose loss they deplore. The father beats and cuts his head with a tomahawk until he utters bitter groans. The mother sits by the fire and burns her breasts and abdomen with a small fire-stick till she wails with pain; then she replaces the stick in the fire, to use again when the pain is less severe. This continues for hours daily, until the time of lamentation is completed; sometimes the burns thus inflicted are so severe as to cause death."[229] It is especially the women, and above all the widows, who torture themselves in this way. Speaking of the tribes of Victoria, a writer tells us that on the death of her husband a widow, "becoming frantic, seizes fire-sticks and burns her breasts, arms, legs, and thighs. Rushing from one place to another, and intent only on injuring herself, and seeming to delight in the self-inflicted torture, it would be rash and vain to interrupt her. She would fiercely turn on her nearest relative or friend and burn him with her brands. When exhausted, and when she can scarcely walk, she yet endeavours to kick the embers of the fire, and to throw them about. Sitting down, she takes the ashes in her hands, rubs them into her wounds, and then scratches her face (the only part not touched by the fire-sticks) until the blood mingles with the ashes which partly hide her cruel wounds."[230] Among the Kurnai of South-eastern Victoria the relations of the dead would cut and gash themselves with sharp stones and tomahawks until their heads and bodies streamed with blood.[231] In the Mukjarawaint tribe, when a man died, his kinsfolk wept over him and slashed themselves with tomahawks and other sharp instruments for about a week.[232] In the tribes of the Lower Murray and Lower Darling rivers mourners scored their backs and arms, sometimes even their faces, with red-hot brands, which raised hideous ulcers; afterwards they flung themselves prone on the grave, tore out their hair by handfuls, rubbed earth over their heads and bodies in great profusion, and ripped up their green ulcers till the mingled blood and grime presented a ghastly spectacle. These self-inflicted sores remained long unhealed.[233] Among the Kamilaroi, a large tribe of eastern New South Wales, the mourners, and especially the women, used to cut their heads with tomahawks and allow the blood to dry on them.[234] Speaking of a native burial on the Murray River, a writer says that "around the bier were many women, relations of the deceased, wailing and lamenting bitterly, and lacerating their thighs, backs, and breasts, with shells or flint, until the blood flowed copiously from the gashes."[235] In the Boulia district of Queensland women in mourning score their thighs, both inside and outside, with sharp stones or bits of glass, so as to make a series of parallel cuts; in neighbouring districts of Queensland the men make much deeper cross-shaped cuts on their thighs.[236] In the Arunta tribe of Central Australia a man is bound to cut himself on the shoulder in mourning for his father-in-law; if he does not do so, his wife may be given away to another man in order to appease the wrath of the ghost at his undutiful son-in-law. Arunta men regularly bear on their shoulders the raised scars which shew that they have done their duty by their dead fathers-in-law.[237] The female relations of a dead man in the Arunta tribe also cut and hack themselves in token of sorrow, working themselves up into a sort of frenzy as they do so; yet in all their apparent excitement they take care never to wound a vital part, but vent their fury on their scalps, their shoulders, and their legs.[238] [Sidenote: Cuttings for the dead among the Warramunga.] In the Warramunga tribe of Central Australia Messrs. Spencer and Gillen witnessed the mourning for a dead man. Even before the sufferer had breathed his last the lamentations and self-inflicted wounds began. When it was known that the end was near, all the native men ran at full speed to the spot, and Messrs. Spencer and Gillen followed them to see what was to be seen. What they saw, or part of what they saw, was this. Some of the women, who had gathered from all directions, were lying prostrate on the body of the dying man, while others were standing or kneeling around, digging the sharp ends of yam-sticks into the crown of their heads, from which the blood streamed down over their faces, while all the time they kept up a loud continuous wail. Many of the men, rushing up to the scene of action, flung themselves also higgledy-piggledy on the sufferer, the women rising and making way for them, till nothing was to be seen but a struggling mass of naked bodies all mixed up together. Presently up came a man yelling and brandishing a stone knife. On reaching the spot he suddenly gashed both his thighs with the knife, cutting right across the muscles, so that, unable to stand, he dropped down on the top of the struggling bodies, till his mother, wife, and sisters dragged him out of the scrimmage, and immediately applied their mouths to his gaping wounds, while he lay exhausted and helpless on the ground. Gradually the struggling mass of dusky bodies untwined itself, disclosing the unfortunate sick man, who was the object, or rather the victim, of this well-meant demonstration of affection and sorrow. If he had been ill before, he was much worse when his friends left him: indeed it was plain that he had not long to live. Still the weeping and wailing went on; the sun set, darkness fell on the camp, and later in the evening the man died. Then the wailing rose louder than before, and men and women, apparently frantic with grief, rushed about cutting themselves with knives and sharp-pointed sticks, while the women battered each other's heads with clubs, no one attempting to ward off either cuts or blows. An hour later a funeral procession set out by torchlight through the darkness, carrying the body to a wood about a mile off, where it was laid on a platform of boughs in a low gum-tree. When day broke next morning, not a sign of human habitation was to be seen in the camp where the man had died. All the people had removed their rude huts to some distance, leaving the place of death solitary; for nobody wished to meet the ghost of the deceased, who would certainly be hovering about, along with the spirit of the living man who had caused his death by evil magic, and who might be expected to come to the spot in the outward form of an animal to gloat over the scene of his crime. But in the new camp the ground was strewed with men lying prostrate, their thighs gashed with the wounds which they had inflicted on themselves with their own hands. They had done their duty by the dead and would bear to the end of their life the deep scars on their thighs as badges of honour. On one man Messrs. Spencer and Gillen counted the dints of no less than twenty-three wounds which he had inflicted on himself at various times. Meantime the women had resumed the duty of lamentation. Forty or fifty of them sat down in groups of five or six, weeping and wailing frantically with their arms round each other, while the actual and tribal wives, mothers, wives' mothers, daughters, sisters, mothers' mothers, sisters' husbands' mothers, and grand-daughters, according to custom, once more cut their scalps open with yam-sticks, and the widows afterwards in addition seared the scalp wounds with red-hot fire-sticks. [Sidenote: Cuttings for the dead strictly regulated by custom.] In these mourning customs, wild and extravagant as the expression of sorrow appears to be, everything is regulated by certain definite rules; and a woman who did not thus maul herself when she ought to do so would be severely punished, or even killed, by her brother. Similarly with the men, it is only those who stand in certain relationships to the deceased who must cut and hack themselves in his honour, and these relationships are determined by the particular exogamous class to which the dead man happened to belong. Of such classes there are eight in the Warramunga tribe. On the occasion described by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen it was a man of the Tjunguri class who died; and the men who gashed their thighs stood to him in one or other of the following relationships: grandfather on the mother's side, mother's brother, brother of the dead man's wife, and her mother's brother.[239] [Sidenote: The cuttings and brandings which mourners inflict on themselves may be intended to convince the ghost of the sincerity of their sorrow.] We naturally ask, What motive have these savages for inflicting all this voluntary and, as it seems to us, wholly superfluous suffering on themselves? It can hardly be that these wounds and burns are merely a natural and unfeigned expression of grief. We have seen that by experienced observers such extravagant demonstrations of sorrow are set down rather to fear than to affection. Similarly Messrs. Spencer and Gillen suggest that at least one motive is a fear entertained by the native lest, if he does not make a sufficient display of grief, the ghost of the dead man will be offended and do him a mischief.[240] In the Kaitish tribe of Central Australia it is believed that if a woman does not keep her body covered with ashes from the camp fire during the whole time of mourning, the spirit of her deceased husband, who constantly follows her about, will kill her and strip all the flesh from her bones.[241] Again, in the Arunta tribe mourners smear themselves with white pipeclay, and the motive for this custom is said to be to render themselves more conspicuous, so that the ghost may see and be satisfied that he is being properly mourned for.[242] Thus the fear of the ghost, who, at least among the Australian aborigines, is commonly of a jealous temper and stands very firmly on his supposed rights, may suffice to explain the practice of self-mutilation at mourning. [Sidenote: Custom of allowing the blood of mourners to drip on the corpse or into the grave.] But it is possible that another motive underlies the drawing of blood on these occasions. For it is to be observed that the blood of the mourners is often allowed to drop directly either on the dead body or into the grave. Thus, for example, among the tribes on the River Darling several men used to stand by the open grave and cut each other's heads with a boomerang; then they held their bleeding heads over the grave so that the blood dripped on the corpse lying in it. If the deceased was highly esteemed, the bleeding was repeated after some earth had been thrown on the body.[243] Among the Arunta it is customary for the women kinsfolk of the dead to cut their own and each other's heads so severely with clubs and digging-sticks that blood streams from them on the grave.[244] Again, at a burial on the Vasse River, in Western Australia, a writer describes how, when the grave was dug, the natives placed the corpse beside it, then "gashed their thighs, and at the flowing of the blood they all said, 'I have brought blood,' and they stamped the foot forcibly on the ground, sprinkling the blood around them; then wiping the wounds with a wisp of leaves, they threw it, bloody as it was, on the dead man."[245] With these Australian practices we may compare a custom observed by the civilised Greeks of antiquity. Every year the Peloponnesian lads lashed themselves on the grave of Pelops at Olympia, till the blood ran down their backs as a libation in honour of the dead man.[246] [Sidenote: The blood intended to strengthen the dead.] Now what is the intention of thus applying the blood of the living to the dead or pouring it into the grave? So far as the ancient Greeks are concerned the answer is not doubtful. We know from Homer that the ghosts of the dead were supposed to drink the blood that was offered to them and to be strengthened by the draught.[247] Similarly with the Australian savages, their object can hardly be any other than that of strengthening the spirit of the dead; for these aborigines are in the habit of giving human blood to the sick and the aged to drink for the purpose of restoring them to health and strength;[248] hence it would be natural for them to imagine that they could refresh and fortify the feeble ghost in like manner. Perhaps the blood was intended specially to strengthen the spirits of the dead for the new birth or reincarnation, to which so many of these savages look forward. [Sidenote: Custom of burying people in the place where they were born. The custom perhaps intended to facilitate the rebirth of the soul.] The same motive may possibly explain the custom observed by some Australian tribes of burying people, as far as possible, at the place where they were born. Thus in regard to the tribes of Western Victoria we are informed that "dying persons, especially those dying from old age, generally express an earnest desire to be taken to their birthplace, that they may die and be buried there. If possible, these wishes are always complied with by the relatives and friends. Parents will point out the spot where they were born, so that when they become old and infirm, their children may know where they wish their bodies to be disposed of."[249] Again, some tribes in the north and north-east of Victoria "are said to be more than ordinarily scrupulous in interring the dead. If practicable, they will bury the corpse near the spot where, as a child, it first drew breath. A mother will carry a dead infant for weeks, in the hope of being able to bury it near the place where it was born; and a dead man will be conveyed a long distance, in order that the last rites may be performed in a manner satisfactory to the tribe."[250] Another writer, speaking of the Australian aborigines in general, says: "By what I could learn, it is considered proper by many tribes that a black should be buried at or near the spot where he or she was born, and for this reason, when a black becomes seriously ill, the invalid is carried a long distance to these certain spots to die, as in this case. They apparently object to place a body in strange ground." The same writer mentions the case of a blackfellow, who began digging a grave close beside the kitchen door of a Mr. Campbell. When Mr. Campbell remonstrated with him, the native replied that he had no choice, for the dead man had been born on that very spot. With much difficulty Mr. Campbell persuaded him to bury his deceased friend a little further off from the kitchen door.[251] A practice of this sort would be intelligible on the theory of the Central Australians, who imagine that the spirits of all the dead return to the very spots where they entered into their mothers' wombs, and that they wait there until another opportunity presents itself to them of being born again into the world. For if people really believe, as do many Australian tribes, that when they die they will afterwards come to life again as infants, it is perfectly natural that they should take steps to ensure and facilitate the new birth. The Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes of Central Australia do this in the case of dead children. These savages draw a sharp distinction between young children and very old men and women. When very old people die, their bodies are at once buried in the ground, but the bodies of children are placed in wooden troughs and deposited on platforms of boughs in the branches of trees, and the motive for treating a dead child thus is, we are informed, the hope "that before very long its spirit may come back again and enter into the body of a woman--in all probability that of its former mother."[252] The reason for drawing this distinction between the young and the old by disposing of their bodies in different fashions, is explained with great probability by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen as follows: "In the Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes, while every old man has certain privileges denied to the younger men, yet if he be decidedly infirm and unable to take his part in the performance of ceremonies which are often closely concerned--or so at least the natives believe them to be--with the general welfare of the tribe, then the feeling undoubtedly is that there is no need to pay any very special respect to his remains. This feeling is probably vaguely associated with the idea that, as his body is infirm, so to a corresponding extent will his spirit part be, and therefore they have no special need to consider or propitiate this, as it can do them no harm. On the other hand they are decidedly afraid of hurting the feelings of any strong man who might be capable of doing them some mischief unless he saw that he was properly mourned for. Acting under much the same feeling they pay respect to the bodies of dead children and young women, in the hope that the spirit will soon return and undergo reincarnation. It is also worth noticing that they do not bury in trees any young man who has violated tribal law by taking as wife a woman who is forbidden to him; such an individual is always buried directly in the ground."[253] Apparently these law-abiding savages are not anxious that members of the criminal classes should be born again and should have the opportunity of troubling society once more. [Sidenote: Different modes of disposing of the dead adopted in the same tribe.] I would call your attention particularly to the different modes of burial thus accorded by these two tribes to different classes of persons. It is too commonly assumed that each tribe has one uniform way of disposing of all its dead, say either by burning or by burying, and on that assumption certain general theories have been built as to the different views taken of the state of the dead by different tribes. But in point of fact the assumption is incorrect. Not infrequently the same tribe disposes of different classes of dead people in quite different ways; for instance, it will bury some and burn others. Thus amongst the Angoni of British Central Africa the corpses of chiefs are burned with all their household belongings, but the bodies of commoners are buried with all their belongings in caves.[254] In various castes or tribes of India it is the custom to burn the bodies of married people but to bury the bodies of the unmarried.[255] With some peoples of India the distinction is made, not between the married and the unmarried, but between adults and children, especially children under two years old; in such cases the invariable practice appears to be to burn the old and bury the young. Thus among the Malayalis of Malabar the bodies of men and women are burned, but the bodies of children under two years are buried, and so are the bodies of all persons who have died of cholera or small-pox.[256] The same distinctions are observed by the Nayars, Kadupattans, and other castes or tribes of Cochin.[257] The old rule laid down in the ancient Hindoo law-book _The Grihya-Sutras_ was that children who died under the age of two should be buried, not burnt.[258] The Bhotias of the Himalayas bury all children who have not yet obtained their permanent teeth, but they burn all other people.[259] Among the Komars the young are buried, and the old cremated.[260] The Coorgs bury the bodies of women and of boys under sixteen years of age, but they burn the bodies of men.[261] The Chukchansi Indians of California are said to have burned only those who died a violent death or were bitten by snakes, but to have buried all others.[262] The Minnetaree Indians disposed of their dead differently according to their moral character. Bad and quarrelsome men they buried in the earth that the Master of Life might not see them; but the bodies of good men they laid on scaffolds, that the Master of Life might behold them.[263] The Kolosh or Tlingit Indians of Alaska burn their ordinary dead on a pyre, but deposit the bodies of shamans in large coffins, which are supported on four posts.[264] The ancient Mexicans thought that all persons who died of infectious diseases were killed by the rain-god Tlaloc; so they painted their bodies blue, which was the rain-god's colour, and buried instead of burning them.[265] [Sidenote: Special modes of burial adopted to prevent or facilitate the return of the spirit.] These examples may suffice to illustrate the different ways in which the same people may dispose of their dead according to the age, sex, social rank, or moral character of the deceased, or the manner of his death. In some cases the special mode of burial adopted seems clearly intended to guard against the return of the dead, whether in the form of ghosts or of children born again into the world. Such, for instance, was obviously the intention of the old English custom of burying a suicide at a cross-road with a stake driven through his body. And if some burial customs are plainly intended to pin down the dead in the earth, or at least to disable him from revisiting the survivors, so others appear to be planned with the opposite intention of facilitating the departure of the spirit from the grave, in order that he may repair to a more commodious lodging or be born again into the tribe. For example, the Arunta of Central Australia always bury their dead in the earth and raise a low mound over the grave; but they leave a depression in the mound on the side which faces towards the spot where the spirit of the deceased is supposed to have dwelt in the intervals between his successive reincarnations; and we are expressly told that the purpose of leaving this depression is to allow the spirit to go out and in easily; for until the final ceremony of mourning has been performed at the grave, the ghost is believed to spend his time partly in watching over his near relations and partly in the company of its _arumburinga_ or spiritual double, who lives at the old _nanja_ spot, that is, at the place where the disembodied soul tarries waiting to be born again.[266] Thus the Arunta imagine that for some time after death the spirit of the deceased is in a sort of intermediate state, partly hovering about the abode of the living, partly visiting his own proper spiritual home, to which on the completion of the mourning ceremonies he will retire to await the new birth. The final mourning ceremony, which marks the close of this intermediate state, takes place some twelve or eighteen months after the death. It consists mainly in nothing more or less than a ghost hunt; men armed with shields and spear-throwers assemble and with loud shouts beat the air, driving the invisible ghost before them from the spot where he died, while the women join in the shouts and buffet the air with the palms of their hands to chase away the dead man from the old camp which he loves to haunt. In this way the beaters gradually advance towards the grave till they have penned the ghost into it, when they immediately dance on the top of it, beating the air downwards as if to drive the spirit down, and stamping on the ground as if to trample him into the earth. After that, the women gather round the grave and cut each other's heads with clubs till the blood streams down on it. This brings the period of mourning to an end; and if the deceased was a man, his widow is now free to marry again. In token that the days of her sorrow are over, she wears at this final ceremony the gay feathers of the ring-neck parrot in her hair. The spirit of her dead husband, lying in the grave, is believed to know the sign and to bid her a last farewell. Even after he has thus been hunted into the grave and trampled down in it, his spirit may still watch over his friends, guard them from harm, and visit them in dreams.[267] [Sidenote: Departure of the ghost supposed to coincide with the disappearance of the flesh from his bones.] We may naturally ask, Why should the spirit of the dead be supposed at first to dwell more or less intermittently near the spot where he died, and afterwards to take up his abode permanently at his _nanja_ spot till the time comes for him to be born again? A good many years ago I conjectured[268] that this idea of a change in the abode of the ghost may be suggested by a corresponding change which takes place, or is supposed to take place, about the same time in the state of the body; in fact, that so long as the flesh adheres to the bones, so long the soul of the dead man may be thought to be detained in the neighbourhood of the body, but that when the flesh has quite decayed, the soul is completely liberated from its old tabernacle and is free to repair to its true spiritual home. In confirmation of this conjecture I pointed to the following facts. Some of the Indians of Guiana bring food and drink to their dead so long as the flesh remains on the bones; but when it has mouldered away, they conclude that the man himself has departed.[269] The Matacos Indians of the Gran Chaco in Argentina believe that the soul of a dead man does not pass down into the nether world until his body is decomposed or burnt. Further, the Alfoors of Central Celebes suppose that the spirits of the departed cannot enter the spirit-land until all the flesh has been removed from their bones; for until that has been done, the gods (_lamoa_) in the other world could not bear the stench of the corpse. Accordingly at a great festival the bodies of all who have died within a certain time are dug up and the decaying flesh scraped from the bones. Comparing these ideas, I suggested that they may explain the widespread custom of a second burial, that is, the practice of disinterring the dead after a certain time and disposing of their bones otherwise. [Sidenote: Second burial of the bones among the tribes of Central Australia. Final burial ceremony among the Warramunga.] Now so far as the tribes of Central Australia are concerned, my conjecture has been confirmed by the subsequent researches of Messrs. Spencer and Gillen in that region. For they have found that the tribes to the north of the Arunta regularly give their dead a second burial, that a change in the state of the ghosts is believed to coincide with the second burial, and apparently also, though this is not so definitely stated, that the time for the second burial is determined by the disappearance of the flesh from the bones. Amongst the tribes which practise a second burial the custom is first to deposit the dead on platforms among the branches of trees, till the flesh has quite mouldered away, and then to bury the bones in the earth: in short, they practise tree-burial first and earth-burial afterwards.[270] For example, in the Unmatjera and Kaitish tribes, when a man dies, his body is carried by his relations to a tree distant a mile or two from the camp. There it is laid on a platform by itself for some months. When the flesh has disappeared from the bones, a kinsman of the deceased, in strictness a younger brother (_itia_), climbs up into the tree, dislocates the bones, places them in a wooden vessel, and hands them down to a female relative. Then the bones are laid in the grave with the head facing in the direction in which his mother's brother is supposed to have camped in days of old. After the bones have been thus interred, the spirit of the dead man is believed to go away and to remain in his old _alcheringa_ home until such time as he once more undergoes reincarnation.[271] But in these tribes, as we saw, very old men and women receive only one burial, being at once laid in an earthy grave and never set up on a platform in a tree; and we have seen reason to think that this difference in the treatment of the aged springs from the indifference or contempt in which their ghosts are held by comparison with the ghosts of the young and vigorous. In the Warramunga tribe, who regularly deposit their dead in trees first and in the earth afterwards, so long as the corpse remains in the tree and the flesh has not completely disappeared from the bones, the mother of the deceased and the women who stand to him or her in the relation of tribal motherhood are obliged from time to time to go to the tree, and sitting under the platform to allow its putrid juices to drip down on their bodies, into which they rub them as a token of sorrow. This, no doubt, is intended to please the jealous ghost; for we are told that he is believed to haunt the tree and even to visit the camp, in order, if he was a man, to see for himself that his widows are mourning properly. The time during which the mouldering remains are left in the tree is at least a year and may be more.[272] The final ceremony which brings the period of mourning to an end is curious and entirely different from the one observed by the Arunta on the same occasion. When the bones have been taken down from the tree, an arm-bone is put carefully apart from the rest. Then the skull is smashed, and the fragments together with all the rest of the bones except the arm-bone, are buried in a hollow ant-hill near the tree. Afterwards the arm-bone is wrapt up in paper-bark and wound round with fur-string, so as to make a torpedo-shaped parcel, which is kept by a tribal mother of the deceased in her rude hovel of branches, till, after the lapse of some days or weeks, the time comes for the last ceremony of all. On that day a design emblematic of the totem of the deceased is drawn on the ground, and beside it a shallow trench is dug about a foot deep and fifteen feet long. Over this trench a number of men, elaborately decorated with down of various colours, stand straddle-legged, while a line of women, decorated with red and yellow ochre, crawl along the trench under the long bridge made by the straddling legs of the men. The last woman carries the arm-bone of the dead in its parcel, and as soon as she emerges from the trench, the bone is snatched from her by a kinsman of the deceased, who carries it to a man standing ready with an uplifted axe beside the totemic drawing. On receiving the bone, the man at once smashes it, hastily buries it in a small pit beside the totemic emblem of the departed, and closes the opening with a large flat stone, signifying thereby that the season of mourning is over and that the dead man or woman has been gathered to his or her totem. The totemic design, beside which the arm-bone is buried, represents the spot at which the totemic ancestor of the deceased finally went down into the earth. When once the arm-bone has thus been broken and laid in its last resting-place, the soul of the dead person, which they describe as being of about the size of a grain of sand, is supposed to go back to the place where it camped long ago in a previous incarnation, there to remain with the souls of other men and women of the same totem until the time comes for it to be born again.[273] [Sidenote: General conclusion as to the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the Australian aborigines.] This must conclude what I have to say as to the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the aborigines of Australia. The evidence I have adduced is sufficient to prove that these savages firmly believe both in the existence of the human soul after death and in the power which it can exert for good or evil over the survivors. On the whole the dominant motive in their treatment of the dead appears to be fear rather than affection. Yet the attention which many tribes pay to the comfort of the departed by providing them with huts, food, water, fire, clothing, implements and weapons, may not be dictated by purely selfish motives; in any case they are clearly intended to please and propitiate the ghosts, and therefore contain the germs of a regular worship of the dead. [Footnote 216: E. J. Eyre, _Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia_ (London, 1845), ii. 349.] [Footnote 217: A. Oldfield, "The Aborigines of Victoria," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, N.S. iii. (1865) p. 245.] [Footnote 218: P. Beveridge, in _Journal and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New South Wales_, xvii. (1883) pp. 29 _sq._ Compare R. Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 100 note.] [Footnote 219: (Sir) G. Grey, _Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery_, ii. 332 _sq._] [Footnote 220: Rev. J. Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 109 _sqq._] [Footnote 221: E. M. Curr, _The Australian Race_ (Melbourne and London, 1886-1887), i. 87.] [Footnote 222: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, p. 463.] [Footnote 223: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 461.] [Footnote 224: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 473.] [Footnote 225: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit._ p. 474.] [Footnote 226: F. C. Urquhart, "Legends of the Australian Aborigines," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) p. 88.] [Footnote 227: E. M. Curr, _The Australian Race_, i. 87.] [Footnote 228: Leviticus xix. 28; Deuteronomy xiv. 1.] [Footnote 229: W. Stanbridge, "Tribes in the Central Part of Victoria," _Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London_, N.S. i. (1861) p. 298.] [Footnote 230: R. Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 105.] [Footnote 231: A. W. Howitt, _Native Tribes of South-East Australia_, p. 459.] [Footnote 232: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit_. p. 453.] [Footnote 233: P. Beveridge, in _Journal and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New South Wales_, xvii. (1883) pp. 28, 29.] [Footnote 234: A. W. Howitt, _op. cit_. p. 466.] [Footnote 235: E. J. Eyre, _Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia_ (London, 1845), ii. 347.] [Footnote 236: W. E. Roth, _Studies among the North-West-Central Queensland Aborigines_ (Brisbane and London, 1897), p. 164; compare p. 165.] [Footnote 237: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 500.] [Footnote 238: Spencer and Gillen, _op. cit._ p. 510.] [Footnote 239: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 516-552.] [Footnote 240: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, p. 510.] [Footnote 241: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes_, p. 507.] [Footnote 242: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes_, p. 511.] [Footnote 243: F. Bonney, "On some Customs of the Aborigines of the River Darling," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiii. (1884) pp. 134 _sq._] [Footnote 244: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 507, 509 _sq._] [Footnote 245: (Sir) G. Grey, _Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery_, ii. 332, quoting Mr. Bussel.] [Footnote 246: Scholiast on Pindar, _Olymp._ i. 146.] [Footnote 247: Homer, _Odyssey_, xi. 23 _sqq._] [Footnote 248: _The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings_, i. 91 _sq._] [Footnote 249: J. Dawson, _Australian Aborigines_, p. 62.] [Footnote 250: R. Brough Smyth, _Aborigines of Victoria_, i. 108.] [Footnote 251: J. F. Mann, "Notes on the Aborigines of Australia," _Proceedings of the Geographical Society of Australasia_, i. (Sydney, 1885) p. 48.] [Footnote 252: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 506.] [Footnote 253: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes_, p. 512.] [Footnote 254: R. Sutherland Rattray, _Some Folk-lore Stories and Songs in Chinyanja_ (London, 1907), pp. 99-101, 182.] [Footnote 255: F. Fawcett, "The Kondayamkottai Maravars, a Dravidian Tribe of Tinnevelly, Southern India," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxiii. (1903) p. 64; Captain Wolsley Haig, "Notes on the Rangari Caste in Barar," _Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal_, lxx. Part iii. (1901) p. 8; E. Thurston, _Castes and Tribes of Southern India_ (Madras, 1909), iv. 226 (as to the Lambadis), vi. 244 (as to the Raniyavas); compare _id._, _Ethnographic Notes in Southern India_ (Madras, 1906), p. 155.] [Footnote 256: E. Thurston, _Ethnographic Notes in Southern India_, p. 207.] [Footnote 257: L. K. Anantha Krishna Iyer, _The Cochin Tribes and Castes_ (Madras, 1909-1912), ii. 91, 112, 157, 360, 378.] [Footnote 258: _The Grihya Sutras_, translated by H. Oldenberg, Part i. p. 355 (_Sacred Books of the East_, vol. xxix.). Compare W. Crooke, _Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India_ (Westminster, 1896), i. 245.] [Footnote 259: Ch. A. Sherring, _Western Tibet and the British Borderland_ (London, 1906), pp. 123 _sq._] [Footnote 260: P. N. Bose, "Chhattisgar," _Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal_, lix., Part i. (1891) p. 290.] [Footnote 261: E. Thurston, _Ethnographic Notes in Southern India_, p. 205.] [Footnote 262: S. Powers, _Tribes of California_ (Washington, 1877), p. 383.] [Footnote 263: Maximilian Prinz zu Wied, _Reise in das Innere Nord-America_ (Coblenz, 1839-1841), ii. 235.] [Footnote 264: T. de Pauly, _Description Ethnographique des Peuples de la Russie, Peuples de l'Amérique Russe_ (St. Petersburg, 1862), p. 13.] [Footnote 265: E. Seler, _Altmexikanische Studien_, ii. (Berlin, 1899) p. 42 (_Veröffentlichungen aus dem Königlichen Museum für Völkerkunde_, vi. 2/4).] [Footnote 266: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 497; _id._, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 506.] [Footnote 267: Spencer and Gillen, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 503-508. The name of the final mourning ceremony among the Arunta is _urpmilchima_.] [Footnote 268: _The Golden Bough_, Second Edition (London, 1900), i. 434 _sq._] [Footnote 269: A. Biet, _Voyage de la France Equinoxiale en l'Isle de Cayenne_ (Paris, 1664), p. 392.] [Footnote 270: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 505 _sqq._] [Footnote 271: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 506-508.] [Footnote 272: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, p. 530.] [Footnote 273: Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes of Central Australia_, pp. 530-543.] LECTURE VIII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF THE TORRES STRAITS ISLANDS [Sidenote: The Islanders of Torres Straits. The Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits.] In the last lecture I concluded my account of the belief in immortality and worship of the dead, or rather of the elements out of which such a worship might have grown, among the aborigines of Australia. To-day we pass to the consideration of a different people, the islanders of Torres Straits. As you may know, Torres Straits are the broad channel which divides Australia on the south from the great island of New Guinea on the north. The small islands which are scattered over the strait fall roughly into two groups, a Western and an Eastern, of which the eastern is at once the more isolated and the more fertile. In appearance, character, and customs the inhabitants of all these islands belong to the Papuan family, which inhabits the western half of New Guinea, but in respect of language there is a marked difference between the natives of the two groups; for while the speech of the Western Islanders is akin to that of the Australians, the speech of the Eastern Islanders is akin to that of the Papuans of New Guinea. The conclusion to be drawn from these facts appears to be that the Western Islands of Torres Straits were formerly inhabited by aborigines of the Australian family, and that at a later time they were occupied by immigrants from New Guinea, who adopted the language of the aboriginal inhabitants, but gradually extinguished the aboriginal type and character either by peaceful absorption or by conquest and extermination.[274] Hence the Western Islanders of Torres Straits form a transition both geographically and ethnographically between the aborigines of Australia on the one side and the aborigines of New Guinea on the other side. Accordingly in our survey of the belief in immortality among the lower races we may appropriately consider the Islanders of Torres Straits immediately after the aborigines of Australia and before we pass onward to other and more distant races. These Islanders have a special claim on the attention of a Cambridge lecturer, since almost all the exact knowledge we possess of them we owe to the exertions of Cambridge anthropologists and especially to Dr. A. C. Haddon, who on his first visit to the islands in 1888 perceived the urgent importance of procuring an accurate record of the old beliefs and customs of the natives before it was too late, and who never rested till that record was obtained, as it happily has been, first by his own unaided researches in the islands, and afterwards by the united researches of a band of competent enquirers. In the history of anthropology the Cambridge Expedition to Torres Straits in 1898 will always hold an honourable place, to the credit of the University which promoted it and especially to that of the zealous and devoted investigator who planned, organised, and carried it to a successful conclusion. Practically all that I shall have to tell you as to the beliefs and practices of the Torres Straits Islanders is derived from the accurate and laborious researches of Dr. Haddon and his colleagues. [Sidenote: Social culture of the Torres Straits Islanders.] While the natives of Torres Straits are, or were at the time of their discovery, in the condition which we call savagery, they stand on a far higher level of social and intellectual culture than the rude aborigines of Australia. To indicate roughly the degree of advance we need only say that, whereas the Australians are nomadic hunters and fishers, entirely ignorant of agriculture, and destitute to a great extent not only of houses but even of clothes, the natives of Torres Straits live in settled villages and diligently till the soil, raising a variety of crops, such as yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, sugar-cane, and tobacco.[275] Of the two groups of islands the eastern is the more fertile and the inhabitants are more addicted to agriculture than are the natives of the western islands, who, as a consequence of the greater barrenness of the soil, have to eke out their subsistence to a considerable extent by fishing.[276] And there is other evidence to shew that the Eastern Islanders have attained to a somewhat higher stage of social evolution than their Western brethren;[277] the more favourable natural conditions under which they live may possibly have contributed to raise the general level of culture. One of the most marked distinctions in this respect between the inhabitants of the two groups is that, whereas a regular system of totemism with its characteristic features prevails among the Western Islanders, no such system nor even any very clear evidence of its former existence is to be found among the Eastern Islanders, whether it be that they never had it or, what is more likely, that they once had but have lost it.[278] [Sidenote: Belief of the Torres Straits Islanders in the existence of the human spirit after death.] On the other hand, so far as regards our immediate subject, the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead, a general resemblance may be traced between the creed and customs of the Eastern and Western tribes. Both of them, like the Australian aborigines, firmly believe in the existence of the human spirit after death, but unlike the Australians they seem to have no idea that the souls of the departed are ever born again into the world; the doctrine of reincarnation, so widespread among the natives of Australia, appears to have no place in the creed of their near neighbours the Torres Straits Islanders, whose dead, like our own, though they may haunt the living for a time, are thought to depart at last to a distant spirit-land and to return no more. At the same time neither in the one group nor in the other is there any clear evidence of what may be called a worship of the dead in the strict sense of the word, unless we except the cults of certain more or less mythical heroes. On this point the testimony of Dr. Haddon is definite as to the Western Islanders. He says: "In no case have I obtained in the Western Islands an indication of anything approaching a worship of deceased persons ancestral or otherwise, with the exception of the heroes shortly to be mentioned; neither is there any suggestion that their own ancestors have been in any way apotheosized."[279] [Sidenote: Fear of the ghosts of the recently departed.] But if these savages have not, with the possible exception of the cult of certain heroes, any regular worship of the dead, they certainly have the germ out of which such a worship might be developed, and that is a firm belief in ghosts and in the mischief which they may do to the living. The word for a ghost is _mari_ in the West and _mar_ in the East: it means also a shadow or reflection,[280] which seems to shew that these savages, like many others, have derived their notion of the human soul from the observation of shadows and reflections cast by the body on the earth or on water. Further, the Western Islanders appear to distinguish the ghosts of the recently departed (_mari_) from the spirits of those who have been longer dead, which they call _markai_;[281] and if we accept this distinction "we may assert," according to Dr. Haddon, "that the Torres Straits Islanders feared the ghosts but believed in the general friendly disposition of the spirits of the departed."[282] Similarly we saw that the Australian aborigines regard with fear the ghosts of those who have just died, while they are either indifferent to the spirits of those who have died many years ago or even look upon them as beings of higher powers than their descendants, whom they can benefit in various ways. This sharp distinction between the spirits of the dead, according to the date at which they died, is widespread, perhaps universal among mankind. However truly the dead were loved in their lifetime, however bitterly they were mourned at their death, no sooner have they passed beyond our ken than the thought of their ghosts seems to inspire the generality of mankind with an instinctive fear and horror, as if the character of even the best friends and nearest relations underwent a radical change for the worse as soon as they had shuffled off the mortal coil. But among savages this belief in the moral deterioration of ghosts is certainly much more marked than among civilised races. Ghosts are dreaded both by the Western and the Eastern tribes of Torres Straits. Thus in Mabuiag, one of the Western Islands, the corpse was carried out of camp feet foremost, else it was thought that the ghost would return and trouble the survivors. Further, when the body had been laid upon a stage or platform on clear level ground away from the dwelling, the remains of any food and water of which the deceased might have been partaking in his last moments were carried out and placed beside the corpse lest the ghost should come back to fetch them for himself, to the annoyance and terror of his relations. This is the reason actually alleged by the natives for what otherwise might have been interpreted as a delicate mark of affection and thoughtful care for the comfort of the departed. If next morning the food was found scattered, the people said that the ghost was angry and had thrown it about.[283] Further, on the day of the death the mourners went into the gardens, slashed at the taro, knocked down coco-nuts, pulled up sweet potatoes, and destroyed bananas. We are told that "the food was destroyed for the sake of the dead man, it was 'like good-bye.'"[284] We may suspect that the real motive for the destruction was the same as that for laying food and water beside the corpse, namely, a wish to give the ghost no excuse for returning to haunt and pester his surviving relatives. How could he have the heart to return to the desolated garden which in his lifetime it had been his pride and joy to cultivate? [Sidenote: Fear of the ghosts of the recently departed among the Murray Islanders.] In Murray Island, also, which belongs to the Eastern group, the ghost of a recently deceased person is much dreaded; it is supposed to haunt the neighbourhood for two or three months, and the elaborate funeral ceremonies which these savages perform appear to be based on this belief and to be intended, in fact, to dismiss the ghost from the land of the living, where he is a very unwelcome visitor, to his proper place in the land of the dead.[285] "The Murray Islanders," says Dr. Haddon, "perform as many as possible of the necessary ceremonies in order that the ghost of the deceased might not feel slighted, for otherwise it was sure to bring trouble on the relatives by causing strong winds to destroy their gardens and break down their houses."[286] These islanders still believe that a ghost may feel resentment when his children are neglected or wronged, or when his lands or goods are appropriated by persons who have no claim to them. And this fear of the wrath of the ghost, Dr. Haddon tells us, no doubt in past times acted as a wholesome deterrent on evil-doers and helped to keep the people from crime, though now-a-days they look rather to the law than to ghosts for the protection of their rights and the avenging of their wrongs.[287] Yet here, as in so many places, it would seem that superstition has proved a useful crutch on which morality can lean until it is strong enough to walk alone. In the absence of the police the guardianship of law and morality may be provisionally entrusted to ghosts, who, if they are too fickle and uncertain in their temper to make ideal constables, are at least better than nothing. With this exception it does not appear that the moral code of the Torres Straits Islanders derived any support or sanction from their religion. No appeal was made by them to totems, ancestors, or heroes; no punishment was looked for from these quarters for any infringement of the rules and restraints which hold society together.[288] [Sidenote: The island home of the dead.] The land of the dead to which the ghosts finally depart is, in the opinion of the Torres Straits Islanders, a mythical island in the far west or rather north-west. The Western Islanders name it Kibu; the Eastern Islanders call it Boigu. The name Kibu means "sundown." It is natural enough that islanders should place the home of the dead in some far island of the sea to which no canoe of living men has ever sailed, and it is equally natural that the fabulous island should lie to westward where the sun goes down; for it seems to be a common thought that the souls of the dead are attracted by the great luminary, like moths by a candle, and follow him when he sinks in radiant glory into the sea. To take a single example, in the Maram district of Assam it is forbidden to build houses facing westward, because that is the direction in which the spirits of the dead go to their long home.[289] But the Torres Straits Islanders have a special reason, as Dr. Haddon has well pointed out, for thinking that the home of the dead is away in the north-west; and the reason is that in these latitudes the trade wind blows steady and strong from the south-east for seven or eight months of the year; so that for the most part the spirits have only to let themselves go and the wind will sweep them away on its pinions to their place of rest. How could the poor fluttering things beat up to windward in the teeth of the blast?[290] [Sidenote: Elaborate funeral ceremonies observed by the Torres Straits Islanders.] The funeral ceremonies observed by the Torres Straits Islanders were numerous and elaborate, and they present some features of special interest. They succeeded each other at intervals, sometimes of months, and amongst the Eastern Islanders in particular there were so many of them that, were it not that the bodies of the very young and the very old were treated less ceremoniously, the living would have been perpetually occupied in celebrating the obsequies of the dead.[291] The obsequies differed somewhat from each other in the East and the West, but they had two characteristics in common: first, the skulls of the dead were commonly preserved apart from the bodies and were consulted as oracles; and, second, the ghosts of the recently deceased were represented in dramatic ceremonies by masked men, who mimicked the gait and gestures of the departed and were thought by the women and children to be the very ghosts themselves. But in details there were a good many variations between the practice of the Eastern and the Western Islanders. We will begin with the customs of the Western Islanders. [Sidenote: Funeral ceremonies observed by the Western Islanders. Removal and preservation of the skull. Skulls used in divination.] When a death had taken place, the corpse was carried out of the house and set on a staging supported by four forked posts and covered by a roof of mats. The office of attending to the body devolved properly on the brothers-in-law (_imi_) of the deceased, who, while they were engaged in the duties of the office, bore the special title of _mariget_ or "ghost-hand." It deserves to be noticed that these men were always of a different totem from the deceased; for if the dead person was a man, the _mariget_ were his wife's brothers and therefore had the same totem as the dead man's wife, which, on account of the law of exogamy, always differed from the totem of her husband. And if the dead person was a woman, the _mariget_ were her husband's brothers and therefore had his totem, which necessarily differed from hers. When they had discharged the preliminary duties to the corpse, the brothers-in-law went and informed the relations and friends. This they did not in words but by a prescribed pantomime. For example, if the deceased had had the crocodile for his totem, they imitated the ungainly gait of crocodiles waddling and resting, if the deceased had the snake for his totem, they in like manner mimicked the crawling of a snake. The relations then painted their bodies with white coral mud, cut their hair, plastered mud over their heads, and cut off their ear ornaments or severed the distended lobe of the ear as a sign of mourning. Then, armed with bows and arrows, they came out to the stage where the corpse was lying and let fly arrows at the men who were in attendance on it, that is, at the brothers-in-law of the deceased, who warded off the shafts as best they could.[292] The meaning of this sham attack on the men who were discharging the last offices of respect to the dead comes out clearly in another ceremony which was performed some time afterwards, as we shall see presently. For five or six days the corpse remained on the platform or bier watched by the brothers-in-law, who had to prevent certain large lizards from devouring it and to frighten away any prowling ghosts that might be lured to the spot by the stench. After the lapse of several days the relations returned to the body, mourned, and beat the roof of the bier, while they raised a shout to drive off any part of the dead man's spirit that might be lingering about his mouldering remains. The reason for doing so was, that the time had now arrived for cutting off the head of the corpse, and they thought that the head would not come off easily if the man's spirit were still in the body; he might reasonably be expected to hold on tight to it and not to resign, without a struggle, so valuable a part of his person. When the poor ghost had thus been chased away with shouts and blows, the principal brother-in-law came forward and performed the amputation by sawing off the head. Having done so, he usually placed it in a nest of termites or white ants in order that the insects might pick it clean; but sometimes for the same purpose he deposited it in a creek. When it was thoroughly clean, the grinning white skull was painted red all over and placed in a decorated basket. Then followed the ceremony of formally handing over this relic of the dead to the relations. The brothers-in-law, who had been in attendance on the body, painted themselves black all over, covered their heads with leaves, and walked in solemn procession, headed by the chief brother-in-law, who carried the skull in the basket. Meantime the male relatives were awaiting them, seated on a large mat in the ceremonial ground, while the women grouped themselves in the background. As the procession of men approached bearing the skull, the mourners shot arrows over their heads as a sign of anger at them for having decapitated their relation. But this was a mere pretence, probably intended to soothe and flatter the angry ghost: the arrows flew over the men without hurting them.[293] Similarly in ancient Egypt the man who cut open a corpse for embalmment had no sooner done his office than he fled precipitately, pursued by the relations with stones and curses, because he had wounded and mangled the body of their kinsman.[294] Sometimes the skull was made up to resemble the head of a living man: an artificial nose of wood and beeswax supplied the place of a nose of flesh; pearl-shells were inserted in the empty eye-balls; and any teeth that might be missing were represented by pieces of wood, while the lower jaw was lashed firmly to the cranium.[295] Whether thus decorated or not, the skulls of the dead were preserved and used in divination. Whenever a skull was to be thus consulted, it was first cleaned, repainted, and either anointed with certain plants or placed upon them. Then the enquirer enjoined the skull to speak the truth, and placing it on his pillow at night went to sleep. The dream which he dreamed that night was the answer of the skull, which spoke with a clappering noise like that of teeth chattering together. When people went on voyages, they used to take a divining skull with them in the stern of the canoe.[296] [Sidenote: Great death-dance of the Western Islanders. The dead personated by masked actors.] The great funeral ceremony, or rather death-dance, of the Western Islanders took place in the island of Pulu. When the time came for it, a few men would meet and make the necessary preparations. The ceremony was always performed on the sacred or ceremonial ground (_kwod_), and the first thing to do was to enclose this ground, for the sake of privacy, with a screen of mats hung on a framework of wood and bamboos. When the screen had been erected, the drums which were to be used by the orchestra were placed in position beside it. Then the relations were summoned to attend the performance. The ceremony might be performed for a number of recently deceased people at once, and it varied in importance and elaboration according to the importance and the number of the deceased whose obsequies were being celebrated. The chief differences were in the number of the performers and the greater or less display of scenic apparatus. The head-dresses or leafy masks worn by the actors in the sacred drama were made secretly in the bush; no woman or uninitiated man might witness the operation. When all was ready, and the people were assembled, the men being stationed in front and the women and children in the background, the disguised actors appeared on the scene and played the part of the dead, each one of them mimicking the gait and actions of the particular man or woman whom he personated; for all the parts were played by men, no woman might act in these ceremonies. The order in which the various ghosts were to appear on the scene was arranged beforehand; so that when the actors came forward from behind the screen, the spectators knew which of the dead they were supposed to have before them. The performers usually danced in pairs, and vanished behind the screen when their dance was finished. Thus one pair would follow another till the play was over. Besides the actors who played the serious and solemn part of the dead, there was usually a clown who skipped about and cut capers, tumbling down and getting up again, to make the spectators laugh and so to relieve the strain on their emotions, which were deeply stirred by this dance of death. The beat of the drums proclaimed that the sacred drama was at an end. Then followed a great feast, at which special portions of food were assigned by the relatives of the deceased to the actors who had personated them.[297] [Sidenote: Intention of the ceremonies.] As to the intention of these curious dramatic performances we have no very definite information. Dr. Haddon says: "The idea evidently was to convey to the mourners the assurance that the ghost was alive and that in the person of the dancer he visited his friends; the assurance of his life after death comforted the bereaved ones."[298] [Sidenote: Funeral ceremonies observed by the Eastern Islanders. The soul of the dead carried away by a masked actor.] In the Eastern Islands of Torres Straits the funeral ceremonies seem to have been even more numerous and elaborate. The body was at first laid on the ground on a mat outside the house, if the weather were fine. There friends wept and wailed over it, the nearest relations, such as the wife and mother, sitting at the head of the corpse. About an hour after the sun had set, the drummers and singers arrived. All night the drums beat and the people sang, but just as the dawn was breaking the wild music died away into silence. The wants of the living were now attended to: the assembled people breakfasted on green coco-nuts; and then, about an hour after sunrise, they withdrew from the body and took up a position a little further off to witness the next act of the drama of death. The drums now struck up again in quicker time to herald the approach of an actor, who could be heard, but not seen, shaking his rattle in the adjoining forest. Faster and faster beat the drums, louder and louder rose the singing, till the spectators were wound up to a pitch of excitement bordering on frenzy. Then at last a strange figure burst from the forest and came skipping and posturing towards the corpse. It was Terer, a spirit or mythical being who had come to fetch the soul of the departed and to bear it far away to its place of rest in the island beyond the sea. On his head he wore a wreath of leaves: a mask made of the mid-ribs of coco-nut leaves or of croton leaves hid his face: a long feather of the white tern nodded on his brow; and a mantle of green coco-nut leaves concealed his body from the shoulders to the knees. His arms were painted red: round his neck he wore a crescent of pearl-shell: in his left hand he carried a bow and arrows, and in his mouth a piece of wood, to which were affixed two rings of green coco-nut leaf. Thus attired he skipt forwards, rattling a bunch of nuts in his right hand, bending his head now to one side and now to another, swaying his body backwards and forwards, but always keeping time to the measured beat of the drums. At last, after a series of rapid jumps from one foot to the other, he ended his dance, and turning round fled away westward along the beach. He had taken the soul of the dead and was carrying it away to the spirit-land. The excitement of the women now rose to the highest pitch. They screamed and jumped from the ground raising their arms in air high above their heads. Shrieking and wailing all pursued the retreating figure along the beach, the mother or widow of the dead man casting herself again and again prostrate on the sand and throwing it in handfuls over her head. Among the pursuers was another masked man, who represented Aukem, the mother of Terer. She, or rather he, was dressed in dried banana leaves: long tufts of grass hung from her head over her face and shoulders; and in her mouth she carried a lighted bundle of dry coco-nut fibre, which emitted clouds of smoke. With an unsteady rickety gait the beldame hobbled after her rapidly retreating son, who turned round from time to time, skipping and posturing derisively as if to taunt her, and then hurrying away again westward. Thus the two quaint figures retreated further and further, he in front and she behind, till they were lost to view. But still the drums continued to beat and the singers to chant their wild song, when nothing was to be seen but the deserted beach with the sky and the drifting clouds above and the white waves breaking on the strand. Meantime the two actors in the sacred drama made their way westward till their progress was arrested by the sea. They plunged into it and swimming westward unloosed their leafy envelopes and let them float away to the spirit-land in the far island beyond the rolling waters. But the men themselves swam back to the beach, resumed the dress of ordinary mortals, and quietly mingled with the assembly of mourners.[299] [Sidenote: Personation of ghosts by masked men.] Such was the first act of the drama. The second followed immediately about ten o'clock in the morning. The actors in it were twenty or thirty men disguised as ghosts or spirits of the dead (_zera markai_). Their bodies were blackened from the neck to the ankles, but the lower part of their faces and their feet were dyed bright red, and a red triangle was painted on the front of their bodies. They wore head-dresses of grass with long projecting ribs of coco-nut leaves, and a long tail of grass behind reaching down to the level of the knees. In their hands they held long ribs of coco-nut leaf. They were preceded by a curious figure called _pager_, a man covered from head to foot with dry grass and dead banana leaves, who sidled along with an unsteady rolling gait in a zigzag course, keeping his head bowed, his red-painted hands clasped in front of his face, and his elbows sticking out from both sides of his body. In spite of his erratic course and curious mode of progression he drew away from the troop of ghosts behind him and came on towards the spectators, jerking his head from side to side, his hands shaking, and wailing as he went. Behind him marched the ghosts, with their hands crossed behind their backs and their faces looking out to sea. When they drew near to the orchestra, who were singing and drumming away, they halted and formed in two lines facing the spectators. They now all assumed the familiar attitude of a fencer on guard, one foot and arm advanced, the other foot and arm drawn back, and lunged to right and left as if they were stabbing something with the long ribs of the coco-nut leaves which they held in their hands. This manoeuvre they repeated several times, the orchestra playing all the time. Then they retreated into the forest, but only to march out again, form in line, stand on guard, and lunge again and again at the invisible foe. This appears to have been the whole of the second act of the drama. No explanation of it is given. We can only conjecture that the band of men, who seem from their name (_zera markai_) to have represented the ghosts or spirits of the dead, came to inform the living that the departed brother or sister had joined the majority, and that any attempt to rescue him or her would be vain. That perhaps was the meaning of the solemn pantomime of the lines of actors standing on guard and lunging again and again towards the spectators. But I must acknowledge that this is a mere conjecture of my own.[300] [Sidenote: Blood and hair offered to the dead.] Be that as it may, when this act of the drama was over, the mourners took up the body and with weeping and wailing laid it on a wooden framework resting on four posts at a little distance from the house of the deceased. Youths who had lately been initiated, and girls who had attained to puberty, now had the lobes of their ears cut. The blood streamed down over their faces and bodies and was allowed to drip on the feet of the corpse as a mark of pity or sorrow.[301] The other relatives cut their hair and left the shorn locks in a heap under the body. Blood and hair were probably regarded as offerings made to the departed kinsman or kinswoman. We saw that the Australian aborigines in like manner cut themselves and allow the blood to drip on the corpse; and they also offer their hair to the dead, cutting off parts of their beards, singeing them, and throwing them on the corpse.[302] Having placed the body on the stage and deposited their offerings of hair under it, the relatives took some large yams, cut them in pieces, and laid the pieces beside the body in order to serve as food for the ghost, who was supposed to eat it at night.[303] This notion seems inconsistent with the belief that the soul of the departed had already been carried off to Boigu, the island of the dead; but consistency in such matters is as little to be looked for among savages as among ourselves. [Sidenote: Mummification of the corpse.] When the body had remained a few days on the stage in the open air, steps were taken to convert it into a mummy. For this purpose it was laid in a small canoe manned by some young people of the same sex as the deceased. They paddled it across the lagoon to the reef and there rubbed off the skin, extracted the bowels from the abdomen and the brain from the skull, and having sewed up the hole in the abdomen and thrown the bowels into the sea, they brought the remains back to land and lashed them to the wooden framework with string, while they fixed a small stick to the lower jaw to keep it from drooping. The framework with its ghastly burden was fastened vertically to two posts behind the house, where it was concealed from public view by a screen of coco-nut leaves. Holes were pricked with an arrow between the fingers and toes to allow the juices of decomposition to escape, and a fire was kindled and kept burning under the stage to dry up the body.[304] [Sidenote: Garb of mourners. Cuttings for the dead.] About ten days after the death a feast of bananas, yams, and germinating coco-nuts was partaken of by the relations and friends, and portions were distributed to the assembled company, who carried them home in baskets. It was on this occasion that kinsfolk and friends assumed the garb of mourners. Their faces and bodies were smeared with a mixture of greyish earth and water: the ashes of a wood fire were strewn on their heads; and fringes of sago leaves were fastened on their arms and legs. A widow wore besides a special petticoat made of the inner bark of the fig-tree; the ends of it were passed between her legs and tucked up before and behind. She had to leave her hair unshorn during the whole period of her widowhood; and in time it grew into a huge mop of a light yellow colour in consequence of the ashes with which it was smeared. This coating of ashes, as well as the grey paint on her face and body, she was expected to renew from time to time.[305] It was also on the occasion of this feast, on or about the tenth day after death, that young kinsfolk of the deceased had certain patterns cut in their flesh by a sharp shell. The persons so operated on were young adults of both sexes nearly related to the dead man or woman. Women generally operated on women and men on men. The patients were held down during the operation, which was painful, and they sometimes fainted under it. The patterns were first drawn on the skin in red paint and then cut in with the shell. They varied a good deal in shape. Some consisted of arrangements of lines and scrolls; a favourite one, which was only carved on women, represented a centipede. The blood which flowed from the wounds was allowed to drip on the corpse, thus forming a sacrifice or tribute to the dead.[306] [Sidenote: The Dance of Death. The nocturnal dance.] When the body had remained some time, perhaps four or six months, on the scaffold, and the process of mummification was far advanced, a dance of death was held to celebrate the final departure of the spirit for its long home. Several men, seldom exceeding four in number, were chosen to act the part of ghosts, including the ghost of him or her in whose honour the performance was specially held. Further, about a dozen men were selected to form a sort of chorus; their business was to act as intermediaries between the living and the dead, summoning up the shades, serving as their messengers, and informing the people of their presence. The costume of the ghosts was simple, consisting of nothing but a head-dress and shoulder-band of leaves. The chorus, if we may call them so, wore girdles of leaves round their waists and wreaths of leaves on their heads. When darkness had fallen, the first act of the drama was played. The chorus stood in line opposite the mummy. Beyond them stood or sat the drummers, and beyond them again the audience was crowded on the beach, the women standing furthest from the mummy and nearest to the sea. The drummers now struck up, chanting at the same time to the beat of the drums. This was the overture. Then a shrill whistle in the forest announced the approach of a ghost. The subdued excitement among the spectators, especially among the women, was intense. Meantime the chorus, holding each other's hands, advanced sidelong towards the mummy with strange gestures, the hollow thud of their feet as they stamped on the ground being supposed to be the tread of the ghosts. Thus they advanced to the red-painted mummy with its grinning mouth. Behind it by this time stood one of the ghosts, and between him and the chorus a dialogue ensued. "Whose ghost is there?" called out the chorus; and a strident voice answered from the darkness, "The ghost of so and so is here." At that the chorus retreated in the same order as they had advanced, and again the hollow thud of their feet sounded in the ears of the excited spectators as the tramp of the dead. On reaching the drummers in their retreat the chorus called out some words of uncertain meaning, which have been interpreted, "Spirit of so-and-so, away at sea, loved little." At all events, the name of a dead person was pronounced, and at the sound the women, thrilled with excitement, leaped from the ground, holding their hands aloft; then hurled themselves prone on the sand, throwing it over their heads and wailing. The drums now beat faster and a wild weird chant rose into the air, then died away and all was silent, except perhaps for the lapping of the waves on the sand or the muffled thunder of the surf afar off on the barrier reef. Thus one ghost after another was summoned from the dusty dead and vanished again into the darkness. When all had come and gone, the leader of the chorus, who kept himself invisible behind the screen save for a moment when he was seen by the chorus to glide behind the mummy on its stage, blew a whistle and informed the spectators in a weird voice that all the ghosts that had been summoned that night would appear before them in broad day light on the morrow. With that the audience dispersed. But the men who had played the parts of the ghosts came forward and sat down with the chorus and the drummers on mats beside the body. There they remained singing to the beat of the drums till the first faint streaks of dawn glimmered in the east. [Sidenote: The noonday dance. The ghosts represented by masked actors.] Next morning the men assembled beside the body to inspect the actors who were to personate the ghosts, in order to make sure that they had learned their parts well and could mimick to the life the figure and gait of the particular dead persons whom they represented. By the time that these preparations were complete, the morning had worn on to noon. The audience was already assembled on the beach and on the long stretch of sand left by the ebbing tide; for the hour of the drama was always fixed at low water so as to allow ample space for the spectators to stand at a distance from the players, lest they should detect the features of the living under the masks of the dead. All being ready, the drummers marched in and took up their position just above the beach, facing the audience. The overture having been concluded, the first ghost was seen to glide from the forest and come dancing towards the beach. If he represented a woman, his costume was more elaborate than it had been under the shades of evening the night before. His whole body was painted red. A petticoat of leaves encircled his waist: a mask of leaves, surmounted by tufts of cassowary and pigeon feathers, concealed his head; and in his hands he carried brooms of coco-nut palm leaf. If he personated a man, he held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, and his costume was the usual dress of a dancer, with the addition of a head-dress of leaves and feathers and a diamond-shaped ornament of bamboo, which he held in his teeth and which entirely concealed his features. He approached dancing and mimicking the gestures of the person whom he represented. At the sight the women wailed, and the widow would cry out, "That's my husband," the mother would cry out, "That's my son." Then suddenly the drummers would call out, "Ah! Ah! Ai! Ai!" at which the women would fall to the ground, while the dancer retreated into the forest. In this way one ghost after the other would make his appearance, play his part, and vanish. Occasionally two of them would appear and dance together. The women and children, we are told, really believed that the actors were the ghosts of their dead kinsfolk. When the first dancer had thus danced before the people, he advanced with the drummers towards the framework on which the mummy was stretched, and there he repeated his dance before it. But the people were not allowed to witness this mystery; they remained wailing on the beach, for this was the moment at which the ghost of the dead man or woman was supposed to be departing for ever to the land of shades.[307] [Sidenote: Preservation of the mummy.] Some days afterwards the mummy was affixed to a new framework of bamboo and carried into the hut. In former times the huts were of a beehive shape, and the framework which supported the mummy was fastened to the central post on which the roof rested. The body thus stood erect within the house. Its dried skin had been painted red. The empty orbits of the eyes had been filled with pieces of pearl-shell of the nautilus to imitate eyes, two round spots of black beeswax standing for the pupils. The ears were decorated with shreds of the sago-palm or with grey seeds. A frontlet of pearl-shell nautilus adorned the head, and a crescent of pearl-shell the breast. In the darkness of the old-fashioned huts the body looked like a living person. In course of time it became almost completely mummified and as light as if it were made of paper. Swinging to and fro with every breath of wind, it turned its gleaming eyes at each movement of the head. The hut was now surrounded by posts and ropes to prevent the ghost from making his way into it and taking possession of his old body. Ghosts were supposed to appear only at night, and it was imagined that in the dark they would stumble against the posts and entangle themselves in the ropes, till in despair they desisted from the attempt to penetrate into the hut. In time the mummy mouldered away and fell to pieces. If the deceased was a male, the head was removed and a wax model of it made and given to the brother, whether blood or tribal brother, of the dead man. The head thus prepared or modelled in wax, with eyes of pearl-shell, was used in divination. The decaying remains of the body were taken to the beach and placed on a platform supported by four posts. That was their last resting-place.[308] [Sidenote: General summary. Dramas of the dead.] To sum up the foregoing evidence, we may say that if the beliefs and practices of the Torres Straits Islanders which I have described do not amount to a worship of the dead, they contain the elements out of which such a worship might easily have been developed. The preservation of the bodies of the dead, or at least their skulls, in the houses, and the consultation of them as oracles, prove that the spirits of the dead are supposed to possess knowledge which may be of great use to the living; and the custom suggests that in other countries the images of the gods may perhaps have been evolved out of the mummies of the dead. Further, the dramatic representation of the ghosts in a series of striking and impressive performances indicates how a sacred and in time a secular drama may elsewhere have grown out of a purely religious celebration concerned with the souls of the departed. In this connexion we are reminded of Professor Ridgeway's theory that ancient Greek tragedy originated in commemorative songs and dances performed at the tomb for the purpose of pleasing and propitiating the ghost of the mighty dead.[309] Yet the mortuary dramas of the Torres Straits Islanders can hardly be adduced to support that theory by analogy so long as we are ignorant of the precise significance which the natives themselves attached to these remarkable performances. There is no clear evidence that the dramas were acted for the amusement and gratification of the ghost rather than for the edification of the spectators. One important act certainly represented, and might well be intended to facilitate, the final departure of the spirit of the deceased to the land of souls. But the means taken to effect that departure might be adopted in the interests of the living quite as much as out of a tender regard for the welfare of the dead, since the ghost of the recently departed is commonly regarded with fear and aversion, and his surviving relations resort to many expedients for the purpose of ridding themselves of his unwelcome presence. [Footnote 274: S. H. Ray, in _Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, iii. (Cambridge, 1907) pp. 509-511; A. C. Haddon, "The Religion of the Torres Straits Islanders," _Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tyler_ (Oxford, 1907), p. 175.] [Footnote 275: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, iv. 92 _sqq._, 144 _sqq._, v. 346, vi. 207 _sqq._] [Footnote 276: A. C. Haddon, in _Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor_, p. 186.] [Footnote 277: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 254 _sq._] [Footnote 278: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 254 _sqq._] [Footnote 279: A. C. Haddon, in _Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor_, p. 181.] [Footnote 280: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 355 _sq._, vi. 251; A. C. Haddon, in _Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor_, p. 179.] [Footnote 281: For authorities see the references in the preceding note.] [Footnote 282: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 253.] [Footnote 283: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 248, 249.] [Footnote 284: _Id._, p. 250.] [Footnote 285: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 253; A. C. Haddon, in _Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor_, p. 180.] [Footnote 286: A. C. Haddon, _l.c._] [Footnote 287: A. C. Haddon, _op. cit._ pp. 182 _sq._; _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 127.] [Footnote 288: A. C. Haddon, _op. cit._ p. 183.] [Footnote 289: T. C. Hodson, _The Naga Tribes of Manipur_ (London, 1911), p. 43.] [Footnote 290: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 355 _sq._, vi. 252. In the former passage Dr. Haddon seems to identify Boigu with the island of that name off the south coast of New Guinea; in the latter he prefers to regard it as mythical.] [Footnote 291: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 127.] [Footnote 292: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 248 _sq._] [Footnote 293: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 250 _sq._] [Footnote 294: Diodorus Siculus, i. 91.] [Footnote 295: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 258.] [Footnote 296: _Id._, p. 362.] [Footnote 297: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 252-256.] [Footnote 298: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, v. 256.] [Footnote 299: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 129-133.] [Footnote 300: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 133 _sq._] [Footnote 301: _Id._, pp. 135, 154.] [Footnote 302: (Sir) George Grey, _Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North-West and Western Australia_ (London, 1841), ii. 335.] [Footnote 303: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 135.] [Footnote 304: _Op. cit._ p. 136.] [Footnote 305: _Op. cit._ pp. 138, 153, 157 _sq._] [Footnote 306: _Op. cit._ pp. 154 _sq._] [Footnote 307: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 139-141.] [Footnote 308: _Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits_, vi. 148 _sq._ As to divination with skulls or waxen models, see _id._, pp. 266 _sqq._] [Footnote 309: W. Ridgeway, _The Origin of Tragedy, with special reference to the Greek Tragedians_ (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 26 _sqq._] LECTURE IX THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF BRITISH NEW GUINEA [Sidenote: The two races of New Guinea, the Papuan and the Melanesian.] In my last lecture I dealt with the islanders of Torres Straits, and shewed that these savages firmly believe in the existence of the human soul after death, and that if their beliefs and customs in this respect do not always amount to an actual worship of the departed, they contain at least the elements out of which such a worship might easily be developed. To-day we pass from the small islands of Torres Straits to the vast neighbouring island, almost continent, of New Guinea, the greater part of which is inhabited by a race related by physical type and language to the Torres Straits Islanders, and exhibiting approximately the same level of social and intellectual culture. New Guinea, roughly speaking, appears to be occupied by two different races, to which the names of Papuan and Melanesian are now given; and it is to the Papuan race, not to the Melanesian, that the Torres Straits Islanders are akin. The Papuans, a tall, dark-skinned, frizzly-haired race, inhabit apparently the greater part of New Guinea, including the whole of the western and central portions of the island. The Melanesians, a smaller, lighter-coloured, frizzly-haired race, inhabit the long eastern peninsula, including the southern coast from about Cape Possession eastward,[310] and tribes speaking a Melanesian language are also settled about Finsch Harbour and Huon Gulf in German New Guinea.[311] These Melanesians are most probably immigrants who have settled in New Guinea from the north and east, where the great chain of islands known as Melanesia stretches in an immense semicircle from New Ireland on the north to New Caledonia on the south-east. The natives of this chain of islands or series of archipelagoes are the true Melanesians; their kinsmen in New Guinea have undergone admixture with the Papuan aborigines, and accordingly should rather be called Papuo-Melanesians than Melanesians simply. Their country appears to be wholly comprised within the limits of British and German New Guinea; so far as I am aware, the vast area of Dutch New Guinea is inhabited solely by tribes of the Papuan race. In respect of material culture both races stand approximately on the same level: they live in settled villages, they practise agriculture, they engage in commerce, and they have a fairly developed barbaric art. Thus they have made some progress in the direction of civilisation; certainly they have far outstripped the wandering savages of Australia, who subsist entirely on the products of the chase and on the natural fruits of the earth. [Sidenote: Scantiness of our information as to the natives of New Guinea.] But although the natives of New Guinea have now been under the rule of European powers, Britain, Germany, and Holland, for many years, we unfortunately possess little detailed information as to their mental and social condition. It is true that the members of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits visited some parts of the southern coasts of British New Guinea, and several years later, in 1904, Dr. Seligmann was able to devote somewhat more time to the investigation of the same region and has given us the results of his enquiries in a valuable book. But the time at his disposal did not suffice for a thorough investigation of this large region; and accordingly his information, eked out though it is by that of Protestant and Catholic missionaries, still leaves us in the dark as to much which we should wish to know. Among the natives of British New Guinea our information is especially defective in regard to the Papuans, who occupy the greater part of the possession, including the whole of the western region; for Dr. Seligmann's book, which is the most detailed and systematic work yet published on the ethnology of British New Guinea, deals almost exclusively with the Melanesian portion of the population. Accordingly I shall begin what I have to say on this subject with the Melanesian or rather Papuo-Melanesian tribes of south-eastern New Guinea. [Sidenote: The Motu, their beliefs and customs concerning the dead.] Amongst these people the best known are the Motu, a tribe of fishermen and potters, who live in and about Port Moresby in the Central District of British New Guinea. Their language conforms to the Melanesian type. They are immigrants, but the country from which they came is unknown.[312] In their opinion the spirits of the dead dwell in a happy land where parted friends meet again and never suffer hunger. They fish, hunt, and plant, and are just like living men, except that they have no noses. When they first arrive in the mansions of the blest, they are laid out to dry on a sort of gridiron over a slow fire in order to purge away the grossness of the body and make them ethereal and light, as spirits should be. Yet, oddly enough, though they have no noses they cannot enter the realms of bliss unless their noses were pierced in their lifetime. For these savages bore holes in their noses and insert ornaments, or what they regard as such, in the holes. The operation is performed on children about the age of six years; and if children die before it has been performed on them, the parents will bore a hole in the nose of the corpse in order that the spirit of the child may go to the happy land. For if they omitted to do so, the poor ghost would have to herd with other whole-nosed ghosts in a bad place called Tageani, where there is little food to eat and no betelnuts to chew. The spirits of the dead are very powerful and visit bad people with their displeasure. Famine and scarcity of fish and game are attributed to the anger of the spirits. But they hearken to prayer and appear to their friends in dreams, sometimes condescending to give them directions for their guidance in time of trouble.[313] [Sidenote: The Koita or Koitapu.] Side by side with the Motu live the Koita or Koitapu, who appear to be the aboriginal inhabitants of the country and to belong to the Papuan stock. Their villages lie scattered for a distance of about forty miles along the coast, from a point about seven miles south-east of Port Moresby to a point on Redscar Bay to the north-west of that settlement. They live on friendly terms with the Motu and have intermarried with them for generations. The villages of the two tribes are usually built near to or even in direct continuity with each other. But while the Motu are mainly fishers and potters, the Koita are mainly tillers of the soil, though they have learned some arts or adopted some customs from their neighbours. They say to the Motu, "Yours is the sea, the canoes, the nets; ours the land and the wallaby. Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery for our yams and bananas." The Motu look down upon the Koita, but fear their power of sorcery, and apply to them for help in sickness and for the weather they happen to require; for they imagine that the Koita rule the elements and can make rain or sunshine, wind or calm by their magic. Thus, as in so many cases, the members of the immigrant race confess their inability to understand and manage the gods or spirits of the land, and have recourse in time of need to the magic of the aboriginal inhabitants. While the Koita belong to the Papuan stock and speak a Papuan language, most of the men understand the Motu tongue, which is one of the Melanesian family. Altogether these two tribes, the Koita and the Motu, may be regarded as typical representatives of the mixed race to which the name of Papuo-Melanesian is now given.[314] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Koita concerning the human soul.] The Koita believe that the human spirit or ghost, which they call _sua_, leaves the body at death and goes away to live with other ghosts on a mountain called Idu. But they think that the spirit can quit the body and return to it during life; it goes away, for example, in dreams, and if a sleeper should unfortunately waken before his soul has had time to return, he will probably fall sick. Sneezing is a sign that the soul has returned to the body, and if a man does not sneeze for many weeks together, his friends look on it as a grave symptom; his soul, they imagine, must be a very long way off.[315] Moreover, a man's soul may be enticed from his body and detained by a demon or _tabu_, as the Koita call it. Thus, when a man who has been out in the forest returns home and shakes with fever, it is assumed that he has fallen down and been robbed of his soul by a demon. In order to recover that priceless possession, the sufferer and his friends repair to the exact spot in the forest where the supposed robbery was perpetrated. They take with them a long bamboo with some valuable ornaments tied to it, and two men support it horizontally over a pot which is filled with grass. A light is put to the grass, and as it crackles and blazes a number of men standing round the pot strike it with stones till it breaks, whereat they all groan. Then the company returns to the village, and the sick man lies down in his house with the bamboo and its ornaments hung over him. This is supposed to be all that is needed to effect a perfect cure; for the demon has kindly accepted the soul of the ornaments and released the soul of the sufferer, who ought to recover accordingly.[316] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Koita concerning the state of the dead. Alleged communications with the dead by means of mediums.] However, at death the soul goes away for good and all; at least there appears to be no idea that it will ever return to life in the form of an infant, as the souls of the Central Australian aborigines are supposed to do. All Koita ghosts live together on Mount Idu, and their life is very like the one they led here on earth. There is no distinction between the good and the bad, the righteous and the wicked, the strong and the weak, the young and the old; they all fare alike in the spirit-land, with one exception. Like the Motu, the Koita are in the habit of boring holes in their noses and inserting ornaments in the holes; and they think that if any person were so unfortunate as to be buried with his nose whole and entire, his ghost would have to go about in the other world with a creature like a slow-worm depending from his nostrils on either side. Hence, when anybody dies before the operation of nose-boring has been performed on him or her, the friends take care to bore a hole in the nose of the corpse in order that the ghost may not appear disfigured among his fellows in dead man's land. There the ghosts dwell in houses, cultivate gardens, marry wives, and amuse themselves just as they did here on earth. They live a long time, but not for ever; for they grow weaker and weaker and at last die the second death, never to revive again, not even as ghosts. The exact length of time they live in the spirit-land has not been accurately ascertained; but there seems to be a notion that they survive only so long as their names and their memories survive among the living. When these are utterly forgotten, the poor ghosts cease to exist. If that is so, it is obvious that the dead depend for their continued existence upon the recollection of the living; their names are in a sense their souls, so that oblivion of the name involves extinction of the soul.[317] But though the spirits of the dead go away to live for a time on Mount Idu, they often return to their native villages and haunt the place of their death. On these visits they shew little benevolence or lovingkindness to their descendants. They punish any neglect in the performance of the funeral rites and any infringement of tribal customs, and the punishment takes the form of sickness or of bad luck in hunting or fishing. This dread of the ghost commonly leads the Koita to desert a house after a death and to let it fall into decay; but sometimes the widow, or in rare cases a brother or sister, will continue to inhabit the house of the deceased. Children who play near dwellings which have been deserted on account of death may fall sick; and if people who are not members of the family partake of food which has been hung up in such houses, they also may sicken. It is in dreams that the ghosts usually appear to the survivors; but occasionally they may be seen or at least felt by people in the waking state. Some years ago four Motuan girls persuaded many natives of Port Moresby that they could evoke the spirit of a youth named Tamasi, who had died three years before. The mother and other sorrowing relatives of the deceased paid a high price to the principal medium, a young woman named Mea, for an interview with the ghost. The meeting took place in a house by night. The relations and friends squatted on the ground in expectation; and sure enough the ghost presented himself in the darkness and went round shaking hands most affably with the assembled company. However, a sceptic who happened to assist at this spiritual sitting, had the temerity to hold on tight to the proffered hand of the ghost, while another infidel assisted him to obtain a sight as well as a touch of the vanished hand by striking a light. It then turned out that the supposed apparition was no spirit but the medium Mea herself. She was brought before a magistrate, who sentenced her to a short term of imprisonment and relieved her of the property which she had amassed by the exercise of her spiritual talents.[318] It is hardly for us, or at least for some of us, to cast stones at the efforts of ignorant savages to communicate by means of such intermediaries with their departed friends. Similar attempts have been made in our own country within our lifetime, and I believe that they are still being made, in perfect good faith, by educated ladies and gentlemen, who like their black brethren and sisters in the faith are sometimes made the dupes of designing knaves. If New Guinea has its Meas, Europe has its Eusapias. Human credulity and vulgar imposture are much the same all the world over. [Sidenote: Fear of the dead.] The fear of the dead is strongly marked in some funeral customs which are observed by the Roro-speaking tribes who occupy a territory at the mouth of the St. Joseph river in British New Guinea.[319] When a death takes place, the female relations of the deceased lacerate their skulls, faces, breasts, bellies, arms, and legs with sharp shells, till they stream with blood and fall down exhausted. Moreover, a fire is kindled on the grave and kept up almost continually for months for the purpose, we are told, of warming the ghost.[320] These attentions might be interpreted as marks of affection rather than of fear; but in other customs of these people the dread of the ghost is unmistakable. For when the corpse has been placed in the grave a near kinsman strokes it twice with a branch from head to foot in order to drive away the dead man's spirit; and in Yule Island, when the ghost has thus been brushed away from the body, he is pursued by two men brandishing sticks and torches from the village to the edge of the forest, where with a last curse they hurl the sticks and torches after him.[321] [Sidenote: Ghost of dead wife feared by widower.] Among these people the visits of ghosts, though frequent, are far from welcome, for all ghosts are supposed to be mischievous and to take no delight but in injuring the living. Hence, for example, a widower in mourning goes about everywhere armed with an axe to defend himself against the spirit of his dead wife, who might play him many an ill turn if she caught him defenceless and off his guard. And he is subject to many curious restrictions and has to lead the life of an outcast from society, apparently because people fear to come into contact with a man whose steps are dogged by so dangerous a spirit.[322] This account of the terrors of ghosts we owe to a Catholic missionary. But according to the information collected by Dr. Seligmann among these people the dread inspired by the souls of the dead is not so absolute. He tells us, indeed, that ghosts are thought to make people ill by stealing their souls; that the natives fear to go alone outside the village in the dark lest they should encounter a spectre; and that if too many quarrels occur among the women, the spirits of the dead may manifest their displeasure by visiting hunters and fishers with bad luck, so that it may be necessary to conjure their souls out of the village. On the other hand, it is said that if the ghosts abandoned a village altogether, the luck of the villagers would be gone, and if such a thing is supposed to have happened, measures are taken to bring back the spirits of the departed to the old home.[323] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Mafulu concerning the dead.] Inland from the Roro-speaking tribes, among the mountains at the head of the St. Joseph River, there is a tribe known to their neighbours as the Mafulu, though they call themselves Mambule. They speak a Papuan language, but their physical characteristics are believed to indicate a strain of Negrito blood.[324] The Mafulu hold that at death the human spirit leaves the body and becomes a malevolent ghost. Accordingly they drive it away with shouts. It is supposed to go away to the tops of the mountains there to become, according to its age, either a shimmering light on the ground or a large sort of fungus, which is found only on the mountains. Hence natives who come across such a shimmering light or such a fungus are careful not to tread on it; much less would they eat the fungus. However, in spite of their transformation into these things, the ghosts come down from the mountains and prowl about the villages and gardens seeking what they may devour, and as their intentions are always evil their visits are dreaded by the people, who fill up the crevices and openings, except the doors, of their houses at night in order to prevent the incursions of these unquiet spirits. When a mission station was founded in their country, the Mafulu were amazed that the missionaries should sleep alone in rooms with open doors and windows, through which the ghosts might enter.[325] [Sidenote: Burial customs of the Mafulu.] Common people among the Mafulu are buried in shallow graves in the village, and pigs are killed at the funeral for the purpose of appeasing the ghost. Mourners wear necklaces of string and smear their faces, sometimes also their bodies, with black, which they renew from time to time. Instead of wearing a necklace, a widow, widower, or other near relative may abstain during the period of mourning from eating a favourite food of the deceased. A woman who has lost a child, especially a first-born or dearly loved child, will often amputate the first joint of one of her fingers with an adze; and she may repeat the amputation if she suffers another bereavement. A woman has been seen with three of her fingers mutilated in this fashion.[326] The corpses of chiefs, their wives, and other members of their families are not buried in graves but laid in rude coffins, which are then deposited either on rough platforms in the village or in the fork of a species of fig-tree. This sort of tree, called by the natives _gabi_, is specially used for such burials; one of them has been seen supporting no less than six coffins, one above the other. The Mafulu never cut down these trees, and in seeking a new site for a village they will often choose a place where one of them is growing. So long as the corpse of a chief is rotting and stinking on the platform or the tree, the village is deserted by the inhabitants; only two men, relatives of the deceased, remain behind exposed to the stench of the decaying body and the blood of the pigs which were slaughtered at the funeral feast. When decomposition is complete, the people return to the village. Should the coffin fall to the ground through the decay of the platform or the tree on which it rests, the people throw away all the bones except the skull and the larger bones of the arms and legs; these they bury in a shallow grave under the platform, or put in a box on a burial tree, or hang up in the chief's house.[327] [Sidenote: Use made of the skulls and bones at a great festival.] The skulls and leg and arm bones of chiefs, their wives, and other members of their families, which have thus been preserved, play a prominent part in the great feasts which the inhabitants of a Mafulu village celebrate at intervals of perhaps fifteen or twenty years. Great preparations are made for such a celebration. A series of tall posts, one for each household, is erected in the open space which intervenes between the two rows of the village houses. Yams and taro are fastened to the upper parts of the posts; and below them are hung in circles the skulls and arm and leg bones of dead chiefs, their wives, and kinsfolk, which have been preserved in the manner described. Any skulls and bones that remain over when all the posts have been thus decorated are placed on a platform, which has either served for the ordinary exposure of a chief's corpse or has been specially erected for the purpose of the festival. At a given moment of the ceremony the chief of the clan cuts down the props which support the platform, so that the skulls and bones roll on the ground. These are picked up and afterwards distributed, along with some of the skulls and bones from the posts, by the chief of the clan to the more important of the invited guests, who wear them as ornaments on their arms in a great dance. None but certain of the male guests take part in the dance; the villagers themselves merely look on. All the dancers are arrayed in full dancing costume, including heavy head-dresses of feathers, and they carry drums and spears, sometimes also clubs or adzes. The dance lasts the whole night. When it is over, the skulls and bones are hung up again on the tall posts. Afterwards the fruits and vegetables which have been collected in large quantities are divided among the guests. On a subsequent morning a large number of pigs are killed, and certain of the hosts take some of the human bones from the posts and dip them in the blood which flows from the mouths of the slaughtered pigs. With these blood-stained bones they next touch the skulls and all the other bones on the posts, which include all the skulls and arm and leg bones of all the chiefs and members of their families and other prominent persons who have been buried in the village or in any other village of the community since the last great feast was held. These relics of mortality may afterwards be kept in the chief's house, or hung on a tree, or simply thrown away in the forest; but in no case are they ever again used for purposes of ceremony. The slaughtered pigs are cut up and the portions distributed among the guests, who carry them away for consumption in their own villages.[328] [Sidenote: Trace of ancestor worship among the Mafulu.] This preservation of the skulls and bones of chiefs and other notables for years, and the dipping of them in the blood of pigs at a great festival, must apparently be designed to propitiate or influence in some way the ghosts of the persons to whom the skulls and bones belonged in their lifetime. But Mr. R. W. Williamson, to whom we are indebted for the description of this interesting ceremony, was not able to detect any other clear indications of ancestor worship among the people.[329] [Sidenote: Worship of the dead among the natives of the Aroma district.] However, a real worship of the dead, or something approaching to it, is reported to exist among some of the natives of the Aroma district in British New Guinea. Each family is said to have a sacred place, whither they carry offerings for the spirits of dead ancestors, whom they terribly fear. Sickness in the family, death, famine, scarcity of fish, and so forth, are all set down to the anger of these dreadful beings, who must accordingly be propitiated. On certain occasions the help of the spirits is especially invoked and their favour wooed by means of offerings. Thus, when a house is being built and the central post has been erected, sacrifices of wallaby, fish, and bananas are presented to the souls of the dead, and a prayer is put up that they will be pleased to keep the house always full of food and to prevent it from falling down in stormy weather. Again, when the natives begin to plant their gardens, they first take a bunch of bananas and sugar-cane and standing in the middle of the garden call over the names of dead members of the family, adding, "There is your food, your bananas and sugar-cane; let our food grow well, and let it be plentiful. If it does not grow well and plentifully, you all will be full of shame, and so shall we." Again, before the people set out on a trading expedition, they present food to the spirits at the central post of the house and pray them to go before the traders and prepare the people, so that the trade may be good. Once more, when there is sickness in the family, a pig is killed and its carcase carried to the sacred place, where the spirits are asked to accept it. Sins, also, are confessed, such as that people have gathered bananas or coco-nuts without offering any of them to their dead ancestors. In presenting the pig they say, "There is a pig; accept it, and remove the sickness." But if prayers and sacrifices are vain, and the patient dies, then, while the relatives all stand round the open grave, the chief's sister or cousin calls out in a loud voice: "You have been angry with us for the bananas or the coco-nuts which we have gathered, and in your anger you have taken away this child. Now let it suffice, and bury your anger." So saying they lower the body into the grave and shovel in the earth on the top of it. The spirits of the departed, on quitting their bodies, paddle in canoes across the lagoon and go away to the mountains, where they live in perfect bliss, with no work to do and no trouble to vex them, chewing betel, dancing all night and resting all day.[330] [Sidenote: The Hood Peninsula. The town of Kalo.] Between the Aroma District in the south-east and Port Moresby on the north-west is situated the Hood Peninsula in the Central District of British New Guinea. It is inhabited by the Bulaa, Babaka, Kamali, and Kalo tribes, which all speak dialects of one language.[331] The village or town of Kalo, built at the base of the peninsula, close to the mouth of the Vanigela or Kemp Welch River, is said to be the wealthiest village in British New Guinea. It includes some magnificent native houses, all built over the water on piles, some of which are thirty feet high. The sight of these great houses perched on such lofty and massive props is very impressive. In front of each house is a series of large platforms like gigantic steps. Some of the posts and under-surfaces of the houses are carved with figures of crocodiles and so forth. The labour of cutting the huge planks for the flooring of the houses and the platforms must be immense, and must have been still greater in the old days, when the natives had only stone tools to work with. Many of the planks are cut out of the slab-like buttresses of tall forest trees which grow inland. So hard is the wood that the boards are handed down as heirlooms from father to son, and the piles on which the houses are built last for generations. The inhabitants of Kalo possess gardens, where the rich alluvial soil produces a superabundance of coco-nuts, bananas, yams, sweet potatoes, and taro. Areca palms also flourish and produce the betel nuts, which are in great demand for chewing with quick-lime and so constitute a source of wealth. Commanding the mouth of the Vanigela River, the people of Kalo absorb the trade with the interior; and their material prosperity is said to have rendered them conceited and troublesome.[332] [Sidenote: Beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the natives of the Hood Peninsula. Seclusion of the widow or widower.] The tribes inhabiting the Hood Peninsula are reported to have no belief in any good spirit but an unlimited faith in bad spirits, amongst whom they include the souls of their dead ancestors. At death the ghosts join their forefathers in a subterranean region, where they have splendid gardens, houses, and so forth. Yet not content with their life in the underworld, they are always on the watch to deal out sickness and death to their surviving friends and relations, who may have the misfortune to incur their displeasure. So the natives are most careful to do nothing that might offend these touchy and dangerous spirits. Like many other savages, they do not believe that anybody dies a natural death; they think that all the deaths which we should call natural are brought about either by an ancestral ghost (_palagu_) or by a sorcerer or witch (_wara_). Even when a man dies of snake-bite, they detect in the discoloration of the body the wounds inflicted upon him by the fell art of the magician.[333] On the approach of death the house of the sick man is filled by anxious relatives and friends, who sit around watching for the end. When it comes, there is a tremendous outburst of grief. The men beat their faces with their clenched fists; the women tear their cheeks with their nails till the blood streams down. They usually bury their dead in graves, which among the inland tribes are commonly dug near the houses of the deceased. The maritime tribes, who live in houses built on piles over the water, sometimes inter the corpse in the forest. But at other times they place it in a canoe, which they anchor off the village. Then, when the body has dried up, they lay it on a platform in a tree. Finally, they collect and clean the bones, tie them in a bundle, and place them on the roof of the house. When the corpse is buried, a temporary hut is erected over the grave, and in it the widow or widower lives in seclusion for two or three months. During her seclusion the widow employs herself in fashioning her widow's weeds, which consist of a long grass petticoat reaching to the ankles. She wears a large head-dress made of shells; her head is shaved, and her body blackened. Further, she wears round her neck the waistband of her deceased husband with his lower jaw-bone attached to it. The costume of a widower is somewhat similar, though he does not wear a long grass petticoat. Instead of it he has a graceful fringe, which hangs from his waist half way to the knees. On his head he wears an elaborate head-dress made of shells, and on his arms he has armlets of the same material. His hair is cut off and his whole skin blackened. Round his neck is a string, from which depends his dead wife's petticoat. It is sewn up into small bulk and hangs under his right arm. While the widow or widower is living in seclusion on the grave, he or she is supplied with food by relations. At sundown on the day of the burial, a curious ceremony is performed. An old woman or man, supposed to be gifted with second-sight, is sent for. Seating herself at the foot of the grave she peers into the deepening shadows under the coco-nut palms. At first she remains perfectly still, while the relations of the deceased watch her with painful anxiety. Soon her look becomes more piercing, and lowering her head, while she still gazes into the depth of the forest, she says in low and solemn tones, "I see coming hither So-and-So's grandfather" (mentioning the name of the dead person). "He says he is glad to welcome his grandson to his abode. I see now his father and his own little son also, who died in infancy." Gradually, she grows more and more excited, waving her arms and swaying her body from side to side. "Now they come," she cries, "I can see all our forefathers in a fast-gathering crowd. They are coming closer and yet closer. Make room, make room for the spirits of our departed ancestors." By this time she has worked herself up into a frenzy. She throws herself on the ground, beating her head with her clenched fists. Foam flies from her lips, her eyes become fixed, and she rolls over insensible. But the fit lasts only a short time. She soon comes to herself; the vision is past, and the visionary is restored to common life.[334] [Sidenote: Application of the juices of the dead to the persons of the living.] Some of the inland tribes of this district have a peculiar way of disposing of their dead. A double platform about ten feet high is erected near the village. On the upper platform the corpse is placed, and immediately below it the widow or widower sleeps on the lower platform, allowing juices of the decaying body to stream down on her or him. This application of the decomposing juices of a corpse to the persons of the living is not uncommon among savages; it appears to be a form of communion with the dead, the survivors thus in a manner identifying themselves with their departed kinsfolk by absorbing a portion of their bodily substance. Among the tribes in question a widower marks his affection for his dead wife by never washing himself during the period of mourning; he would not rid himself of those products of decomposition which link him, however sadly, with her whom he has lost. Every day, too, reeking with these relics of mortality, he solemnly stalks through the village.[335] [Sidenote: Precautions taken by man-slayers against the ghosts of their victims.] But there is a distinction between ghosts. If all of them are feared, some are more dreadful than others, and amongst the latter may naturally be reckoned the ghosts of slain enemies. Accordingly the slayer has to observe special precautions to guard against the angry and vengeful spirit of his victim. Amongst these people, we are told, a man who has taken life is held to be impure until he has undergone certain ceremonies. As soon as possible after the deed is done, he cleanses himself and his weapon. Then he repairs to his village and seats himself on the logs of sacrificial staging. No one approaches him or takes any notice whatever of him. Meantime a house is made ready, in which he must live by himself for several days, waited on only by two or three small boys. He may eat nothing but toasted bananas, and only the central parts of them; the ends are thrown away. On the third day a small feast is prepared for him by his friends, who also provide him with some new waistbands. Next day, arrayed in all his finery and wearing the badges which mark him as a homicide, he sallies forth fully armed and parades the village. Next day a hunt takes place, and from the game captured a kangaroo is selected. It is cut open, and with its spleen and liver the back of the homicide is rubbed. Then he walks solemnly down to the nearest water and standing straddle-legs in it washes himself. All young untried warriors then swim between his legs, which is supposed to impart his courage and strength to them. Next day at early dawn he dashes out of his house fully armed and calls aloud the name of his victim. Having satisfied himself that he has thoroughly scared the ghost of the dead man, he returns to his house. Further, floors are beaten and fires kindled for the sake of driving away the ghost, lest he should still be lingering in the neighbourhood. A day later the purification of the homicide is complete and he is free to enter his wife's house, which he might not do before.[336] This account of the purification of a homicide suggests that the purificatory rites, which have been observed in similar cases by many peoples, including the ancient Greeks, are primarily intended to free the slayer from the dangerous ghost of his victim, which haunts him and seeks to take his life. Such rites in fact appear designed, not to restore the homicide to a state of moral innocence, but merely to guard him against a physical danger; they are protective, not reformatory, in character; they are exorcisms, not purifications in the sense which we attach to the word. This interpretation of the ceremonies observed by manslayers among many peoples might be supported by a large array of evidence; but to go into the matter fully would lead me into a long digression. I have collected some of the evidence elsewhere.[337] [Sidenote: Beliefs and customs concerning the dead among the Massim of south-eastern New Guinea. Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead. Mourners bathe and shave their heads. Food deposited in the grave. Dietary restrictions imposed on mourners.] We now pass to that branch of the Papuo-Melanesian race which occupies the extreme south-eastern part of British New Guinea, and to which Dr. Seligmann gives the name of Massim. These people have been observed more especially at three places, namely Bartle Bay, Wagawaga, and Tubetube, a small island of the Engineer group lying off the south-eastern extremity of New Guinea. Among them the old custom was to bury the dead on the outskirts of the hamlet and sometimes within a few yards of the houses, and apparently the remains were afterwards as a rule left undisturbed; there was no general practice of exhuming the bones and depositing them elsewhere.[338] At Wagawaga the name for the spirit or soul of a dead person is _arugo_, which also signifies a man's shadow or reflection in a glass or in water; and though animals and trees are not supposed to have spirits, their reflections bear the same name _arugo_.[339] The souls of the dead are believed to depart to the land of Hiyoyoa, which is under the sea, near Maivara, at the head of Milne Bay. The land of the dead, as usual, resembles in all respects the land of the living, except that it is day there when it is night at Wagawaga, and the dead speak of the upper world in the language of Milne Bay instead of in that of Wagawaga. A certain being called Tumudurere receives the ghosts on their arrival and directs them where to make their gardens. The souls of living men and women can journey to the land of the dead and return to earth; indeed this happens not unfrequently. There is a man at Wagawaga who has often gone thither and come back; whenever he wishes to make the journey, he has nothing to do but to smear himself with a magical stuff and to fall asleep, after which he soon wakes up in Hiyoyoa. At first the ghosts whom he met in the other world did not invite him to partake of their food, because they knew that if he did so he could not return to the land of the living; but apparently practice has rendered him immune to the usually fatal effects of the food of the dead.[340] Though Hiyoyoa, at the head of Milne Bay, lies to the west of Wagawaga, the dead are buried in a squatting posture with their faces turned to the east, in order that their souls may depart to the other world.[341] Immediately after the funeral the relations who have taken part in the burial go down to the sea and bathe, and so do the widow and children of the deceased because they supported the dying husband and father in his extremity. After bathing in the sea the widow and children shave their heads.[342] Both the bathing and the shaving are doubtless forms of ceremonial purification; in other words, they are designed to rid the survivors of the taint of death, or perhaps more definitely to remove the ghost from their persons, to which he may be supposed to cling like a burr. At Bartle Bay the dead are buried on their sides with their heads pointing in the direction from which the totem clan of the deceased is said to have come originally; and various kinds of food, of which the dead man had partaken in his last illness, are deposited, along with some paltry personal ornaments, in the grave. Apparently the food is intended to serve as provision for the ghost on his journey to the other world. Curiously enough, the widow is forbidden to eat of the same kinds of food of which her husband ate during his last illness, and the prohibition is strictly observed until after the last of the funeral feasts.[343] The motive of the prohibition is not obvious; perhaps it may be a fear of attracting the ghost back to earth through the savoury food which he loved in the body. At Wagawaga, after the relatives who took part in the burial have bathed in the sea, they cut down several of the coco-nut trees which belonged to the deceased, leaving both nuts and trees to rot on the ground. During the first two or three weeks after the funeral these same relatives may not eat boiled food, but only roast; they may not drink water, but only the milk of young coco-nuts made hot, and although they may eat yams they must abstain from bananas and sugar-cane.[344] A man may not eat coco-nuts grown in his dead father's hamlet, nor pigs and areca-nuts from it during the whole remainder of his life.[345] The reasons for these dietary restrictions are not mentioned, but no doubt the abstinences are based on a fear of the ghost, or at all events on a dread of the contagion of death, to which all who had a share in the burial are especially exposed. [Sidenote: Funeral customs at Tubetube. The fire on the grave. The happy land.] At Tubetube, in like manner, immediately after a funeral a brother of the deceased cuts down two or three of the dead man's coco-nut trees. There, also, the children of the deceased may not eat any coco-nuts from their father's trees nor even from any trees grown in his hamlet; nay, they may not partake of any garden produce grown in the vicinity of the hamlet; and similarly they must abstain from the pork of all pigs fattened in their dead father's village. But these prohibitions do not apply to the brothers, sisters, and other relatives of the departed. The relations who have assisted at the burial remain at the grave for five or six days, being fed by the brothers or other near kinsfolk of the deceased. They may not quit the spot even at night, and if it rains they huddle into a shelter built over the grave. During their vigil at the tomb they may not drink water, but are allowed a little heated coco-nut milk; they are supposed to eat only a little yam and other vegetable food.[346] On the day when the body is buried a fire is kindled at the grave and kept burning night and day until the feast of the dead has been held. "The reason for having the fire is that the spirit may be able to get warm when it rises from the grave. The natives regard the spirit as being very cold, even as the body is when the life has departed from it, and without this external warmth provided by the fire it would be unable to undertake the journey to its final home. The feast for the dead is celebrated when the flesh has decayed, and in some places the skull is taken from the grave, washed and placed in the house, being buried again when the feast is over. At Tubetube this custom of taking the skull from the grave is not regularly followed, in some instances it is, but the feast is always held, and on the night of the day on which the feast takes place, the fire, which has been in some cases kept burning for over a month, is allowed to burn out, as the spirit, being now safe and happy in the spirit-land, has no further need of it."[347] "In this spirit-land eternal youth prevails, there are no old men nor old women, but all are in the full vigour of the prime of life, or are attaining thereto, and having reached that stage never grow older. Old men and old women, who die as such on Tubetube, renew their youth in this happy place, where there are no more sickness, no evil spirits, and no death. Marriage, and giving in marriage, continue; if a man dies, his widow, though she may have married again, is at her death re-united to her first husband in the spirit-land, and the second husband when he arrives has to take one of the women already there who may be without a mate, unless he marries again before his death, in which case he would have to wait until his wife joins him. Children are born, and on arriving at maturity do not grow older. Houses are built, canoes are made but they are never launched, and gardens are planted and yield abundantly. The spirits of their animals, dogs, pigs, etc., which have died on Tubetube, precede and follow them to the spirit-land. Fighting and stealing are unknown, and all are united in a common brotherhood."[348] [Sidenote: The names of the dead not mentioned.] In the south-eastern part of New Guinea the fear of the dead is further manifested by the common custom of avoiding the mention of their names. If their names were those of common objects, the words are dropped from the language of the district so long as the memory of the departed persists, and new names are substituted for them. For example, when a man named Binama, which means the hornbill, died at Wagawaga, the name of the bird was changed to _ambadina_, which means "the plasterer."[349] In this way many words are either permanently lost or revived with modified or new meanings. Hence the fear of the dead is here, as in many other places, a fertile source of change in language. Another indication of the terror inspired by ghosts is the custom of abandoning or destroying the house in which a death has taken place; and this custom used to be observed in certain cases at Tubetube and Wagawaga.[350] [Sidenote: Beliefs and customs concerning the dead in the island of Kiwai.] Thus far I have dealt mainly with the beliefs and practices of the Papuo-Melanesians in the eastern part of British New Guinea. With regard to the pure Papuan population in the western part of the possession our information is much scantier. However, we learn that in Kiwai, a large island at the mouth of the Fly River, the dead are buried in the villages and the ghosts are supposed to live in the ground near their decaying bodies, but to emerge from time to time into the upper air and look about them, only, however, to return to their abode beneath the sod. Nothing is buried with the corpse; but a small platform is made over the grave, or sticks are planted in the ground along its sides, and on these are placed sago, yams, bananas, coco-nuts, and cooked crabs and fish, all for the spirit of the dead to eat. A fire is also kindled beside the grave and kept up by the friends for nine days in order that the poor ghost may not shiver with cold at night. These practices prove not merely a belief in the survival of the soul after death but a desire to make it comfortable. Further, when the deceased is a man, his bow and arrows are stuck at the head of the grave; when the deceased is a woman, her petticoat is hung upon a stick. No doubt the weapons and the garment are intended for the use of the ghost, when he or she revisits the upper air. On the ninth day after the burial a feast is prepared, the drum is beaten, the conch shell blown, and the chief mourner declares that no more fires need be lighted and no more food placed on the grave.[351] [Sidenote: Adiri, the land of the dead, and Sido, the first man who went thither. The fear of ghosts.] According to the natives of Kiwai the land of the dead is called Adiri or Woibu. The first man to go thither and to open up a road for others to follow him, was Sido, a popular hero about whom the people tell many tales. But whereas in his lifetime Sido was an admired and beneficent being, in his ghostly character he became a mischievous elf who played pranks on such as he fell in with. His adventures after death furnish the theme of many stories. However, it is much to his credit that, finding the land of the dead a barren region without vegetation of any sort, he, by an act of generation, converted it into a garden, where bananas, yams, taro, coco-nuts and other fruits and vegetables grew and ripened in a single night. Having thus fertilised the lower region, he announced to Adiri, the lord of the subterranean realm, that he was the precursor of many more men and women who would descend thereafter into the spirit world. His prediction has been amply fulfilled; for ever since then everybody has gone by the same road to the same place.[352] However, when a person dies, his or her spirit may linger for a few days in the neighbourhood of its old home before setting out for the far country. During that time the spirit may occasionally be seen by ordinary people, and accordingly the natives are careful not to go out in the dark for fear of coming bolt on the ghost; and they sometimes adopt other precautions against the prowling spectre, who might otherwise haunt them and carry them off with him to deadland. Some classes of ghosts are particularly dreaded on account of their malignity; such, for example, are the spirits of women who have died in childbed, and of people who have hanged themselves or been devoured by crocodiles. Such ghosts loiter for a long time about the places where they died, and they are very dangerous, because they are for ever luring other people to die the same death which they died themselves. Yet another troop of evil ghosts are the souls of those who were beheaded in battle; for they kill and devour people, and at night you may see the blood shining like fire as it gushes from the gaping gashes in their throats.[353] [Sidenote: The path of the ghosts to Adiri. Adiri, the land of the dead.] The road to Adiri or deadland is fairly well known, and the people can point to many landmarks on it. For example, in the island of Paho there is a tree called _dani_, under which the departing spirits sit down and weep. When they have cried their fill and rubbed their poor tear-bedraggled faces with mud, they make little pellets of clay and throw them at the tree, and anybody can see for himself the pellets sticking to the branches. It is true that the pellets resemble the nests of insects, but this resemblance is only fortuitous. Near the tree is a rocking stone, which the ghosts set in motion, and the sound that they make in so doing is like the muffled roll of a drum. And while the stone rocks to and fro with a hollow murmur, the ghosts dance, the men on one side of the stone and the women on the other. Again at Mabudavane, where the Mawata people have gardens, you may sometimes hear, in the stillness of night, the same weird murmur, which indicates the presence of a ghost. Then everybody keeps quiet, the children are hushed to silence, and all listen intently. The murmur continues for a time and then ends abruptly in a splash, which tells the listeners that the ghost has leaped over the muddy creek. Further on, the spirits come to Boigu, where they swim in the waterhole and often appear to people in their real shape. But after Boigu the track of the ghosts is lost, or at least has not been clearly ascertained. The spirit world lies somewhere away in the far west, but the living are not quite sure of the way to it, and they are somewhat vague in their accounts of it. There is no difference between the fate of the good and the fate of the bad in the far country; the dead meet the friends who died before them; and people who come from the same village probably live together in the same rooms of the long house of the ghosts. However, some native sceptics even doubt whether there is such a place as Adiri at all, and whether death may not be the end of consciousness to the individual.[354] [Sidenote: Appearance of the dead to the living in dreams.] The dead often appear to the living in dreams, warning them of danger or furnishing them with useful information with regard to the cultivation of their gardens, the practice of witchcraft, and so on. In order to obtain advice from his dead parents a man will sometimes dig up their skulls from the grave and sleep beside them; and to make sure of receiving their prompt attention he will not infrequently provide himself with a cudgel, with which he threatens to smash their skulls if they do not answer his questions. Some persons possess a special faculty of communicating with the departing spirit of a person who has just died. Should they desire to question it they will lurk beside the road which ghosts are known to take; and in order not to be betrayed by their smell, which is very perceptible to a ghost, they will chew the leaf or bark of a certain tree and spit the juice over their bodies. Then the ghost cannot detect them, or rather he takes them to be ghosts like himself, and accordingly he may in confidence impart to them most valuable information, such for example as full particulars with regard to the real cause of his death. This priceless intelligence the ghost-seer hastens to communicate to his fellow tribesmen.[355] [Sidenote: Offerings to the dead.] When a man has just died and been buried, his surviving relatives lay some of his weapons and ornaments, together with presents of food, upon his grave, no doubt for the use of the ghost; but some of these things they afterwards remove and bring back to the village, probably considering, with justice, that they will be more useful to the living than to the dead. But offerings to the dead may be presented to them at other places than their tombs. "The great power," says Dr. Landtman, "which the dead represent to the living has given rise to a sort of simple offering to them, almost the only kind of offering met with among the Kiwai Papuans. The natives occasionally lay down presents of food at places to which spirits come, and utter some request for assistance which the spirits are supposed to hear."[356] In such offerings and prayers we may detect the elements of a regular worship of the dead. [Sidenote: Dreams as a source of the belief in immortality.] With regard to the source of these beliefs among the Kiwai people Dr. Landtman observes that "undoubtedly dreams have largely contributed in supplying the natives with ideas about Adiri and life after death. A great number of dreams collected by me among the Kiwai people tell of wanderings to Adiri or of meetings with spirits of dead men, and as dreams are believed to describe the real things which the soul sees while roaming about outside the body, we understand that they must greatly influence the imagination of the people."[357] That concludes what I have to say as to the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the natives of British New Guinea. In the following lectures I shall deal with the same rudimentary aspect of religion as it is reported to exist among the aborigines of the vast regions of German and Dutch New Guinea. [Footnote 310: C. G. Seligmann, _The Melanesians of British New Guinea_ (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 1 _sq._] [Footnote 311: See below, pp. 242, 256, 261 _sq._, 291.] [Footnote 312: A. C. Haddon, _Headhunters, Black, White, and Brown_ (London, 1901), pp. 249 _sq._ As to the Motu and their Melanesian or Polynesian affinities, see Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology of the Motu," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, vii. (1878) pp. 470 _sqq._] [Footnote 313: Rev. J. Chalmers, _Pioneering in New Guinea_ (London, 1887), pp. 168-170. Compare Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology of the Motu," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, vii. (1878) pp. 484 _sqq._; Rev. W. G. Lawes, "Ethnological Notes on the Motu, Koitapu and Koiari Tribes of New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, viii. (1879) pp. 370 _sq._] [Footnote 314: A. C. Haddon, _Headhunters, Black, White, and Brown_, pp. 249 _sq._; C. G. Seligmann, _The Melanesians of British New Guinea_, pp. 16, 41. As to the Koita (or Koitapu) and the Motu, see further the Rev. W. Y. Turner, "The Ethnology of the Motu," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, vii. (1878) pp. 470 _sqq._; Rev. W. G. Lawes, "Ethnological Notes on the Motu, Koitapu and Koiari Tribes of New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, viii. (1879) pp. 369 _sq._] [Footnote 315: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 189-191.] [Footnote 316: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 185 _sq._] [Footnote 317: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 192.] [Footnote 318: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 190-192. As to the desertion of the house after death, see _id._, pp. 89 _sq._] [Footnote 319: The territory of the Roro-speaking tribes extends from Kevori, east of Waimatuma (Cape Possession), to Hiziu in the neighbourhood of Galley Reach. Inland of these tribes lies a region called by them Mekeo, which is inhabited by two closely related tribes, the Biofa and Vee. Off the coast lies Yule Island, which is commonly called Roro. See C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 195.] [Footnote 320: V. Jouet, _La Société des Missionaires du Sacré Coeur dans les Vicariats Apostoliques de la Mélanésie et de la Micronésie_ (Issoudun, 1887), p. 30; Father Guis, "Les Canaques: Mort-deuil," _Missions Catholiques_, xxxiv. (1902) pp. 186, 200.] [Footnote 321: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 274 _sq._] [Footnote 322: Father Guis, "Les Canaques: Mort-deuil," _Missions Catholiques_, xxxiv. (1902) pp. 208 _sq._ See _Psyche's Task_, pp. 75 _sq._] [Footnote 323: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 310.] [Footnote 324: R. W. Williamson, _The Mafulu Mountain People of British New Guinea_ (London, 1912), pp. 2 _sq._, 297 _sqq._] [Footnote 325: R. W. Williamson, _op. cit._ pp. 243 _sq._, 246, 266-269.] [Footnote 326: R. W. Williamson, _op. cit._ pp. 245-250.] [Footnote 327: R. W. Williamson, _op. cit._ pp. 256-258, 261-263.] [Footnote 328: R. W. Williamson, _op. cit._ pp. 125-152.] [Footnote 329: R. W. Williamson, _op. cit._ pp. 270 _sq._] [Footnote 330: J. Chalmers and W. Wyatt Gill, _Work and Adventure in New Guinea_ (London, 1885), pp. 84-86.] [Footnote 331: R. E. Guise, "On the Tribes inhabiting the Mouth of the Wanigela River, New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxviii. (1899) p. 205.] [Footnote 332: A. C. Haddon, _Headhunters, Black, White, and Brown_, p. 213.] [Footnote 333: R. E. Guise, _op. cit._ pp. 216 _sq._] [Footnote 334: R. E. Guise, _op. cit._ pp. 210 _sq._] [Footnote 335: R. E. Guise, _op. cit._ p. 211.] [Footnote 336: R. E. Guise, _op. cit._ pp. 213 _sq._] [Footnote 337: _Psyche's Task_, pp. 52 _sqq._; _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 167 _sqq._] [Footnote 338: C. G. Seligmann, _The Melanesians of British New Guinea_, p. 607.] [Footnote 339: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 655.] [Footnote 340: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 655 _sq._] [Footnote 341: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 610.] [Footnote 342: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ p. 611.] [Footnote 343: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 616 _sq._] [Footnote 344: C. G. Seligmann. _op. cit._ p. 611.] [Footnote 345: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 618 _sq._] [Footnote 346: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 613 _sq._] [Footnote 347: The Rev. J. T. Field of Tubetube (Slade Island), quoted by George Brown, D.D., _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 442 _sq._] [Footnote 348: Rev. J. T. Field, _op. cit._ pp. 443 _sq._] [Footnote 349: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 629-631. Dr. Seligmann seems to think that the custom is at present dictated by courtesy and a reluctance to grieve the relatives of the deceased; but the original motive can hardly have been any other than a fear of the ghost.] [Footnote 350: C. G. Seligmann, _op. cit._ pp. 631 _sq._] [Footnote 351: Rev. J. Chalmers, "Notes on the Natives of Kiwai Island, Fly River, British New Guinea," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxiii. (1903) pp. 119, 120.] [Footnote 352: G. Landtman, "Wanderings of the Dead in the Folk-lore of the Kiwai-speaking Papuans," _Festskrift tillägnad Edvard Westermarck_ (Helsingfors, 1912), pp. 59-66.] [Footnote 353: G. Landtman, _op. cit._ pp. 67 _sq._] [Footnote 354: G. Landtman, _op. cit._ pp. 68-71.] [Footnote 355: G. Landtman, _op. cit._ pp. 77 _sq._] [Footnote 356: G. Landtman, _op. cit._ pp. 78 _sq._] [Footnote 357: G. Landtman, _op. cit._ p. 71.] LECTURE X THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA [Sidenote: Andrew Lang.] I feel that I cannot begin my second course of lectures without referring to the loss which the study of primitive religion has lately sustained by the death of one of my predecessors in this chair, one who was a familiar and an honoured figure in this place, Mr. Andrew Lang. Whatever may be the judgment of posterity on his theories--and all our theories on these subjects are as yet more or less tentative and provisional--there can be no question but that by the charm of his writings, the wide range of his knowledge, the freshness and vigour of his mind, and the contagious enthusiasm which he brought to bear on whatever he touched, he was a great power in promoting the study of primitive man not in this country only, but wherever the English language is spoken, and that he won for himself a permanent place in the history of the science to which he devoted so much of his remarkable gifts and abilities. As he spent a part of every winter in St. Andrews, I had thought that in the course on which I enter to-day I might perhaps be honoured by his presence at some of my lectures. But it was not to be. Yet a fancy strikes me to which I will venture to give utterance. You may condemn, but I am sure you will not smile at it. It has been said of Macaulay that if his spirit ever revisited the earth, it might be expected to haunt the flagged walk beside the chapel in the great court of Trinity College, Cambridge, the walk which in his lifetime he loved to pace book in hand. And if Andrew Lang's spirit could be seen flitting pensively anywhere, would it not be just here, in "the college of the scarlet gown," in the "little city worn and grey," looking out on the cold North Sea, the city which he knew and loved so well? Be that as it may, his memory will always be associated with St. Andrews; and if the students who shall in future go forth from this ancient university to carry St. Andrew's Cross, if I may say so, on their banner in the eternal warfare with falsehood and error,--if they cannot imitate Andrew Lang in the versatility of his genius, in the variety of his accomplishments, in the manifold graces of his literary art, it is to be hoped that they will strive to imitate him in qualities which are more within the reach of us all, in his passionate devotion to knowledge, in his ardent and unflagging pursuit of truth. * * * * * [Sidenote: Review of preceding lectures.] In my last course of lectures I explained that I proposed to treat of the belief in immortality from a purely historical point of view. My intention is not to discuss the truth of the belief or to criticise the grounds on which it has been maintained. To do so would be to trench on the province of the theologian and the philosopher. I limit myself to the far humbler task of describing, first, the belief as it has been held by some savage races, and, second, some of the practical consequences which these primitive peoples have deduced from it for the conduct of life, whether these consequences take the shape of religious rites or moral precepts. Now in such a survey of savage creed and practice it is convenient to begin with the lowest races of men about whom we have accurate information and to pass from them gradually to higher and higher races, because we thus start with the simplest forms of religion and advance by regular gradations to more complex forms, and we may hope in this way to render the course of religious evolution more intelligible than if we were to start from the most highly developed religions and to work our way down from them to the most embryonic. In pursuance of this plan I commenced my survey with the aborigines of Australia, because among the races of man about whom we are well informed these savages are commonly and, I believe, justly supposed to stand at the foot of the human scale. Having given you some account of their beliefs and practices concerning the dead I attempted to do the same for the islanders of Torres Straits and next for the natives of British New Guinea. There I broke off, and to-day I shall resume the thread of my discourse at the broken end by describing the beliefs and practices concerning the dead, as these beliefs are entertained and these practices observed by the natives of German New Guinea. [Sidenote: German New Guinea.] As you are aware, the German territory of New Guinea skirts the British territory on the north throughout its entire length and comprises roughly a quarter of the whole island, the British and German possessions making up together the eastern half of New Guinea, while the western half belongs to Holland. [Sidenote: Information as to the natives of German New Guinea.] Our information as to the natives of German New Guinea is very fragmentary, and is confined almost entirely to the tribes of the coast. As to the inhabitants of the interior we know as yet very little. However, German missionaries and others have described more or less fully the customs and beliefs of the natives at various points of this long coast, and I shall extract from their descriptions some notices of that particular aspect of the native religion with which in these lectures we are specially concerned. The points on the coast as to which a certain amount of ethnographical information is forthcoming are, to take them in the order from west to east, Berlin Harbour, Potsdam Harbour, Astrolabe Bay, the Maclay Coast, Cape King William, Finsch Harbour, and the Tami Islands in Huon Gulf. I propose to say something as to the natives at each of these points, beginning with Berlin Harbour, the most westerly of them. [Sidenote: The island of Tumleo.] Berlin Harbour is formed by a group of four small islands, which here lie off the coast. One of the islands bears the name of Tumleo or Tamara, and we possess an excellent account of the natives of this island from the pen of a Catholic missionary, Father Mathias Josef Erdweg,[358] which I shall draw upon in what follows. We have also a paper by a German ethnologist, the late Mr. R. Parkinson, on the same subject,[359] but his information is in part derived from Father Erdweg and he appears to have erred by applying too generally the statements which Father Erdweg strictly limited to the inhabitants of Tumleo.[360] [Sidenote: The natives of Tumleo, their material and artistic culture.] The island of Tumleo lies in 142° 25" of East Longitude and 3° 15" of South Latitude, and is distant about sixty sea-miles from the westernmost point of German New Guinea. It is a coral island, surrounded by a barrier reef and rising for the most part only a few feet above the sea.[361] In stature the natives fall below the average European height; but they are well fed and strongly built. Their colour varies from black to light brown. Their hair is very frizzly. Women and children wear it cut short; men wear it done up into wigs. They number less than three hundred, divided into four villages. The population seems to have declined through wars, disease, and infanticide.[362] Like the Papuans generally, they live in settled villages and engage in fishing, agriculture, and commerce. The houses are solidly built of wood and are raised above the ground upon piles, which consist of a hard and durable timber, sometimes iron-wood.[363] The staple food of the people is sago, which they obtain from the sago-palm. These stately palms, with their fan-like foliage, are rare on the coral island of Tumleo, but grow abundantly in the swampy lowlands of the neighbouring mainland. Accordingly in the months of May and June, when the sea is calm, the natives cross over to the mainland in their canoes and obtain a supply of sago in exchange for the products of their island. The sago is eaten in the form both of porridge and of bread.[364] Other vegetable foods are furnished by sweet potatoes, taro, yams, bananas, sugar-cane, and coco-nuts, all of which the natives cultivate.[365] Fishing is a principal industry of the people; it is plied by both sexes and by old and young, with nets, spears, and bows and arrows.[366] Pottery is another flourishing industry. As among many other savages, it is practised only by women, but the men take the pots to market; for these islanders do a good business in pots with the neighbouring tribes.[367] They build large outrigger canoes, which sail well before the wind, but can hardly beat up against it, being heavy to row. In these canoes the natives of Tumleo make long voyages along the coast; but as the craft are not very seaworthy they never stand out to sea, if they can help it, but hug the shore in order to run for safety to the beach in stormy weather.[368] In regard to art the natives display some taste and skill in wood-carving. For example, the projecting house-beams are sometimes carved in the shape of crocodiles, birds, and grotesque human figures; and their canoes, paddles, head-rests, drums, drum-sticks, and vessels are also decorated with carving. Birds, fish, crocodiles, foliage, and scroll-work are the usual patterns.[369] [Sidenote: The temples (_paraks_) of Tumleo.] A remarkable feature in the villages of Tumleo and the neighbouring islands and mainland consists of the _paraks_ or temples, the high gables of which may be seen rising above the bushes in all the villages of this part of the coast. No such buildings exist elsewhere in this region. They are set apart for the worship of certain guardian spirits, and on them the native lavishes all the resources of his elementary arts of sculpture and painting. They are built of wood in two storeys and raised on piles besides. The approach to one of them is always by one or two ladders provided on both sides with hand-rails or banisters. These banisters are elaborately decorated with carving, which is always of the same pattern. One banister is invariably carved in the shape of a crocodile holding a grotesque human figure in its jaws, while on the other hand the animal's tail is grasped by one or more human figures. The other banister regularly exhibits a row of human or rather ape-like effigies seated one behind the other, each of them resting his arms on the shoulders of the figure in front. Often there are seven such figures in a row. The natives are so shy in speaking of these temples that it is difficult to ascertain the meaning of the curious carvings by which they are adorned. Mr. Parkinson supposed that they represent spirits, not apes. He tells us that there are no apes in New Guinea. The interior of the temple (_parak_) is generally empty. The only things to be seen in its two rooms, the upper and lower, are bamboo flutes and drums made out of the hollow trunks of trees. On these instruments men concealed in the temple discourse music in order to signify the presence of the spirit.[370] [Sidenote: The bachelors' houses (_alols_) of Tumleo.] Different from these _paraks_ or temples are the _alols_, which are bachelors' houses and council-houses in one. Like the temples, they are raised above the ground and approached by a ladder, but unlike the temples they have only one storey. In them the unmarried men live and the married men meet to take counsel and to speak of things which may not be mentioned before women. On a small stand or table in each of these _alols_ or men's clubhouses are kept the skulls of dead men. And as the temple (_parak_) is devoted to the worship of spirits, so the men's clubhouse (_alol_) is the place where the dead ancestors are worshipped. Women and children may not enter it, but it is not regarded with such superstitious fear as the temple. The dead are buried in their houses or beside them. Afterwards the bones are dug up and the skulls of grown men are deposited, along with one of the leg bones, on the stand or table in the men's clubhouse (_alol_). The skulls of youths, women, and children are kept in the houses where they died. When the table in the clubhouse is quite full of grinning trophies of mortality, the old skulls are removed to make room for the new ones and are thrown away in a sort of charnel-house, where the other bones are deposited after they have been dug up from the graves. Such a charnel-house is called a _tjoll páru_. There is one such place for the bones of grown men and another for the bones of women and children. Some bones, however, are kept and used as ornaments or as means to work magic with. For the dead are often invoked, for example, to lay the wind or for other useful purposes; and at such invocations the bones play a part.[371] [Sidenote: Spirits of the dead thought to be the causes of sickness and disease.] But while the spirits of the dead are thus invited to help their living relations and friends, they are also feared as the causes of sickness and disease. Any serious ailment is usually attributed to magic or witchcraft, and the treatment which is resorted to aims rather at breaking the spell which has been cast on the sick man than at curing his malady by the application of physical remedies. In short the remedy is exorcism rather than physic. Now the enchantment under which the patient is supposed to be labouring is often, though not always, ascribed to the malignant arts of the spirits of the dead, or the _mõs_, as the natives of Tumleo call them. In such a case the ghosts are thought to be clinging to the body of the sufferer, and the object of the medical treatment is to detach them from him and send them far away. With this kindly intention some men will go into the forest and collect a number of herbs, including a kind of peppermint. These are tied into one or more bundles according to the number of the patients and then taken to the men's clubhouse (_alol_), where they are heated over a fire. Then the patient is brought, and two men strike him lightly with the packet of herbs on his body and legs, while they utter an incantation, inviting the ancestral spirits who are plaguing him to leave his body and go away, in order that he may be made whole. One such incantation, freely translated, runs thus: "Spirit of the great-grandfather, of the father, come out! We give thee coco-nuts, sago-porridge, fish. Go away (from the sick man). Let him be well. Do no harm here and there. Tell the people of Leming (O spirit) to give us tobacco. When the waves are still, we push off from the land, sailing northward (to Tumleo). It is the time of the north-west wind (when the surf is heavy). May the billows calm down in the south, O in the south, on the coast of Leming, that we may sail to the south, to Leming! Out there may the sea be calm, that we may push off from the land for home!" In this incantation a prayer to the spirit of the dead to relax his hold on the sufferer appears to be curiously combined with a prayer or spell to calm the sea when the people sail across to the coast of Leming to fetch a cargo of tobacco. When the incantation has been recited and the patient stroked with the bundle of herbs, one of his ears and both his arm-pits are moistened with a blood-red spittle produced by the chewing of betel-nut, pepper, and lime. Then they take hold of his fingers and make each of them crack, one after the other, while they recite some of the words of the preceding incantation. Next three men take each of them a branch of the _volju_ tree, bend it into a bow, and stroke the sick man from head to foot, while they recite another incantation, in which they command the spirit to let the sick man alone and to go away into the water or the mud. Often when a man is seriously ill he will remove from his own house to the house of a relation or friend, hoping that the spirit who has been tormenting him will not be able to discover him at his new address.[372] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs in Tumleo.] If despite of all these precautions the patient should die, he or she is placed in a wooden coffin and buried with little delay in a grave, which is dug either in the house or close beside it. The body is smeared all over with clay and decked with many rings or ornaments, most of which, however, are removed in a spirit of economy before the lid of the coffin is shut down. Sometimes arrows, sometimes a rudder, sometimes the bones of dead relations are buried with the corpse in the grave. When the grave is dug outside of the house, a small hut is erected over it, and a fire is kept burning on it for a time. In the house of mourning the wife, sister, or other female relative of the deceased must remain strictly secluded for a period which varies from a few weeks to three months. In token of mourning the widow's body is smeared with clay, and from time to time she is heard to chant a dirge in a whining, melancholy tone. This seclusion lasts so long as the ghost is supposed to be still on his way to the other world. When he has reached his destination, the fire is suffered to die down on the grave, and his widow or other female relative is free to quit the house and resume her ordinary occupations. Through her long seclusion in the shade her swarthy complexion assumes a lighter tint, but it soon deepens again when she is exposed once more to the strong tropical sunshine.[373] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Tumleo people as to the fate of the human soul after death.] The people of Tumleo firmly believe in the existence of the human soul after death, though their notions of the disembodied soul or _mõs_, as they call it, are vague. They think that on its departure from the body the soul goes to a place deep under ground, where there is a great water. Over that water every soul must pass on a ladder to reach the abode of bliss. The ladder is in the keeping of a spirit called _Su asin tjakin_ or "the Great Evil," who takes toll of the ghosts before he lets them use his ladder. Hence an ear-ring and a bracelet are deposited with every corpse in the grave in order that the dead man may have wherewithal to pay the toll to the spirit at the great water. When the ghost arrives at the place of passage and begs for the use of the ladder, the spirit asks him, "Shall I get my bracelet if I let you pass?" If he receives it and happens to be in a good humour, he will let the ghost scramble across the ladder to the further shore. But woe to the stingy ghost, who should try to sneak across the ladder without paying toll. The ghostly tollkeeper detects the fraud in an instant and roars out, "So you would cheat me of my dues? You shall pay for that." So saying he tips the ladder up, and down falls the ghost plump into the deep water and is drowned. But the honest ghost, who has paid his way like a man and arrived on the further shore, is met by two other ghosts who ferry him in a canoe across to Sisano, which is a place on the mainland a good many miles to the north of Tumleo. A great river flows there and in the river are three cities of the dead, in one of which the newly arrived ghost takes up his abode. Then it is that the fire on his grave is allowed to go out and his widow may mingle with her fellows again. However, the ghosts are not strictly confined to the spirit-land. They can come back to earth and roam about working good or evil for the living and especially for their friends and relations.[374] [Sidenote: Monuments to the dead in Tumleo. Disinterment of the bones.] It is perhaps this belief not only in the existence but in the return of the spirits of the dead which induces the survivors to erect monuments or memorials to them. In Tumleo these monuments consist for the most part of young trees, which are cut down, stripped of their leaves, and set up in the ground beside the house of the deceased. The branches of such a memorial tree are hung with fruits, coco-nuts, loin-cloths, pots, and personal ornaments, all of which we may suppose are intended for the comfort and convenience of the ghost when he returns from deadland to pay his friends a visit.[375] But the remains of the dead are not allowed to rest quietly in the grave for ever. After two or three years they are dug up with much ceremony at the point of noon, when the sun is high overhead. The skull of the deceased, if he was a man, is then deposited, as we saw, with one of the thigh bones in the men's clubhouse, while of the remaining bones some are kept by the relations and the others thrown away in a charnel-house. Among the relics which the relations preserve are the lower arm bones, the shoulder-blades, the ribs, and the vertebra. The vertebra is often fastened to a bracelet; a couple of ribs are converted into a necklace; and the shoulder-blades are used to decorate baskets. The lower arm bones are generally strung on a cord, which is worn on solemn occasions round the neck so that the bones hang down behind. They are especially worn thus in war, and they are made use of also when their owner desires to obtain a favourable wind for a voyage. No doubt, though this is not expressly affirmed, the spirit of the departed is supposed to remain attached in some fashion to his bones and so to help the possessor of these relics in time of need. When the bones have been dug up and disposed of with all due ceremony, several men who were friends or relations of the deceased must keep watch and ward for some days in the men's clubhouse, where his grinning skull now stands amid similar trophies of mortality on a table or shelf. They may not quit the building except in case of necessity, and they must always speak in a whisper for fear of disturbing the ghost, who is very naturally lurking in the neighbourhood of his skull. However, in spite of these restrictions the watchers enjoy themselves; for baskets of sago and fish are provided abundantly for their consumption, and if their tongues are idle their jaws are very busy.[376] [Sidenote: Propitiation of the souls of the dead and other spirits.] The people think that if they stand on a good footing with the souls of the departed and with other spirits, these powerful beings will bring them good luck in trade and on their voyages. Now the time when trade is lively and the calm sea is dotted with canoes plying from island to island or from island to mainland, is the season when the gentle south-east monsoon is blowing. On the other hand, when the waves run high under the blast of the strong north-west monsoon, the sea is almost deserted and the people stay at home;[377] the season is to these tropical islanders what winter is to the inhabitants of northern latitudes. Accordingly it is when the wind is shifting round from the stormy north-west to the balmy south-east that the natives set themselves particularly to win the favour of ghosts and spirits, and this they do by repairing the temples and clubhouses in which the spirits and ghosts are believed to dwell, and by cleaning and tidying up the open spaces around them. These repairs are the occasion of a festival accompanied by dances and games. Early in the morning of the festive day the shrill notes of the flutes and the hollow rub-a-dub of the drums are heard to proceed from the interior of the temple, proclaiming the arrival of the guardian spirit and his desire to partake of fish and sago. So the men assemble and the feast is held in the evening. Festivals are also held both in the temples and in the men's clubhouses on the occasion of a successful hunt or fishing. Out of gratitude for the help vouchsafed them by the ancestral spirits, the hunters or fishers bring the larger game or fish to the temples or clubhouses and eat them there; and then hang up some parts of the animals or fish, such as the skeletons, the jawbones of pigs, or the shells of turtles, in the clubhouses as a further mark of homage to the spirits of the dead.[378] [Sidenote: Guardian spirits (_tapum_) in Tumleo.] So far as appears, the spirits who dwell in the temples are not supposed to be ancestors. Father Erdweg describes them as guardian spirits or goddesses, for they are all of the female sex. Every village has several of them; indeed in the village of Sapi almost every family has its own guardian spirit. The name for these guardian spirits is _tapum_, which seems to be clearly connected with the now familiar word _tapu_ or taboo, in the sense of sacred, which is universally understood in the islands of the Pacific. On the whole the _tapum_ are kindly and beneficent spirits, who bring good luck to such as honour them. A hunter or a fisherman ascribes his success in the chase or in fishing to the protection of his guardian spirit; and when he is away from home trading for sago and other necessaries of life, it is his guardian spirit who gives him favour in the eyes of the foreigners with whom he is dealing. Curiously enough, though these guardian spirits are all female, they have no liking for women and children. Indeed, no woman or child may set foot in a temple, or even loiter in the open space in front of it. And at the chief festivals, when the temples are being repaired, all the women and children must quit the village till the evening shadows have fallen and the banquet of their husbands, fathers, and brothers at the temple is over.[379] On the whole, then, we conclude that a belief in the continued existence of the spirits of the dead, and in their power to help or harm their descendants, plays a considerable part in the life of the Papuans of Tumleo. Whether the guardian spirits or goddesses, who are worshipped in the temples, were originally conceived as ancestral spirits or not, must be left an open question for the present. [Sidenote: The Monumbo of Potsdam Harbour.] Passing eastward from Tumleo along the northern coast of German New Guinea we come to Monumbo or Potsdam Harbour, situated about the 145th degree of East Longitude. The Monumbo are a Papuan tribe numbering about four hundred souls, who inhabit twelve small villages close to the seashore. Their territory is a narrow but fertile strip of country, well watered and covered with luxuriant vegetation, lying between the sea and a range of hills. The bay is sheltered by an island from the open sea, and the natives can paddle their canoes on its calm water in almost any weather. The villages, embowered on the landward side in groves of trees of many useful sorts and screened in front by rows of stately coco-nut palms, are composed of large houses solidly built of timber and are kept very clean and tidy. The Monumbo are a strongly-built people, of the average European height, with what is described as a remarkably Semitic type of features. The men wear their hair plaited about a long tube, decorated with shells and dogs' teeth, which sticks out stiffly from the head. The women wear their hair in a sort of mop, composed of countless plaits, which hang down in tangle. In disposition the Monumbo are cheerful and contented, proud of themselves and their country; they think they are the cleverest and most fortunate people on earth, and look down with pity and contempt on Europeans. According to them the business of the foreign settlers in their country is folly, and the teaching of the missionaries is nonsense. They subsist by agriculture, hunting, and fishing. Their well-kept plantations occupy the level ground and in some places extend up the hill-sides. Among the plants which they cultivate are taro, yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, various kinds of vegetables, and sugar-cane. Among their fruit-trees are the sago-palm, the coco-nut palm, and the bread-fruit tree. They make use both of earthenware and of wooden vessels. Their dances, especially their masked dances, which are celebrated at intervals of four or five years, have excited the warm admiration of the despised European.[380] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Monumbo concerning the spirits of the dead. Dread of ghosts.] With regard to their religion and morality I will quote the evidence of a Catholic missionary who has laboured among them. "The Monumbo are acquainted with no Supreme Being, no moral good or evil, no rewards, no place of punishment or joy after death, no permanent immortality.... When people die, their souls go to the land of spirits, a place where they dwell without work or suffering, but which they can also quit. Betel-chewing, smoking, dancing, sleeping, all the occupations that they loved on earth, are continued without interruption in the other world. They converse with men in dreams, but play them many a shabby trick, take possession of them and even, it may be, kill them. Yet they also help men in all manner of ways in war and the chase. Men invoke them, pray to them, make statues in their memory, which are called _dva_ (plural _dvaka_), and bring them offerings of food, in order to obtain their assistance. But if the spirits of the dead do not help, they are rated in the plainest language. Death makes no great separation. The living converse with the dead very much as they converse with each other. Time alone brings with it a gradual oblivion of the departed. Falling stars and lightning are nothing but the souls of the dead, who stick dry banana leaves in their girdles, set them on fire, and then fly through the air. At last when the souls are old they die, but are not annihilated, for they are changed into animals and plants. Such animals are, for example, the white ants and a rare kind of wild pig, which is said not to allow itself to be killed. Such a tree, for example, is the _barimbar_. That, apparently, is the whole religion of the Monumbo. Yet they are ghost-seers of the most arrant sort. An anxious superstitious fear pursues them at every step. Superstitious views are the motives that determine almost everything that they do or leave undone."[381] Their dread of ghosts is displayed in their custom of doing no work in the plantations for three days after a death, lest the ghost, touched to the quick by their heartless indifference, should send wild boars to ravage the plantations. And when a man has slain an enemy in war, he has to remain a long time secluded in the men's clubhouse, touching nobody, not even his wife and children, while the villagers celebrate his victory with song and dance. He is believed to be in a state of ceremonial impurity (_bolobolo_) such that, if he were to touch his wife and children, they would be covered with sores. At the end of his seclusion he is purified by washings and other purgations and is clean once more.[382] The reason of this uncleanness of a victorious warrior is not mentioned, but analogy makes it nearly certain that it is a dread of the vengeful ghost of the man whom he has slain. A similar fear probably underlies the rule that a widower must abstain from certain foods, such as fish and sauces, and from bathing for a certain time after the death of his wife.[383] [Sidenote: The Tamos of Astrolabe Bay. Mistake of attempting to combine descriptive with comparative anthropology.] Leaving Potsdam Harbour and the Monumbo, and moving still eastward along the coast of German New Guinea, we come to a large indentation known as Astrolabe Bay. The natives of this part of the coast call themselves Tamos. The largest village on the bay bears the name of Bogadyim and in 1894 numbered about three hundred inhabitants.[384] Our principal authority on the natives is a German ethnologist, Dr. B. Hagen, who spent about eighteen months at Stefansort on Astrolabe Bay. Unfortunately he has mixed up his personal observations of these particular people not merely with second-hand accounts of natives of other parts of New Guinea but with discussions of general theories of the origin and migrations of races and of the development of social institutions; so that it is not altogether easy to disentangle the facts for which he is a first-hand witness, from those which he reports at second, third, or fourth hand. Scarcely anything, I may observe in passing, more impairs the value and impedes the usefulness of personal observations of savage races than this deplorable habit of attempting to combine the work of description with the work of comparison and generalisation. The two kinds of work are entirely distinct in their nature, and require very different mental qualities for their proper performance; the one should never be confused with the other. The task of descriptive anthropology is to record observations, without any admixture of theory; the task of comparative anthropology is to compare the observations made in all parts of the world, and from the comparison to deduce theories, more or less provisional, of the origin and growth of beliefs and institutions, always subject to modification and correction by facts which may afterwards be brought to light. There is no harm, indeed there is great positive advantage, in the descriptive anthropologist making himself acquainted with the theories of the comparative anthropologist, for by so doing his attention will probably be called to many facts which he might otherwise have overlooked and which, when recorded, may either confirm or refute the theories in question. But if he knows these theories, he should keep his knowledge strictly in the background and never interlard his descriptions of facts with digressions into an alien province. In this way descriptive anthropology and comparative anthropology will best work hand in hand for the furtherance of their common aim, the understanding of the nature and development of man. [Sidenote: The religion of the Tamos. Beliefs of the Tamos as to the souls of the dead.] Like the Papuans in general, the Tamos of Astrolabe Bay are a settled agricultural people, who dwell in fixed villages, subsist mainly by the produce of the ground which they cultivate, and engage in a commerce of barter with their neighbours.[385] Their material culture thus does not differ essentially from that of the other Papuans, and I need not give particulars of it. With regard to their religious views Dr. Hagen tells us candidly that he has great hesitation in expressing an opinion. "Nothing," he says very justly, "is more difficult for a European than to form an approximately correct conception of the religious views of a savage people, and the difficulty is infinitely increased when the enquirer has little or no knowledge of their language." Dr. Hagen had, indeed, an excellent interpreter and intelligent assistant in the person of a missionary, Mr. Hoffmann; but Mr. Hoffmann himself admitted that he had no clear ideas as to the religious views of the Tamos; however, in his opinion they are entirely destitute of the conception of God and of a Creator. Yet among the Tamos of Bogadyim, Dr. Hagen tells us, a belief in the existence of the soul after death is proved by their assertion that after death the soul (_gunung_) goes to _buka kure_, which seems to mean the village of ghosts. This abode of the dead appears to be situated somewhere in the earth, and the Tamos speak of it with a shudder. They tell of a man in the village of Bogadyim who died and went away to the village of the ghosts. But as he drew near to the village, he met the ghost of his dead brother who had come forth with bow and arrows and spear to hunt a wild boar. This boar-hunting ghost was very angry at meeting his brother, who had just died, and drove him back to the land of the living. From this narrative it would seem that in the other world the ghosts are thought to pursue the same occupations which they followed in life. The natives are in great fear of ghosts (_buka_). Travelling alone with them in the forest at nightfall you may mark their timidity and hear them cry anxiously, "Come, let us be going! The ghost is roaming about." The ghosts of those who have perished in battle do not go to the Village of Ghosts (_buka kure_); they repair to another place called _bopa kure_. But this abode of the slain does not seem to be a happy land or Valhalla; the natives are even more afraid of it than of the Village of Ghosts (_buka kure_). They will hardly venture at night to pass a spot where any one has been slain. Sometimes fires are kindled by night on such spots; and the sight of the flames flickering in the distance inspires all the beholders with horror, and nothing in the world would induce them to approach such a fire. The souls of men who have been killed, but whose death has not been avenged, are supposed to haunt the village. For some time after death the ghost is believed to linger in the neighbourhood of his deserted body. When Mr. Hoffmann went with some Tamos to another village to bring back the body of a fellow missionary, who had died there, and darkness had fallen on them in the forest, his native companions started with fear every moment, imagining that they saw the missionary's ghost popping out from behind a tree.[386] [Sidenote: Treatment of the corpse. Secret Society called _Asa_.] When death has taken place, the corpse is first exposed on a scaffold in front of the house, where it is decked with ornaments and surrounded with flowers. If the deceased was rich, a dog is hung on each side of the scaffold, and the souls of the animals are believed to accompany the ghost to the spirit-land. Taros, yams, and coco-nuts are also suspended from the scaffold, no doubt for the refreshment of the ghost. Then the melancholy notes of a horn are heard in the distance, at the sound of which all the women rush away. Soon the horn-blower appears, paints the corpse white and red, crowns it with great red hibiscus roses, then blows his horn, and vanishes.[387] He is a member of a secret society, called _Asa_, which has its lodge standing alone in the forest. Only men belong to the society; women and children are excluded from it and look upon it with fear and awe. If any one raises a cry, "_Asa_ is coming," or the sound of the musical instruments of the society is heard in the distance, all the women and children scamper away. The natives are very unwilling to let any stranger enter one of the lodges of the society. The interior of such a building is usually somewhat bare, but it contains the wooden masks which are worn in the ceremonial dances of the society, and the horns and flutes on which the members discourse their awe-inspiring music. In construction it scarcely differs from the ordinary huts of the village; if anything it is worse built and more primitive. The secrets of the society are well kept; at least very little seems to have been divulged to Europeans. The most important of its ceremonies is that of the initiation of the young men, who on this occasion are circumcised before they are recognised as full-grown men and members of the secret society. At such times the men encamp and feast for weeks or even months together on the open space in front of the society's lodge, and masked dances are danced to the accompaniment of the instrumental music. These initiatory ceremonies are held at intervals of about ten or fifteen years, when there are a considerable number of young men to be initiated together.[388] Although we are still in the dark as to the real meaning of this and indeed of almost all similar secret societies among savages, the solemn part played by a member of the society at the funeral rites seems very significant. Why should he come mysteriously to the melancholy music of the horn, paint the corpse red and white, crown it with red roses, and then vanish again to music as he had come? It is scarcely rash to suppose that this ceremony has some reference to the state of the dead man's soul, and we may conjecture that just as the fruits hung on the scaffold are doubtless intended for the consumption of the ghost, and the souls of the dogs are expressly said to accompany him to the spirit-land, so the painting of the corpse and the crown of red roses may be designed in some way to speed the parting spirit on the way to its long home. In the absence of exact information as to the beliefs of these savages touching the state of the dead we can only guess at the meaning which they attach to these symbols. Perhaps they think that only ghosts who are painted red and white and who wear wreaths of red roses on their heads are admitted to the Village of the Ghosts, and that such as knock at the gate with no paint on their bodies and no wreath of roses on their brows are refused admittance and must turn sorrowfully away, to haunt their undutiful friends on earth who had omitted to pay the last marks of respect and honour to the dead. [Sidenote: Burial customs of the Tamos. Removal of the lower jawbone.] When the corpse has lain in all its glory, with its ornaments, its paint and its flowers, for a short time on the scaffold, it is removed and buried. The exposure never lasts more than a day. If the man died in the morning, he is buried at night. The grave is dug in the house itself. It is only about three feet deep and four feet long. If the corpse is too long for the grave, as usually happens, the legs are remorselessly doubled up and trampled in. It is the relations on the mother's side who dig the grave and lower the body, shrouded in mats or leaves, into its narrow bed. Before doing so they take care to strip it of its ornaments, its rings, necklaces, boar's teeth, and so forth, which no doubt are regarded as too valuable to be sacrificed. Yet a regard for the comfort of the dead is shewn by the custom of covering the open grave with wood and then heaping the mould on the top, in order, we are told, that the earth may not press heavy on him who sleeps below. _Sit tibi terra levis!_ After some months the grave is opened and the lower jaw removed from the corpse and preserved. This removal of the jaw is the occasion of solemnities and ceremonial washings, in which the whole male population of the village takes part. But as to the meaning of these ceremonies, and as to what is done with the jawbone, we have no exact information.[389] According to the Russian traveller, Baron N. von Miklucho-Maclay, who has also given us an account of the Papuans of Astrolabe Bay,[390] though not apparently of the villages described by Dr. Hagen, the whole skull is dug up and separated from the corpse after the lapse of about a year, but only the lower jawbone is carefully kept by the nearest kinsman as a memorial of the deceased. Baron Miklucho-Maclay had great difficulty in inducing a native to part with one of these memorials of a dead relation.[391] In any case the preservation of this portion of the deceased may be supposed to have for its object the maintenance of friendly relations between the living and the dead. Similarly in Uganda the jawbone is the only part of the body of a deceased king which, along with his navel-string, is carefully preserved in his temple-tomb and consulted oracularly.[392] We may conjecture that the reason for preserving this part of the human frame rather than any other is that the jawbone is an organ of speech, and that therefore it appears to the primitive mind well fitted to maintain intercourse with the dead man's spirit and to obtain oracular communications from him. [Sidenote: Sham fight as a funeral ceremony at Astrolabe Bay.] The Russian traveller, Baron Miklucho-Maclay, has described a curious funeral ceremony which is observed by some of the Papuans of Astrolabe Bay. I will give the first part of his description in his own words, which I translate from the German. He says: "The death of a man is announced to the neighbouring villages by a definite series of beats on the drum. On the same day or the next morning the whole male population assembles in the vicinity of the village of the deceased. All the men are in full warlike array. To the beat of drum the guests march into the village, where a crowd of men, also armed for war, await the new-comers beside the dead man's hut. After a short parley the men divide into two opposite camps, and thereupon a sham fight takes place. However, the combatants go to work very gingerly and make no use of their spears. But dozens of arrows are continually discharged, and not a few are wounded in the sham fight, though not seriously. The nearest relations and friends of the deceased appear especially excited and behave as if they were frantic. When all are hot and tired and all arrows have been shot away, the pretended enemies seat themselves in a circle and in what follows most of them act as simple spectators." Thereupon the nearest relations bring out the corpse and deposit it in a crouching position, with the knees drawn up to the chin, on some mats and leaves of the sago-palm, which had previously been spread out in the middle of the open space. Beside the corpse are laid his things, some presents from neighbours, and some freshly cooked food. While the men sit round in a circle, the women, even the nearest relatives of the deceased, may only look on from a distance. When all is ready, some men step out from the circle to help the nearest of kin in the next proceedings, which consist in tying the corpse up tightly into a bundle by means of rattans and creepers. Then the bundle is attached to a stout stick and carried back into the house. There the corpse in its bundle is fastened under the roof by means of the stick, and the dead man's property, together with the presents of the neighbours and the food, are left beside it. After that the house is abandoned, and the guests return to their own villages. A few days later, when decomposition is far advanced, the corpse is taken down and buried in a grave in the house, which continues to be inhabited by the family. After the lapse of about a year, the body is dug up, the skull separated from it, and the lower jawbone preserved by the nearest relation, as I have already mentioned.[393] [Sidenote: The sham fight perhaps intended to deceive the ghost.] What is the meaning of this curious sham fight which among these people seems to be regularly enacted after a death? The writer who reports the custom offers no explanation of it. I would conjecture with all due caution that it may possibly be intended as a satisfaction to the ghost in order to make him suppose that his death has been properly avenged. In a former lecture I shewed that natural deaths are regularly imagined by many savages to be brought about by the magical practices of enemies, and that accordingly the relations of the deceased take vengeance on some innocent person whom for one reason or another they regard as the culprit. It is possible that these Papuans of Astrolabe Bay, instead of actually putting the supposed sorcerer to death, have advanced so far as to abandon that cruel and unjust practice and content themselves with throwing dust in the eyes of the ghost by a sham instead of a real fight. But that is only a conjecture of my own, which I merely suggest for what it is worth. Altogether, looking over the scanty notices of the beliefs and practices of these Papuans of Astrolabe Bay concerning the departed, we may say in general that while the fear of ghosts is conspicuous enough among them, there is but little evidence of anything that deserves to be called a regular worship of the dead. [Footnote 358: P. Mathias Josef Erdweg, "Die Bewohner der Insel Tumleo, Berlin-hafen, Deutsch-Neu-Guinea," _Mittheilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien_, xxxii. (1902) pp. 274-310, 317-399.] [Footnote 359: R. Parkinson, "Die Berlinhafen Section, ein Beitrag zur Ethnographie der Neu-Guinea-Küste," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, xiii. (1900) pp. 18-54.] [Footnote 360: See the note of Father P. W. Schmidt on Father Erdweg's paper, _op. cit._ p. 274.] [Footnote 361: Erdweg, _op. cit._ p. 274.] [Footnote 362: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 277 _sq_. The frizzly character of the hair is mentioned by Mr. R. Parkinson, _op. cit._] [Footnote 363: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 355 _sqq._] [Footnote 364: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 342-346.] [Footnote 365: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 335 _sqq._] [Footnote 366: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 330 _sqq._] [Footnote 367: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 350 _sqq._] [Footnote 368: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 363 _sqq._] [Footnote 369: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 374.] [Footnote 370: R. Parkinson, "Die Berlinhafen Section, ein Beitrag zur Ethnographie der Neu-Guinea-Küste," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, xiii. (1900) pp. 33-35. Father Erdweg speaks of the _parak_ as a spirit-temple or spirit-house in which the deities of the Tumleo dwell (_op. cit._ p. 377): he tells us that as a rule each village has only one _parak_. As to the spirits which dwell in these temples, see below, pp. 226 _sq._] [Footnote 371: R. Parkinson, _op. cit._ pp. 35, 42 _sq._; Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 292 _sq._, 306.] [Footnote 372: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 284-287.] [Footnote 373: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 288-291.] [Footnote 374: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 297 _sq._] [Footnote 375: Erdweg, _op. cit._ p. 291.] [Footnote 376: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 291-293.] [Footnote 377: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 298, 371.] [Footnote 378: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 295 _sqq._, 299 _sq._, 334 _sq._] [Footnote 379: Erdweg, _op. cit._ pp. 295-297.] [Footnote 380: P. Franz Vormann, "Dorf und Hausanlage beiden Monumbo, Deutsch-Neuguinea," _Anthropos_, iv. (1909) pp. 660 _sqq._; _id._, "Zur Psychologie, Religion, Soziologie und Geschichte der Monumbo-Papua, Deutsch-Neuguinea," _Anthropos_, v. (1910) pp. 407-409.] [Footnote 381: P. Franz Vormann, in _Anthropos_, v. (1910) pp. 409 _sq._] [Footnote 382: P. Franz Vormann, in _Anthropos_, v. (1910) pp. 410, 411.] [Footnote 383: P. Franz Vormann, _ibid._, p. 412.] [Footnote 384: B. Hagen, _Unter den Papua's_ (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 143, 221.] [Footnote 385: For the evidence see B. Hagen, _op. cit._ pp. 193 _sqq._ As to barter he tells us (p. 216) that all articles in use at Bogadyim are imported, nothing is made on the spot.] [Footnote 386: B. Hagen, _Unter den Papua's_ (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 264-266.] [Footnote 387: B. Hagen, _op. cit._ pp. 258 _sq._] [Footnote 388: B. Hagen, _op. cit._ pp. 270 _sq._ As to the period and details of the circumcision ceremonies see _id._, pp. 234-238.] [Footnote 389: B. Hagen, _op. cit._ p. 260.] [Footnote 390: N. von Miklucho-Maclay, "Ethnologische Bemerkungen über die Papuas der Maclay-Küste in Neu-Guinea," _Natuurkundig Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie_, xxxv. (1875) pp. 66-93; _id._, xxxvi. (1876) pp. 294-333.] [Footnote 391: N. von Miklucho-Maclay, _op. cit._ xxxvi. (1876) p. 302.] [Footnote 392: Rev. J. Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 109 _sqq._; _Totemism and Exogamy_, ii. 470.] [Footnote 393: N. von Miklucho-Maclay, _op. cit._ xxxvi. (1876) pp. 300-302.] LECTURE XI THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA (_continued_) [Sidenote: The Papuans of Cape King William.] In my last lecture I gave you some account of the beliefs and practices concerning the dead which have been recorded among the Papuans of German New Guinea. To-day I resume the subject and shall first speak of the natives on the coast about Cape King William, at the foot of Mount Cromwell. We possess an account of their religion and customs from the pen of a German missionary, Mr. Stolz, who has lived three years among them and studied their language.[394] His description applies to the inhabitants of two villages only, namely Lamatkebolo and Quambu, or Sialum and Kwamkwam, as they are generally called on the maps, who together number about five hundred souls. They belong to the Papuan stock and subsist chiefly by the cultivation of yams, which they plant in April or May and reap in January or February. But they also cultivate sweet potatoes and make some use of bananas and coco-nuts. They clear the land for cultivation by burning down the grass and afterwards turning up the earth with digging-sticks, a labour which is performed chiefly by the men. The land is not common property; each family tills its own fields, though sometimes one family will aid another in the laborious task of breaking up the soil. Moreover they trade with the natives of the interior, who, inhabiting a more fertile and better-watered country, are able to export a portion of their superfluities, especially taro, sweet potatoes, betel-nuts, and tobacco, to the less favoured dwellers on the sea-coast, receiving mostly dried fish in return. Curiously enough the traffic is chiefly in the hands of old women.[395] [Sidenote: Propitiation of ghosts and spirits. The spirit Mate. Spirits called _Nai_.] With regard to the religion of these people Mr. Stolz tells us that they know nothing of a deity who should receive the homage of his worshippers; they recognise only spirits and the souls of the dead. To these last they bring offerings, not because they feel any need to do them reverence, but simply out of fear and a desire to win their favour. The offerings are presented at burials and when they begin to cultivate the fields. Their purpose is to persuade the souls of the dead to ward off all the evil influences that might thwart the growth of the yams, their staple food. The ghosts are also expected to guard the fields against the incursions of wild pigs and the ravages of locusts. At a burial the aim of the sacrifice is to induce the soul of the departed brother or sister to keep far away from the village and to do no harm to the people. Sacrifices are even offered to the souls of animals, such as dogs and pigs, to prevent them from coming back and working mischief. However, the ghosts of these creatures are not very exacting; a few pieces of sugar-cane, a coco-nut shell, or a taro shoot suffice to content their simple tastes and to keep them quiet. Amongst the spirits to whom the people pay a sort of worship there is one named Mate, who seems to be closely akin to Balum, a spirit about whom we shall hear more among the Yabim further to the east. However, not very much is known about Mate; his worship, if it can be called so, flourishes chiefly among the inland tribes, of whom the coast people stand so much in awe that they dare not speak freely on the subject of this mysterious being. Some of them indeed are bold enough to whisper that there is no such being as Mate at all, and that the whole thing is a cheat devised by sly rogues for the purpose of appropriating a larger share of roast pork at their religious feasts, from which women are excluded. Whatever may be thought of these sceptical views, it appears to be certain that the name of Mate is also bestowed on a number of spirits who disport themselves by day in open grassy places, while they retire by night to the deep shades of the forest; and the majority of these spirits are thought to be the souls of ancestors or of the recently departed. Again, there is another class of spirits called _Nai_, who unlike all other spirits are on friendly terms with men. These are the souls of dead villagers, who died far away from home. They warn people of danger and very obligingly notify them of the coming of trading steamers. When a man dies in a foreign land, his soul appears as a _Nai_ to his sorrowing relatives and announces his sad fate to them. He does so always at night. When the men are gathered round the fire on the open square of the village, the ghost climbs the platform which usually serves for public meetings and banquets, and from this coin of vantage, plunged in the deep shadow, he lifts up his voice and delivers his message of warning, news, or prediction, as the case may be.[396] [Sidenote: The creator Nemunemu. Sickness and death often regarded as the effects of sorcery.] However, ghosts of the dead are not the only spiritual beings with whom these people are acquainted. They know of a much higher being, of the name of Nemunemu, endowed with superhuman power, who made the heaven and the earth with the assistance of two brothers; the elder brother constructed the mainland of New Guinea, while the younger fashioned the islands and the sea. When the natives first saw a steamer on the horizon they thought it was Nemunemu's ship, and the smoke at the funnel they took to be the tobacco-smoke which he puffed to beguile the tedium of the voyage.[397] They are also great believers in magic and witchcraft, and cases of sickness and death, which are not attributed to the malignity of ghosts and spirits, are almost invariably set down to the machinations of sorcerers. Only the deaths of decrepit old folks are regarded as natural. When a man has died, and his death is believed to have been caused by magic, the people resort to divination in order to discover the wicked magician who has perpetrated the crime. For this purpose they place the corpse on a bier, cover it with a mat, and set it on the shoulders of four men, while a fifth man taps lightly with an arrow on the mat and enquires of the departed whether such and such a village has bewitched him to death. If the bier remains still, it means "No"; but if it rocks backward and forward, it means "Yes," and the avengers of blood must seek their victim, the guilty sorcerer, in that village. The answer is believed to be given by the dead man's ghost, who stirs his body at the moment when his murderer's village is named. It is useless for the inhabitants of that village to disclaim all knowledge of the sickness and death of the deceased. The people repose implicit faith in this form of divination. "His soul itself told us," they say, and surely he ought to know. Another form of divination which they employ for the same purpose is to put the question to the ghost, while two men hold a bow which belonged to him and to which some personal articles of his are attached. The answer is again yes or no according as the bow moves or is still.[398] [Sidenote: Funeral and mourning customs.] When the author of the death has been discovered in one way or another, the corpse is decked with all the ornaments that can be collected from the relatives and prepared for burial. A shallow grave is dug under the house and lined with mats. Then the body is lowered into the grave: one of the sextons strikes up a lament, and the shrill voices of the women in the house join in the melancholy strain. When he lies in his narrow bed, the ornaments are removed from his person, but some of his tools, weapons, and other belongings are buried with him, no doubt for his use in the life hereafter. The funeral celebration, in which the whole village commonly takes part, lasts several days and consists in the bringing of offerings to the dead and the abstinence from all labour in the fields. Yams are brought from the field of the departed and cooked. A small pot filled with yams and a vessel of water are placed on the grave; the rest of the provisions is consumed by the mourners. The next of kin, especially the widow or widower, remain for about a week at the grave, watching day and night, lest the body should be dug up and devoured by a certain foul fiend with huge wings and long claws, who battens on corpses. The mourning costume of men consists in smearing the face with black and wearing a cord round the neck and a netted cap on the head. Instead of such a cap a woman in mourning wraps herself in a large net and a great apron of grass. While the other ensigns of woe are soon discarded or disappear, the cord about the neck is worn for a longer time, generally till next harvest. The sacrifice of a pig brings the period of mourning to an end and after it the cord may be laid aside. If any one were so hard-hearted as not to wear that badge of sorrow, the people believe that the angry ghost would come back and fetch him away. He would die.[399] Thus among these savages the mourning costume is regarded as a protection against the dangerous ghost of the departed; it soothes his wounded feelings and prevents him from making raids on the living. [Sidenote: Fate of the souls of the dead.] As to the place to which the souls of the dead repair and the fate that awaits them there, very vague and contradictory ideas prevail among the natives of this district. Some say that the ghosts go eastward to Bukaua on Huon Gulf and there lead a shadowy life very like their life on earth. Others think that the spirits hover near the village where they lived in the flesh. Others again are of opinion that they transmigrate into animals and prolong their life in one or other of the bodies of the lower creatures.[400] [Sidenote: The Yabim and Bukaua tribes.] Leaving Cape King William we pass eastward along the coast of German New Guinea and come to Finsch Harbour. From a point some miles to the north of Finsch Harbour as far as Samoa Harbour on Huon Gulf the coast is inhabited by two kindred tribes, the Yabim and the Bukaua, who speak a Melanesian language. I shall deal first with the Yabim tribe, whose customs and beliefs have been described for us with a fair degree of fulness by two German missionaries, Mr. Konrad Vetter and Mr. Heinrich Zahn.[401] The following account is based chiefly on the writings of Mr. Vetter, whose mission station is at the village of Simbang. [Sidenote: Material and artistic culture of the Yabim.] Like the other natives of New Guinea the Yabim build permanent houses, live in settled villages, and till the ground. Every year they make a fresh clearing in the forest by cutting down the trees, burning the fallen timber, and planting taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and tobacco in the open glade. When the crops have been reaped, the place is abandoned, and is soon overgrown again by the rank tropical vegetation, while the natives move on to another patch, which they clear and cultivate in like manner. This rude mode of tillage is commonly practised by many savages, especially within the tropics. Cultivation of this sort is migratory, and in some places, though apparently not in New Guinea, the people shift their habitations with their fields as they move on from one part of the forest to another. Among the Yabim the labour of clearing a patch for cultivation is performed by all the men of a village in common, but when the great trees have fallen with a crash to the ground, and the trunks, branches, foliage and underwood have been burnt, with a roar of flames and a crackling like a rolling fire of musketry, each family appropriates a portion of the clearing for its own use and marks off its boundaries with sticks. But they also subsist in part by fishing, and for this purpose they build outrigger canoes. They display considerable skill and taste in wood-carving, and are fond of ornamenting their houses, canoes, paddles, tools, spears, and drums with figures of crocodiles, fish, and other patterns.[402] [Sidenote: Men's clubhouses (_lum_).] The villages are divided into wards, and every ward contains its clubhouse for men, called a _lum_, in which young men and lads are obliged to pass the night. It consists of a bedroom above and a parlour with fireplaces below. In the parlour the grown men pass their leisure hours during the day, and here the councils are held. The wives cook the food at home and bring it for their husbands to the clubhouse. The bull-roarers which are used at the initiatory ceremonies are kept in the principal clubhouse of the village. Such a clubhouse serves as an asylum; men fleeing from the avenger of blood who escape into it are safe. It is said that the spirit (_balum_) has swallowed or concealed them. But if they steal out of it and attempt to make their way to another village, they carry their life in their hand.[403] Among the Yabim, according to Mr. Zahn, religion in the proper sense does not exist, but on the other hand the whole people is dominated by the fear of witchcraft and of the spirits of the dead.[404] The following is the account which Mr. Vetter gives of the beliefs and customs of these people concerning the departed. [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Yabim concerning the state of the dead. The ghostly ferry.] They do not believe that death is the end of all things for the individual; they think that his soul survives and becomes a spirit or ghost, which they call a _balum_. The life of human spirits in the other world is a shadowy continuation of the life on earth, and as such it has little attraction for the mind of the Papuan. Of heaven and hell, a place of reward and a place of punishment for the souls of the good and bad respectively, he has no idea. However, his world of the dead is to some extent divided into compartments. In one of them reside the ghosts of people who have been slain, in another the ghosts of people who have been hanged, and in a third the ghosts of people who have been devoured by a shark or a crocodile. How many more compartments there may be for the accommodation of the souls, we are not told. The place is in one of the islands of Siasi. No living man has ever set foot in the island, for smoke and mist hang over it perpetually; but from out the mist you may hear the sound of the barking of dogs, the grunting of swine, and the crowing of cocks, which seems to shew that in the opinion of these people animals have immortal souls as well as men. The natives of the Siasi islands say that the newly arrived ghosts may often be seen strolling on the beach; sometimes the people can even recognise the familiar features of friends with whom they did business in the flesh. The mode in which the spirits of the dead arrive at their destination from the mainland is naturally by a ferry: indeed, the prow of the ghostly ferry-boat may be seen to this day in the village of Bogiseng. The way in which it came to be found there was this. A man of the village lay dying, and on his deathbed he promised to give his friends a sign of his continued existence after death by appearing as a ghost in their midst. Only he stipulated that in order to enable him to do so they would place a stone club in the hand of his corpse. This was done. He died, the club was placed in his cold hand, and his sorrowing but hopeful relations awaited results. They had not very long to wait. For no sooner had the ghost, armed with the stone club, stepped down to the sea-shore than he called imperiously for the ferry-boat. It soon hove in sight, with the ghostly ferryman in it paddling to the beach to receive the passenger. But when the prow grated on the pebbles, the artful ghost, instead of stepping into it as he should have done, lunged out at it with the stone club so forcibly that he broke the prow clean off. In a rage the ferryman roared out to him, "I won't put you across! You and your people shall be kangaroos." The ghost had gained his point. He turned back from the ferry and brought to his friends as a trophy the prow of the ghostly canoe, which is treasured in the village to this day. I should add that the prow in question bears a suspicious resemblance to a powder-horn which has been floating about for some time in the water; but no doubt this resemblance is purely fortuitous and without any deep significance. [Sidenote: Transmigration of human souls into animals.] From this veracious narrative we gather that sometimes the souls of the dead, instead of going away to the spirit-land, transmigrate into the bodies of animals. The case of the kangaroos is not singular. In the village of Simbang Mr. Vetter knows two families, of whom the ghosts pass at death into the carcases of crocodiles and a species of fabulous pigs respectively. Hence members of the one family are careful not to injure crocodiles, lest the souls of their dead should chance to be lodged in the reptiles; and the members of the other family would be equally careful not to hurt the fabulous pigs if ever they fell in with them. However, the crocodile people, not to be behind their neighbours, assert that after death their spirits can also roam about the wood as ghosts and go to the spirit-land. In explanation they say that every human being has two souls; one of them is his reflection on the water, the other is his shadow on the land. No doubt it is the water-soul which goes to the island of Siasi, while the land-soul is free to occupy the body of a crocodile, a kangaroo, or some other animal.[405] [Sidenote: Return of the ghosts.] But even when the ghosts have departed to their island home, they are by no means strictly confined to it. They can return, especially at night, to roam about the woods and the villages, and the living are very much afraid of them, for the ghosts delight in doing mischief. It is especially in the first few days after a death that the ghost is an object of terror, for he is then still loitering about the village. During these days everybody is afraid to go alone into the forest for fear of meeting him, and if a dog or a pig strays in the wood and is lost, the people make sure that the ghost has made off with the animal, and the aggrieved owners roundly abuse the sorrowing family, telling them that their old father or mother, as the case may be, is no better than a thief. They are also very unwilling to mention the names of dead persons, imagining that were the ghost to hear his name pronounced he might fancy he was being called for and might accordingly suspend his habitual occupation of munching sour fruits in the forest to come and trouble the living. [Sidenote: Offerings to ghosts.] Hence in order to keep the short-tempered ghost in good humour by satisfying his wants, lest he should think himself neglected and wreak his vexation on the survivors, the people go a-fishing after a death, or they kill a pig or a dog; sometimes also they cut down a fruit-tree. But it is only the souls of the animals which are destined for the consumption of the ghost; their bodies are roasted and eaten by the living. On a grave you may sometimes see a small basket suspended from a stick; but if you look into it you will find nothing but a little soot and some fish scales, which is all that remains of the fried fish. [Sidenote: Ghosts provided with fire.] The Yabim also imagine that the ghost has need of fire to guide him to the door of the man who has done him to death by sorcery. Accordingly they provide the spirit with this necessary as follows. On the evening of the day on which the body has been buried, they kindle a fire on a potsherd and heap dry leaves on it. As they do so they mention the names of all the sorcerers they can think of, and he at whose name the smouldering leaves burst into a bright flame is the one who has done the deed. Having thus ascertained the true cause of death, beyond reach of cavil, they proceed to light up the ghost to the door of his murderer. For this purpose a procession is formed. A man, holding the smouldering fire in the potsherd with one hand and a bundle of straw with the other, leads the way. He is followed by another who draws droning notes from a water-bottle of the deceased, which he finally smashes. After these two march a number of young fellows who make a plumping sound by smacking their thighs with the hollow of their hands. This solemn procession wends its way to a path in the neighbouring forest. By this time the shades of night have fallen. The firebearer now sets the fire on the ground and calls on the ghost to come and take it. They firmly believe that he does so and that having got it he hies away to cast the glowing embers down at the door of the man who has done him to death. They even fancy they see the flickering light carried by the invisible hand retreating through the shadows into the depth of the forest; and in order to follow it with their eyes they will sometimes climb tall trees or launch a canoe and put out to sea, gazing intently at the glimmering ray till it vanishes from their sight in the darkness. Perhaps the gleam of fire-flies, which abound in these tropical forests, or the flashing of a meteor, as it silently drops from the starry heaven into the sea, may serve to feed this superstitious fancy.[406] [Sidenote: Ghosts thought to help in the cultivation of the land.] But the spirits of the dead are supposed to be able to help as well as harm the living. Good crops and a successful hunt are attributed to their influence. It is especially the spirits of the ancient owners of the land who are credited with the power of promoting the growth of the crops. Hence when a clearing has been made in the forest and planted with taro, and the plants are shewing a good head of leaves, preparations are made to feast the ghosts of the people to whom the land belonged in days gone by. For this purpose a sago-palm is cut down, sago-porridge made, and a wild boar killed. Then the men arrayed in all their finery march out in solemn procession by day to the taro field; and the leader invites the spirits in a loud voice to come to the village and partake of the sago-porridge and pork that have been made ready for them. But the invisible guests content themselves as usual with snuffing up the fragrant smell of the roast pork and the steam of the porridge; the substance of these dainties is consumed by the living. Yet the help which the ghosts give in the cultivation of the land would seem to be conceived as a purely negative one; the offerings are made to them for the purpose of inducing them to keep away and not injure the growing crops. It is also believed that the ghosts of the dead make communications to the living in dreams or by whistling, and even that they can bring things to their friends and relations. But on the whole, Mr. Vetter tells us, the dominant attitude of the living to the dead is one of fear; the power of the ghosts is oftener exerted for evil than for good.[407] The ghost of a murdered man in particular is dreaded, because he is believed to haunt his murderer and to do him a mischief. Hence they drive away such a dangerous ghost with shouts and the beating of drums; and by way of facilitating his departure they launch a model of a canoe, laden with taro and tobacco, in order to transport him with all comfort to the land of souls.[408] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs among the Yabim.] Among the Yabim the dead are usually buried in shallow graves close to the houses where they died. Some trifles are laid with the body in the grave, in order that the dead man or woman may have the use of them in the other world. But any valuables that may be deposited with the corpse are afterwards dug up and appropriated by the survivors. If the deceased was the householder himself or his wife, the house is almost always deserted, however solidly it may be built. The reason for thus abandoning so valuable a piece of property is not mentioned; but we may assume that the motive is a fear of the ghost, who is supposed to haunt his old home. A temporary hut is built on the grave, and in it the family of the deceased take up their abode for six weeks or more; here they cook, eat, and sleep. A widower sits in a secluded corner by himself, invisible to all and unwashed; during the period of full mourning he may not shew himself in the village. When he does come forth again, he wears a mourning hat made of bark in the shape of a cylinder without crown or brim; a widow wears a great ugly net, which wraps her up almost completely from the head to the knees. Sometimes in memory of the deceased they wear a lock of his hair or a bracelet. Other relations wear cords round their necks in sign of mourning. The period of mourning varies greatly; it may last for months or even years. Sometimes the bodies of beloved children or persons who have been much respected are not buried but tied up in bundles and set up in a house until the flesh has quite mouldered away; then the skull and the bones of the arms and legs are anointed, painted red, and preserved for a time. Mr. Vetter records the case of a chief whose corpse was thus preserved in the assembly-house of the village, after it had been dried over a fire. When it had been reduced to a mummy, the skull and the arm-bones and leg-bones were detached, oiled, and reddened, and then kept for some years in the house of the chief's eldest son, till finally they were deposited in the grave of a kinsman. In some of the inland villages of this part of New Guinea the widow is sometimes throttled by her relations at the death of her husband, in order that she may accompany him to the other world.[409] [Sidenote: Deaths attributed by the Yabim to sorcery.] The Yabim believe that except in the case of very old people every death is caused by sorcery; hence when anybody has departed this life, his relations make haste to discover the wicked sorcerer who has killed their kinsman. For that purpose they have recourse to various forms of divination. One of them has been already described, but they have others. For example, they put a powder like sulphur in a piece of bamboo tube and kindle a fire under it. Then an old man takes a bull-roarer and taps with it on the bamboo tube, naming all the sorcerers in the neighbouring villages. He at the mention of whose name the fire catches the powder and blazes up is the guilty man. Another way of detecting the culprit is to attach the feather of a bird of paradise to a staff and give the staff to two men to hold upright between the palms of their right hands. Then somebody names the sorcerers, and he at whose name the staff turns round and the feather points downwards is the one who caused the death. When the avengers of blood, wrought up to a high pitch of fury, fall in with the family of the imaginary criminal, they may put the whole of them to death lest the sons should afterwards avenge their father's murder by the black art. Sometimes a dangerous and dreaded sorcerer will be put out of the way with the connivance of the chief of his own village; and after a few days the murderers will boldly shew themselves in the village where the crime was perpetrated and will reassure the rest of the people, saying, "Be still. The wicked man has been taken off. No harm will befall you."[410] [Sidenote: Bull-roarers (_balum_). Initiation of young men.] It is very significant that the word _balum_, which means a ghost, is applied by the Yabim to the instrument now generally known among anthropologists as a bull-roarer. It is a small fish-shaped piece of wood which, being tied to a string and whirled rapidly round, produces a humming or booming sound like the roaring of a bull or the muttering of distant thunder. Instruments of this sort are employed by savages in many parts of the world at their mysteries; the weird sound which the implement makes when swung is supposed by the ignorant and uninitiated to be the voice of a spirit and serves to impress them with a sense of awe and mystery. So it is with the Papuans about Finsch Harbour, with whom we are at present concerned. At least one such bull-roarer is kept in the _lum_ or bachelors' clubhouse of every village, and the women and uninitiated boys are forbidden to see it under pain of death. The instrument plays a great part in the initiation of young men, which takes place at intervals of several years, when there are a number of youths ready to be initiated, and enough pigs can be procured to furnish forth the feasts which form an indispensable part of the ceremony. The principal initiatory rite consists of circumcision, which is performed on all youths before they are admitted to the rank of full-grown men. The age of the candidates varies considerably, from four years up to twenty. Many are married before they are initiated. The operation is performed in the forest, and the procession of the youths to the place appointed is attended by a number of men swinging bull-roarers. As the procession sets out, the women look on from a distance, weeping and howling, for they are taught to believe that the lads, their sons and brothers, are about to be swallowed up by a monster called a _balum_ or ghost, who will only release them from his belly on condition of receiving a sufficient number of roast pigs. How, then, can the poor women be sure that they will ever see their dear ones again? So amid the noise of weeping and wailing the procession passes into the forest, and the booming sound of the bull-roarers dies away in the distance. [Sidenote: The rite of circumcision; the lads supposed to be swallowed by a monster (_balum_). The sacred flutes.] The place where the operation is performed on the lads is a long hut, about a hundred feet in length, which diminishes in height towards the rear. This represents the belly of the monster which is to swallow up the candidates. To keep up the delusion a pair of great eyes are painted over the entrance, and above them the projecting roots of a betel-palm represent the monster's hair, while the trunk of the tree passes for his backbone. As the awe-struck lads approach this imposing creature, he is heard from time to time to utter a growl. The growl is in fact no other than the humming note of bull-roarers swung by men, who are concealed within the edifice. When the procession has come to a halt in front of the artificial monster, a loud defiant blast blown on shell-trumpets summons him to stand forth. The reply follows in the shape of another muffled roar of the bull-roarers from within the building. At the sound the men say that "Balum is coming up," and they raise a shrill song like a scream and sacrifice pigs to the monster in order to induce him to spare the lives of the candidates. When the operation has been performed on the lads, they must remain in strict seclusion for three or four months, avoiding all contact with women and even the sight of them. They live in the long hut, which represents the monster's belly, and their food is brought them by elder men. Their leisure time is spent in weaving baskets and playing on certain sacred flutes, which are never used except at such seasons. The instruments are of two patterns. One is called the male and the other the female, and they are supposed to be married to each other. No woman may see these mysterious flutes; if she did she would die. Even if she hears their shrill note in the distance, she will hasten to hide herself in a thicket. When the initiatory ceremonies are over, the flutes are carefully kept in the men's clubhouse of the village till the next time they are wanted for a similar occasion. On the other hand, if the women are obliged to go near the place where the lads are living in seclusion, they beat on certain bamboo drums in order to warn them to keep out of the way. Sometimes, though perhaps rarely, one of the lads dies under the operation; in that case the men explain his disappearance to the women by saying that the monster has a pig's stomach as well as a human stomach, and that unfortunately the deceased young man slipped by mistake into the wrong stomach and so perished miserably. But as a rule the candidates pass into the right stomach and after a sufficient period has been allowed for digestion, they come forth safe and sound, the monster having kindly consented to let them go free in consideration of the roast pigs which have been offered to him by the men. Indeed he is not very exacting, for he contents himself with devouring the souls of the pigs, while he leaves their bodies to be consumed by his worshippers. This is a kindly and considerate way of dealing with sacrifice, which our New Guinea ghost or monster shares with many deities of much higher social pretensions. However, lest he should prove refractory and perhaps run away with the poor young men in his inside, or possibly make a dart at any women or children who might be passing, the men take the precaution of tying him down tight with ropes. When the time of seclusion is up, one of the last acts in the long series of ceremonies is to cast off the ropes and let the monster go free. He avails himself of his liberty to return to his subterranean abode, and the young men are brought back to the village with much solemnity. [Sidenote: The return of the novices to the village.] An eye-witness has described the ceremony. The lads, now ranking as full-grown men, were first bathed in the sea and then elaborately decorated with paint and so forth. In marching back to the village they had to keep their eyes tightly shut, and each of them was led by a man who acted as a kind of god-father. As the procession moved on, an old bald-headed man touched each boy solemnly on the chin and brow with a bull-roarer. In the village preparations for a banquet had meanwhile been made, and the women and girls were waiting in festal attire. The women were much moved at the return of the lads; they sobbed and tears of joy ran down their cheeks. Arrived in the village the newly-initiated lads were drawn up in a row and fresh palm leaves were spread in front of them. Here they stood with closed eyes, motionless as statues. Then a man passed behind them, touching each of them in the hams with the handle of an axe and saying, "O circumcised one, sit down." But still the lads remained standing, stiff and motionless. Not till another man had knocked repeatedly on the ground with the stalk of a palm-leaf, crying, "O circumcised ones, open your eyes!" did the youths, one after another, open their eyes as if awaking from a profound stupor. Then they sat down on the mats and partook of the food brought them by the men. Young and old now ate in the open air. Next morning the circumcised lads were bathed in the sea and painted red instead of white. After that they might talk to women. This was the end of the ceremony.[411] [Sidenote: The essence of the initiatory rites seems to be a simulation of death and resurrection; the novice is supposed to be killed and to come to life or be born again. The new birth among the Akikuyu of British East Africa.] The meaning of these curious ceremonies observed on the return of the lads to the village is not explained by the writer who describes them; but the analogy of similar ceremonies observed at initiation by many other races allows us to divine it with a fair degree of probability. As I have already observed in a former lecture, the ceremony of initiation at puberty is very often regarded as a process of death and resurrection; the candidate is supposed to die or to be killed and to come to life again or be born again; and the pretence of a new birth is not uncommonly kept up by the novices feigning to have forgotten all the most common actions of life and having accordingly to learn them all over again like newborn babes. We may conjecture that this is why the young circumcised Papuans, with whom we are at present concerned, march back to their village with closed eyes; this is why, when bidden to sit down, they remain standing stiffly, as if they understood neither the command nor the action; and this, too, we may surmise, is why their mothers and sisters receive them with a burst of emotion, as if their dead had come back to them from the grave. This interpretation of the ceremony is confirmed by a curious rite which is observed by the Akikuyu of British East Africa. Amongst them every boy or girl at or about the age of ten years has solemnly to pretend to be born again, not in a moral or religious, but in a physical sense. The mother of the child, or, if she is dead, some other woman, goes through an actual pantomime of bringing forth the boy or girl. I will spare you the details of the pantomime, which is very graphic, and will merely mention that the bouncing infant squalls like a newborn babe. Now this ceremony of the new birth was formerly enacted among the Akikuyu at the rite of circumcision, though the two ceremonies are now kept distinct.[412] Hence it is not very rash to conjecture that the ceremony performed by the young Papuans of Finsch Harbour on their return to the village after undergoing circumcision is merely a way of keeping up the pretence of being born again and of being therefore as ignorant and helpless as babes. [Sidenote: The mock death of the novices as a preliminary to the mock birth.] But if the end of the initiation is a mock resurrection, or rather new birth, as it certainly seems to be, we may infer with some confidence that the first part of it, namely the act of circumcision, is a mock death. This is borne out by the explicit statement of a very good authority, Mr. Vetter, that "the circumcision is designated as a process of being swallowed by the spirit, out of whose stomach (represented by a long hut) the release must take place by means of a sacrifice of pigs."[413] And it is further confirmed by the observation that both the spirit which is supposed to operate on the lads, and the bull-roarer, which apparently represents his voice, are known by the name of _balum_, which means the ghost or spirit of a dead person. Similarly, among the Tugeri or Kaya-Kaya, a large Papuan tribe on the south coast of Dutch New Guinea, the name of the bull-roarer, which they call _sosom_, is given to a mythical giant, who is supposed to appear every year with the south-east monsoon. When he comes, a festival is held in his honour and bull-roarers are swung. Boys are presented to the giant, and he kills them, but brings them to life again.[414] Thus the initiatory rite of circumcision, to which all lads have to submit among the Yabim, seems to be closely bound up with their conception of death and with their belief in a life after death; since the whole ceremony apparently consists in a simulation of dying and coming to life again. That is why I have touched upon these initiatory rites, which at first sight might appear to have no connexion with our immediate subject, the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead. [Sidenote: General summary as to the Yabim.] On the whole we may say that the Yabim have a very firm and practical belief in a life after death, and that while their attitude to the spirits of the departed is generally one of fear, they nevertheless look to these spirits also for information and help on various occasions. Thus their beliefs and practices contain at least in germ the elements of a worship of the dead. [Footnote 394: Stolz, "Die Umgebung von Kap König Wilhelm," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch New-Guinea_ (Berlin, 1911), iii. 243-286.] [Footnote 395: Stolz, _op. cit._ pp. 252-254.] [Footnote 396: Stolz, _op. cit._ pp. 245-247.] [Footnote 397: Stolz, _op. cit._ pp. 247 _sq._] [Footnote 398: Stolz, _op. cit._ pp. 248-250.] [Footnote 399: Stolz, _op. cit._ p. 258.] [Footnote 400: Stolz, _op. cit._ p. 259.] [Footnote 401: K. Vetter, in _Komm herüber und hilf uns! oder die Arbeit der Neuen-Dettelsauer Mission_, Nos. 1-4 (Barmen, 1898); _id._, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelms-Land_, 1897, pp. 86-102; _id._, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, xi. (Jena, 1892) pp. 102-106; _id._, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, xii. (Jena, 1893) pp. 95-97; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii (Berlin, 1911) pp. 287-394.] [Footnote 402: K. Vetter, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ ii. (Barmen, 1898) pp. 6-12.] [Footnote 403: K. Vetter, _op. cit._ ii. 8; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 291, 308, 311.] [Footnote 404: H. Zahn, _op. cit._ iii. 291.] [Footnote 405: K. Vetter, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ iii. 21 _sq._ According to Mr. H. Zahn (_op. cit._ p. 324) every village has its own entrance into the spirit-land.] [Footnote 406: K. Vetter, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ iii. 19-24; _id._, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, xii. (1893) pp. 96 _sq._] [Footnote 407: K. Vetter, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ ii. 7, iii. 24; _id._, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelms-Land und den Bismarck-Archipel_, 1897, p. 94.] [Footnote 408: K. Vetter, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelms-Land_, 1897, p. 94.] [Footnote 409: K. Vetter, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelms-Land_, 1897, pp. 94 _sq._; _id._, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ iii. 15-19. Compare H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 320 _sq._] [Footnote 410: H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 318-320.] [Footnote 411: K. Vetter, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelms-Land und den Bismarck-Archipel_, 1897, pp. 92 _sq._; _id._, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, xi. (1892) p. 105; _id._, _Komm herüber und hilf uns!_ ii. (1898) p. 18; _id._, cited by M. Krieger, _Neu-Guinea_, pp. 167-170; O. Schellong, "Das Barlum (_sic_)-fest der Gegend Finsch-hafens (Kaiserwilhelmsland), ein Beitrag zur Kenntniss der Beschneidung der Melanesier," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, ii. (1889) pp. 145-162; H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 296-298.] [Footnote 412: W. S. Routledge and K. Routledge, _With a Prehistoric People, the Akikuyu of British East Africa_ (London, 1910), pp. 151 _sq._ Compare _Totemism and Exogamy_, iv. 228; C. W. Hobley, "Kikuyu Customs and Beliefs," _Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute_, xl. (1910) pp. 440 _sq._] [Footnote 413: K. Vetter, in _Nachrichten über Kaiser Wilhelmsland und den Bismarck-Archipel_, 1897, p. 93.] [Footnote 414: R. Pöch, "Vierter Bericht über meine Reise nach Neu-Guinea," _Sitzungsberichte der mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften_ (Vienna), cxv. (1906) Abteilung 1, pp. 901, 902.] LECTURE XII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA (_continued_) [Sidenote: The Bukaua of German New Guinea.] In the last lecture I described the beliefs and practices concerning the dead as they are to be found among the Yabim of German New Guinea. To-day we begin with the Bukaua, a kindred and neighbouring tribe, which occupies the coast lands of the northern portion of Huon Gulf from Schollenbruch Point to Samoa Harbour. The language which the Bukaua speak belongs, like the language of the Yabim, to the Melanesian, not to the Papuan family. Their customs and beliefs have been reported by a German missionary, Mr. Stefan Lehner, whose account I follow.[415] In many respects they closely resemble those of their neighbours the Yabim. [Sidenote: Means of subsistence of the Bukaua. Men's clubhouses.] The Bukaua are an agricultural people who subsist mainly on the crops of taro which they raise. But they also cultivate many kinds of bananas and vegetables, together with sugar-cane, sago, and tobacco. From time to time they cut down and burn the forest in order to obtain fresh fields for cultivation. The land is not held in common. Each family has its own fields and patches of forest, and would resent the intrusion of others on their hereditary domain. Hunting and fishing supply them with animal food to eke out the vegetable nourishment which they draw from their fields and plantations.[416] Every village contains one or more of the men's clubhouses which are a common feature in the social life of the tribes on this coast. In these clubhouses the young men are obliged to sleep, and on the platforms in front of them the older men hold their councils. Such a clubhouse is called a _lum_.[417] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the Bukaua concerning the souls of the dead. Sickness and disease attributed to ghostly agency.] The Bukaua have a firm belief in the existence of the human soul after death. They think that a man's soul can even quit his body temporarily in his lifetime during sleep or a swoon, and that in its disembodied state it can appear to people at a distance; but such apparitions are regarded as omens of approaching death, when the soul will depart for good and all. The soul of a dead man is called a _balum_. The spirits of the departed are believed to be generally mischievous and spiteful to the living, but they can be appeased by sacrifice, and other measures can be taken to avert their dangerous influence.[418] They are very touchy, and if they imagine that they are not honoured enough by their kinsfolk, and that the offerings made to them are insufficient, they will avenge the slight by visiting their disrespectful and stingy relatives with sickness and disease. Among the maladies which the natives ascribe to the anger of ghosts are epilepsy, fainting fits, and wasting decline.[419] When a man suffers from a sore which he believes to have been inflicted on him by a ghost, he will take a stone from the fence of the grave and heat it in the fire, saying: "Father, see, thou hast gone, I am left, I must till the land in thy stead and care for my brothers and sisters. Do me good again." Then he dips the hot stone in a puddle on the grave, and holds his sore in the steam which rises from it. His pain is eased thereby and he explains the alleviation which he feels by saying, "The spirit of the dead man has eaten up the wound."[420] [Sidenote: Sickness and death often ascribed by the Bukaua to sorcery.] But like most savages the Bukaua attribute many illnesses and many deaths not to the wrath of ghosts but to the malignant arts of sorcerers; and in such cases they usually endeavour by means of divination to ascertain the culprit and to avenge the death of their friend by taking the life of his imaginary murderer.[421] If they fail to exact vengeance, the ghost is believed to be very angry, and they must be on their guard against him. He may meet them anywhere, but is especially apt to dog the footsteps of the sorcerer who killed him. Hence when on the occasion of a great feast the sorcerer comes to the village of his victim, the surviving relatives of the dead man are at particular pains to protect themselves and their property against the insidious attacks of the prowling ghost. For this purpose they bury a creeper with white blossoms in the path leading to the village; the ghost is thought to be filled with fear at the sight of it and to turn back, leaving his kinsfolk, their dogs, and pigs in peace.[422] [Sidenote: Fear of the ghosts of the slain.] Another class of ghosts who are much dreaded are the spirits of slain foes. They are believed to pursue their slayers to the village and to blind them so that sooner or later they fall an easy prey to their enemies. Hence when a party of warriors has returned home from a successful attack on a village, in which they have butchered all on whom they could lay their hands, they kindle a great fire, dance wildly about it, and hurl burning brands in the direction of the battlefield in order to keep the ghosts of their slaughtered foes at bay. Phosphorescent lights seen under the houses throw the inmates into great alarm, for they are thought to be the souls of the slain. Sometimes the vanquished in battle resort to a curious ruse for the purpose of avenging themselves on the victors by means of a ghost. They take the sleeping-mat of one of the slain, roll it up in a bundle along with his loin-cloth, apron, netted bag, or head-rest, and give the bundle to two cripples to carry. Then they steal quietly to the landing-place of their foes, peering warily about lest they should be observed. The bundle represents the dead man, and the cripples who carry it reel to and fro, and finally sink to the ground with their burden. In this way the ghost of the victim, whose things are carried in the bundle, is supposed to make their enemies weak and tottery. Strong young men are not given the bundle to carry, lest the ghost should spoil their manly figures; whereas if he should wound or maim a couple of poor cripples, no great harm is done.[423] [Sidenote: Ghosts of ancestors appealed to for help, especially in the cultivation of the ground. First-fruits offered to the spirits of the dead.] However, the Bukaua also look on the ghosts of their ancestors in a more amiable light as beings who, if properly appealed to, can and will help them in the affairs of life, especially by procuring for them good crops. Hence when they are planting their fields, which are formed in clearings of the forest, they take particular care to insert shoots of all their crops in the ground near the tree stumps which remain standing, because the souls of their dead grandfathers and great-grandfathers are believed to be sitting on the stumps watching their descendants at their work. Accordingly in the act of planting they call out the names of these forefathers and pray them to guard the field in order that their living children may have food and not suffer from hunger. And at harvest, when the first-fruits of the taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and so forth have been brought back from the fields, a portion of them is offered in a bowl to the spirits of the forefathers in the house of the landowner, and the spirits are addressed in prayer as follows: "O ye who have guarded our field as we prayed you to do, there is something for you; now and henceforth behold us with favour." While the family are feasting on the rest of the first-fruits, the householder will surreptitiously stir the offerings in the bowl with his finger, and will then shew the bowl to the others as a proof that the souls of the dead have really partaken of the good things provided for them.[424] A hunter will also pray to his dead father to drive the wild pigs into his net.[425] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs of the Bukaua.] The Bukaua bury their dead in shallow graves, which are sometimes dug under the houses but more usually in front of or beside them. Along with the corpses are deposited bags of taro, nuts, drinking-vessels, and other articles of daily use. Only the stone axes are too valuable to be thus sacrificed. Over the grave is erected a rude hut in which the widower, if the deceased was a married woman, remains for a time in seclusion. A widow on the death of her husband remains in the house. Widow and widower may not shew themselves in public until they have prepared their mourning costume. The widower wears a black hat made of bark, cords round his neck, wicker work on his arms and feet, and a torn old bracelet of his wife in a bag on his breast. A widow is completely swathed in nets, one over the other, and she carries about with her the loincloth of her deceased husband. The souls of the dead dwell in a subterranean region called _lamboam_, and their life there seems to resemble life here on earth; but the ideas of the people on the subject are very vague.[426] [Sidenote: Initiation of young men among the Bukaua. Lads at circumcision supposed to be swallowed by a monster.] The customs and beliefs of the Bukaua in regard to the initiation of young men are practically identical with those of their neighbours the Yabim. Indeed the initiatory ceremonies are performed by the tribes jointly, now in the territory of the Bukaua, now in the territory of the Yabim, or in the land of the Kai, a tribe of mountaineers, or again in the neighbouring Tami islands. The intervals between the ceremonies vary from ten to eighteen years.[427] The central feature of the initiatory rites is the circumcision of the novices. It is given out that the lads are swallowed by a ferocious monster called a _balum_, who, however, is induced by the sacrifice of many pigs to vomit them up again. In spewing them out of his maw he bites or scratches them, and the wound so inflicted is circumcision. This explanation of the rite is fobbed off on the women, who more or less believe it and weep accordingly when their sons are led away to be committed to the monster's jaws. And when the time for the ceremony is approaching, the fond mothers busy themselves with rearing and fattening young pigs, so that they may be able with them to redeem their loved ones from the belly of the ravenous beast; for he must have a pig for every boy. When a lad bleeds to death from the effect of the operation, he is secretly buried, and his sorrowful mother is told that the monster swallowed him and refused to bring him up again. What really happens is that the youths are shut up for several months in a house specially built for the purpose in the village. During their seclusion they are under the charge of guardians, usually two young men, and must observe strictly a rule of fasting and chastity. When they are judged to be ready to undergo the rite, they are led forth and circumcised in front of the house amid a prodigious uproar made by the swinging of bull-roarers. The noise is supposed to be the voice of the monster who swallows and vomits up the novice at circumcision. The bull-roarer as well as the monster bears the name of _balum_, and the building in which the novices are lodged before and after the operation is called the monster's house (_balumslum_). After they have been circumcised the lads remain in the house for several months till their wounds are healed; then, painted and bedizened with all the ornaments that can be collected, they are brought back and restored to their joyful mothers. Women must vacate the village for a long time while the initiatory ceremonies are being performed.[428] [Sidenote: Novices at circumcision supposed to be killed and then restored to a new and higher life.] The meaning of the whole rite, as I pointed out in dealing with the similar initiatory rite of the Yabim, appears to be that the novices are killed and then restored to a new and better life; for after their initiation they rank no longer as boys but as full-grown men, entitled to all the privileges of manhood and citizenship, if we can speak of such a thing as citizenship among the savages of New Guinea. This interpretation of the rite is supported by the notable fact that the Bukaua, like the Yabim, give the name of _balum_ to the souls of the dead as well as to the mythical monster and to the bull-roarer; this shews how intimately the three things are associated in their minds. Indeed not only is the bull-roarer in general associated with the souls of the dead by a community of name, but among the Bukaua each particular bull-roarer bears in addition the name of a particular dead man and varies in dignity and importance with the dignity and importance of the deceased person whom it represents. The most venerated of all are curiously carved and have been handed down for generations; they bear the names of famous warriors or magicians of old and are supposed to reproduce the personal peculiarities of the celebrated originals in their shape and tones. And there are smaller bull-roarers which emit shriller notes and are thought to represent the shrill-voiced wives of the ancient heroes.[429] [Sidenote: The Kai tribe of Saddle Mountain in German New Guinea. The land of the Kai. Their mode of cultivation. Their villages.] The Bukaua and the Yabim, the two tribes with which I have been dealing in this and the last lecture, inhabit, as I have said, the coast about Finsch Harbour and speak a Melanesian language. We now pass from them to the consideration of another people, belonging to a different stock and speaking a different language, who inhabit the rugged and densely wooded mountains inland from Finsch Harbour. Their neighbours on the coast call these mountaineers by the name of Kai, a word which signifies forest or inland in opposition to the seashore; and this name of the tribe we may adopt, following the example of a German missionary, Mr. Ch. Keysser, who has laboured among them for more than eleven years and has given us an excellent description of their customs and beliefs. His account applies particularly to the natives of what is called Saddle Mountain, the part of the range which advances nearest to the coast and rises to the height of about three thousand feet. It is a rough, broken country, cleft by many ravines and covered with forest, bush, or bamboo thickets; though here and there at rare intervals some brown patches mark the clearings which the sparse inhabitants have made for the purpose of cultivation. Water is plentiful. Springs gush forth everywhere in the glens and valleys, and rushing streams of crystal-clear water pour down the mountain sides, and in the clefts of the hills are lonely tarns, the undisturbed haunts of wild ducks and other water fowl. During the wet season, which extends from June to August, the rain descends in sheets and the mountains are sometimes covered for weeks together with so thick a mist that all prospect is cut off at the distance of a hundred yards. The natives are then loth to leave their huts and will spend the day crouching over a fire. They are a shorter and sturdier race than the tribes on the coast; the expression of their face is less frank and agreeable, and their persons are very much dirtier. They belong to the aboriginal Papuan stock, whereas the Yabim and Bukaua on the coast are probably immigrants from beyond the sea, who have driven the indigenous population back into the mountains.[430] Their staple foods are taro and yams, which they grow in their fields. A field is cultivated for only one year at a time; it is then allowed to lie fallow and is soon overgrown with rank underwood. Six or eight years may elapse before it is again cleared and brought under cultivation. Game and fish abound in the woods and waters, and the Kai make free use of these natural resources. They keep pigs and dogs, and eat the flesh of both. Pork is indeed a favourite viand, figuring largely in the banquets which are held at the circumcision festivals.[431] The people live in small villages, each village comprising from two to six houses. The houses are raised on piles and the walls are usually constructed of pandanus leaves, though many natives now make them of boards. After eighteen months or two years the houses are so rotten and tumble-down that the village is deserted and a new one built on another site. Assembly-houses are erected only for the circumcision ceremonies, and the bull-roarers used on these occasions are kept in them. Husband and wife live together, often two couples in one hut; but each family has its own side of the house and its own fireplace. In times of insecurity the Kai used to build their huts for safety among the spreading boughs of great trees. A whole village, consisting of three or four huts, might thus be quartered on a single tree. Of late years, with the peace and protection for life introduced by German rule, these tree-houses have gone out of fashion.[432] [Sidenote: Observations of a German missionary on the animistic beliefs of the Kai.] After describing the manners and customs of the Kai people at some length, the German missionary, who knows them intimately, proceeds to give us a very valuable account of their old native religion or superstition. He prefaces his account with some observations, the fruit of long experience, which deserve to be laid to heart by all who attempt to penetrate into the inner life, the thoughts, the feelings, the motives of savages. As his remarks are very germane to the subject of these lectures, I will translate them. He says: "In the preceding chapters I have sketched the daily life of the Kai people. But I have not attempted to set forth the reasons for their conduct, which is often very peculiar and unintelligible. The explanation of that conduct lies in the animistic view which the Papuan takes of the world. It must be most emphatically affirmed that nobody can judge the native aright who has not gained an insight into what we may call his religious opinions. The native must be described as very religious, although his ideas do not coincide with ours. His feelings, thoughts, and will are most intimately connected with his belief in souls. With that belief he is born, he has sucked it in with his mother's milk, and from the standpoint of that belief he regards the things and occurrences that meet him in life; by that belief he regulates his behaviour. An objective way of looking at events is unknown to him; everything is brought by him into relation to his belief, and by it he seeks to explain everything that to him seems strange and rare."[433] "The labyrinth of animistic customs at first sight presents an appearance of wild confusion to him who seeks to penetrate into them and reduce them to order; but on closer inspection he will soon recognise certain guiding lines. These guiding lines are the laws of animism, which have passed into the flesh and blood of the Papuan and influence his thought and speech, his acts and his omissions, his love and hate, in short his whole life and death. When once we have discovered these laws, the whole of the superstitious nonsense falls into an orderly system which compels us to regard it with a certain respect that increases in proportion to the contempt in which we had previously held the people. We need not wonder, moreover, that the laws of animism partially correspond to general laws of nature."[434] [Sidenote: The essential rationality of the savage.] Thus according to Mr. Keysser, who has no theory to maintain and merely gives us in this passage the result of long personal observation, the Kai savages are thinking, reasoning men, whose conduct, however strange and at first sight unintelligible it may appear to us, is really based on a definite religious or if you please superstitious view of the world. It is true that their theory as well as their practice differs widely from ours; but it would be false and unjust to deny that they have a theory and that on the whole their practice squares with it. Similar testimony is borne to other savage races by men who have lived long among them and observed them closely;[435] and on the strength of such testimony I think we may lay it down as a well-established truth that savages in general, so far as they are known to us, have certain more or less definite theories, whether we call them religious or philosophical, by which they regulate their conduct, and judged by which their acts, however absurd they may seem to the civilised man, are really both rational and intelligible. Hence it is, in my opinion, a profound mistake hastily to conclude that because the behaviour of the savage does not agree with our notions of what is reasonable, natural, and proper, it must therefore necessarily be illogical, the result of blind impulse rather than of deliberate thought and calculation. No doubt the savage like the civilised man does often act purely on impulse; his passions overmaster his reason, and sweep it away before them. He is probably indeed much more impulsive, much more liable to be whirled about by gusts of emotion than we are; yet it would be unfair to judge his life as a whole by these occasional outbursts rather than by its general tenour, which to those who know him from long observation reveals a groundwork of logic and reason resembling our own in its operations, though differing from ours in the premises from which it sets out. I think it desirable to emphasise the rational basis of savage life because it has been the fashion of late years with some writers to question or rather deny it. According to them, if I understand them aright, the savage acts first and invents his reasons, generally very absurd reasons, for so doing afterwards. Significantly enough, the writers who argue in favour of the essential irrationality of savage conduct have none of them, I believe, any personal acquaintance with savages. Their conclusions are based not on observation but on purely theoretical deductions, a most precarious foundation on which to erect a science of man or indeed of anything. As such, they cannot be weighed in the balance against the positive testimony of many witnesses who have lived for years with the savage and affirm emphatically the logical basis which underlies and explains his seeming vagaries. At all events I for one have no hesitation in accepting the evidence of such men to matters of fact with which they are acquainted, and I unhesitatingly reject all theories which directly contradict that evidence. If there ever has been any race of men who invariably acted first and thought afterwards, I can only say that in the course of my reading and observation I have never met with any trace of them, and I am apt to suppose that, if they ever existed anywhere but in the imagination of bookish dreamers, their career must have been an exceedingly short one, since in the struggle for existence they would surely succumb to adversaries who tempered and directed the blind fury of combat with at least a modicum of reason and sense. The myth of the illogical or prelogical savage may safely be relegated to that museum of learned absurdities and abortions which speculative anthropology is constantly enriching with fresh specimens of misapplied ingenuity and wasted industry. But enough of these fantasies. Let us return to facts. [Sidenote: The Kai theory of the soul.] The life of the Kai people, according to Mr. Keysser, is dominated by their conception of the soul. That conception differs greatly from and is very much more extensive than ours. The Kai regards his reflection and his shadow as his soul or parts of it; hence you should not tread on a man's shadow for fear of injuring his soul. The soul likewise dwells in his heart, for he feels it beating. Hence if you give a native a friendly poke in the ribs, he protests, saying, "Don't poke me so; you might drive my soul out of my body, and then I should die." The soul moreover resides in the eye, where you may see it twinkling; when it departs, the eye grows dim and vacant. Moreover, the soul is in the foot as much as in the head; it lurks even in the spittle and the other bodily excretions. The soul in fact pervades the body just as warmth does; everything that a man touches he infects, so to say, with his soul; that mysterious entity exists in the very sound of his voice. The sorcerer catches a man's soul by his magic, shuts it up tight, and destroys it. Then the man dies. He dies because the sorcerer has killed his soul. Yet the Kai believes, whether consistently or not, that the soul of the dead man continues to live. He talks to it, he makes offerings to it, he seeks to win its favour in order that he may have luck in the chase; he fears its ill-will and anger; he gives it food to eat, liquor to drink, tobacco to smoke, and betel to chew. What could a reasonable ghost ask for more?[436] [Sidenote: Two kinds of human souls.] Thus, according to Mr. Keysser, whose exposition I am simply reproducing, the Kai believes not in one nor yet in many souls belonging to each individual; he implicitly assumes that there are two different kinds of souls. One of these is the soul which survives the body at death; in all respects it resembles the man himself as he lived on earth, except that it has no body. It is not indeed absolutely incorporeal, but it is greatly shrunken and attenuated by death. That is why the souls of the dead are so angry with the living; they repine at their own degraded condition; they envy the full-blooded life which the living enjoy and which the dead have lost. The second kind of soul is distinguished by Mr. Keysser from the former as a spiritual essence or soul-stuff, which pervades the body as sap pervades the tree, and which diffuses itself like corporeal warmth over everything with which the body is brought into contact.[437] In these lectures we are concerned chiefly with the former kind of soul, which is believed to survive the death of the body, and which answers much more nearly than the second to the popular European conception of the soul. Accordingly in what follows we shall confine our attention mainly to it. [Sidenote: Death thought by the Kai to be commonly caused by sorcery.] Like many other savages, the Kai do not believe in the possibility of a natural death; they think that everybody dies through the maleficent arts of sorcerers or ghosts. Even in the case of old people, we are told, they assume the cause of death to be sorcery, and to sorcery all misfortunes are ascribed. If a man falls on the path and wounds himself to death, as often happens, on the jagged stump of a bamboo, the natives conclude that he was bewitched. The way in which the sorcerer brought about the catastrophe was this. He obtained some object which was infected with the soul-stuff or spiritual essence of his victim; he stuck a pile in the ground, he spread the soul-stuff on the pile; then he pretended to wound himself on the pile and to groan with pain. Anybody can see for himself that by a natural and necessary concatenation of causes this compelled the poor fellow to stumble over that jagged bamboo stump and to perish miserably. Again, take the case of a hunter in the forest who is charged and ripped up by a wild boar. On a superficial view of the circumstances it might perhaps occur to you that the cause of death was the boar. But you would assuredly be mistaken. The real cause of death was again a sorcerer, who pounded up the soul-stuff of his victim with a boar's tooth. Again, suppose that a man is bitten by a serpent and dies. A shallow rationalist might say that the man died of the bite; but the Kai knows better. He is aware that what really killed him was the sorcerer who took a pinch of his victim's soul and bunged it up tight in a tube along with the sting of a snake. Similarly, if a woman dies in childbed, or if a man hangs himself, the cause of death is still a sorcerer operating with the appropriate means and gestures. Thus to make a man hang himself all that the sorcerer has to do is to get a scrap of his victim's soul--and the smallest scrap is quite enough for his purpose, it may be a mere shred or speck of soul adhering to a hair of the man's head, to a drop of his sweat, or to a crumb of his food,--I say that the sorcerer need only obtain a tiny little bit of his victim's soul, clap it in a tube, set the tube dangling at the end of a string, and go through a pantomime of gurgling, goggling and so forth, like a man in the last stage of strangulation, and his victim is thereby physically compelled to put his neck in the noose and hang himself in good earnest.[438] [Sidenote: Danger incurred by the sorcerer.] Where these views of sorcery prevail, it is no wonder that the sorcerer is an unpopular character. He naturally therefore shrinks from publicity and hides his somewhat lurid light under a bushel. Not to put too fine a point on it, he carries his life in his hand and may be knocked on the head at any moment without the tedious formality of a trial. Once his professional reputation is established, all the deaths in the neighbourhood may be set down at his door. If he gets wind of a plot to assassinate him, he may stave off his doom for a while by soothing the angry passions of his enemies with presents, but sooner or later his fate is sealed.[439] [Sidenote: Many hurts and maladies attributed by the Kai to the action of ghosts. In other cases the sickness is traced to witchcraft. Capturing a lost soul.] However, the Kai savage is far from attributing all deaths without distinction to sorcerers.[440] In many hurts and maladies he detects the cold clammy hand of a ghost. If a man, for example, wounds himself in the forest, perhaps in the pursuit of a wild beast, he may imagine that he has been speared or clubbed by a malignant ghost. And when a person falls ill, the first thing to do is naturally to ascertain the cause of the illness in order that it may be treated properly. In all such enquiries, Mr. Keysser tells us, suspicion first falls on the ghosts; they are looked upon as even worse than the sorcerers.[441] So when a doctor is called in to see a patient, the only question with him is whether the sickness is caused by a sorcerer or a ghost. To decide this nice point he takes a boiled taro over which he has pronounced a charm. This he bites, and if he finds a small stone in the fruit, he decides that ghosts are the cause of the malady; but if on the other hand he detects a minute roll of leaves, he knows that the sufferer is bewitched. In the latter case the obvious remedy is to discover the sorcerer and to induce him, for an adequate consideration, to give up the magic tube in which he has bottled up a portion of the sick man's soul. If, however, the magician turns a deaf ear alike to the voice of pity and the allurement of gain, the resources of the physician are not yet exhausted. He now produces his whip or scourge for souls. This valuable instrument consists, like a common whip, of a handle with a lash attached to it, but what gives it the peculiar qualities which distinguish it from all other whips is a small packet tied to the end of the lash. The packet contains a certain herb, and the sick man and his friends must all touch it in order to impregnate it with the volatile essence of their souls. Armed with this potent implement the doctor goes by night into the depth of the forest; for the darkness of night and the solitude of the woods are necessary for the success of the delicate operation which this good physician of souls has now to perform. Finding himself alone he whistles for the lost soul of the sufferer, and if only the sorcerer by his infernal craft has not yet brought it to death's door, the soul appears at the sound of the whistle; for it is strongly attracted by the soul-stuff of its friends in the packet. But the doctor has still to catch it, a feat which is not so easily accomplished as might be supposed. It is now that the whip of souls comes into play. Suddenly the doctor heaves up his arm and lashes out at the truant soul with all his might. If only he hits it, the business is done, the soul is captured, the doctor carries it back to the house in triumph, and restores it to the body of the poor sick man, who necessarily recovers.[442] [Sidenote: Extracting ghosts from a sick man.] But suppose that the result of the diagnosis is different, and that on mature consideration the doctor should decide that a ghost and not a sorcerer is at the bottom of the mischief. The question then naturally arises whether the sick man has not of late been straying on haunted ground and infected himself with the very dangerous soul-stuff or spiritual essence of the dead. If he remembers to have done so, some leaves are fetched from the place in the forest where the mishap occurred, and with them the whole body of the sufferer or the wound, as the case may be, is stroked or brushed down. The healing virtue of this procedure is obvious. The ghosts who are vexing the patient are attracted by the familiar smell of the leaves which come from their old home; and yielding in a moment of weakness to the soft emotions excited by the perfume they creep out of the body of the sick man and into the leaves. Quick as thought the doctor now whisks the leaves away with the ghosts in them; he belabours them with a cudgel, he hangs them up in the smoke, or he throws them into the fire. Such powerful disinfectants have their natural results; if the ghosts are not absolutely destroyed they are at least disarmed, and the sick is made whole. [Sidenote: Scraping ghosts from the patient's body.] Another equally effective cure for sickness caused by ghosts is this. You take a stout stick, cleave it down the middle so that the two ends remain entire, and give it to two men to hold. Then the sick man pokes his head through the cleft; after that you rub him with the stick from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. In this way you obviously scrape off the bloodsucking ghosts who are clinging like flies or mosquitoes to his person, and having thus transferred them to the cleft stick you throw it away or otherwise destroy it. The cure is now complete, and if the patient does not recover, he cannot reasonably blame the doctor, who has done all that humanly speaking could be done to bring back the bloom of health to the poor sick man.[443] [Sidenote: Extravagant demonstrations of grief at the death of a sick man.] If, however, the sick man obstinately persists in dying, there is a great uproar in the village. For the fear of his ghost has now fallen like a thunderclap on all the people. His disembodied spirit is believed to be hovering in the air, seeing everything that is done, hearing every word that is spoken, and woe to the unlucky wight who does not display a proper degree of sorrow for the irreparable loss that has just befallen the community. Accordingly shrieks of despair begin to resound, and crocodile tears to flow in cataracts. The whole population assemble and give themselves up to the most frantic demonstrations of grief. Cries are raised on all sides, "Why must he die?" "Wherefore did they bewitch him?" "Those wicked, wicked men!" "I'll do for them!" "I'll hew them in pieces!" "I'll destroy their crops!" "I'll fell all their palm-trees!" "I'll stick all their pigs!" "O brother, why did you leave me?" "O friend, how can I live without you?" To make good these threats one man will be seen prancing wildly about and stabbing with a spear at the invisible sorcerers; another catches up a cudgel and at one blow shivers a water-pot of the deceased into atoms, or rushes out like one demented and lays a palm-tree level with the ground. Some fling themselves prostrate beside the corpse and sob as if their very hearts would break. They take the dead man by the hand, they stroke him, they straighten out the poor feet which are already growing cold. They coo to him softly, they lift up the languid head, and then lay it gently down. Then in a frenzy of grief one of them will leap to his feet, shriek, bellow, stamp on the floor, grapple with the roof beams, shake the walls, as if he would pull the house down, and finally hurl himself on the ground and roll over and over howling as if his distress was more than he could endure. Another looks wildly about him. He sees a knife. He grasps it. His teeth are set, his mind is made up. "Why need he die?" he cries, "he, my friend, with whom I had all things in common, with whom I ate out of the same dish?" Then there is a quick movement of the knife, and down he falls. But he is not dead. He has only slit the flap of one of his ears, and the trickling blood bedabbles his body. Meantime with the hoarse cries of the men are mingled the weeping and wailing, the shrill screams and lamentations of the women; while above all the din and uproar rises the booming sound of the shell trumpets blown to carry the tidings of death to all the villages in the neighbourhood. But gradually the wild tumult dies away into silence. Grief or the simulation of it has exhausted itself: the people grow calm; they sit down, they smoke or chew betel, while some engage in the last offices of attention to the dead.[444] [Sidenote: Hypocritical character of these demonstrations, which are intended to deceive the ghost.] A civilised observer who witnessed such a scene of boisterous lamentation, but did not know the natives well, might naturally set down all these frantic outbursts to genuine sorrow, and might enlarge accordingly on the affectionate nature of savages, who are thus cut to the heart by the death of any one of their acquaintance. But the missionary who knows them better assures us that most of these expressions of mourning and despair are a mere blind to deceive and soothe the dreaded ghost of the deceased into a comfortable persuasion that he is fondly loved and sadly missed by his surviving relatives and friends. This view of the essential hypocrisy of the lamentations is strongly confirmed by the threats which sick people will sometimes utter to their attendants. "If you don't take better care of me," a man will sometimes say, "and if you don't do everything you possibly can to preserve my valuable life, my ghost will serve you out." That is why friends and relations are so punctilious in paying visits of respect and condolence to the sick. Sometimes the last request which a dying man addresses to his kinsfolk is that they will kill this or that sorcerer who has killed him; and he enforces the injunction by threats of the terrible things he will do to them in his disembodied state if they fail to avenge his death on his imaginary murderer. As all the relatives of a dead man stand in fear of his ghost, the body may not be buried until all of them have had an opportunity of paying their respects to it. If, as sometimes happens, a corpse is interred before a relative can arrive from a distance, he will on arrival break out into reproaches and upbraidings against the grave-diggers for exposing him to the wrath of the departed spirit.[445] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs of the Kai. Preservation of the lower jawbone.] When all the relations and friends have assembled and testified their sorrow, the body is buried on the second or third day after death. The grave is usually dug under the house and is so shallow that even when it has been closed the stench is often very perceptible. The ornaments which were placed on the body when it was laid out are removed before it is lowered into the grave, and the dead takes his last rest wrapt in a simple leaf-mat. Often a dying man expresses a wish not to be buried. In that case his corpse, tightly bandaged, is deposited in a corner of the house, and the products of decomposition are allowed to drain through a tube into the ground. When they have ceased to run, the bundle is opened and the bones taken out and buried, except the lower jawbone, which is preserved, sometimes along with one of the lower arm bones. The lower jawbone reminds the possessor of the duty of blood revenge which he owes to the deceased, and which the dying man may have inculcated on him with his last breath. The lower arm bone brings luck in the chase, especially if the departed relative was a mighty hunter. However, if the hunters have a long run of bad luck, they conclude that the ghost has departed to the under world and accordingly bury the lower arm bone and the lower jawbone with the rest of the skeleton. The length of the period of mourning is similarly determined by the good or bad fortune of the huntsmen. If the ghost provides them with game in abundance for a long time after his death, the days of mourning are proportionately extended; but when the game grows scarce or fails altogether, the mourning comes to an end and the memory of the deceased soon fades away.[446] The savage is a thoroughly practical man and is not such a fool as to waste his sorrow over a ghost who gives him nothing in return. Nothing for nothing is his principle. His relations to the dead stand on a strictly commercial basis. [Sidenote: Mourning costume. Widows strangled to accompany their dead husbands.] The mourning costume consists of strings round the neck, bracelets of reed on the arms, and a cylindrical hat of bark on the head. A widow is swathed in nets. The intention of the costume is to signify to the ghost the sympathy which the mourner feels for him in his disembodied state. If the man in his lifetime was wont to crouch shivering over the fire, a little fire will be kept up for a time at the foot of the grave in order to warm his homeless spirit.[447] The widow or widower has to discharge the disagreeable duty of living day and night for several weeks in a hovel built directly over the grave. Not unfrequently the lot of a widow is much harder. At her own request she is sometimes strangled and buried with her husband in the grave, in order that her soul may accompany his on the journey to the other world. The other relations have no interest in encouraging the woman to sacrifice herself, rather the contrary; but if she insists they fear to balk her, lest they should offend the ghost of her husband, who would punish them in many ways for keeping his wife from him. But even such voluntary sacrifices, if we may believe Mr. Ch. Keysser, are dictated rather by a selfish calculation than by an impulse of disinterested affection. He mentions the case of a man named Jabu, both of whose wives chose thus to attend their husband in death. The deceased was an industrious man, a skilful hunter and farmer, who provided his wives with abundance of food. As such men are believed to work hard also in the other world, tilling fields and killing game just as here, the widows thought they could not do better than follow him as fast as possible to the spirit land, since they had no prospect of getting such another husband here on earth. "How firmly convinced," adds the missionary admiringly, "must these people be of the reality of another world when they sacrifice their earthly existence, not for the sake of a better life hereafter, but merely in order to be no worse off there than they have been on earth." And he adds that this consideration explains why no man ever chooses to be strangled at the death of his wife. The labour market in the better land is apparently not recruited from the ranks of women.[448] [Sidenote: House or village deserted after a death.] The house in which anybody has died is deserted, because the ghost of the dead is believed to haunt it and make it unsafe at night. If the deceased was a chief or a man of importance, the whole village is abandoned and a new one built on another site.[449] [Footnote 415: Stefan Lehner, "Bukaua," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. (Berlin, 1911) pp. 395-485.] [Footnote 416: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 399, 433 _sq._, 437 _sqq._] [Footnote 417: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 399.] [Footnote 418: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 414.] [Footnote 419: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 466, 468.] [Footnote 420: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 469.] [Footnote 421: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 462 _sqq._, 466, 467, 471 _sqq._] [Footnote 422: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 462.] [Footnote 423: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 444 _sq._] [Footnote 424: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 434 _sqq._; compare _id._, pp. 478 _sq._] [Footnote 425: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 462.] [Footnote 426: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 430, 470, 472 _sq._, 474 _sq._] [Footnote 427: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ p. 403.] [Footnote 428: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 402-410.] [Footnote 429: S. Lehner, _op. cit._ pp. 410-414.] [Footnote 430: Ch. Keysser, "Aus dem Leben der Kaileute," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 3-6.] [Footnote 431: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 12 _sq._, 17-20.] [Footnote 432: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 9-12.] [Footnote 433: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 111.] [Footnote 434: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 113.] [Footnote 435: Compare Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, _The Pagan Tribes of Borneo_ (London, 1912), ii. 221 _sq._: "It has often been attempted to exhibit the mental life of savage peoples as profoundly different from our own; to assert that they act from motives, and reach conclusions by means of mental processes, so utterly different from our own motives and processes that we cannot hope to interpret or understand their behaviour unless we can first, by some impossible or at least by some hitherto undiscovered method, learn the nature of these mysterious motives and processes. These attempts have recently been renewed in influential quarters. If these views were applied to the savage peoples of the interior of Borneo, we should characterise them as fanciful delusions natural to the anthropologist who has spent all the days of his life in a stiff collar and a black coat upon the well-paved ways of civilised society. We have no hesitation in saying that, the more intimately one becomes acquainted with these pagan tribes, the more fully one realises the close similarity of their mental processes to one's own. Their primary impulses and emotions seem to be in all respects like our own. It is true that they are very unlike the typical civilised man of some of the older philosophers, whose every action proceeded from a nice and logical calculation of the algebraic sum of pleasures and pains to be derived from alternative lines of conduct; but we ourselves are equally unlike that purely mythical personage. The Kayan or the Iban often acts impulsively in ways which by no means conduce to further his best interests or deeper purposes; but so do we also. He often reaches conclusions by processes that cannot be logically justified; but so do we also. He often holds, and upon successive occasions acts upon, beliefs that are logically inconsistent with one another; but so do we also." For further testimonies to the reasoning powers of savages, which it would be superfluous to affirm if it were not at present a fashion with some theorists to deny, see _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 420 _sqq._ And on the tendency of the human mind in general, not of the savage mind in particular, calmly to acquiesce in inconsistent and even contradictory conclusions, I may refer to a note in _Adonis, Attis, Osiris_, Second Edition, p. 4. But indeed to observe such contradictions in practice the philosopher need not quit his own study.] [Footnote 436: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 111 _sq._] [Footnote 437: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 112.] [Footnote 438: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 140. As to the magical tubes in which the sorcerer seals up some part of his victim's soul, see _id._, p. 135.] [Footnote 439: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 140 _sq._] [Footnote 440: Mr. Keysser indeed affirms that in the mind of the Kai sorcery "is regarded as the cause of all deaths" (_op. cit._ p. 102), and again that "all men without exception die in consequence of the baneful acts of these sorcerers and their accomplices" (p. 134); and again that "even in the case of old people they assume sorcery to be the cause of death; to sorcery, too, all misfortunes whatever are ascribed" (p. 140). But that these statements are exaggerations seems to follow from Mr. Keysser's own account of the wounds, sicknesses, and deaths which these savages attribute to ghosts and not to sorcerers.] [Footnote 441: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 141.] [Footnote 442: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 133 _sq._] [Footnote 443: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 141 _sq._] [Footnote 444: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 80 _sq._, 142.] [Footnote 445: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 142.] [Footnote 446: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 82, 83.] [Footnote 447: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 82, 142 _sq._] [Footnote 448: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 83 _sq._, 143.] [Footnote 449: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 83.] LECTURE XIII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF GERMAN NEW GUINEA (_continued_) [Sidenote: Offerings to appease ghosts.] In the last lecture I gave you some account of the fear and awe which the Kai of German New Guinea entertain for the spirits of the dead. Believing that the ghost is endowed with all the qualities and faculties which distinguished the man in his lifetime, they naturally dread most the ghosts of warlike, cruel, violent, and passionate men, and take the greatest pains to soothe their anger and win their favour. For that purpose they give the departed spirit all sorts of things to take with him to the far country. And in order that he may have the use of them it is necessary to smash or otherwise spoil them. Thus the spear that is given him must be broken, the pot must be shivered, the bag must be torn, the palm-tree must be cut down. Fruits are offered to the ghost by dashing them in pieces or hanging a bunch of them over the grave. Objects of value, such as boars' tusks or dogs' teeth, are made over to him by being laid on the corpse; but the economical savage removes these precious things from the body at burial. All such offerings and sacrifices, we are told, are made simply out of fear of the ghost. It is no pleasure to a man to cut down a valuable palm-tree, which might have helped to nourish himself and his family for years; he does it only lest a worse thing should befall him at the hands of the departed spirit.[450] [Sidenote: Mode of discovering the sorcerer who caused a death.] But the greatest service that the Kai can render to a dead man is to take vengeance on the sorcerer who caused his death by witchcraft. The first thing is to discover the villain, and in the search for him the ghost obligingly assists his surviving kinsfolk. Sometimes, however, it is necessary to resort to a stratagem in order to secure his help. Thus, for example, one day while the ghost, blinded by the strong sunlight, is cowering in a dark corner or reposing at full length in the grave, his relatives will set up a low scaffold in a field, cover it with leaves, and pile up over it a mass of the field fruits which belonged to the dead man, so that the whole erection may appear to the eye of the unsuspecting ghost a heap of taro, yams, and so forth, and nothing more. But before the sun goes down, two or three men steal out from the house, and ensconce themselves under the scaffold, where they are completely concealed by the piled-up fruits. When darkness has fallen, out comes the ghost and prowling about espies the heap of yams and taro. At sight of the devastation wrought in his field he flies into a passion, and curses and swears in the feeble wheezy whisper in which ghosts always speak. In the course of his fluent imprecations he expresses a wish that the miscreants who have wasted his substance may suffer so and so at the hands of the sorcerer. That is just what the men in hiding have been waiting for. No sooner do they hear the name of the sorcerer than they jump up with a great shout; the startled ghost takes to his heels; and all the people in the village come pouring out of the houses. Very glad they are to know that the murderer has been found out, and sooner or later they will have his blood.[451] [Sidenote: Another way of detecting the sorcerer.] Another mode of eliciting the requisite information from the ghost is this. In order to allow him to communicate freely with his mouldering body, his relations insert a tube through the earth of the grave down to the corpse; then they sprinkle powdered lime on the grave. At night the ghost comes along, picks up the powdered lime, and makes off in a bee line for the village where the sorcerer who bewitched him resides. On the way he drops some of the powder here and there, so that next morning, on the principle of the paper-chase, his relatives can trace his footsteps to the very door of his murderer. In many districts the people tie a packet of lime to the knee of a corpse so that his ghost may have it to hand when he wants it.[452] [Sidenote: Cross-questioning the ghost by means of fire.] But the favourite way of cross-questioning the ghost on subject of his decease is by means of fire. A few men go out before nightfall from the village and sit down in a row, one behind the other, on the path. The man in front has a leaf-mat drawn like a hood over his head and back in order that the ghost may not touch him from behind unawares. In his hand he holds a glowing coal and some tinder, and as he puts the one to the other he calls to the ghost, "Come, take, take, take; come, take, take, take," and so on. Meantime his mates behind him are reckoning up the names of all the men near and far who are suspected of sorcery, and a portion of the village youth have clambered up trees and are on the look-out for the ghost. If they do not see his body they certainly see his eye twinkling in the gloom, though the uninstructed European might easily mistake it for a glow-worm. No sooner do they catch sight of it than they bawl out, "Come hither, fetch the fire, and burn him who burnt thee." If the tinder blazes up at the name of a sorcerer, it is flung towards the village where the man in question dwells. And if at the same time a glow-worm is seen to move in the same direction, the people entertain no doubt that the ghost has appeared and fetched the soul of the fire.[453] [Sidenote: Necessity of destroying the sorcerer who caused a death.] In whichever way the author of the death may be detected, the avengers of blood set out for the village of the miscreant and seek to take his life. Almost all the wars between villages or tribes spring from such expeditions. The sorcerer or sorcerers must be extirpated, nay all their kith and kin must be destroyed root and branch, if the people are to live in peace and quiet. The ghost of the dead calls, nay clamours for vengeance, and if he does not get it, he will wreak his spite on his negligent relations. Not only will he give them no luck in the chase, but he will drive the wild swine into the fields to trample down and root up the crops, and he will do them every mischief in his power. If rain does not fall, so that the freshly planted root crops wither; or if sickness is rife, the people recognise in the calamity the wrath of the ghost, who can only be appeased by the slaughter of the wicked magician or of somebody else. Hence the avengers of blood often do not set out until a fresh death, an outbreak of sickness, failure in the chase, or some other misfortune reminds the living of the duty they owe to the dead. The Kai is not by nature warlike, and he might never go to war if it were not that he dreads the vengeance of ghosts more than the wrath of men.[454] [Sidenote: Slayers dread the ghosts of the slain.] If the expedition has been successful, if the enemy's village has been surprised and stormed, the men and old women butchered, and the young women taken prisoners, the warriors beat a hasty retreat with their booty in order to be safe at home, or at least in the shelter of a friendly village, before nightfall. Their reason for haste is the fear of being overtaken in the darkness by the ghosts of their slaughtered foes, who, powerless by day, are very dangerous and terrible by night. Restlessly through the hours of darkness these unquiet spirits follow like sleuth-hounds in the tracks of their retreating enemies, eager to come up with them and by contact with the bloodstained weapons of their slayers to recover the spiritual substance which they have lost. Not till they have done so can they find rest and peace. That is why the victors are careful not at first to bring back their weapons into the village but to hide them somewhere in the bushes at a safe distance. There they leave them for some days until the baffled ghosts may be supposed to have given up the chase and returned, sad and angry, to their mangled bodies in the charred ruins of their old home. The first night after the return of the warriors is always the most anxious time; all the villagers are then on the alert for fear of the ghosts; but if the night passes quietly, their terror gradually subsides and gives place to the dread of their surviving enemies.[455] [Sidenote: Seclusion of man-slayers from fear of their victims' ghosts.] As the victors in a raid are supposed to have more or less of the soul-stuff or spiritual essence of their slain foes adhering to their persons, none of their friends will venture to touch them for some time after their return to the village. Everybody avoids them and goes carefully out of their way. If during this time any of the villagers suffers from a pain in his stomach, he thinks that he must have inadvertently sat down where one of the warriors had sat before him. If somebody endures the pangs of toothache, he makes sure that he must have eaten a fruit which had been touched by one of the slayers. All the refuse of the meals of these gallant men must be most carefully put away lest a pig should devour it; for if it did do so, the animal would certainly die, which would be a serious loss to the owner. Hence when the warriors have satisfied their hunger, any food that remains over is burnt or buried. The fighting men themselves are not very seriously incommoded, or at all events endangered, by the ghosts of their victims; for they have taken the precaution to disinfect themselves by the sap of a certain creeper, which, if it does not render them absolutely immune to ghostly influence, at least fortifies their constitution to a very considerable extent.[456] [Sidenote: Feigned indignation of a man who has connived at the murder of a relative.] Sometimes, instead of sending forth a band of warriors to ravage, burn, and slaughter the whole male population of the village in which the wicked sorcerer resides, the people of one village will come to a secret understanding with the people of the sorcerer's village to have the miscreant quietly put out of the way. A hint is given to the scoundrel's next of kin, it may be his brother, son, or nephew, that if he will only wink at the slaughter of his obnoxious relative, he will receive a handsome compensation from the slayers. Should he privately accept the offer, he is most careful to conceal his connivance at the deed of blood, lest he should draw down on his head the wrath of his murdered kinsman's ghost. So, when the deed is done and the murder is out, he works himself up into a state of virtuous sorrow and indignation, covers his head with the leaves of a certain plant, and chanting a dirge in tones of heart-rending grief, marches straight to the village of the murderers. There, on the public square, surrounded by an attentive audience, he opens the floodgates of his eloquence and pours forth the torrent of an aching heart. "You have slain my kinsman," says he, "you are wicked men! How could you kill so good a man, who conferred so many benefits on me in his lifetime? I knew nothing of the plot. Had I had an inkling of it, I would have foiled it. How can I now avenge his death? I have no property with which to hire men of war to go and punish his murderers. Yet in spite of everything my murdered kinsman will not believe in my innocence! He will be angry with me, he will pay me out, he will do me all the harm he can. Therefore do you declare openly whether I had any share whatever in his death, and come and strew lime on my head in order that he may convince himself of my innocence." This appeal of injured innocence meets with a ready response. The people dust the leaves on his head with powdered lime; and so, decorated with the white badge of spotless virtue, and enriched with a boar's tusk or other valuable object as the price of his compliance, he returns to his village with a conscience at peace with all the world, reflecting with satisfaction on the profitable transaction he has just concluded, and laughing in his sleeve at the poor deluded ghost of his murdered relative.[457] [Sidenote: Comedy acted to deceive the ghost of a murdered kinsman.] Sometimes the worthy soul who thus for a valuable consideration consents to waive all his personal feelings, will even carry his self-abnegation so far as to be present and look on at the murder of his kinsman. But true to his principles he will see to it that the thing is done decently and humanely. When the struggle is nearly over and the man is down, writhing on the ground with the murderers busy about him, his loving kinsman will not suffer them to take an unfair advantage of their superior numbers to cut him up alive with their knives, to chop him with their axes, or to smash him with their clubs. He will only allow them to stab him with their spears, repeating of course the stabs again and again till the victim ceases to writhe and quiver, and lies there dead as a stone. Then begins the real time of peril for the virtuous kinsman who has been a spectator and director of the scene; for the ghost of the murdered man has now deserted its mangled body, and, still blinded with blood and smarting with pain, might easily and even excusably misunderstand the situation. It is essential, therefore, in order to prevent a painful misapprehension, that the kinsman should at once and emphatically disclaim any part or parcel in the murder. This he accordingly does in language which leaves no room for doubt or ambiguity. He falls into a passion: he rails at the murderers: he proclaims his horror at their deed. All the way home he refuses to be comforted. He upbraids the assassins, he utters the most frightful threats against them; he rushes at them to snatch their weapons from them and dash them in pieces. But they easily wrench the weapons from his unresisting hands. For the whole thing is only a piece of acting. His sole intention is that the ghost may see and hear it all, and being convinced of the innocence of his dear kinsman may not punish him with bad crops, wounds, sickness, and other misfortunes. Even when he has reached the village, he keeps up the comedy for a time, raging, fretting and fuming at the irreparable loss he has sustained by the death of his lamented relative.[458] [Sidenote: Pretence of avenging the ghost of a murdered sorcerer.] Similarly when a chief has among his subjects a particular sorcerer whom he fears but with whom he is professedly on terms of friendship, he will sometimes engage a man to murder him. No sooner, however, is the murder perpetrated than the chief who bespoke it hastens in seeming indignation with a band of followers to the murderer's village. The assassin, of course, has got a hint of what is coming, and he and his friends take care not to be at home when the chief arrives on his mission of vengeance. Balked by the absence of their victim the avengers of blood breathe out fire and slaughter, but content themselves in fact with smashing an old pot or two, knocking down a deserted hut, and perhaps felling a banana-tree or a betel-palm. Having thus given the ghost of the murdered man an unequivocal proof of the sincerity of their friendship, they return quietly home.[459] [Sidenote: The Kai afraid of ghosts.] The habits of Kai ghosts are to some extent just the contrary of those of living men. They sleep by day and go about their business by night, when they frighten people and play them all kinds of tricks. Usually they appear in the form of animals. As light has the effect of blinding or at least dazzling them, they avoid everything bright, and hence it is easy to scare them away by means of fire. That is why no native will go even a short way in the dark without a bamboo torch. If it is absolutely necessary to go out by night, which he is very loth to do, he will hum and haw loudly before quitting the house so as to give notice to any lurking ghost that he is coming with a light, which allows the ghost to scuttle out of his way in good time. The people of a village live in terror above all so long as a corpse remains unburied in it; after nightfall nobody would then venture out of sight of the houses. When a troop of people go by night to a neighbouring village with flaring torches in their hands, nobody is willing to walk last on the path; they all huddle together for safety in the middle, till one man braver than the rest consents to act as rearguard. The rustling of a bush in the evening twilight startles them with the dread of some ghastly apparition; the sight of a pig in the gloaming is converted by their fears into the vision of a horrible spectre. If a man stumbles, it is because a ghost has pushed him, and he fancies he perceives the frightful thing in a tree-stump or any chance object. No wonder a Kai man fears ghosts, since he believes that the mere touch of one of them may be fatal. People who fall down in fits or in faints are supposed to have been touched by ghosts; and on coming to themselves they will tell their friends with the most solemn assurance how they felt the death-cold hand of the ghost on their body, and how a shudder ran through their whole frame at contact with the uncanny being.[460] [Sidenote: Services rendered to the living by ghosts of the dead.] But it would be a mistake to imagine that the ghosts of the dead are a source of danger, annoyance, and discomfort, and nothing more. That is not so. They may and do render the Kai the most material services in everyday life, particularly by promoting the supply of food both vegetable and animal. I have said that these practical savages stand towards their departed kinsfolk on a strictly commercial footing; and I will now illustrate the benefits which the Kai hope to receive from the ghosts in return for all the respect and attention lavished on them. In the first place, then, so long as a ghost remains in the neighbourhood of the village, it is expected of him that he shall make the crops thrive and neither tread them down himself nor allow wild pigs to do so. The expectation is reasonable, yet the conduct of the ghost does not always answer to it. Occasionally, whether out of sheer perverseness or simple absence of mind, he will sit down in a field; and wherever he does so, he makes a hollow where the fruits will not grow. Indeed any fruit that he even touches with his foot in passing, shrivels up. Where these things have happened, the people offer boiled taro and a few crabs to the ghosts to induce them to keep clear of the crops and to repose their weary limbs elsewhere than in the tilled fields.[461] [Sidenote: Ghosts help Kai hunters to kill game.] But the most important service which the dead render to the living is the good luck which they vouchsafe to hunters. Hence in order to assure himself of the favour of the dead the hunter hangs his nets on a grave before he uses them. If a man was a good and successful hunter in his lifetime, his ghost will naturally be more than usually able to assist his brethren in the craft after his death. For that reason when such a man has just died, the people, to adopt a familiar proverb, hasten to make hay while the sun shines by hunting very frequently, in the confident expectation of receiving ghostly help from the deceased hunter. In the evening, when they return from the chase, they lay a small portion of their bag near his grave, scatter a powder which possesses the special virtue of attracting ghosts, and call out, "So-and-so, come and eat; here I set down food for you, it is a part of all we have." If after such an offering and invocation the night wind rustles the tops of the trees or shakes the thatch of leaves on the roofs, they know that the ghost is in the village. The twinkle of a glow-worm near his grave is the glitter of his eye. In the morning, too, before they sally forth to the woods, one of the next of kin to the dead huntsman will go betimes to his grave, stamp on it to waken the sleeper below, and call out, "So-and-so, come! we are now about to go out hunting. Help us to a good bag!" If they have luck, they praise the deceased as a good spirit and in the evening supply his wants again with food, tobacco, and betel. The sacrifice, as usually happens in such cases, does not call for any great exercise of self-denial; since the spirit consumes only the spiritual essence of the good things, while he leaves their material substance to be enjoyed by the living.[462] [Sidenote: Ill-treatment of a ghost who fails to help hunters.] However, it sometimes happens that the ghost disappoints them, and that the hunters return in the evening hungry and empty-handed. This may even be repeated day after day, and still the people will not lose hope. They think that the ghost is perhaps busy working in his field, or that he has gone on a visit and will soon come home. To give him time to do his business or see his friends at leisure, they will remain in the village for several days. Then, when they imagine that he must surely have returned, they go out into the woods and try their luck again. But should there still be no ghost and no game, they begin to be seriously alarmed. They think that some evil must have befallen him. But if time goes on and still he gives no sign and the game continues scarce and shy, their feelings towards the ghost undergo a radical alteration. Passion getting the better of prudence, they will even reproach him with ingratitude, taunt him with his uselessness, and leave him to starve. Should he after that still remain deaf to their railing and regardless of the short commons to which they have reduced him, they will discharge a volley of abuse at his grave and trouble themselves about him no more. However, if, not content with refusing his valuable assistance in the chase, the ghost should actually blight the crops or send wild boars into the fields to trample them down, the patience of the long-suffering people is quite exhausted: the vials of their wrath overflow; and snatching up their cudgels in a fury they belabour his grave till his bones ache, or even drive him with blows and curses altogether from the village.[463] [Sidenote: The journey of ghosts to the spirit land.] Such an outcast ghost, if he does not seek his revenge by prowling in the neighbourhood and preying on society at large, will naturally bethink himself of repairing to his long home in the under world. For sooner or later the spirits of the dead congregate there. It is especially when the flesh has quite mouldered away from his bones that the ghost packs up his little traps and sets out for the better land. The entrance to the abode of bliss is a cave to the west of Saddle Mountain. Here in the gully there is a projecting tree-stump on which the ghosts perch waiting for a favourable moment to jump into the mouth of the cavern. When a slight earthquake is felt, a Kai man will often say, "A ghost has just leaped from the tree into the cave; that is why the earth is shaking." Down below the ghosts are received by Tulmeng, lord of the nether world. Often he appears in a canoe to ferry them over to the further shore. "Blood or wax?" is the laconic question which he puts to the ghost on the bank. He means to say, "Were you killed or were you done to death by magic?" For it is with wax that the sorcerer stops up the fatal little tubes in which he encloses the souls of his enemies. And the reason why the lord of the dead puts the question to the newcomer is that the ghosts of the slain and the ghosts of the bewitched dwell in separate places. Right in front of the land of souls rises a high steep wall, which cannot be climbed even by ghosts. The spirits have accordingly to make their way through it and thereupon find themselves in their new abode. According to some Kai, before the ghosts are admitted to ghost land they must swing to and fro on a rope and then drop into water, where they are washed clean of bloodstains and all impurity; after which they ascend, spick and span, the last slope to the village of ghosts. [Sidenote: Life of ghosts in the other world.] Tulmeng has the reputation of being a very stern ruler in his weird realm, but the Kai really know very little about him. He beats refractory souls, and it is essential that every ghost should have his ears and nose bored. The operation is very painful, and to escape it most people take the precaution of having their ears and noses bored in their lifetime. Life in the other world goes on just like life in this one. Houses are built exactly like houses on earth, and there as here pigs swarm in the streets. Fields are tilled and crops are got in; ghostly men marry ghostly women, who give birth to ghostly children. The same old round of love and hate, of quarrelling and fighting, of battle, murder and sudden death goes on in the shadowy realm below ground just as in the more solid world above ground. Sorcerers are there also, and they breed just as bad blood among the dead as among the living. All things indeed are the same except for their shadowy unsubstantial texture.[464] [Sidenote: Ghosts die and turn into animals.] But the ghosts do not live for ever in the nether world. They die the second death and turn into animals, generally into cuscuses. In the shape of animals they haunt the wildest, deepest, darkest glens of the rugged mountains. No one but the owner has the right to set foot on such haunted ground. He may even kill the ghostly animals. Any one else who dared to disturb them in their haunts would do so at the peril of his life. But even the owner of the land who has killed one of the ghostly creatures is bound to appease the spirit of the dead beast. He may not cut up the carcase at once, but must leave it for a time, perhaps for a whole night, after laying on it presents which are intended to mollify and soothe the injured spirit. In placing the gifts on the body he says, "Take the gifts and leave us that which was a game animal, that we may eat it." When the animal's ghost has appropriated the spiritual essence of the offerings, the hunter and his family may eat the carcase. Should one of these ghostly creatures die or be killed, its spirit turns either into an insect or into an ant-hill. Children who would destroy such an ant-hill or throw little darts at it, are warned by their elders not to indulge in such sacrilegious sport. When the insect also dies, the series of spiritual transformations is at an end.[465] [Sidenote: Ghosts of persons eminent for good or evil in their lives are remembered and appealed to for help long after their deaths. Prayers to ghosts for rain, a good crop of yams, and so forth.] The ghosts whose help is invoked by hunters and farmers are commonly the spirits of persons who have lately died, since such spirits linger for a time in the neighbourhood, or rather in the memory of the people. But besides these spirits of the recent dead there are certain older ghosts who may be regarded as permanent patrons of hunting and other departments of life and nature, because their fame has survived long after the men or women themselves were gathered to their fathers. For example, men who were bold and resolute in battle during their life will be invoked long after their death, whenever a stout heart is needed for some feat of daring. And men who were notorious thieves and villains in the flesh will be invited, long after their bodies have mouldered in the grave, to lend their help when a deed of villainy is to be done. The names of men or women who were eminent for good or evil in their lives survive indefinitely in the memory of the tribe. Thus before a battle many a Kai warrior will throw something over the enemy's village and as he does so he will softly call on two ghosts, "We and Gunang, ye two heroes, come and guard me and keep the foes from me, that they may not be able to hurt me! But stand by me that I may be able to riddle them with spears!" Again, when a magician wishes to cause an earthquake, he will take a handful of ashes, wrap them in certain leaves, and pronounce the following spell over the packet: "Thou man Sâiong, throw about everything that exists; houses, villages, paths, fields, bushes and tall forest trees, yams, and taro, throw them all hither and thither; break and smash everything, but leave me in peace!" While he utters this incantation or prayer, the sorcerer's body itself twitches and quivers more and more violently, till the hut creaks and cracks and his strength is exhausted. Then he throws the packet of ashes out of the hut, and after that the earthquake is sure to follow sooner or later. So when they want rain, the Kai call upon two ghostly men named Balong and Batu, or Dinding and Bojang, to drive away a certain woman named Yondimi, so that the rain which she is holding up may fall upon the earth. The prayer for rain addressed to the ghosts is combined with a magical spell pronounced over a stone. And when rain has fallen in abundance and the Kai wish to make it cease, they strew hot ashes on the stone or lay it in a wood fire. On the principle of homoeopathic magic the heat of the ashes or of the fire is supposed to dry up the rain. Thus in these ceremonies for the production or cessation of rain we see that religion, represented by the invocation of the ghosts, goes hand in hand with magic, represented by the hocus-pocus with the stone. Again, certain celebrated ghosts are invoked to promote the growth of taro and yams. Thus to ensure a good crop of taro, the suppliant will hold a bud of taro in his hand and pray, "O Mrs. Zewanong, may my taro leaves unfold till they are as broad as the petticoat which covers thy loins!" When they are planting yams, they pray to two women named Tendung and Molewa that they would cause the yams to put forth as long suckers as the strings which the women twist to make into carrying-nets. Before they dig up the yams, they take a branch and drive with it the evil spirits or ghosts from the house in which the yams are to be stored. Having effected this clearance they stick the branch in the roof of the house and appoint a certain ghostly man named Ehang to act as warden. Again, fowlers invoke a married pair of ghosts called Mânze and Tâmingoka to frighten the birds from the trees and drive them on the limed twigs. Or they pray to a ghostly woman named Lâne, saying, "In all places of the neighbourhood shake the betel-nuts from the palms, that they may fall down to me on this fruit-tree and knock the berries from the boughs!" But by the betel-nuts the fowler in veiled language means the birds, which are to come in flocks to the fruit-tree and be caught fast by the lime on the branches. Again, when a fisherman wishes to catch eels, he prays to two ghosts called Yambi and Ngigwâli, saying: "Come, ye two men, and go down into the holes of the pool; smite the eels in them, and draw them out on the bank, that I may kill them!" Once more, when a child suffers from enlarged spleen, which shews as a swelling on its body, the parent will pray to a ghost named Aidolo for help in these words: "Come and help this child! It is big with a ball of sickness. Cut it up and squeeze and squash it, that the blood and pus may drain away and my child may be made whole!" To give point to the prayer the petitioner simultaneously pretends to cut a cross on the swelling with a knife.[466] [Sidenote: Possible development of departmental gods out of ghosts.] From this it appears that men and women who impressed their contemporaries by their talents, their virtues, or their vices in their lifetime, are sometimes remembered long after their death and continue to be invoked by their descendants for help in the particular department in which they had formerly rendered themselves eminent either for good or for evil. Such powerful and admired or dreaded ghosts might easily grow in time into gods and goddesses, who are worshipped as presiding over the various departments of nature and of human life. There is good reason to think that among many tribes and nations of the world the history of a god, if it could be recovered, would be found to be the history of a spirit who served his apprenticeship as a ghost before he was promoted to the rank of deity. [Sidenote: Kai lads at circumcision supposed to be swallowed by a monster. Bull-roarers.] Before quitting the Kai tribe I will mention that they, like the other tribes on this coast, practise circumcision and appear to associate the custom more or less vaguely with the spirits of the dead. Like their neighbours, they impress women with the belief that at circumcision the lads are swallowed by a monster, who can only be induced to disgorge them by the bribe of much food and especially of pigs, which are accordingly bred and kept nominally for this purpose, but really to furnish a banquet for the men alone. The ceremony is performed at irregular intervals of several years. A long hut, entered through a high door at one end and tapering away at the other, is built in a lonely part of the forest. It represents the monster which is to swallow the novices in its capacious jaws. The process of deglutition is represented as follows. In front of the entrance to the hut a scaffold is erected and a man mounts it. The novices are then led up one by one and passed under the scaffold. As each comes up, the man overhead makes a gesture of swallowing, while at the same time he takes a great gulp of water from a coco-nut flask. The trembling novice is now supposed to be in the maw of the monster; but a pig is offered for his redemption, the man on the scaffold, as representative of the beast, accepts the offering, a gurgling sound is heard, and the water which he had just gulped descends in a jet on the novice, who now goes free. The actual circumcision follows immediately on this impressive pantomime. The monster who swallows the lads is named Ngosa, which means "Grandfather"; and the same name is given to the bull-roarers which are swung at the festival. The Kai bull-roarer is a lance-shaped piece of palm-wood, more or less elaborately carved, which being swung at the end of a string emits the usual droning, booming sound. When they are not in use, the instruments are kept, carefully wrapt up, in the men's house, which no woman may enter. Only the old men have the right to undo these precious bundles and take out the sacred bull-roarers. Women, too, are strictly excluded from the neighbourhood of the circumcision ground; any who intrude on it are put to death. The mythical monster who is supposed to haunt the ground is said to be very dangerous to the female sex. When the novices go forth to be swallowed by him in the forest, the women who remain in the village weep and wail; and they rejoice greatly when the lads come back safe and sound.[467] [Sidenote: The Tami Islanders of Huon Gulf.] The last tribe of German New Guinea to which I shall invite your attention are the Tami. Most of them live not on the mainland but in a group of islands in Huon Gulf, to the south-east of Yabim. They are of a purer Melanesian stock than most of the tribes on the neighbouring coast of New Guinea. The German missionary Mr. G. Bamler, who lived amongst them for ten years and knows the people and their language intimately, thinks that they may even contain a strong infusion of Polynesian blood.[468] They are a seafaring folk, who extend their voyages all along the coast for the purpose of trade, bartering mats, pearls, fish, coco-nuts, and other tree-fruits which grow on their islands for taro, bananas, sugar-cane, and sago, which grow on the mainland.[469] [Sidenote: The long soul and the short soul.] In the opinion of these people every man has two souls, a long one and a short one. The long soul is identified with the shadow. It is only loosely attached to its owner, wandering away from his body in sleep and returning to it when he wakes with a start. The seat of the long soul is in the stomach. When the man dies, the long soul quits his body and appears to his relations at a distance, who thus obtain the first intimation of his decease. Having conveyed the sad intelligence to them, the long soul departs by way of Maligep, on the west coast of New Britain, to a village on the north coast, the inhabitants of which recognise the Tami ghosts as they flit past.[470] [Sidenote: Departure of the short soul to Lamboam, the nether world.] The short soul, on the other hand, never leaves the body in life but only after death. Even then it tarries for a time in the neighbourhood of the body before it takes its departure for Lamboam, which is the abode of the dead in the nether world. The Tami bury their dead in shallow graves under or near the houses. They collect in a coco-nut shell the maggots which swarm from the decaying corpse; and when the insects cease to swarm, they know that the short soul has gone away to its long home. It is the short soul which receives and carries away with it the offerings that are made to the deceased. These offerings serve a double purpose; they form the nucleus of the dead man's property in the far country, and they ensure him a friendly reception on his arrival. For example, the soul shivers with cold, when it first reaches the subterranean realm, and the other ghosts, the old stagers, obligingly heat stones to warm it up.[471] [Sidenote: Dilemma of the Tami.] However, the restless spirit returns from time to time to haunt and terrify the sorcerer, who was the cause of its death. But its threats are idle; it can really do him very little harm. Yet it keeps its ghostly eye on its surviving relatives to see that they do not stand on a friendly footing with the wicked sorcerer. Strictly speaking the Tami ought to avenge his death, but as a matter of fact they do not. The truth of it is that the Tami do a very good business with the people on the mainland, among whom the sorcerer is usually to be found; and the amicable relations which are essential to the maintenance of commerce would unquestionably suffer if a merchant were to indulge his resentment so far as to take his customer's head instead of his sago and bananas. These considerations reduce the Tami to a painful dilemma. If they gratify the ghost they lose a customer; if they keep the customer they must bitterly offend the ghost, who will punish them for their disrespect to his memory. In this delicate position the Tami endeavour to make the best of both worlds. On the one hand, by loudly professing their wrath and indignation against the guilty sorcerer they endeavour to appease the ghost; and on the other hand, by leaving the villain unmolested they do nothing to alienate their customers.[472] [Sidenote: Funeral and mourning customs of the Tami.] But if they do not gratify the desire for vengeance of the blood-thirsty ghost, they are at great pains to testify their respect for him in all other ways. The whole village takes part in the mourning and lamentation for a death. The women dance death dances, the men lend a hand in the preparations for the burial. All festivities are stopped: the drums are silent. As the people believe that when anybody has died, the ghosts of his dead kinsfolk gather in the village and are joined by other ghosts, they are careful not to leave the mourners alone, exposed to the too pressing attentions of the spectral visitors; they keep the bereaved family company, especially at night; indeed, if the weather be fine, the whole population of the village will encamp round the temporary hut which is built on the grave. This watch at the grave lasts about eight days. The watchers are supported and comforted in the discharge of their pious duty by a liberal allowance of food and drink. Nor are the wants of the ghost himself forgotten. Many families offer him taro broth at this time. The period of mourning lasts two or three years. During the first year the observances prescribed by custom are strictly followed, and the nearest relations must avoid publicity. After a year they are allowed more freedom; for example, the widow may lay aside the heavy net, which is her costume in full mourning, and may replace it by a lighter one; moreover, she may quit the house. At the end of the long period of mourning, dances are danced in honour of the deceased. They begin in the evening and last all night till daybreak. The mourners on these occasions smear their heads, necks, and breasts with black earth. A great quantity of food, particularly of pigs and taro broth, has been made ready; for the whole village, and perhaps a neighbouring village also, has been invited to share in the festivity, which may last eight or ten days, if the provisions suffice. The dances begin with a gravity and solemnity appropriate to a memorial of the dead; but towards the close the performers indulge in a lighter vein and act comic pieces, which so tickle the fancy of the spectators, that many of them roll on the ground with laughter. Finally, the temporary hut erected on the grave is taken down and the materials burned. As the other ghosts of the village are believed to be present in attendance on the one who is the guest of honour, all the villagers bring offerings and throw them into the fire. However, persons who are not related to the ghosts may snatch the offerings from the flames and convert them to their own use. Precious objects, such as boars' tusks and dogs' teeth, are not committed to the fire but merely swung over it in a bag, while the name of the person who offers the valuables in this economical fashion is proclaimed aloud for the satisfaction of the ghost. With these dances, pantomimes, and offerings the living have discharged the last duties of respect and affection to the dead. Yet for a while his ghost is thought to linger as a domestic or household spirit; but the time comes when he is wholly forgotten.[473] [Sidenote: Bones of the dead dug up and kept in the house for a time.] Many families, however, not content with the observance of these ordinary ceremonies, dig up the bodies of their dead when the flesh has mouldered away, redden the bones with ochre, and keep them bundled up in the house for two or three years, when these relics of mortality are finally committed to the earth. The intention of thus preserving the bones for years in the house is not mentioned, but no doubt it is to maintain a closer intimacy with the departed spirit than seems possible if his skeleton is left to rot in the grave. When he is at last laid in the ground, the tomb is enclosed by a strong wooden fence and planted with ornamental shrubs. Yet in the course of years, as the memory of the deceased fades away, his grave is neglected, the fence decays, the shrubs run wild; another generation, which knew him not, will build a house on the spot, and if in digging the foundations they turn up his bleached and mouldering bones, it is nothing to them: why should they trouble themselves about the spirit of a man or woman whose very name is forgotten?[474] [Footnote 450: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 142 _sq._] [Footnote 451: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 143.] [Footnote 452: Ch. Keysser, _l.c._] [Footnote 453: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 143 _sq._] [Footnote 454: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 62 _sq._] [Footnote 455: Ch. Keysser, pp. 64 _sqq._, 147 _sq._] [Footnote 456: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 132.] [Footnote 457: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 148.] [Footnote 458: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 148 _sq._] [Footnote 459: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 149.] [Footnote 460: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 147.] [Footnote 461: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 145.] [Footnote 462: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ p. 145.] [Footnote 463: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 145 _sq._] [Footnote 464: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 149 _sq._] [Footnote 465: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 112, 150 _sq._] [Footnote 466: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 151-154. In this passage the ghosts are spoken of simply as spirits (_Geister_); but the context proves that the spirits in question are those of the dead.] [Footnote 467: Ch. Keysser, _op. cit._ pp. 34-40.] [Footnote 468: G. Bamler, "Tami," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. (Berlin, 1911) p. 489; compare _ib._ p. vii.] [Footnote 469: H. Zahn, "Die Jabim," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. 315 _sq._] [Footnote 470: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ p. 518.] [Footnote 471: G. Bamler, _l.c._] [Footnote 472: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 518 _sq._] [Footnote 473: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 519-522.] [Footnote 474: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ p. 518.] LECTURE XIV THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF GERMAN AND DUTCH NEW GUINEA [Sidenote: The Tami doctrine of souls and gods. The Tago spirits, represented by masked men.] At the close of the last lecture I dealt with the Tami, a people of Melanesian stock who inhabit a group of islands off the mainland of New Guinea. I explained their theory of the human soul. According to them, every man has two distinct souls, a long one and a short one, both of which survive his death, but depart in different directions, one of them repairing to the lower world, and the other being last sighted off the coast of New Britain. But the knowledge which these savages possess of the spiritual world is not limited to the souls of men; they are acquainted with several deities (_buwun_), who live in the otherwise uninhabited island of Djan. They are beings of an amorous disposition, and though their real shape is that of a fish's body with a human head, they can take on the form of men in order to seduce women. They also cause epidemics and earthquakes; yet the people shew them no respect, for they believe them to be dull-witted as well as lecherous. At most, if a fearful epidemic is raging, they will offer the gods a lean little pig or a mangy cur; and should an earthquake last longer than usual they will rap on the ground, saying, "Hullo, you down there! easy a little! We men are still here." They also profess acquaintance with a god named Anuto, who created the heaven and the earth together with the first man and woman. He is a good being; nobody need be afraid of him. At festivals and meat markets the Tami offer him the first portion in a little basket, which a lad carries away into the wood and leaves there. As usual, the deity consumes only the soul of the offering; the bearer eats the material substance.[475] The Tami further believe in certain spirits called Tago which are very old, having been created at the same time as the village. Every family or clan possesses its own familiar spirits of this class. They are represented by men who disguise their bodies in dense masses of sago leaves and their faces in grotesque masks with long hooked noses. In this costume the maskers jig it as well as the heavy unwieldy disguise allows them to do. But the dance consists in little more than running round and round in a circle, with an occasional hop; the orchestra stands in the middle, singing and thumping drums. Sometimes two or three of the masked men will make a round of the village, pelting the men with pebbles or hard fruits, while the women and children scurry out of their way. When they are not in use the masks are hidden away in a hut in the forest, which women and children may not approach. Their secret is sternly kept: any betrayal of it is punished with death. The season for the exhibition of these masked dances recurs only once in ten or twelve years, but it extends over a year or thereabout. During the whole of the dancing-season, curiously enough, coco-nuts are strictly tabooed; no person may eat them, so that the unused nuts accumulate in thousands. As coco-nuts ordinarily form a daily article of diet with the Tami, their prohibition for a year is felt by the people as a privation. The meaning of the prohibition and also of the masquerades remains obscure.[476] [Sidenote: The superhuman beings with whom the Tami are chiefly concerned are the souls of the dead. Offerings to the dead.] But while the Tami believe in gods and spirits of various sorts, the superhuman beings with whom they chiefly concern themselves are the souls of the dead. On this subject Mr. Bamler writes: "All the spirits whom we have thus far described are of little importance in the life and thought of the Tami; they are remembered only on special occasions. The spirits who fill the thoughts and attract the attention of the Tami are the _kani_, that is, the souls of the departed. The Tami therefore practise the worship of ancestors. Yet the memory of ancestors does not reach far back; people occupy themselves only with the souls of those relatives whom they have personally known. Hence the worship seldom extends beyond the grandfather, even when a knowledge of more remote progenitors survives. An offering to the ancestors takes the form of a little dish of boiled taro, a cigar, betel-nuts, and the like; but the spirits partake only of the image or soul of the things offered, while the material substance falls to the share of mankind. There is no fixed rule as to the manner or time of the offering. It is left to the caprice or childlike affection of the individual to decide how he will make it. With most natives it is a simple matter of business, the throwing of a sprat to catch a salmon; the man brings his offering only when he needs the help of the spirits. There is very little ceremony about it. The offerer will say, for example, 'There, I lay a cigar for you; smoke it and hereafter drive fish towards me'; or, 'Accompany me on the journey, and see to it that I do good business.' The place where the food is presented is the shelf for pots and dishes under the roof. Thus they imagine that the spirits exert a tolerably far-reaching influence over all created things, and it is their notion that the spirits take possession of the objects. In like manner the spirits can injure a man by thwarting his plans, for example, by frightening away the fish, blighting the fruits of the fields, and so forth. If the native is forced to conclude that the spirits are against him, he has no hesitation about deceiving them in the grossest manner. Should the requisite sacrifices be inconvenient to him, he flatly refuses them, or gives the shabbiest things he can find. In all this the native displays the same craft and cunning which he is apt to practise in his dealings with the whites. He fears the power which the spirit has over him, yet he tries whether he cannot outwit the spirit like an arrant block-head."[477] [Sidenote: Crude motives for sacrifice.] This account of the crude but quite intelligible motives which lead these savages to sacrifice to the spirits of their dead may be commended to the attention of writers on the history of religion who read into primitive sacrifice certain subtle and complex ideas which it never entered into the mind of primitive man to conceive and which, even if they were explained to him, he would in all probability be totally unable to understand. [Sidenote: Lamboam, the land of the dead.] According to the Tami, the souls of the dead live in the nether world. The spirit-land is called Lamboam; the entrance to it is by a cleft in a rock. The natives of the mainland also call Hades by the name of Lamboam; but whereas according to them every village has its own little Lamboam, the Tami hold that there is only one big Lamboam for everybody, though it is subdivided into many mansions, of which every village has one to itself. In Lamboam everything is fairer and more perfect than on earth. The fruits are so plentiful that the blessed spirits can, if they choose, give themselves up to the delights of idleness; the villages are full of ornamental plants. Yet on the other hand we are informed that life beneath the ground is very like life above it: people work and marry, they squabble and wrangle, they fall sick and even die, just as people do on earth. Souls which die the second death in Lamboam are changed into vermin, such as ants and worms; however, others say that they turn into wood-spirits, who do men a mischief in the fields. It is not so easy as is commonly supposed to effect an entrance into the spirit-land. You must pass a river, and even when you have crossed it you will be very likely to suffer from the practical jokes which the merry old ghosts play on a raw newcomer. A very favourite trick of theirs is to send him up a pandanus tree to look for fruit. If he is simple enough to comply, they catch him by the legs as he is swarming up the trunk and drag him down, so that his whole body is fearfully scratched, if not quite ripped up, by the rough bark. That is why people put valuable things with the dead in the grave, in order that their ghosts on arrival in Lamboam may have the wherewithal to purchase the good graces of the facetious old stagers.[478] [Sidenote: Return of the ghosts to earth, sometimes in the form of serpents.] However, even when the ghosts have succeeded in effecting a lodgment in Lamboam, they are not strictly confined to it. They can break bounds at any moment and return to the upper air. This they do particularly when any of their surviving relations is at the point of death. Ghosts of deceased kinsfolk and of others gather round the parting soul and attend it to the far country. Yet sometimes, apparently, the soul sets out alone, for the anxious relatives will call out to it, "Miss not the way." But ghosts visit their surviving friends at other times than at the moment of death. For example, some families possess the power of calling up spirits in the form of serpents from the vasty deep. The spirits whom they evoke are usually those of persons who have died quite lately; for such ghosts cannot return to earth except in the guise of serpents. In this novel shape they naturally feel shy and hide under a mat. They come out only in the dusk of the evening or the darkness of night and sit on the shelf for pots and dishes under the roof. They have lost the faculty of speech and can express themselves only in whistles. These whistles the seer, who is generally a woman, understands perfectly and interprets to his or her less gifted fellows. In this way a considerable body of information, more or less accurate in detail, is collected as to life in the other world. More than that, it is even possible for men, and especially for women, to go down alive into the nether world and prosecute their enquiries at first hand among the ghosts. Women who possess this remarkable faculty transmit it to their daughters, so that the profession is hereditary. When anybody wishes to ascertain how it fares with one of his dead kinsfolk in Lamboam, he has nothing to do but to engage the services of one of these professional mediums, giving her something which belonged to his departed friend. The medium rubs her forehead with ginger, muttering an incantation, lies down on the dead man's property, and falls asleep. Her soul then goes down in a dream to deadland and elicits from the ghosts the required information, which on waking from sleep she imparts to the anxious enquirer.[479] [Sidenote: Sickness caused by a spirit.] Sickness accompanied by fainting fits is ascribed to the action of a spirit, it may be the ghost of a near relation, who has carried off the "long soul" of the sufferer. The truant soul is recalled by a blast blown on a triton-shell, in which some chewed ginger or _massoi_ bark has been inserted. The booming sound attracts the attention of the vagrant spirit, while the smell of the bark or of the ginger drives away the ghost.[480] [Sidenote: Tami lads supposed to be swallowed by a monster at circumcision; the monster and the bull-roarer are both called _kani_.] The name which the Tami give to the spirits of the dead is _kani_; but like other tribes in this part of New Guinea they apply the same term to the bull-roarer and also to the mythical monster who is supposed to swallow the lads at circumcision. The identity of the name for the three things seems to prove that in the mind of the Tami the initiatory rites, of which circumcision is the principal feature, are closely associated with their conception of the state of the human soul after death, though what the precise nature of the association may be still remains obscure. Like their neighbours on the mainland of New Guinea, the Tami give out that the novices at initiation are swallowed by a monster or dragon, who only consents to disgorge his prey in consideration of a tribute of pigs, the rate of the tribute being one novice one pig. In the act of disgorging the lad the dragon bites him, and the bite is visible to all in the cut called circumcision. The voice of the monster is heard in the hum of the bull-roarers, which are swung at the ceremony in such numbers and with such force that in still weather the booming sound may be heard across the sea for many miles. To impress women and children with an idea of the superhuman strength of the dragon deep grooves are cut in the trunks of trees and afterwards exhibited to the uninitiated as the marks made by the monster in tugging at the ropes which bound him to the trees. However, the whole thing is an open secret to the married women, though they keep their knowledge to themselves, fearing to incur the penalty of death which is denounced upon all who betray the mystery. [Sidenote: The rite of circumcision. Seclusion and return of the newly circumcised lads.] The initiatory rites are now celebrated only at intervals of many years. When the time is come for the ceremony, women are banished from the village and special quarters prepared for them elsewhere; for they are strictly forbidden to set foot in the village while the monster or spirit who swallows the lads has his abode in it. A special hut is then built for the accommodation of the novices during the many months which they spend in seclusion before and after the operation of circumcision. The hut represents the monster; it consists of a framework of thin poles covered with palm-leaf mats and tapering down at one end. Looked at from a distance it resembles a whale. The backbone is composed of a betel-nut palm, which has been grubbed up with its roots. The root with its fibres represents the monster's head and hair, and under it are painted a pair of eyes and a great mouth in red, white, and black. The passage of the novices into the monster's belly is represented by causing them to defile past a row of men who hold bull-roarers aloft over the heads of the candidates. Before this march past takes place, each of the candidates is struck by the chief with a bull-roarer on his chin and brow. The operation of circumcising the lads is afterwards performed behind a screen set up near the monster-shaped house. It is followed by a great feast on swine's flesh. After their wounds are healed the circumcised lads have still to remain in seclusion for three or four months. Finally, they are brought back to the village with great pomp. For this solemn ceremony their faces, necks, and breasts are whitened with a thick layer of chalk, while red stripes, painted round their mouths and eyes and prolonged to the ears, add to the grotesqueness of their appearance. Their eyes are closed with a plaster of chalk, and thus curiously arrayed and blindfolded they are led back to the village square, where leave is formally given them to open their eyes. At the entrance to the village they are received by the women, who weep for joy and strew boiled field-fruits on the way. Next morning the newly initiated lads wash off the crust of chalk, and have their hair, faces, necks, and breasts painted bright red. This ends their time of seclusion, which has lasted five or six months; they now rank as full-grown men.[481] [Sidenote: Simulation of death and resurrection.] In these initiatory rites, as in the similar rites of the neighbouring tribes on the mainland of New Guinea, we may perhaps detect a simulation of death and of resurrection to a new and higher life. But why circumcision should form the central feature of such a drama is a question to which as yet no certain or even very probable answer can be given. The bodily mutilations of various sorts, which in many savage tribes mark the transition from boyhood to manhood, remain one of the obscurest features in the life of uncultured races. That they are in most cases connected with the great change which takes place in the sexes at puberty seems fairly certain; but we are far from understanding the ideas which primitive man has formed on this mysterious subject. [Sidenote: The natives of Dutch New Guinea.] That ends what I have to say as to the notions of death and a life hereafter which are entertained by the natives of German New Guinea. We now turn to the natives of Dutch New Guinea, who occupy roughly speaking the western half of the great island. Our information as to their customs and beliefs on this subject is much scantier, and accordingly my account of them will be much briefer. [Sidenote: Geelvink Bay and Doreh Bay. The Noofoor or Noomfor people. Their material culture and arts of life.] Towards the western end of the Dutch possession there is on the northern coast a deep and wide indentation known as Geelvink Bay, which in its north-west corner includes a very much smaller indentation known as Doreh Bay. Scattered about in the waters of the great Geelvink Bay are many islands of various sizes, such as Biak or Wiak, Jappen or Jobi, Run or Ron, Noomfor, and many more. It is in regard to the natives who inhabit the coasts or islands of Geelvink Bay that our information is perhaps least imperfect, and it is accordingly with them that I shall begin. In physical appearance, expression of the face, mode of wearing the hair, and still more in manners and customs these natives of the coast and islands differ from the natives of the mountains in the interior. The name given to them by Dutch and German writers is Noofoor or Noomfor. Their original home is believed to be the island of Biak or Wiak, which lies at the northern entrance of the bay, and from which they are supposed to have spread southwards and south-westwards to the other islands and to the mainland of New Guinea.[482] They are a handsomely built race. Their colour is usually dark brown, but in some individuals it shades off to light-brown, while in others it deepens into black-brown. The forehead is high and narrow; the eye is dark brown or black with a lively expression; the nose broad and flat, the lips thick and projecting. The cheekbones are not very high. The facial angle agrees with that of Europeans. The hair is abundant and frizzly. The people live in settled villages and subsist by agriculture, hunting, and fishing. Their large communal houses are raised above the ground on piles; on the coast they are built over the water. Each house has a long gallery, one in front and one behind, and a long passage running down the middle of the dwelling, with the rooms arranged on either side of it. Each room has its own fireplace and is occupied by a single family. One such communal house may contain from ten to twenty families with a hundred or more men, women, and children, besides dogs, fowls, parrots, and other creatures. When the house is built over the water, it is commonly connected with the shore by a bridge; but in some places no such bridge exists, and at high water the inmates can only communicate with the shore by means of their canoes. The staple food of the people is sago, which they extract from the sago-palm; but they also make use of bread-fruit, together with millet, rice, and maize, whenever they can obtain these cereals. Their flesh diet includes wild pigs, birds, fish, and trepang. While some of them subsist mainly by fishing and commerce, others devote themselves almost exclusively to the cultivation of their gardens, which they lay out in clearings of the dense tropical forest, employing chiefly axes and chopping-knives as their instruments of tillage. Of ploughs they, like most savages, seem to know nothing. The rice and other plants which they raise in these gardens are produced by the dry method of cultivation. In hunting birds they employ chiefly bows and arrows, but sometimes also snares. The arrows with which they shoot the birds of paradise are blunted so as not to injure the splendid plumage of the birds. Turtle-shells, feathers of the birds of paradise, and trepang are among the principal articles which they barter with traders for cotton-goods, knives, swords, axes, beads and so forth. They display some skill and taste in wood-carving. The art of working in iron has been introduced among them from abroad and is now extensively practised by the men. They make large dug-out canoes with outriggers, which seem to be very seaworthy, for they accomplish long voyages even in stormy weather. The making of pottery, basket-work, and weaving, together with pounding rice and cooking food, are the special business of women. The men wear waistbands or loin-cloths made of bark, which is beaten till it becomes as supple as leather. The women wear petticoats or strips of blue cotton round their loins, and as ornaments they have rings of silver, copper, or shell on their arms and legs.[483] Thus the people have attained to a fair degree of barbaric culture. [Sidenote: Fear of ghosts. Ideas of the spirit-world.] Now it is significant that among these comparatively advanced savages the fear of ghosts and the reverence entertained for them have developed into something which might almost be called a systematic worship of the dead. As to their fear of ghosts I will quote the evidence of a Dutch missionary, Mr. J. L. van Hasselt, who lived for many years among them and is the author of a grammar and dictionary of their language. He says: "That a great fear of ghosts prevails among the Papuans is intelligible. Even by day they are reluctant to pass a grave, but nothing would induce them to do so by night. For the dead are then roaming about in their search for gambier and tobacco, and they may also sail out to sea in a canoe. Some of the departed, above all the so-called _Mambrie_ or heroes, inspire them with especial fear. In such cases for some days after the burial you may hear about sunset a simultaneous and horrible din in all the houses of all the villages, a yelling, screaming, beating and throwing of sticks; happily the uproar does not last long: its intention is to compel the ghost to take himself off: they have given him all that befits him, namely, a grave, a funeral banquet, and funeral ornaments; and now they beseech him not to thrust himself on their observation any more, not to breathe any sickness upon the survivors, and not to kill them or 'fetch' them, as the Papuans put it. Their ideas of the spirit-world are very vague. Their usual answer to such questions is, 'We know not.' If you press them, they will commonly say that the spirit realm is under the earth or under the bottom of the sea. Everything there is as it is in the upper world, only the vegetation down below is more luxuriant, and all plants grow faster. Their fear of death and their helpless wailing over the dead indicate that the misty kingdom of the shades offers but little that is consolatory to the Papuan at his departure from this world."[484] [Sidenote: Fear of ghosts in general and of the ghosts of the slain in particular.] Again, speaking of the natives of Doreh, a Dutch official observes that "superstition and magic play a principal part in the life of the Papuan. Occasions for such absurdities he discovers at every step. Thus he cherishes a great fear of the ghosts of slain persons, for which reason their bodies remain unburied on the spot where they were murdered. When a murder has taken place in the village, the inhabitants assemble for several evenings in succession and raise a fearful outcry in order to chase away the soul, in case it should be minded to return to the village. They set up miniature wooden houses here and there on trees in the forest for the ghosts of persons who die of disease or through accidents, believing that the souls take up their abode in them."[485] The same writer remarks that these savages have no priests, but that they have magicians (_kokinsor_), who practise exorcisms, work magic, and heal the sick, for which they receive a small payment in articles of barter or food.[486] Speaking of the Papuans of Dutch New Guinea in general another writer informs us that "they honour the memory of the dead in every way, because they ascribe to the spirits of the departed a great influence on the life of the survivors.... Whereas in life all good and evil comes from the soul, after death, on the other hand, the spirit works for the most part only evil. It loves especially to haunt by night the neighbourhood of its old dwelling and the grave; so the people particularly avoid the neighbourhood of graves at night, and when darkness has fallen they will not go out except with a burning brand.... According to the belief of the Papuans the ghosts cause sickness, bad harvests, war, and in general every misfortune. From fear of such evils and in order to keep them in good humour, the people make provision for the spirits of the departed after death. Also they sacrifice to them before every important undertaking and never fail to ask their advice."[487] [Sidenote: Papuan ideas as to the state of the dead.] A Dutch writer, who has given us a comparatively full account of the natives of Geelvink Bay, describes as follows their views in regard to the state of the dead: "According to the Papuans the soul, which they imagine to have its seat in the blood, continues to exist at the bottom of the sea, and every one who dies goes thither. They imagine the state of things there to be much the same as that in which they lived on earth. Hence at his burial the dead man is given an equipment suitable to his rank and position in life. He is provided with a bow and arrow, armlets and body-ornaments, pots and pans, everything that may stand him in good stead in the life hereafter. This provision must not be neglected, for it is a prevalent opinion that the dead continue always to maintain relations with the world and with the living, that they possess superhuman power, exercise great influence over the affairs of life on earth, and are able to protect in danger, to stand by in war, to guard against shipwreck at sea, and to grant success in fishing and hunting. For such weighty reasons the Papuans do all in their power to win the favour of their dead. On undertaking a journey they are said never to forget to hang amulets about themselves in the belief that their dead will then surely help them; hence, too, when they are at sea in rough weather, they call upon the souls of the departed, asking them for better weather or a favourable breeze, in case the wind happens to be contrary."[488] [Sidenote: Wooden images of the dead (_korwar_).] In order to communicate with these powerful spirits and to obtain their advice and help in time of need, the Papuans of Geelvink Bay make wooden images of their dead, which they keep in their houses and consult from time to time. Every family has at least one such ancestral image, which forms the medium whereby the soul of the deceased communicates with his or her surviving relatives. These images or Penates, as we may call them, are carved of wood, about a foot high, and represent the deceased person in a standing, sitting, or crouching attitude, but commonly with the hands folded in front. The head is disproportionately large, the nose long and projecting, the mouth wide and well furnished with teeth; the eyes are formed of large green or blue beads with black dots to indicate the pupils. Sometimes the male figures carry a shield in the left hand and brandish a sword in the right; while the female figures are represented grasping with both hands a serpent which stands on its coiled tail. Rags of many colours adorn these figures, and the hair of the deceased, whom they represent, is placed between their legs. Such an ancestral image is called a _korwar_ or _karwar_. The natives identify these effigies with the deceased persons whom they portray, and accordingly they will speak of one as their father or mother or other relation. Tobacco and food are offered to the images, and the natives greet them reverentially by bowing to the earth before them with the two hands joined and raised to the forehead. [Sidenote: Such images carried on voyages and consulted as oracles. The images consulted in sickness.] Such images are kept in the houses and carried in canoes on voyages, in order that they may be at hand to help and advise their kinsfolk and worshippers. They are consulted on many occasions, for example, when the people are going on a journey, or about to fish for turtles or trepang, or when a member of the family is sick, and his relations wish to know whether he will recover. At these consultations the enquirer may either take the image in his hands or crouch before it on the ground, on which he places his offerings of tobacco, cotton, beads, and so forth. The spirit of the dead is thought to be in the image and to pass from it into the enquirer, who thus becomes inspired by the soul of the deceased and acquires his superhuman knowledge. As a sign of his inspiration the medium shivers and shakes. According to some accounts, however, this shivering and shaking of the medium is an evil omen; whereas if he remains tranquil, the omen is good. It is especially in cases of sickness that the images are consulted. The mode of consultation has been described as follows by a Dutch writer: "When any one is sick and wishes to know the means of cure, or when any one desires to avert misfortune or to discover something unknown, then in presence of the whole family one of the members is stupefied by the fumes of incense or by other means of producing a state of trance. The image of the deceased person whose advice is sought is then placed on the lap or shoulder of the medium in order to cause the soul to pass out of the image into his body. At the moment when that happens, he begins to shiver; and, encouraged by the bystanders, the soul speaks through the mouth of the medium and names the means of cure or of averting the calamity. When he comes to himself, the medium knows nothing of what he has been saying. This they call _kor karwar_, that is, 'invoking the soul;' and they say _karwar iwos_, 'the soul speaks.'" The writer adds: "It is sometimes reported that the souls go to the underworld, but that is not true. The Papuans think that after death the soul abides by the corpse and is buried with it in the grave; hence before an image is made, if it is necessary to consult the soul, the enquirer must betake himself to the grave in order to do so. But when the image is made, the soul enters into it and is supposed to remain in it so long as satisfactory answers are obtained from it in consultation. But should the answers prove disappointing, the people think that the soul has deserted the image, on which they throw the image away as useless. Where the soul has gone, nobody knows, and they do not trouble their heads about it, since it has lost its power."[489] The person who acts as medium in consulting the spirit may be either the house-father himself or a magician (_konoor_).[490] [Sidenote: Example of the consultation of an ancestral image.] As an example of these consultations we may take the case of a man who was suffering from a painful sore on his finger and wished to ascertain the cause of the trouble. So he set one of the ancestral images before him and questioned it closely. At first the image made no reply; but at last the man remembered that he had neglected his duty to his dead brother by failing to marry his widow, as, according to native custom, he should have done. Now the natives believe that the dead can punish them for any breach of customary law; so it occurred to our enquirer that the ghost of his dead brother might have afflicted him with the sore on his finger for not marrying his widow. Accordingly he put the question to the image, and in doing so the compunction of a guilty conscience caused him to tremble. This trembling he took for an answer of the image in the affirmative, wherefore he went off and took the widow to wife and provided for her maintenance.[491] [Sidenote: Ancestral images consulted as to the cause of death. Offerings to the images.] Again, the ancestral images are often consulted to ascertain the cause of a death; and if the image attributes the death to the evil magic of a member of another tribe, an expedition will be sent to avenge the wrong by slaying the supposed culprit. For the souls of the dead take it very ill and wreak their spite on the survivors, if their death is not avenged on their enemies. Not uncommonly the consultation of the images merely furnishes a pretext for satisfying a grudge against an individual or a tribe.[492] The mere presence of these images appears to be supposed to benefit the sick; a woman who was seriously ill has been seen to lie with four or five ancestral figures fastened at the head of her bed. On enquiry she explained that they did not all belong to her, but that some of them had been kindly lent to her by relations and friends.[493] Again, the images are taken by the natives with them to war, because they hope thereby to secure the help of the spirits whom the images represent. Also they make offerings from time to time to the effigies and hold feasts in their honour.[494] They observe, indeed, that the food which they present to these household idols remains unconsumed, but they explain this by saying that the spirits are content to snuff up the savour of the viands, and to leave their gross material substance alone.[495] [Sidenote: Images of persons who have died away from home.] In general, images are only made of persons who have died at home. But in the island of Ron or Run they are also made of persons who have died away from home or have fallen in battle. In such cases the difficulty is to compel the soul to quit its mortal remains far away and come to animate the image. However, the natives of Ron have found means to overcome this difficulty. They first carve the wooden image of the dead person and then call his soul back to the village by setting a great tree on fire, while the family assemble round it and one of them, holding the image in his hand, acts the part of a medium, shivering and shaking and falling into a trance after the approved fashion of mediums in many lands. After this ceremony the image is supposed to be animated by the soul of the deceased, and it is kept in the house with as much confidence as any other.[496] [Sidenote: Sometimes the head of the image is composed of the skull of the deceased.] Sometimes the head of the image consists of the skull of the deceased, which has been detached from the skeleton and inserted in a hole at the top of the effigy. In such cases the body of the image is of wood and the head of bone. It is especially men who have distinguished themselves by their bravery or have earned a name for themselves in other ways who are thus represented. Apparently the notion is that as a personal relic of the departed the skull is better fitted to retain his soul than a mere head of wood. But in the island of Ron or Run, and perhaps elsewhere, skull-topped images of this sort are made for all firstborn children, whether male or female, young or old, at least for all who die from the age of twelve years and upward. These images have a special name, _bemar boo_, which means "head of a corpse." They are kept in the room of the parents who have lost the child.[497] [Sidenote: Mode of preparing such skull-headed images.] The mode in which such images are prepared is as follows. The body of the firstborn child, who dies at the age of years or upwards, is laid in a small canoe, which is deposited in a hut erected behind the dwelling-house. Here the mother is obliged to keep watch night and day beside the corpse and to maintain a blazing fire till the head drops off the body, which it generally does about twenty days after the death. Then the trunk is wrapped in leaves and buried, but the head is brought into the house and carefully preserved. Above the spot where it is deposited a small opening is made in the roof, through which a stick is thrust bearing some rags or flags to indicate that the remains of a dead body are in the house. When, after the lapse of three or four months, the nose and ears of the head have dropped off, and the eyes have mouldered away, the relations and friends assemble in the house of mourning. In the middle of the assembly the father of the child crouches on his hams with downcast look in an attitude of grief, while one of the persons present begins to carve a new nose and a new pair of ears for the skull out of a piece of wood. The kind of wood varies according as the deceased was a male or a female. All the time that the artist is at work, the rest of the company chant a melancholy dirge. When the nose and ears are finished and have been attached to the skull, and small round fruits have been inserted in the hollow sockets of the eyes to represent the missing orbs, a banquet follows in honour of the deceased, who is now represented by his decorated skull set up on a block of wood on the table. Thus he receives his share of the food and of the cigars, and is raised to the rank of a domestic idol or _korwar_. Henceforth the skull is carefully kept in a corner of the chamber to be consulted as an oracle in time of need. The bodies of fathers and mothers are treated in the same way as those of firstborn children. On the other hand the bodies of children who die under the age of two years are never buried. The remains are packed in baskets of rushes covered with lids and tightly corded, and the baskets are then hung on the branches of tall trees, where no more notice is taken of them. Four or five such baskets containing the mouldering bodies of infants may sometimes be seen hanging on a single tree.[498] The reason for thus disposing of the remains of young children is said to be as follows. A thick mist hangs at evening over the top of the dense tropical forest, and in the mist dwell two spirits called Narwur and Imgier, one male and the other female, who kill little children, not out of malice but out of love, because they wish to have the children with them. So when a child dies, the parents fasten its little body to the branches of a tall tree in the forest, hoping that the spirit pair will take it and be satisfied, and will spare its small brothers and sisters.[499] [Sidenote: Mummification of the dead.] In some parts of Geelvink Bay, however, the bodies of the dead are treated differently. For example, on the south coast of the island of Jobi or Jappen and elsewhere the corpses are reduced to mummies by being dried on a bamboo stage over a slow fire; after which the mummies, wrapt in cloth, are kept in the house, being either laid along the wall or hung from the ceiling. When the number of these relics begins to incommode the living inmates of the house, the older mummies are removed and deposited in the hollow trunks of ancient trees. In some tribes who thus mummify their dead the juices of corruption which drip from the rotting corpse are caught in a vessel and given to the widow to drink, who is forced to gulp them down under the threat of decapitation if she were to reject the loathsome beverage.[500] [Sidenote: Restrictions observed by mourners. Tattooing in honour of the dead. Teeth of the dead worn by relatives.] The family in which a death has taken place is subject for a time to certain burdensome restrictions, which are probably dictated by a fear of the ghost. Thus all the time till the effigy of the deceased has been made and a feast given in his honour, they are obliged to remain in the house without going out for any purpose, not even to bathe or to fetch food and drink. Moreover they must abstain from the ordinary articles of diet and confine themselves to half-baked cakes of sago and other unpalatable viands. As these restrictions may last for months they are not only irksome but onerous, especially to people who have no slaves to fetch and carry for them. However, in that case the neighbours come to the rescue and supply the mourners with wood, water, and the other necessaries of life, until custom allows them to go out and help themselves. After the effigy of the dead has been made, the family go in state to a sacred place to purify themselves by bathing. If the journey is made by sea, no other canoe may meet or sail past the canoe of the mourners under pain of being confiscated to them and redeemed at a heavy price. On their return from the holy place, the period of mourning is over, and the family is free to resume their ordinary mode of life and their ordinary victuals.[501] That the seclusion of the mourners in the house for some time after the death springs from a fear of the ghost is not only probable on general grounds but is directly suggested by a custom which is observed at the burial of the body. When it has been laid in the earth along with various articles of daily use, which the ghost is supposed to require for his comfort, the mourners gather round the grave and each of them picks up a leaf, which he folds in the shape of a spoon and holds several times over his head as if he would pour out the contents upon it. As they do so, they all murmur, "_Rur i rama_," that is, "The spirit comes." This exclamation or incantation is supposed to prevent the ghost from troubling them. The gravediggers may not enter their houses till they have bathed and so removed from their persons the contagion of death, in order that the soul of the deceased may have no power over them.[502] Mourners sometimes tattoo themselves in honour of the dead. For a father, the marks are tattooed on the cheeks and under the eyes; for a grandfather, on the breast; for a mother, on the shoulders and arms; for a brother, on the back. On the death of a father or mother, the eldest son or, if there is none such, the eldest daughter wears the teeth and hair of the deceased. When the teeth of old people drop out, they are kept on purpose to be thus strung on a string and worn by their sons or daughters after their death. Similarly, a mother wears as a permanent mark of mourning the teeth of her dead child strung on a cord round her neck, and as a temporary mark of mourning a little bag on her throat containing a lock of the child's hair.[503] The intention of these customs is not mentioned. Probably they are not purely commemorative but designed in some way either to influence for good the spirit of the departed or to obtain its help and protection for the living. [Sidenote: Rebirth of parents in their children.] Thus far we have found no evidence among the natives of New Guinea of a belief that the dead are permanently reincarnated in their human descendants. However, the inhabitants of Ayambori, an inland village about an hour distant to the east of Doreh, are reported to believe that the soul of a dead man returns in his eldest son, and that the soul of a dead woman returns in her eldest daughter.[504] So stated the belief is hardly clear and intelligible; for if a man has several sons, he must evidently be alive and not dead when the eldest of them is born, and similarly with a woman and her eldest daughter. On the analogy of similar beliefs elsewhere we may conjecture that these Papuans imagine every firstborn son to be animated by the soul of his father, whether his father be alive or dead, and every firstborn daughter to be animated by the soul of her mother, whether her mother be alive or dead. [Sidenote: Customs concerning the dead observed in the islands off the western end of New Guinea.] Beliefs and customs concerning the dead like those which we have found among the natives of Geelvink Bay are reported to prevail in other parts of Dutch New Guinea, but our information about them is much less full. Thus, off the western extremity of New Guinea there is a group of small islands (Waaigeoo, Salawati, Misol, Waigama, and so on), the inhabitants of which make _karwar_ or wooden images of their dead ancestors. These they keep in separate rooms of their houses and take with them as talismans to war. In these inner rooms are also kept miniature wooden houses in which their ancestors are believed to reside, and in which even Mohammedans (for some of the natives profess Islam) burn incense on Fridays in honour of the souls of the dead. These souls are treated like living beings, for in the morning some finely pounded sago is placed in the shrines; at noon it is taken away, but may not be eaten by the inmates of the house. Curiously enough, women are forbidden to set food for the dead in the shrines: if they did so, it is believed that they would be childless. Further, in the chief's house there are shrines for the souls of all the persons who have died in the whole village. Such a house might almost be described as a temple of the dead. Among the inhabitants of the Negen Negorijen or "Nine Villages" the abodes of the ancestral spirits are often merely frameworks of houses decorated with coloured rags. These frameworks are called _roem seram_. On festal occasions they are brought forth and the people dance round them to music. The mountain tribes of these islands to the west of New Guinea seldom have any such little houses for the souls of the dead. They think that the spirits of the departed dwell among the branches of trees, to which accordingly the living attach strips of red and white cotton, always to the number of seven or a multiple of seven. Also they place food on the branches or hang it in baskets on the boughs,[505] no doubt in order to feed the hungry ghosts. But among the tribes on the coast, who make miniature houses for the use of their dead, these little shrines form a central feature of the religious life of the people. At festivals, especially on the occasion of a marriage or a death, the shrines are brought out from the side chamber and are set down in the central room of the house, where the people dance round them, singing and making music for days together with no interruption except for meals.[506] [Sidenote: Wooden images of the dead.] According to the Dutch writer, Mr. de Clercq, whose account I am reproducing, this worship of the dead, represented by wooden images (_karwar_) and lodged in miniature houses, is, together with a belief in good and bad spirits, the only thing deserving the name of religion that can be detected among these people. It is certain that the wooden images represent members of the family who died a natural death at home; they are never, as in Ansoes and Waropen, images of persons who have been murdered or slain in battle. Hence they form a kind of Penates, who are supposed to lead an invisible life in the family circle. The natives of the Negen Negorijen, for example, believe that these wooden images (_karwar_), which are both male and female, contain the souls of their ancestors, who protect the house and household and are honoured at festivals by having portions of food set beside their images.[507] The Seget Sélé, who occupy the extreme westerly point of New Guinea, bury their dead in the island of Lago and set up little houses in the forest for the use of the spirits of their ancestors. But these little houses may never be entered or even approached by members of the family.[508] A traveller, who visited a hut occupied by members of the Seget tribe in Princess Island, or Kararaboe, found a sick man in it and observed that before the front and back door were set up double rows of roughly hewn images painted with red and black stripes. He was told that these images were intended to keep off the sickness; for the natives thought that it would not dare to run the gauntlet between the double rows of figures into the house.[509] We may conjecture that these rude images represented ancestral spirits who were doing sentinel duty over the sick man. [Sidenote: Customs concerning the dead among the natives of the Macluer Gulf.] Among the natives of the Macluer Gulf, which penetrates deep into the western part of Dutch New Guinea, the souls of dead men who have distinguished themselves by bravery or in other ways are honoured in the shape of wooden images, which are sometimes wrapt in cloth and decorated with shells about the neck. In Sekar, a village on the south side of the gulf, small bowls, called _kararasa_ after the spirits of ancestors who are believed to lodge in them, are hung up in the houses; on special occasions food is placed in them. In some of the islands of the Macluer Gulf the dead are laid in hollows of the rocks, which are then adorned with drawings of birds, hands, and so forth. The hands are always painted white or yellowish on a red ground. The other figures are drawn with chalk on the weathered surface of the rock. But the natives either cannot or will not give any explanation of the custom.[510] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs in the Mimika district.] The Papuans of the Mimika district, on the southern coast of Dutch New Guinea, sometimes bury their dead in shallow graves near the huts; sometimes they place them in coffins on rough trestles and leave them there till decomposition is complete, when they remove the skull and preserve it in the house, either burying it in the sand of the floor or hanging it in a sort of basket from the roof, where it becomes brown with smoke and polished with frequent handling. The people do not appear to be particularly attached to these relics of their kinsfolk and they sell them readily to Europeans. Mourners plaster themselves all over with mud, and sometimes they bathe in the river, probably as a mode of ceremonial purification. They believe in ghosts, which they call _niniki_; but beyond that elementary fact we have no information as to their beliefs concerning the state of the dead.[511] [Sidenote: Burial customs at Windessi.] The natives of Windessi in Dutch New Guinea generally bury their dead the day after the decease. As a rule the corpse is wrapt in mats and a piece of blue cloth and laid on a scaffold; few are coffined. All the possessions of the dead, including weapons, fishing-nets, wooden bowls, pots, and so forth, according as the deceased was a man or a woman, are placed beside him or her. If the death is attributed to the influence of an evil spirit, they take hold of a lock of hair of the corpse and mention various places. At the mention of each place, they tug the hair; and if it comes out, they conclude that the death was caused by somebody at the place which was mentioned at the moment. But if the hair does not come out, they infer that evil spirits had no hand in the affair. Before the body is carried away, the family bathes, no doubt to purify themselves from the contagion of death. Among the people of Windessi it is a common custom to bury the dead in an island. At such a burial the bystanders pick up a fallen leaf, tear it in two, and stroke the corpse with it, in order that the ghost of the departed may not kill them. When the body has been disposed of either in a grave or on a scaffold, they embark in the canoe and sit listening for omens. One of the men in a loud voice bids the birds and the flies to be silent; and all the others sit as still as death in an attitude of devotion. At last, after an interval of silence, the man who called out tells his fellows what he has heard. If it was the buzz of the blue flies that he heard, some one else will die. If it was the booming sound of a triton shell blown in the distance, a raid must be made in that direction to rob and murder. Why it must be so, is not said, but we may suppose that the note of the triton shell is believed to betray the place of the enemy who has wrought the death by magic, and that accordingly an expedition must be sent to avenge the supposed crime on the supposed murderer. If the note of a bird called _kohwi_ is heard, then the fruit-trees will bear fruit. Though all the men sit listening in the canoe, the ominous sounds are heard only by the man who called out.[512] [Sidenote: Mourning customs at Windessi.] When the omens have thus been taken, the paddles again dip in the water, and the canoe returns to the house of mourning. Arrived at it, the men disembark, climb up the ladder (for the houses seem to be built on piles over the water) and run the whole length of the long house with their paddles on their shoulders. Curiously enough, they never do this at any other time, because they imagine that it would cause the death of somebody. Meantime the women have gone into the forest to get bark, which they beat into bark-cloth and make into mourning caps for themselves. The men busy themselves with plaiting armlets and leglets of rattan, in which some red rags are stuck. Large blue and white beads are strung on a red cord and worn round the neck. Further, the hair is shorn in sign of mourning. Mourners are forbidden to eat anything cooked in a pot. Sago-porridge, which is a staple food with some of the natives of New Guinea, is also forbidden to mourners at Windessi. If they would eat rice, it must be cooked in a bamboo. The doors and windows of the house are closed with planks or mats, just as with us the blinds are lowered in a house after a death. The surviving relatives make as many long sago-cakes as there are houses in the village and send them to the inmates; they also prepare a few for themselves. All who do not belong to the family now leave the house of mourning. Then the eldest brother or his representative gets up and all follow him to the back verandah, where a woman stands holding a bow and arrows, an axe, a paddle, and so forth. Every one touches these implements. Since the death, there has been no working in the house, but this time of inactivity is now over and every one is free to resume his usual occupations. This ends the preliminary ceremonies of mourning, which go by the name of _djawarra_. A month afterwards round cakes of sago are baked on the fire, and all the members of the family, their friends, and the persons who assisted at the burial receive three such cakes each. Only very young children are now allowed to eat sago-porridge. This ceremony is called _djawarra baba_. [Sidenote: Festival of the dead. Wooden images of the dead.] When a year or more has elapsed, the so-called festival of the dead takes place. Often the festival is held for several dead at the same time, and in that case the cost is borne in common. From far and near the people have collected sago, coco-nuts, and other food. For two nights and a day they dance and sing, but without the accompaniment of drums (_tifa_) and gongs. The first night, the signs of mourning are still worn, hence no sago-porridge may be eaten; only friends who are not in mourning are allowed to partake of it. The night is spent in eating, drinking, smoking, singing and dancing. Next day many people make _korwars_ of their dead, that is, grotesque wooden images carved in human form, which are regarded as the representatives of the departed. Some people fetch the head of the deceased person, and having made a wooden image with a large head and a hole in the back of it, they insert the skull into the wooden head from behind. After that friends feed the mourners with sago-porridge, putting it into their mouths with the help of the chopsticks which are commonly used in eating sago. When that is done, the period of mourning is at an end, and the signs of mourning are thrown away. A dance on the beach follows, at which the new wooden images of the dead make their appearance. But still the drums and gongs are silent. Dancing and singing go on till the next morning, when the whole of the ceremonies come to an end.[513] [Sidenote: Fear of the ghost.] The exact meaning of all these ceremonies is not clear, but we may conjecture that they are based in large measure on the fear of the ghost. That fear comes out plainly in the ceremony of stroking the corpse with leaves in order to prevent the ghost from killing the survivors. The writer to whom we are indebted for an account of these customs tells us in explanation of them that among these people death is ascribed to the influence of evil spirits called _manoam_, who are supposed to be incarnate in some human beings. Hence they often seek to avenge a death by murdering somebody who has the reputation of being an evil spirit incarnate. If they succeed in doing so, they celebrate the preliminary mourning ceremonies called _djawarra_ and _djawarra baba_, but the festival of the dead is changed into a memorial festival, at which the people dance and sing to the accompaniment of drums (_tifa_), gongs, and triton shells; and instead of carving a wooden image of the deceased, they make marks on the fleshless skull of the murdered man.[514] [Sidenote: Beliefs of the natives of Windessi as to the life after death. Medicine-men inspired by the spirits of the dead.] The natives of Windessi are said to have the following belief as to the life after death, though we are told that the creed is now known to very few of them; for their old beliefs and customs are fading away under the influence of a mission station which is established among them. According to their ancient creed, every man and every woman has two spirits, and in the nether world, called _sarooka_, is a large house where there is room for all the people of Windessi. When a woman dies, both her spirits always go down to the nether world, where they are clothed with flesh and bones, need do no work, and live for ever. But when a man dies, only one of his spirits must go to the under world; the other may pass or transmigrate into a living man or, in rare cases, into a living woman; the person so inspired by a dead man's spirit becomes an _inderri_, that is, a medicine-man or medicine-woman and has power to heal the sick. When a person wishes to become a medicine-man or medicine-woman, he or she acts as follows. If a man has died, and his friends are sitting about the corpse lamenting, the would-be medicine-man suddenly begins to shiver and to rub his knee with his folded hands, while he utters a monotonous sound. Gradually he falls into an ecstasy, and if his whole body shakes convulsively, the spirit of the dead man is supposed to have entered into him, and he becomes a medicine-man. Next day or the day after he is taken into the forest; some hocus-pocus is performed over him, and the spirits of lunatics, who dwell in certain thick trees, are invoked to take possession of him. He is now himself called a lunatic, and on returning home behaves as if he were half-crazed. This completes his training as a medicine-man, and he is now fully qualified to kill or cure the sick. His mode of cure depends on the native theory of sickness. These savages think that sickness is caused by a malicious or angry spirit, apparently the spirit of a dead person; for a patient will say, "The _korwar_" (that is, the wooden image which represents a particular dead person) "is murdering me, or is making me sick." So the medicine-man is called in, and sets to work on the sufferer, while the _korwar_, or wooden image of the spirit who is supposed to be doing all the mischief, stands beside him. The principal method of cure employed by the doctor is massage. He chews a certain fruit fine and rubs the patient with it; also he pinches him all over the body as if to drive out the spirit. Often he professes to extract a stone, a bone, or a stick from the body of the sufferer. At last he gives out that he has ascertained the cause of the sickness; the sick man has done or has omitted to do something which has excited the anger of the spirit.[515] [Sidenote: Ghosts of slain enemies dreaded.] From all this it would seem that the souls of the dead are more feared than loved and reverenced by the Papuans of Windessi. Naturally the ghosts of enemies who have perished at their hands are particularly dreaded by them. That dread explains some of the ceremonies which are observed in the village at the return of a successful party of head-hunters. As they draw near the village, they announce their approach and success by blowing on triton shells. Their canoes also are decked with branches. The faces of the men who have taken a head are blackened with charcoal; and if several have joined in killing one man, his skull is divided between them. They always time their arrival so as to reach home in the early morning. They come paddling to the village with a great noise, and the women stand ready to dance in the verandahs of the houses. The canoes row past the _roem sram_ or clubhouse where the young men live; and as they pass, the grimy-faced slayers fling as many pointed sticks or bamboos at the house as they have killed enemies. The rest of the day is spent very quietly. But now and then they drum or blow on the conch, and at other times they beat on the walls of the houses with sticks, shouting loudly at the same time, to drive away the ghosts of their victims.[516] That concludes what I have to say as to the fear and worship of the dead in Dutch New Guinea. [Footnote 475: G. Bamler, "Tami," in R. Neuhauss's _Deutsch Neu-Guinea_, iii. (Berlin, 1911) pp. 489-492.] [Footnote 476: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 507-512.] [Footnote 477: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 513 _sq._] [Footnote 478: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 514 _sq._] [Footnote 479: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 515 _sq._] [Footnote 480: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ p. 516.] [Footnote 481: G. Bamler, _op. cit._ pp. 493-507.] [Footnote 482: J. L. van Hasselt, "Die Papuastämme an der Geelvinkbai (Neu-guinea)," _Mitteilungen der geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, ix. (1890) p. 1; F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West en Noordkust van Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," _Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap_, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) pp. 587 _sq._] [Footnote 483: J. L. van Hasselt, _op. cit._ pp. 2, 3, 5 _sq._; A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_ (Schiedam, 1863), pp. 28 _sqq._, 33 _sqq._, 42 _sq._, 47 _sqq._] [Footnote 484: J. L. van Hasselt, "Die Papuastämme an der Geelvinkbai (Neu-guinea)," _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, ix. (1891) p. 101.] [Footnote 485: H. van Rosenberg, _Der Malayische Archipel_ (Leipsic, 1878), p. 461.] [Footnote 486: H. van Rosenberg, _op. cit._ p. 462.] [Footnote 487: M. Krieger, _Neu-Guinea_ (Berlin, N.D., preface dated 1899), pp. 401, 402.] [Footnote 488: A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_ (Schiedam, 1863), p. 77. Compare O. Finsch, _Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner_ (Bremen, 1865), p. 105.] [Footnote 489: F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West- en Noordkust van Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," _Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap_, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) p. 631. On these _korwar_ or _karwar_ (images of the dead) see further A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_, pp. 72 _sq._, 77-79; O. Finsch, _Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner_, pp. 104-106; H. von Rosenberg, _Der Malayische Archipel_, pp. 460 _sq._; J. L. van Hasselt, "Die Papuastämme an der Geelvinkbaai (Neu-Guinea)" _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, ix. (1891) p. 100; M. Krieger, _Neu-Guinea_, pp. 400 _sq._, 402 _sq._, 498 _sqq._ In the text I have drawn on these various accounts.] [Footnote 490: J. L. van Hasselt, _l.c._] [Footnote 491: A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_, pp. 78 _sq._; O. Finsch, _Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner_, pp. 105 _sq._] [Footnote 492: A. Goudswaard, _op. cit._ p. 79; O. Finsch, _op. cit._ p. 106.] [Footnote 493: J. L. van Hasselt, _op. cit._ p. 100.] [Footnote 494: A. Goudswaard, _op. cit._ p. 78.] [Footnote 495: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ p. 632.] [Footnote 496: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ p. 632.] [Footnote 497: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ p. 632.] [Footnote 498: A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_, pp. 70-73; O. Finsch, _Neu-Guinea und seine Bewohner_ pp. 104 _sq._; M. Krieger, _Neu-Guinea_, p. 398.] [Footnote 499: J. L. van Hasselt, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, iv. (1886) pp. 118 _sq._ As to the spirit or spirits who dwell in tree tops and draw away the souls of the living to themselves, see further "Eenige bijzonderheden betreffende de Papoeas van de Geelvinksbaai van Nieuw-Guinea," _Bijdragen tot de Taal- Landen Volkenkunde van Neêrlandsch-Indië_, ii. (1854) pp. 375 _sq._] [Footnote 500: A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_, p. 73; J. L. van Hasselt, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, iv. (1886) p. 118; M. Krieger, _Neu-Guinea_, pp. 398. _sq._] [Footnote 501: A. Goudswaard, _De Papoewa's van de Geelvinksbaai_, pp. 75 _sq._] [Footnote 502: J. L. van Hasselt, in _Mitteilungen der Geographischen Gesellschaft zu Jena_, iv. (1886) 117 _sq._; M. Krieger, _op. cit._ pp. 397 _sq._] [Footnote 503: A. Goudswaard, _op. cit._ pp. 74 _sq._] [Footnote 504: _Nieuw Guinea ethnographisch en natuurkundig onderzocht en beschreven_ (Amsterdam, 1862), p. 162.] [Footnote 505: F. S. A. de Clercq, "De West- en Noordkust van Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea," _Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap_, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) pp. 198 _sq._] [Footnote 506: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ p. 201.] [Footnote 507: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ pp. 202, 205.] [Footnote 508: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ p. 211.] [Footnote 509: J. W. van Hille, "Reizen in West-Nieuw-Guinea," _Tijdschrift van het Kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap_, Tweede Serie, xxiii. (1906) p. 463.] [Footnote 510: F. S. A. de Clercq, _op. cit._ pp. 459 _sq._, 461 _sq._ A German traveller, Mr. H. Kühn, spent some time at Sekar and purchased a couple of what he calls "old heathen idols," which are now in the ethnological Museum at Leipsic. One of them, about a foot high, represents a human head and bust; the other, about two feet high, represents a squat sitting figure. They are probably ancestral images (_korwar_ or _karwar_). The natives are said to have such confidence in the protection of these "idols" that they leave their jewellery and other possessions unguarded beside them, in the full belief that nobody would dare to steal anything from spots protected by such mighty beings. See H. Kühn, "Mein Aufenthalt in Neu-Guinea," _Festschrift des 25jährigen Bestehens des Vereins für Erdkunde zu Dresden_ (Dresden, 1888), pp. 143 _sq._] [Footnote 511: A. F. R. Wollaston, _Pygmies and Papuans_ (London, 1912), pp. 132 _sq._, 136-140.] [Footnote 512: J. L. D. van der Roest, "Uit the leven der bevolking van Windessi," _Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Landen Volkenkunde_, xl. (1898) pp. 159 _sq._] [Footnote 513: J. L. D. van der Roest, _op. cit._ pp. 161 _sq._] [Footnote 514: J. L. D. van der Roest, _op. cit._ p. 162.] [Footnote 515: J. L. D. van der Roest, _op. cit._ pp. 164-166.] [Footnote 516: J. L. D. van der Roest, _op. cit._ pp. 157 _sq._] LECTURE XV THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF SOUTHERN MELANESIA (NEW CALEDONIA) [Sidenote: Melanesia and the Melanesians.] In the last lecture I concluded our survey of the beliefs and practices concerning death and the dead which are reported to prevail among the natives of New Guinea. We now pass to the natives of Melanesia, the great archipelago or rather chain of archipelagoes, which stretches round the north-eastern and eastern ends of New Guinea and southward, parallel to the coast of Queensland, till it almost touches the tropic of Capricorn. Thus the islands lie wholly within the tropics and are for the most part characterised by tropical heat and tropical luxuriance of vegetation. Only New Caledonia, the most southerly of the larger islands, differs somewhat from the rest in its comparatively cool climate and scanty flora.[517] The natives of the islands belong to the Melanesian race. They are dark-skinned and woolly-haired and speak a language which is akin to the Polynesian language. In material culture they stand roughly on the same level as the natives of New Guinea, a considerable part of whom in the south-eastern part of the island, as I pointed out before, are either pure Melanesians or at all events exhibit a strong infusion of Melanesian blood. They cultivate the ground, live in settled villages, build substantial houses, construct outrigger-canoes, display some aptitude for art, possess strong commercial instincts, and even employ various mediums of exchange, of which shell-money is the most notable.[518] [Sidenote: The New Caledonians.] We shall begin our survey of these islands with New Caledonia in the south, and from it shall pass northwards through the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands to the Bismarck Archipelago, which consists chiefly of the two great islands of New Britain and New Ireland with the group of the Admiralty Islands terminating it to the westward. For our knowledge of the customs and religion of the New Caledonians we depend chiefly on the evidence of a Catholic missionary, Father Lambert, who has worked among them since 1856 and has published a valuable book on the subject.[519] To be exact, his information applies not to the natives of New Caledonia itself, but to the inhabitants of a group of small islands, which lie immediately off the northern extremity of the island and are known as the Belep group. Father Lambert began to labour among the Belep at a time when no white man had as yet resided among them. At a later time circumstances led him to transfer his ministry to the Isle of Pines, which lies off the opposite or southern end of New Caledonia. A comparative study of the natives at the two extremities of New Caledonia revealed to him an essential similarity in their beliefs and customs; so that it is not perhaps very rash to assume that similar customs prevail among the aborigines of New Caledonia itself, which lies intermediate between the two points observed by Father Lambert.[520] The assumption is confirmed by evidence which was collected by Dr. George Turner from the mainland of New Caledonia so long ago as 1845.[521] Accordingly in what follows I shall commonly speak of the New Caledonians in general, though the statements for the most part apply in particular to the Belep tribe. [Sidenote: Beliefs of the New Calendonians as to the land of the dead.] The souls of the New Caledonians, like those of most savages, are supposed to be immortal, at least to survive death for an indefinite period. They all go, good and bad alike, to dwell in a very rich and beautiful country situated at the bottom of the sea, to the north-east of the island of Pott. The name of the land of souls is Tsiabiloum. But before they reach this happy land they must run the gauntlet of a grim spirit called Kiemoua, who has his abode on a rock in the island of Pott. He is a fisherman of souls; for he catches them as they pass in a net and after venting his fury on them he releases them, and they pursue their journey to Tsiabiloum, the land of the dead. It is a country more fair and fertile than tongue can tell. Yams, taros, sugar-canes, bananas all grow there in profusion and without cultivation. There are forests of wild orange-trees, also, and the golden fruits serve the blessed spirits as playthings. You can tell roughly how long it is since a spirit quitted the upper world by the colour of the orange which he plays with; for the oranges of those who have just arrived are green; the oranges of those who have been longer dead are ripe; and the oranges of those who died long ago are dry and wizened. There is no night in that blessed land, and no sleep; for the eyes of the spirits are never weighed down with slumber. Sorrow and sickness, decrepitude and death never enter; even boredom is unknown. But it is only the nights, or rather the hours corresponding to nights on earth, which the spirits pass in these realms of bliss. At daybreak they revisit their old home on earth and take up their posts in the cemeteries where they are honoured; then at nightfall they flit away back to the spirit-land beneath the sea, there to resume their sport with oranges, green, golden, or withered, till dawn of day. On these repeated journeys to and fro they have nothing to fear from the grim fisherman and his net; it is only on their first passage to the nether world that he catches and trounces them.[522] [Sidenote: Burial customs of the New Calendonians.] The bodies of the dead are buried in shallow graves, which are dug in a sacred grove. The corpse is placed in a crouching attitude with the head at or above the surface of the ground, in order to allow of the skull being easily detached from the trunk, at a subsequent time. In token of sorrow the nearest relations of the deceased tear the lobes of their ears and inflict large burns on their arms and breasts. The houses, nets, and other implements of the dead are burnt; his plantations are ravaged, his coco-nut palms felled with the axe. The motive for this destruction of the property of the deceased is not mentioned, but the custom points to a fear of the ghost; the people probably make his old home as unattractive as possible in order to offer him no temptation to return and haunt them. The same fear of the ghost, or at all events of the infection of death, is revealed by the stringent seclusion and ceremonial pollution of the grave-diggers. They are two in number; no other persons may handle the corpse. After they have discharged their office they must remain near the corpse for four or five days, observing a rigorous fast and keeping apart from their wives. They may not shave or cut their hair, and they are obliged to wear a tall pyramidal and very cumbersome head-dress. They may not touch food with their hands. If they help themselves to it, they must pick it up with their mouths alone or with a stick, not with their fingers. Oftener they are fed by an attendant, who puts the victuals into their mouths as he might do if they were palsied. On the other hand they are treated by the people with great respect; common folk will not pass near them without stooping.[523] [Sidenote: Sham fight as a mourning ceremony.] A curious ceremony which the New Caledonians observe at a certain period of mourning for the dead is a sham fight. Father Lambert describes one such combat which he witnessed. A number of men were divided into two parties; one party was posted on the beach, the other and much larger party was stationed in the adjoining cemetery, where food and property had been collected. From time to time a long piercing yell would be heard; then a number of men would break from the crowd in the cemetery and rush furiously down to the beach with their slings and stones ready to assail their adversaries. These, answering yell with yell, would then plunge into the sea, armed with battle-axes and clubs, while they made a feint of parrying the stones hurled at them by the other side. But neither the shots nor the parries appeared to be very seriously meant. Then when the assailants retired, the fugitives pretended to pursue them, till both parties had regained their original position. The same scene of alternate attack and retreat was repeated hour after hour, till at last, the pretence of enmity being laid aside, the two parties joined in a dance, their heads crowned with leafy garlands. Father Lambert, who describes this ceremony as an eye-witness, offers no explanation of it. But as he tells us that all deaths are believed by these savages to be an effect of sorcery, we may conjecture that the sham fight is intended to delude the ghost into thinking that his death is being avenged on the sorcerer who killed him.[524] In former lectures I shewed that similar pretences are made, apparently for a similar purpose, by some of the natives of Australia and New Guinea.[525] If the explanation is correct, we can hardly help applauding the ingenuity which among these savages has discovered a bloodless mode of satisfying the ghost's craving for blood. [Sidenote: Preservation of the skulls of the dead.] About a year after the death, when the flesh of the corpse is entirely decayed, the skull is removed and placed solemnly in another burying-ground, or rather charnel-house, where all the skulls of the family are deposited. Every family has such a charnel-house, which is commonly situated near the dwelling. It appears to be simply an open space in the forest, where the skulls are set in a row on the ground.[526] Yet in a sense it may be called a temple for the worship of ancestors; for recourse is had to the skulls on various occasions in order to obtain the help of the spirits of the dead. "The true worship of the New Caledonians," says Father Lambert, "is the worship of ancestors. Each family has its own; it religiously preserves their name; it is proud of them and has confidence in them. Hence it has its burial-place and its pious hearth for the sacrifices to be offered to their ghosts. It is the most inviolable piece of property; an encroachment on such a spot by a neighbour is a thing unheard of."[527] [Sidenote: Examples of ancestor-worship among the New Caledonians.] A few examples may serve to illustrate the ancestor-worship of the New Caledonians. When a person is sick, a member of the family, never a stranger, is appointed to heal him by means of certain magical insufflations. To enable him to do so with effect the healer first repairs to the family charnel-house and lays some sugar-cane leaves beside the skulls, saying, "I lay these leaves on you that I may go and breathe upon our sick relative, to the end that he may live." Then he goes to a tree belonging to the family and lays other sugar-cane leaves at its foot, saying, "I lay these leaves beside the tree of my father and of my grandfather, in order that my breath may have healing virtue." Next he takes some leaves of the tree or a piece of its bark, chews it into a mash, and then goes and breathes on the patient, his breath being moistened with spittle which is charged with particles of the leaves or the bark.[528] Thus the healing virtue of his breath would seem to be drawn from the spirits of the dead as represented partly by their skulls and partly by the leaves and bark of the tree which belonged to them in life, and to which their souls appear in some manner to be attached in death. [Sidenote: Prayers for fish.] Again, when a shoal of fish has made its appearance on the reef, a number of superstitious ceremonies have to be performed before the people may go and spear them in the water. On the eve of the fishing-day the medicine-man of the tribe causes a quantity of leaves of certain specified plants to be collected and roasted in the native ovens. Next day the leaves are taken from the ovens and deposited beside the ancestral skulls, which have been arranged and decorated for the ceremony. All the fishermen, armed with their fishing-spears, repair to the holy ground or sacred grove where the skulls are kept, and there they draw themselves up in two rows, while the medicine-man chants an invocation or prayer for a good catch. At every verse the crowd raises a cry of approval and assent. At its conclusion the medicine-man sets an example by thrusting with his spear at a fish, and all the men immediately plunge into the water and engage in fishing.[529] [Sidenote: Prayers for sugar-cane.] Again, in order that a sugar plantation may flourish, the medicine-man will lay a sugar-cane beside the ancestral skulls, saying, "This is for you. We beg of you to ward off all curses, all tricks of wicked people, in order that our plantations may prosper."[530] [Sidenote: Prayers for yams.] Again, when the store of yams is running short and famine is beginning to be felt, the New Caledonians celebrate a festival called _moulim_ in which the worship of their ancestors is the principal feature. A staff is wreathed with branches, apparently to represent a yam, and a hedge of coco-nut leaves is made near the ancestral skulls. The decorated staff is then set up there, and prayers for the prosperity of the crops are offered over and over again. After that nobody may enter a yam-field or a cemetery or touch sea-water for three days. On the third day a man stationed on a mound chants an invocation or incantation in a loud voice. Next all the men go down to the shore, each of them with a firebrand in his hand, and separating into two parties engage in a sham fight. Afterwards they bathe and repairing to the charnel-house deposit coco-nut leaves beside the skulls of their ancestors. They are then free to partake of the feast which has been prepared by the women.[531] [Sidenote: Caverns used by the natives as charnel-houses in the Isle of Pines.] While the beliefs and customs of the New Caledonians in regard to the dead bear a general resemblance to each other, whether they belong to the north or to the south of the principal island, a special feature is introduced into the mortuary customs of the natives of the Isle of Pines by the natural caves and grottoes with which the outer rim of the island, to the distance of several miles from the shore, is riddled; for in these caverns the natives in the old heathen days were wont to deposit the bones and skulls of their dead and to use the caves as sanctuaries or chapels for the worship of the spirits of the departed. Some of the caves are remarkable both in themselves and in their situation. Most of those which the natives turned into charnel-houses are hidden away, sometimes at great distances, in the rank luxuriance of the tropical forests. Some of them open straight from the level of the ground; to reach others you must clamber up the rocks; to explore others you must descend into the bowels of the earth. A glimmering twilight illumines some; thick darkness veils others, and it is only by torchlight that you can explore their mysterious depths. Penetrating into the interior by the flickering gleam of flambeaus held aloft by the guides, and picking your steps among loose stones and pools of water, you might fancy yourself now in the great hall of a ruined castle, now in the vast nave of a gothic cathedral with its chapels opening off it into the darkness on either hand. The illusion is strengthened by the multitude of stalactites which hang from the roof of the cavern and, glittering in the fitful glow of the torches, might be taken for burning cressets kindled to light up the revels in a baronial hall, or for holy lamps twinkling in the gloom of a dim cathedral aisle before holy images, where solitary worshippers kneel in silent devotion. In the shifting play of the light and shadow cast by the torches the fantastic shapes of the incrustations which line the sides or rise from the floor of the grotto appear to the imagination of the observer now as the gnarled trunks of huge trees, now as statues or torsos of statues, now as altars, on which perhaps a nearer approach reveals a row of blanched and grinning skulls. No wonder if such places, chosen for the last resting-places of the relics of mortality, have fed the imagination of the natives with weird notions of a life after death, a life very different from that which the living lead in the glowing sunshine and amid the rich tropical verdure a few paces outside of these gloomy caverns. It is with a shiver and a sense of relief that the visitor escapes from them to the warm outer air and sees again the ferns and creepers hanging over the mouth of the cave like a green fringe against the intense blue of the sky.[532] [Sidenote: Sea-caves.] While this is the general character of the caves which are to be found hidden away in the forests, many of those near the shore consist simply of apertures hollowed out in the face of the cliffs by the slow but continuous action of the waves in the course of ages. On the beach itself sea-caves are found in which the rising tide precipitates itself with a hollow roar as of subterranean thunder; and at a point, some way back from the strand, where the roof of one of these caves has fallen in, the salt water is projected into the air in the form of intermittent jets of spray, which vary in height with the force of the wind and tide.[533] [Sidenote: Prayers and sacrifices offered to the dead by the New Caledonians.] With regard to the use which the natives make of these caves as charnel-houses and mortuary chapels, Father Lambert tells us that any one of them usually includes three compartments, a place of burial, a place of skulls, and a place of sacrifice. But often the place of skulls is also the place of sacrifice; and in no case is the one far from the other. The family priest, who is commonly the senior member of the family, may address his prayers to the ancestors in the depth of the cavern, in the place of skulls, or in the place of sacrifice, whenever circumstances call for a ritual of unusual solemnity. Otherwise with the help of his amulets he may pray to the souls of the forefathers anywhere; for these amulets consist of personal and portable relics of the dead, such as locks of hair, teeth, and so forth; or again they may be leaves or other parts of plants which are sacred to the family; so that a wizard who is in possession of them can always and anywhere communicate with the ancestral spirits. The place of sacrifice would seem to be more often in the open air than in a cave, for Father Lambert tells us that in the centre of it a shrub, always of the same species, is planted and carefully cultivated. Beside it may be seen the pots and stones which are used in cooking the food offered to the dead. In this worship of the dead a certain differentiation of functions or division of labour obtains between the various families. All have not the same gifts and graces. The prayers of one family offered to their ancestral ghosts are thought to be powerful in procuring rain in time of drought; the prayers of another will cause the sun to break through the clouds when the sky is overcast; the supplications of a third will produce a fine crop of yams; the earnest entreaties of a fourth will ensure victory in war; and the passionate pleadings of a fifth will guard mariners against the perils and dangers of the deep. And so on through the whole gamut of human needs, so far as these are felt by savages. If only wrestling in prayer could satisfy the wants of man, few people should be better provided with all the necessaries and comforts of life than the New Caledonians. And according to the special purpose to which a family devotes its spiritual energies, so will commonly be the position of its oratory. For example, if rain-making is their strong point, their house of prayer will be established near a cultivated field, in order that the crops may immediately experience the benefit to be derived from their orisons. Again, if they enjoy a high reputation for procuring a good catch of fish, the family skulls will be placed in the mouth of a cave looking out over the great ocean, or perhaps on a bleak little wind-swept isle, where in the howl of the blast, the thunder of the waves on the strand, and the clangour of the gulls overhead, the fancy of the superstitious savage may hear the voices of his dead forefathers keeping watch and ward over their children who are tossed on the heaving billows.[534] Thus among these fortunate islanders religion and industry go hand in hand; piety has been reduced to a co-operative system which diffuses showers of blessings on the whole community. [Sidenote: Prayer-posts.] As it is clearly impossible even for the most devout to pray day and night without cessation, the weakness of the flesh requiring certain intervals for refreshment and repose, the New Caledonians have devised an ingenious method of continuing their orisons at the shrine in their own absence. For this purpose they make rods or poles of various lengths, carve and paint them rudely, wind bandages of native cloth about them, and having fastened large shells to the top, set them up either in the sepulchral caves or in the place of skulls. In setting up one of these poles the native will pray for the particular favour which he desires to obtain from the ancestors for himself or his family; and he appears to think that in some way the pole will continue to recite the prayer in the ears of the ghosts, when he himself has ceased to speak and has returned to his customary avocations. And when members of his family visit the shrine and see the pole, they will be reminded of the particular benefit which they are entitled to expect from the souls of the departed. A certain rude symbolism may be traced in the materials and other particulars of these prayer-posts. A hard wood signifies strength; a tall pole overtopping all the rest imports a wish that he for whose sake it was erected may out-top all his rivals; and so on.[535] [Sidenote: Religion combined with magic in the ritual of the New Caledonians. Sacred stones endowed with special magical virtues. The "stone of famine."] We may assume with some probability that in the mind of the natives such resemblances are not purely figurative or symbolic, but that they are also magical in intention, being supposed not merely to represent the object of the supplicant's prayer, but actually, on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, to contribute to its accomplishment. If that is so, we must conclude that the religion of these savages, as manifested in their prayers to the spirits of the dead, is tinctured with an alloy of magic; they do not trust entirely to the compassion of the spirits and their power to help them; they seek to reinforce their prayers by a certain physical compulsion acting through the natural properties of the prayer-posts. This interpretation is confirmed by a parallel use which these people make of certain sacred stones, which apart from their possible character as representatives of the ancestors, seem to be credited with independent magical virtues by reason of their various shapes and appearances. For example, there is a piece of polished jade which is called "the stone of famine," because it is supposed capable of causing either dearth or abundance, but is oftener used by the sorcerer to create, or at least to threaten, dearth, in order thereby to extort presents from his alarmed fellow tribesmen. This stone is kept in a burial-ground and derives its potency from the dead. The worshipper or the sorcerer (for he combines the two characters) who desires to cause a famine repairs to the burial-ground, uncovers the stone, rubs it with certain plants, and smears one half of it with black pigment. Then he makes a small hole in the ground and inserts the blackened end of the stone in the hole. Next he prays to the ancestors that nothing may go well with the country. If this malevolent rite should be followed by the desired effect, the sorcerer soon sees messengers arriving laden with presents, who entreat him to stay the famine. If his cupidity is satisfied, he rubs the stone again, inserts it upside down in the ground, and prays to his ancestors to restore plenty to the land.[536] [Sidenote: Stones to drive people mad.] Again, certain rough unhewn stones, which are kept in the sacred places, are thought to possess the power of driving people mad. To effect this purpose the sorcerer has only to strike one of them with the branches of a certain tree and to pray to the ancestral spirits that they would deprive so-and-so of his senses.[537] [Sidenote: Stones to blight coco-nut palms. Stones to make bread-fruit trees bear fruit.] Again, there is a stone which they use in cursing a plantation of coco-nut palms. The stone resembles a blighted coco-nut, and no doubt it is this resemblance which is supposed to endow it with the magical power to blight coco-nut trees. In order to effect his malicious purpose the sorcerer rubs the stone in the cemetery with certain leaves and then deposits it in a hole at the foot of a coco-nut tree, covers it up, and prays that all the trees of the plantation may be barren. This ceremony combines the elements of magic and religion. The prayer, which is no doubt addressed to the spirits of the dead, though this is not expressly affirmed, is purely religious; but the employment of a stone resembling a blighted coco-nut for the purpose of blighting the coco-nut palms is a simple piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic, in which, as usual, the desired effect is supposed to be produced by an imitation of it. Similarly, in order to make a bread-fruit tree bear fruit they employ two stones, one of which resembles the unripe and the other the ripe fruit. These are kept, as usual, in a cemetery; and when the trees begin to put forth fruit, the small stone resembling the unripe fruit is buried at the foot of one of the trees with the customary prayers and ceremonies; and when the fruits are more mature the small stone is replaced by the larger stone which resembles the ripe fruit. Then, when the fruits on the tree are quite ripe, the two stones are removed and deposited again in the cemetery: they have done their work by bringing to maturity the fruits which they resemble. This again is a piece of pure homoeopathic or imitative magic working by means of mimicry; but the magical virtue of the stones is reinforced by the spiritual power of the dead, for the stones have been kept in a cemetery and prayers have been addressed to the souls of the departed.[538] [Sidenote: The "stone of the sun."] Again, the natives have two disc-shaped stones, each with a hole in the centre, which together make up what they call "the stone of the sun." No doubt it is regarded as a symbol of the sun, and as such it is employed to cause drought in a ceremony which, like the preceding, combines the elements of magic and religion. The sun-stone is kept in one of the sacred places, and when a sorcerer wishes to make drought with it, he brings offerings to the ancestral spirits in the sacred place. These offerings are purely religious, but the rest of the ceremony is purely magical. At the moment when the sun rises from the sea, the magician or priest, whichever we choose to call him (for he combines both characters), passes a burning brand in and out of the hole in the sun-stone, while he says, "I kindle the sun, in order that he may eat up the clouds and dry up our land, so that it shall no longer bear fruit." Here the putting of fire to the sun-stone is a piece of pure homoeopathic or imitative magic, designed to increase the burning heat of the sun by mimicry.[539] [Sidenote: Stones to make rain.] On the contrary, when a wizard desires to make rain, he proceeds as follows. The place of sacrifice is decorated and enclosed with a fence, and a large quantity of provisions is deposited in it to be offered to the ancestors whose skulls stand there in a row. Opposite the skulls the wizard places a row of pots full of a medicated water, and he brings a number of sacred stones of a rounded form or shaped like a skull. Each of these stones, after being rubbed with the leaves of a certain tree, is placed in one of the pots of water. Then the wizard recites a long litany or series of invocations to the ancestors, which may be summarised thus: "We pray you to help us, in order that our country may revive and live anew." Then holding a branch in his hand he climbs a tree and scans the horizon if haply he may descry a cloud, be it no larger than a man's hand. Should he be fortunate enough to see one, he waves the branch to and fro to make the cloud mount up in the sky, while he also stretches out his arms to right and left to enlarge it so that it may hide the sun and overcast the whole heaven.[540] Here again the prayers and offerings are purely religious; while the placing of the skull-shaped stones in pots full of water, and the waving of the branch to bring up the clouds, are magical ceremonies designed to produce rain by mimicry and compulsion. [Sidenote: Stones to make or mar sea-voyages.] Again, the natives have a stone in the shape of a canoe, which they employ in ceremonies for the purpose of favouring or hindering navigation. If the sorcerer desires to make a voyage prosperous, he places the canoe-shaped stone before the ancestral skulls with the right side up; but if he wishes to cause his enemy to perish at sea, he places the canoe-shaped stone bottom upwards before the skulls, which, on the principles of homoeopathic or imitative magic, must clearly make his enemy's canoe to capsize and precipitate its owner into the sea. Whichever of these ceremonies he performs, the wizard accompanies the magical rite, as usual, with prayers and offerings of food to the ancestral spirits who are represented by the skulls.[541] [Sidenote: Stones to help fishermen.] The natives of the Isle of Pines subsist mainly by fishing; hence they naturally have a large number of sacred stones which they use for the purpose of securing the blessing of the ancestral spirits on the business of the fisherman. Indeed each species of fish has its own special sacred stone. These stones are kept in large shells in a cemetery. A wizard who desires to make use of one of them paints the stone with a variety of colours, chews certain leaves, and then breathes on the stone and moistens it with his spittle. After that he sets up the stone before the ancestral skulls, saying, "Help us, that we may be successful in fishing." The sacrifices to the spirits consist of bananas, sugar-cane, and fish, never of taros or yams. After the fishing and the sacrificial meal, the stone is put back in its place, and covered up respectfully.[542] [Sidenote: Stones to make yams grow.] Lastly, the natives of the Isle of Pines cultivate many different kinds of yams, and they have a correspondingly large number of sacred stones destined to aid them in the cultivation by ensuring the blessing of the dead upon the work. In shape and colour these stones differ from each other, each of them bearing a resemblance, real or fanciful, to the particular species of yam which it is supposed to quicken. But the method of operating with them is much the same for all. The stone is placed before the skulls, wetted with water, and wiped with certain leaves. Yams and fish, cooked on the spot, are offered in sacrifice to the dead, the priest or magician saying, "This is your offering in order that the crop of yams may be good." So saying he presents the food to the dead and himself eats a little of it. After that the stone is taken away and buried in the yam field which it is designed to fertilise.[543] Here, again, the prayer and sacrifice to the dead are purely religious rites intended to propitiate the spirits and secure their help; while the burying of the yam-shaped stone in the yam-field to make the yams grow is a simple piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic. Similarly in order to cultivate taros and bananas, stones resembling taros and bananas are buried in the taro field or the banana grove, and their magical virtue is reinforced by prayers and offerings to the dead.[544] [Sidenote: The religion of the New Caledonians is mainly a worship of the dead tinctured with magic.] On the whole we may conclude that among the natives of New Caledonia there exists a real worship of the dead, and that this worship is indeed the principal element in their religion. The spirits of the dead, though they are supposed to spend part of their time in a happy land far away under the sea, are nevertheless believed to be near at hand, hovering about in the burial-grounds or charnel-houses and embodied apparently in their skulls. To these spirits the native turns for help in all the important seasons and emergencies of life; he appeals to them in prayer and seeks to propitiate them by sacrifice. Thus in his attitude towards his dead ancestors we perceive the elements of a real religion. But, as I have just pointed out, many rites of this worship of ancestors are accompanied by magical ceremonies. The religion of these islanders is in fact deeply tinged with magic; it marks a transition from an age of pure magic in the past to an age of more or less pure religion in the future. [Sidenote: Evidence as to the religion of the New Caledonians furnished by Dr. G. Turner.] Thus far I have based my account of the beliefs and customs of the New Caledonians concerning the dead on the valuable information which we owe to the Catholic missionary Father Lambert. But, as I pointed out, his evidence refers not so much to the natives of the mainland as to the inhabitants of certain small islands at the two extremities of the great island. It may be well, therefore, to supplement his description by some notes which a distinguished Protestant missionary, the Rev. Dr. George Turner, obtained in the year 1845 from two native teachers, one a Samoan and the other a Rarotongan, who lived in the south-south-eastern part of New Caledonia for three years.[545] Their evidence, it will be observed, goes to confirm Father Lambert's view as to the general similarity of the religious beliefs and customs prevailing throughout the island. [Sidenote: Material culture of the New Caledonians.] The natives of this part of New Caledonia were divided into separate districts, each with its own name, and war, perpetual war, was the rule between the neighbouring communities. They cultivated taro, yams, coco-nuts, and sugar-cane; but they had no intoxicating _kava_ and kept no pigs. They cooked their food in earthenware pots manufactured by the women. In former days their only edge-tools were made of stone, and they felled trees by a slow fire smouldering close to the ground. Similarly they hollowed out the fallen trees by means of a slow fire to make their canoes. Their villages were not permanent. They migrated within certain bounds, as they planted. A village might comprise as many as fifty or sixty round houses. The chiefs had absolute power of life and death. Priests did not meddle in political affairs.[546] [Sidenote: Burial customs; preservation of the skulls and teeth.] At death they dressed the corpse with a belt and shell armlets, cut off the nails of the fingers and toes, and kept them as relics. They spread the grave with a mat, and buried all the body but the head. After ten days the friends twisted off the head, extracted the teeth to be kept as relics, and preserved the skull also. In cases of sickness and other calamities they presented offerings of food to the skulls of the dead. The teeth of the old women were taken to the yam plantations and were supposed to fertilise them; and their skulls were set up on poles in the plantations for the same purpose. When they buried a chief, they erected spears at his head, fastened a spear-thrower to his forefinger, and laid a club on the top of his grave,[547] no doubt for the convenience of the ghost. [Sidenote: Prayers to ancestors.] "Their gods," we are told, "were their ancestors, whose relics they kept up and idolised. At one place they had wooden idols before the chiefs' houses. The office of the priest was hereditary. Almost every family had its priest. To make sure of favours and prosperity they prayed not only to their own gods, but also, in a general way, to the gods of other lands. Fishing, planting, house-building, and everything of importance was preceded by prayers to their guardian spirits for success. This was especially the case before going to battle. They prayed to one for the eye, that they might see the spear as it flew towards them. To another for the ear, that they might hear the approach of the enemy. Thus, too, they prayed for the feet, that they might be swift in pursuing the enemy; for the heart, that they might be courageous; for the body, that they might not be speared; for the head, that it might not be clubbed; and for sleep, that it might be undisturbed by an attack of the enemy. Prayers over, arms ready, and equipped with their relic charms, they went off to battle."[548] [Sidenote: "Grand concert of spirits."] The spirits of the dead were believed to go away into the forest. Every fifth month they had a "spirit night" or "grand concert of spirits." Heaps of food were prepared for the occasion. The people assembled in the afternoon round a certain cave. At sundown they feasted, and then one stood up and addressed the spirits in the cave, saying, "You spirits within, may it please you to sing a song, that all the women and men out here may listen to your sweet voices." Thereupon a strange unearthly concert of voices burst on their ears from the cave, the nasal squeak of old men and women forming the dominant note. But the hearers outside listened with delight to the melody, praised the sweet voices of the singers, and then got up and danced to the music. The singing swelled louder and louder as the dance grew faster and more furious, till the concert closed in a nocturnal orgy of unbridled license, which, but for the absence of intoxicants, might compare with the worst of the ancient bacchanalia. The singers in the cave were the old men and women who had ensconced themselves in it secretly during the day; but the hoax was not suspected by the children and young people, who firmly believed that the spirits of the dead really assembled that night in the cavern and assisted at the sports and diversions of the living.[549] [Sidenote: Making rain by means of the bones of the dead.] The souls of the departed also kindly bore a hand in the making of rain. In order to secure their co-operation for this beneficent purpose the human rain-maker proceeded as follows. He blackened himself all over, exhumed a dead body, carried the bones to a cave, jointed them, and suspended the skeleton over some taro leaves. After that he poured water on the skeleton so that it ran down and fell on the leaves underneath. They imagined that the soul of the deceased took up the water, converted it into rain, and then caused it to descend in refreshing showers. But the rain-maker had to stay in the cavern fasting till his efforts were crowned with success, and when the ghost was tardy in executing his commission, the rain-maker sometimes died of hunger. As a rule, however, they chose the showery months of March and April for the operation of rain-making, so that the wizard ran little risk of perishing a martyr to the cause of science. When there was too much rain, and they wanted fine weather, the magician procured it by a similar process, except that instead of drenching the skeleton with water he lit a fire under it and burned it up,[550] which naturally induced or compelled the ghost to burn up the clouds and let the sun shine out. [Sidenote: Execution of maleficent sorcerers. Reincarnation of the dead in white people.] Another class of magicians were the maleficent sorcerers who caused people to fall ill and die by burning their personal rubbish. When one of these rascals was convicted of repeated offences of that sort, he was formally tried and condemned. The people assembled and a great festival was held. The condemned man was decked with a garland of red flowers; his arms and legs were covered with flowers and shells, and his face and body painted black. Thus arrayed he came dashing forward, rushed through the people, plunged from the rocks into the sea, and was seen no more. The natives also ascribed sickness to the arts of white men, whom they identified with the spirits of the dead; and assigned this belief as a reason for their wish to kill the strangers.[551] [Footnote 517: F. H. H. Guillemard, _Australasia_, II. _Malaysia and the Pacific Archipelagoes_ (London, 1894), p. 458.] [Footnote 518: J. Deniker, _The Races of Man_ (London, 1900), pp. 498 _sq._ As to the mediums of exchange, particularly the shell-money, see R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), pp. 323 _sqq._; R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jähre in der Südsee_ (Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 82 _sqq._] [Footnote 519: Le Père Lambert, _Moeurs et Superstitions des Néo-Calédoniens_ (Nouméa, 1900). This work originally appeared as a series of articles in the Catholic missionary journal _Les Missions Catholiques_.] [Footnote 520: Lambert, _Moeurs et Superstitions des Néo-Calédoniens_, pp. ii., iv. _sq._; 255.] [Footnote 521: George Turner, LL.D., _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long before_ (London, 1884), pp. 340 _sqq._] [Footnote 522: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 13-16.] [Footnote 523: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 235-239.] [Footnote 524: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 238, 239 _sq._] [Footnote 525: Above, pp. 136 _sq._, 235 _sq._] [Footnote 526: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 24, 240.] [Footnote 527: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 274.] [Footnote 528: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 24, 26.] [Footnote 529: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 211.] [Footnote 530: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 218.] [Footnote 531: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 224 _sq._] [Footnote 532: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 275 _sqq._] [Footnote 533: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 276.] [Footnote 534: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 288 _sq._] [Footnote 535: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 290, 292.] [Footnote 536: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 292 _sq._] [Footnote 537: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 293 _sq._] [Footnote 538: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 294.] [Footnote 539: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 296 _sq._] [Footnote 540: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 297 _sq._] [Footnote 541: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 298.] [Footnote 542: Lambert, _op. cit._ p. 300.] [Footnote 543: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 301 _sq._] [Footnote 544: Lambert, _op. cit._ pp. 217 _sq._, 300.] [Footnote 545: George Turner, LL.D., _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long before_ (London, 1884), pp. 340 _sqq._] [Footnote 546: G. Turner, _op. cit._ pp. 340, 341, 343, 344.] [Footnote 547: G. Turner, _op. cit._ pp. 342 _sq._] [Footnote 548: G. Turner, _op. cit._ p. 345.] [Footnote 549: G. Turner, _op. cit._ pp. 346 _sq._] [Footnote 550: G. Turner, _op. cit._ pp. 345 _sq._] [Footnote 551: G. Turner, _op. cit._ p. 342.] LECTURE XVI THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF CENTRAL MELANESIA [Sidenote: The islands of Central Melanesia. Distinction between the religion of the Eastern and Western Islanders.] In our survey of savage beliefs and practices concerning the dead we now pass from New Caledonia, the most southerly island of Melanesia, to the groups of islands known as the New Hebrides, the Banks' Islands, the Torres Islands, the Santa Cruz Islands, and the Solomon Islands, which together constitute what we may call Central Melanesia. These groups of islands may themselves be distinguished into two archipelagoes, a western and an eastern, of which the Western comprises the Solomon Islands and the Eastern includes all the rest. Corresponding to this geographical distinction there is a religious distinction; for while the religion of the Western islanders (the Solomon Islanders) consists chiefly in a fear and worship of the ghosts of the dead, the religion of the Eastern islanders is characterised mainly by the fear and worship of spirits which are not supposed ever to have been incarnate in human bodies. Both groups of islanders, the Western and the Eastern, recognise indeed both classes of spirits, namely ghosts that once were men and spirits who never were men; but the religious bias of the one group is towards ghosts rather than towards pure spirits, and the religious bias of the other group is towards pure spirits rather than towards ghosts. It is not a little remarkable that the islanders whose bent is towards ghosts have carried the system of sacrifice and the arts of life to a higher level than the islanders whose bent is towards pure spirits; this applies particularly to the sacrificial system, which is much more developed in the west than in the east.[552] From this it would seem to follow that if a faith in ghosts is more costly than a faith in pure spirits, it is at the same time more favourable to the evolution of culture. [Sidenote: Dr. R. H. Codrington on the Melanesians.] For the whole of this region we are fortunate in possessing the evidence of the Rev. Dr. R. H. Codrington, one of the most sagacious, cautious, and accurate of observers, who laboured as a missionary among the natives for twenty-four years, from 1864 to 1887, and has given us a most valuable account of their customs and beliefs in his book _The Melanesians_, which must always remain an anthropological classic. In describing the worship of the dead as it is carried on among these islanders I shall draw chiefly on the copious evidence supplied by Dr. Codrington; and I shall avail myself of his admirable researches to enter into considerable details on the subject, since details recorded by an accurate observer are far more instructive than the vague generalities of superficial observers, which are too often all the information we possess as to the religion of savages. [Sidenote: Melanesian theory of the soul.] In the first place, all the Central Melanesians believe that man is composed of a body and a soul, that death is the final parting of the soul from the body, and that after death the soul continues to exist as a conscious and more or less active being.[553] Thus the creed of these savages on this profound subject agrees fundamentally with the creed of the average European; if my hearers were asked to state their beliefs as to the nature of life and death, I imagine that most of them would formulate them in substantially the same way. However, when the Central Melanesian savage attempts to define the nature of the vital principle or soul, which animates the body during life and survives it after death, he finds himself in a difficulty; and to continue the parallel I cannot help thinking that if my hearers in like manner were invited to explain their conception of the soul, they would similarly find themselves embarrassed for an answer. But an examination of the Central Melanesian theory of the soul would lead us too far from our immediate subject; we must be content to say that, "whatever word the Melanesian people use for soul, they mean something essentially belonging to each man's nature which carries life to his body with it, and is the seat of thought and intelligence, exercising therefore power which is not of the body and is invisible in its action."[554] However the soul may be defined, the Melanesians are universally of opinion that it survives the death of the body and goes away to some more or less distant region, where the spirits of all the dead congregate and continue for the most part to live for an indefinite time, though some of them, as we shall see presently, are supposed to die a second death and so to come to an end altogether. In Western Melanesia, that is, in the Solomon Islands, the abode of the dead is supposed to be in certain islands, which differ in the creed of different islanders; but in Eastern Melanesia the abode of the dead is thought to be a subterranean region called Panoi.[555] [Sidenote: Distinction between ghosts of power and ghosts of no account.] But though the souls of the departed go away to the spirit land, nevertheless, with a seeming or perhaps real inconsistency, their ghosts are also supposed to haunt their graves and their old homes and to exercise great power for good or evil over the living, who are accordingly often obliged to woo their favour by prayer and sacrifice. According to the Solomon Islanders, however, among whom ghosts are the principal objects of worship, there is a great distinction to be drawn among ghosts. "The distinction," says Dr. Codrington, "is between ghosts of power and ghosts of no account, between those whose help is sought and their wrath deprecated, and those from whom nothing is expected and to whom no observance is due. Among living men there are some who stand out distinguished for capacity in affairs, success in life, valour in fighting, and influence over others; and these are so, it is believed, because of the supernatural and mysterious powers which they have, and which are derived from communication with those ghosts of the dead gone before them who are full of those same powers. On the death of a distinguished man his ghost retains the powers that belonged to him in life, in greater activity and with stronger force; his ghost therefore is powerful and worshipful, and so long as he is remembered the aid of his powers is sought and worship is offered him; he is the _tindalo_ of Florida, the _lio'a_ of Saa. In every society, again, the multitude is composed of insignificant persons, '_numerus fruges consumeri nati_,' of no particular account for valour, skill, or prosperity. The ghosts of such persons continue their insignificance, and are nobodies after death as before; they are ghosts because all men have souls, and the souls of dead men are ghosts; they are dreaded because all ghosts are awful, but they get no worship and are soon only thought of as the crowd of the nameless population of the lower world."[556] [Sidenote: Ghosts of the great and of the recently dead are chiefly regarded. Supernatural power (_mana_) acquired through ghosts.] From this account of Dr. Codrington we see that it is only the ghosts of great and powerful people who are worshipped; the ghosts of ordinary people are indeed feared, but no worship is paid to them. Further, we are told that it is the ghosts of those who have lately died that are deemed to be most powerful and are therefore most regarded; as the dead are forgotten, their ghosts cease to be worshipped, their power fades away,[557] and their place in the religion of the people is taken by the ghosts of the more recently departed. In fact here, as elsewhere, the existence of the dead seems to be dependent on the memory of the living; when they are forgotten they cease to exist. Further, it deserves to be noticed that in the Solomon Islands what we should call a man's natural powers and capacities are regarded as supernatural endowments acquired by communication with a mighty ghost. If a man is a great warrior, it is not because he is strong of arm, quick of eye, and brave of heart; it is because he is supported by the ghost of a dead warrior, whose power he has drawn to himself through an amulet of stone tied round his neck, or a tuft of leaves in his belt, or a tooth attached to one of his fingers, or a spell by the recitation of which he can enlist the aid of the ghost.[558] And similarly with all other pre-eminent capacities and virtues; in the mind of the Solomon Islanders, they are all supernatural gifts and graces bestowed on men by ghosts. This all-pervading supernatural power the Central Melanesian calls _mana_.[559] Thus for these savages the whole world teems with ghostly influences; their minds are filled, we may almost say, obsessed, with a sense of the unseen powers which encompass and determine even in its minute particulars the life of man on earth: in their view the visible world is, so to say, merely a puppet-show of which the strings are pulled and the puppets made to dance by hands invisible. Truly the attitude of these savages to the universe is deeply religious. We may now consider the theory and practice of the Central Melanesians on this subject somewhat more in detail; and in doing so we shall begin with their funeral customs, which throw much light on their views of death and the dead. [Sidenote: Burial customs in the Solomon Islands. Land burial and sea burial. Land-ghosts and sea-ghosts.] Thus, for example, in Florida, one of the Solomon Islands, the corpse is usually buried. Common men are buried in their gardens or plantations, chiefs sometimes in the village, a chief's child sometimes in the house. If the ghost of the deceased is worshipped, his grave becomes a sanctuary (_vunuhu_); the skull is often dug up and hung in the house. On the return from the burial the mourners take a different road from that by which they carried the corpse to the grave; this they do in order to throw the ghost off the scent and so prevent him from following them home. This practice clearly shews the fear which the natives feel for the ghosts of the newly dead. A man is buried with money, porpoise teeth, and some of his personal ornaments; but, avarice getting the better of superstition, these things are often secretly dug up again and appropriated by the living. Sometimes a dying man will express a wish to be cast into the sea; his friends will therefore paddle out with the corpse, tie stones to the feet, and sink it in the depths. In the island of Savo, another of the Solomon Islands, common men are generally thrown into the sea and only great men are buried.[560] The same distinction is made at Wango in San Cristoval, another of the same group of islands; there also the bodies of common folk are cast into the sea, but men of consequence are buried, and some relic of them, it may be a skull, a tooth, or a finger-bone, is preserved in a shrine at the village. From this difference in burial customs flows a not unimportant religious difference. The souls of the great people who are buried on land turn into land-ghosts, and the souls of commoners who are sunk in the sea turn into sea-ghosts. The land-ghosts are seen to hover about the villages, haunting their graves and their relics; they are also heard to speak in hollow whispers. Their aid can be obtained by such as know them. The sea-ghosts have taken a great hold on the imagination of the natives of the south-eastern Solomon Islands; and as these people love to illustrate their life by sculpture and painting, they shew us clearly what they suppose these sea-ghosts to be like. At Wango there used to be a canoe-house full of sculptures and paintings illustrative of native life; amongst others there was a series of scenes like those which are depicted on the walls of Egyptian tombs. One of the scenes represented a canoe attacked by sea-ghosts, which were portrayed as demons compounded partly of human limbs, partly of the bodies and tails of fishes, and armed with spears and arrows in the form of long-bodied garfish and flying-fish. If a man falls ill on returning from a voyage or from fishing on the rocks, it is thought that one of these sea-ghosts has shot him. Hence when men are in danger at sea, they seek to propitiate the ghosts by throwing areca-nuts and fragments of food into the water and by praying to the ghosts not to be angry with them. Sharks are also supposed to be animated by the ghosts of the dead.[561] It is interesting and instructive to find that in this part of the world sea-demons, who might be thought to be pure spirits of nature, are in fact ghosts of the dead. [Sidenote: Burnt offerings in honour of the dead.] In the island of Florida, two days after the death of a chief or of any person who was much esteemed, the relatives and friends assemble and hold a funeral feast, at which they throw a bit of food into the fire for the ghost, saying, "This is for you."[562] In other of the Solomon Islands morsels of food are similarly thrown on the fire at the death-feasts as the dead man's share.[563] Thus, in the Shortlands Islands, when a famous chief named Gorai died, his body was burnt and his relatives cast food, beads, and other property into the fire. The dead chief had been very fond of tea, so one of his daughters threw a cup of tea into the flames. Women danced a funeral dance round the pyre till the body was consumed.[564] Why should the dead man's food and property be burnt? No explanation of the practice is given by our authorities, so we are left to conjecture the reason of it. Is it that by volatilising the solid substance of the food you make it more accessible to the thin unsubstantial nature of the ghost? Is it that you destroy the property of the ghost lest he should come back in person to fetch it and so haunt and trouble the survivors? Is it that the spirits of the dead are supposed to reside in the fire on the hearth, so that offerings cast into the flames are transmitted to them directly? Whether it is with any such ideas that the Solomon Islanders throw food into the fire for ghosts, I cannot say. The whole question of the meaning of burnt sacrifice is still to a great extent obscure. [Sidenote: Funeral customs in the island of Florida. The ghostly ferry.] At the funeral feast of a chief in the island of Florida the axes, spears, shield and other belongings of the deceased are hung up with great lamentations in his house; everything remains afterwards untouched and the house falls into ruins, which as time goes on are thickly mantled with the long tendrils of the sprouting yams. But we are told that the weapons are not intended to accompany the ghost to the land of souls; they are hung up only as a memorial of a great and valued man. "With the same feeling they cut down a dead man's fruit-trees as a mark of respect and affection, not with any notion of these things serving him in the world of ghosts; he ate of them, they say, when he was alive, he will never eat again, and no one else shall have them." However, they think that the ghost benefits by burial; for if a man is killed and his body remains unburied, his restless ghost will haunt the place.[565] The ghosts of such Florida people as have been duly buried depart to Betindalo, which seems to be situated in the south-eastern part of the great island of Guadalcanar. A ship waits to ferry them across the sea to the spirit-land. This is almost the only example of a ferry-boat used by ghosts in Melanesia. On their way to the ferry the ghosts may be heard twittering; and again on the shore, while they are waiting for the ferry-boat, a sound of their dancing breaks the stillness of night; but no man can see the dancers. It is not until they land on the further shore that they know they are dead. There they are met by a ghost, who thrusts a rod into their noses to see whether the cartilage is pierced as it should be; ghosts whose noses have been duly bored in life follow the onward path with ease, but all others have pain and difficulty in making their way to the realm of the shades. Yet though the souls of the dead thus depart to Betindalo, nevertheless their ghosts as usual not only haunt their burial-places, but come to the sacrifices offered to them and may be heard disporting themselves at night, playing on pipes, dancing, and shouting.[566] [Sidenote: Belief of the Solomon Islanders that the souls of the dead live in islands. The second death.] Similarly at Bugotu in the island of Ysabel (one of the Solomon Islands) the ghosts of the dead are supposed to go away to an island, and yet to haunt their graves and shew themselves to the survivors by night. In the island of the dead there is a pool with a narrow tree-trunk lying across it. Here is stationed Bolafagina, the ghostly lord of the place. Every newly arrived ghost must appear before him, and he examines their hands to see whether they bear the mark of the sacred frigate-bird cut on them; if they have the mark, the ghosts pass across the tree-trunk and mingle with the departed spirits in the world of the dead. But ghosts who have not the mark on their hands are cast into the gulf and perish out of their ghostly life: this is the second death.[567] The same notion of a second death meets us in a somewhat different form among the natives of Saa in Malanta, another of the Solomon Islands. All the ghosts of these people swim across the sea to two little islands called Marapa, which lie off Marau in Guadalcanar. There the ghosts of children live in one island and the ghosts of grown-up people in another; for the older people would be plagued by the chatter of children if they all dwelt together in one island. Yet in other respects the life of the departed spirits in these islands is very like life on earth. There are houses, gardens, and canoes there just as here, but all is thin and unsubstantial. Living men who land in the islands see nothing of these things; there is a pool where they hear laughter and merry cries, and where the banks are wet with invisible bathers. But the life of the ghosts in these islands is not eternal. The spirits of common folk soon turn into the nests of white ants, which serve as food for the more robust ghosts. Hence a living man will say to his idle son, "When I die, I shall have ants' nests to eat, but then what will you have?" The ghosts of persons who were powerful on earth last much longer. So long as they are remembered and worshipped by the living, their natural strength remains unabated; but when men forget them, and turn to worship some of the more recent dead, then no more food is offered to them in sacrifice, so they pine away and change into white ants' nests just like common folk. This is the second death. However, while the ghosts survive they can return from the islands to Saa and revisit their village and friends. The living can even discern them in the form of dim and fleeting shadows. A man who wishes for any reason to see a ghost can always do so very simply by taking a pinch of lime from his betel-box and smearing it on his forehead. Then the ghost appears to him quite plainly.[568] [Sidenote: Burial customs in Saa. Preservation of the skull and jawbone. Burial customs in Santa Cruz. Burial customs in Ysabel.] In Saa the dead are usually buried in a common cemetery; but when the flesh has decayed the bones are taken up and heaped on one side. But if the deceased was a very great man or a beloved father, his body is preserved for a time in his son's house, being hung up either in a canoe or in the carved effigy of a sword-fish. Very favourite children are treated in the same way. The corpse may be kept in this way for years. Finally, there is a great funeral feast, at which the remains are removed to the common burial-ground, but the skull and jawbone are detached from the skeleton and kept in the house enclosed in the hollow wooden figure of a bonito-fish. By means of these relics the survivors think that they can secure the aid of the powerful ghost. Sometimes the corpse and afterwards the skull and jawbone are preserved, not in the house of the deceased, but in the _oha_ or public canoe-house, which so far becomes a sort of shrine or temple of the dead.[569] At Santa Cruz in the Solomon Islands the corpse is buried in a very deep grave in the house. Inland they dig up the bones again to make arrow-heads; also they detach the skull and keep it in a chest in the house, saying that it is the man himself. They even set food before the skull, no doubt for the use of the ghost. Yet they imagine that the ghosts of the dead go to the great volcano Tamami, where they are burnt in the crater and thus being renewed stay in the fiery region. Nevertheless the souls of the dead also haunt the forests in Santa Cruz; on wet and dark nights the natives see them twinkling in the gloom like fire-flies, and at the sight they are sore afraid.[570] So little consistent with itself is the creed of these islanders touching the state of the dead. At Bugotu in the island of Ysabel (one of the Solomon Islands) a chief is buried with his head near the surface and a fire is kept burning over the grave, in order that the skull may be taken up and preserved in the house of his successor. The spirit of the dead chief has now become a worshipful ghost, and an expedition is sent out to cut off and bring back human heads in his honour. Any person, not belonging to the place, whom the head-hunters come across will be killed by them and his or her skull added to the collection, which is neatly arranged on the shore. These ghastly trophies are believed to add fresh spiritual power (_mana_) to the ghost of the dead chief. Till they have been procured, the people of the place take care not to move about. The grave of the chief is built up with stones and sacrifices are offered upon it.[571] [Sidenote: Beliefs and customs of the Eastern islanders concerning the dead. Panoi, the subterranean abode of the dead.] Thus far we have been considering the beliefs and practices concerning the dead which prevail among the Western Melanesians of the Solomon Islands and Santa Cruz. We now turn to those of the Eastern Melanesians, who inhabit the Torres Islands, the Banks' Islands, and the New Hebrides. A broad distinction exists between the ghosts of these two regions in as much as the ghosts of the Western Melanesians all live in islands, but the ghosts of all Eastern Melanesians live underground in a subterranean region which commonly bears the name of Panoi. The exact position of Panoi has not been ascertained; all that is regarded as certain is that it is underground. However, there are many entrances to it and some of them are well known. One of them, for example, is a rock on the mountain at Mota, others are at volcanic vents which belch flames on the burning hill of Garat over the lake at Gaua, and another is on the great mountain of Vanua Lava. The ghosts congregate on points of land before their departure, as well as at the entrances to the underworld, and there on moonlight nights you may hear the ghostly crew dancing, singing, shouting, and whistling on the claws of land-crabs. It is not easy to extract from the natives a precise and consistent account of the place of the dead and the state of the spirits in it; nor indeed, as Dr. Codrington justly observes, would it be reasonable to expect full and precise details on a subject about which the sources of information are perhaps not above suspicion. However, as far as can be made out, Panoi or the abode of the dead is on the whole a happy region. In many respects it resembles the land of the living; for there are houses there and villages, and trees with red leaves, and day and night. Yet all is hollow and unreal. The ghosts do nothing but talk and sing and dance; there is no clubhouse there, and though men and women live together, there is no marrying or giving in marriage. All is very peaceful, too, in that land; for there is no war and no tyrant to oppress the people. Yet the ghost of a great man goes down like a great man among the ghosts, resplendent in all his trinkets and finery; but like everything else in the underworld these ornaments, for all the brave show they make, are mere unsubstantial shadows. The pigs which were killed at his funeral feast and the food that was heaped on his grave cannot go down with him into that far country; for none of these things, not even pigs, have souls. How then could they find their way to the spirit world? It is clearly impossible. The ghosts in the nether world do not mix indiscriminately. There are separate compartments for such as died violent deaths. There is one compartment for those who were shot, there is another for those who were clubbed, and there is another for those who were done to death by witchcraft. The ghosts of those who were shot keep rattling the reeds of the arrows which dealt them their fatal wounds. Ghosts in the nether world have no knowledge of things out of their sight and hearing; yet the living call upon them in time of need and trouble, as if they could hear and help. Life, too, in the kingdom of shadows is not eternal. The ghosts die the second death. Yet some say that there are two such kingdoms, each called Panoi, the one over the other; and that when the dead die the second death in the upper realm they rise again from the dead in the nether realm, where they never die but only turn into white ants' nests.[572] [Sidenote: Distinction between the fate of the good and the fate of the bad in the other world.] It is interesting and not unimportant to observe that some of these islanders make a distinction between the fate of good people and the fate of bad people after death. The natives of Motlav, one of the Banks' Islands, think that Panoi is a good place and that only the souls of the good can enter it. According to them the souls of murderers, sorcerers, thieves, liars, and adulterers are not suffered to enter the happy land. The ghost of a murderer, for example, is met at the entrance by the ghost of his victim, who withstands him and turns him back. All the bad ghosts go away to a bad place, where they live, not indeed in physical pain, but in misery: they quarrel, they are restless, homeless, pitiable, malignant: they wander back to earth: they eat the foulest food, their breath is noisome: they harm the living out of spite, they eat men's souls, they haunt graves and woods. But in the true Panoi the souls of the good live in peace and harmony.[573] Thus these people believe that the state of the soul after death depends on the kind of life a man led on earth; if he was good, he will be happy; if he was bad, he will be miserable. If this creed is of purely native origin, and Dr. Codrington seems to entertain no doubt that it is so, it marks a considerable ethical advance among those who accept it. [Sidenote: Descent of the living to the world of the dead.] The Eastern Melanesians think that living people can go down to the land of the dead and return alive to the upper world. Sometimes they do this in the body, but at other times only in the spirit, when they are asleep or in a faint; for at such times their souls quit their bodies and can wander away down to Panoi. When the living thus make their way to the spirit land, they are sometimes cautioned by friendly ghosts to eat nothing there, no doubt lest by partaking of ghostly food they should be turned to ghosts and never return to the land of the living.[574] [Sidenote: Disposal of the dead among the Eastern islanders. Burial customs of the Banks' Islanders.] We will now consider the various modes in which the Eastern Melanesians dispose of their dead; for funeral customs commonly furnish some indication of the ideas which a people entertain as to the state of the soul after death. The Banks' Islanders generally buried their dead in the forest not far from the village; but if the deceased was a great man or died a remarkable death, they might inter him in the village near the men's clubhouse (_gamal_). A favourite son or child might be buried in the house itself; but in such cases the grave would be opened after fifty or a hundred days and the bones taken up and hidden in the forest, though some of them might be hung up in the house. However, in some places there was, and indeed still is, a custom of keeping the putrefying corpse unburied in the house as a mark of affection. At Gaua, in Santa Maria, the body was dried over slow fires for ten days or more, till nothing but skin and bones remained; and the women who watched over it during these days drank the juices of putrefaction which dripped from the decaying flesh. The same thing used formerly to be done in Mota, another of the Banks' Islands. The corpses of great men in these islands were adorned in all their finery and laid out on the open space in the middle of the village. Here bunches of coco-nuts, yams, and other food were heaped up beside the body; and an orator of fluent speech addressed the ghost telling him that when he had gone down to Panoi, the spirit land, and the ghosts asked him after his rank, he was to give them a list of all the things heaped beside his dead body; then the ghosts would know what a great man he was and would treat him with proper deference. The orator dealt very candidly with the moral character of the deceased. If he had been a bad man, the speaker would say, "Poor ghost, will you be able to enter Panoi? I think not." The food which is piled up beside the body while the orator is pronouncing the eulogium or the censure of the departed is afterwards heaped up on the grave or buried in it. At Gaua they kill pigs and hang up the carcases or parts of them at the grave. The object of all this display is to make a favourable impression on the ghosts in the spirit land, in order that they may give the newly deceased man a good reception. When the departed was an eminent warrior or sorcerer, his friends will sometimes give him a sham burial and hide his real grave, lest people should dig up his bones and his skull to make magic with them; for the relics of such a man are naturally endowed with great magical virtue.[575] [Sidenote: Ghosts driven away from the village. Expulsion of the ghosts of persons who suffered from sores and ulcers.] In these islands the ghost does not at once leave the neighbourhood of his old body; he shews no haste to depart to the nether world. Indeed he commonly loiters about the house and the grave for five or ten days, manifesting his presence by noises in the house and by lights upon the grave. By the fifth day his relations generally think that they have had quite enough of him, and that it is high time he should set out for his long home. Accordingly they drive him away with shouts and the blowing of conch-shells or the booming sound of bull-roarers.[576] At Ureparapara the mode of expelling the ghost from the village is as follows. Missiles to be hurled at the lingering spirit are collected in the shape of small stones and pieces of bamboo, which have been charmed by wizards so as to possess a ghost-expelling virtue. The artillery having been thus provided, the people muster at one end of the village, armed with bags of enchanted stones and pieces of enchanted bamboos. The signal to march is given by two men, who sit in the dead man's house, one on either side, holding two white stones in their hands, which they clink together. At the sound of the clinking the women begin to wail and the men to march; tramp, tramp they go like one man through the village from end to end, throwing stones into the houses and all about and beating the bamboos together. Thus they drive the reluctant ghost step by step from the village into the forest, where they leave him to find his own way down to the land of the dead. Till that time the widow of the deceased was bound to remain on his bed without quitting it for a moment except on necessity; and if she had to leave it for a few minutes she always left a coco-nut on the bed to represent her till she came back. The reason for this was that her husband's ghost was believed to be lingering in the house all these days, and he would naturally expect to see his wife in the nuptial chamber. At Motlav the people are not so hard upon the poor ghosts: they do not drive away all ghosts from their old homes, but only the ghosts of such as had in their lifetime the misfortune to be afflicted with grievous sores and ulcers. The expulsion of such ghosts may therefore be regarded as a sanitary precaution designed to prevent the spirits from spreading the disease. When a man who suffers severely from sores or ulcers lies dying, the people of his village, taking time by the forelock, send word to the inhabitants of the next village westwards, warning them to be in readiness to give the ghost a warm reception. For it is well known that at their departure from the body ghosts always go westward towards the setting sun. So when the poor man is dead, they bury his diseased body in the village and devote all their energies to the expulsion of his soul. By blowing blasts on shell-trumpets and beating the ground with the stalks of coco-nut fronds they chase the ghost clean away from their own village and on to the next. The inhabitants of that village meantime are ready to receive their unwelcome visitor, and beating their bounds in the most literal sense they soon drive him onwards to the land of their next neighbours. So the chase goes on from village to village, till the ghost has been finally hunted into the sea at the point of the shore which faces the setting sun. There at last the beaters throw away the stalks which have served to whack the ghost, and return home in the perfect assurance that he has left the island and gone to his own place down below, so that he cannot afflict anybody with the painful disease from which he suffered. But as for his ulcerated corpse rotting in the grave, they do not give a thought to it. Their concern is with the spiritual and the unseen; they do not stoop to regard the material and carnal.[577] [Sidenote: Special treatment of the ghosts of women who died in childbed.] A special treatment is accorded to the ghosts of women who died in childbed. If the mother dies and the child lives, her ghost will not go away to the nether world without taking the infant with her. Hence in order to deceive the ghost, they wrap a piece of a banana-trunk loosely in leaves and lay it on the bosom of the dead mother when they lower her into the grave. The ghost clasps the bundle to her breast, thinking it is her baby, and goes away contentedly to the spirit land. As she walks, the banana-stalk slips about in the leaves and she imagines it is the infant stirring; for she has not all her wits about her, ghosts being naturally in a dazed state at first on quitting their familiar bodies. But when she arrives in deadland and finds she has been deceived, and when perhaps some heartless ghosts even jeer at her wooden baby, back she comes tearing to earth in grief and rage to seek and carry off the real infant. However, the survivors know what to expect and have taken the precaution of removing the child to another house where the mother will never find it; but she keeps looking for it always, and a sad and angry ghost is she.[578] [Sidenote: Funeral feasts.] After the funeral follows a series, sometimes a long series, of funeral feasts, which form indeed one of the principal institutions of these islands. The number of the feasts and the length of time during which they are repeated vary much in the different islands, and depend also on the consideration in which the deceased was held. The days on which the feasts are celebrated are the fifth and the tenth after the death, and afterwards every tenth day up to the hundredth or even it may be, in the case of a father, a mother, or a wife, up to the thousandth day. These feasts appear now to be chiefly commemorative, but they also benefit the dead; for the ghost is naturally gratified by seeing that his friends remember him and do their duty by him so handsomely. At these banquets food is put aside for the dead with the words "This is for thee." The practice of thus setting aside food for the ghost at a series of funeral feasts appears at first sight, as Dr. Codrington observes, inconsistent with the theory that the ghosts live underground.[579] But the objection thus suggested is rather specious than real; for we must always bear in mind that, to judge from the accounts given of them in all countries, ghosts experience no practical difficulty in obtaining temporary leave of absence from the other world and coming to this one, so to say, on furlough for the purpose of paying a surprise visit to their sorrowing friends and relations. The thing is so well known that it would be at once superfluous and tedious to illustrate it at length; many examples have incidentally met us in the course of these lectures. [Sidenote: Funeral customs in Vaté or Efat. Old people buried alive.] The natives of Vaté or Efat, one of the New Hebrides, set up a great wailing at a death and scratched their faces till they streamed with blood. Bodies of the dead were buried. When a corpse was laid in the grave, a pig was brought to the place and its head was chopped off and thrown into the grave to be buried with the body. This, we are told, "was supposed to prevent disease spreading to other members of the family." Probably, in the opinion of the natives, the pig's head was a sop thrown to the ghost to keep him from coming and fetching away other people to deadland. With the same intention, we may take it, they buried with the dead the cups, pillows, and other things which he had used in his lifetime. On the top of the grave they kindled a fire to enable the soul of the deceased to rise to the sun. If that were not done, the soul went to the wretched regions of Pakasia down below. The old were buried alive at their own request. It was even deemed a disgrace to the family of an aged chief if they did not bury him alive. When an old man felt sick and weak and thought that he was dying, he would tell his friends to get all ready and bury him. They yielded to his wishes, dug a deep round pit, wound a number of fine mats round his body, and lowered him into the grave in a sitting posture. Live pigs were then brought to the brink of the grave, and each of them was tethered by a cord to one of the old man's arms. When the pigs had thus, as it were, been made over to him, the cords were cut, and the animals were led away to be killed, baked, and eaten at the funeral feast; but the souls of the pigs the old man took away with him to the spirit land, and the more of them he took the warmer and more gratifying was the reception he met with from the ghosts. Having thus ensured his eternal welfare by the pig strings which dangled at his arms, the old man was ready; more mats were laid over him, the earth was shovelled in, and his dying groans were drowned amid the weeping and wailing of his affectionate kinsfolk.[580] [Sidenote: Burial and mourning customs in Aurora, one of the New Hebrides. Behaviour of the soul at death.] At Maewo in Aurora, one of the New Hebrides, when a death has taken place, the body is buried in a grave near the village clubhouse. For a hundred days afterwards the female mourners may not go into the open and their faces may not be seen; they stay indoors and in the dark and cover themselves with a large mat reaching to the ground. But the widow goes every day, covered with her mat, to weep at the grave; this she does both in the morning and in the afternoon. During this time of mourning the next of kin may not eat certain succulent foods, such as yams, bananas, and caladium; they eat only the gigantic caladium, bread-fruit, coco-nuts, mallows, and so forth; "and all these they seek in the bush where they grow wild, not eating those which have been planted." They count five days after the death and then build up great heaps of stones over the grave. After that, if the deceased was a very great man, who owned many gardens and pigs, they count fifty days and then kill pigs, and cut off the point of the liver of each pig; and the brother of the deceased goes toward the forest and calls out the dead man's name, crying, "This is for you to eat." They think that if they do not kill pigs for the benefit of their departed friend, his ghost has no proper existence, but hangs miserably on tangled creepers. After the sacrifice they all cry again, smear their bodies and faces all over with ashes, and wear cords round their necks for a hundred days in token that they are not eating good food.[581] They imagine that as soon as the soul quits the body at death, it mounts into a tree where there is a bird's nest fern, and sitting there among the fronds it laughs and mocks at the people who are crying and making great lamentations over his deserted tabernacle. "There he sits, wondering at them and ridiculing them. 'What are they crying for?' he says; 'whom are they sorry for? Here am I.' For they think that the real thing is the soul, and that it has gone away from the body just as a man throws off his clothes and leaves them, and the clothes lie by themselves with nothing in them."[582] This estimate of the comparative value of soul and body is translated from the words of a New Hebridean native; it singularly resembles that which is sometimes held up to our admiration as one of the finest fruits of philosophy and religion. So narrow may be the line that divides the meditations of the savage and the sage. When a Maewo ghost has done chuckling at the folly of his surviving relatives, who sorrow as those who have no hope, he turns his back on his old home and runs along the line of hills till he comes to a place where there are two rocks with a deep ravine between them. He leaps the chasm, and if he lands on the further side, he is dead indeed; but if he falls short, he returns to life. At the land's end, where the mountains descend into the sea, all the ghosts of the dead are gathered to meet him. If in his lifetime he had slain any one by club or arrow, or done any man to death by magic, he must now run the gauntlet of the angry ghosts of his victims, who beat and tear him and stab him with daggers such as people stick pigs with; and as they do so, they taunt him, saying, "While you were still in the world you thought yourself a valiant man; but now we will take our revenge on you." At another point in the path there is a deep gully, where if a ghost falls he is inevitably dashed to pieces; and if he escapes this peril, there is a ferocious pig waiting for him further on, which devours the ghosts of all persons who in their life on earth omitted to plant pandanus trees, from which mats are made. But the wise man, who planted pandanus betimes, now reaps the fruit of his labours; for when the pig makes a rush at his departed spirit, the ghost nimbly swarms up the pandanus tree and so escapes his pursuer. That is why everybody in Maewo likes to plant pandanus trees. And if a man's ears were not pierced in his life, his ghost will not be allowed to drink water; if he was not tattooed, his ghost may not eat good food. A thoughtful father will provide for the comfort of his children in the other world by building a miniature house for each of them in his garden when the child is a year old; if the infant is a boy, he puts a bow, an arrow, and a club in the little house; if the child is a girl, he plants pandanus for her beside the tiny dwelling.[583] [Sidenote: Only ghosts of powerful men are worshipped.] So much for the fate of common ghosts in Central Melanesia. We have now to consider the position of the more powerful spirits, who after death are believed to exercise great influence over the living, especially over their surviving relations, and who have accordingly to be propitiated with prayer and sacrifice. This worship of the dead, as we saw, forms the principal feature in the religion of the Solomon Islanders. "But it must not be supposed," says Dr. Codrington, "that every ghost becomes an object of worship. A man in danger may call upon his father, his grandfather, or his uncle: his nearness of kin is sufficient ground for it. The ghost who is to be worshipped is the spirit of a man who in his lifetime had _mana_ [supernatural or magical power] in him; the souls of common men are the common herd of ghosts, nobodies alike before and after death. The supernatural power abiding in the powerful living man abides in his ghost after death, with increased vigour and more ease of movement. After his death, therefore, it is expected that he should begin to work, and some one will come forward and claim particular acquaintance with the ghost; if his power should shew itself, his position is assured as one worthy to be invoked, and to receive offerings, till his cultus gives way before the rising importance of one newly dead, and the sacred place where his shrine once stood and his relics were preserved is the only memorial of him that remains; if no proof of his activity appears, he sinks into oblivion at once."[584] [Sidenote: Worship paid chiefly to the recent and well-remembered dead.] From this instructive account we learn that worship is paid chiefly to the recent and well-remembered dead, to the men whom the worshippers knew personally and feared or respected in their lifetime. On the other hand, when men have been long dead, and all who knew them have also been gathered to their fathers, their memory fades away and with it their worship gradually falls into complete desuetude. Thus the spirits who receive the homage of these savages were real men of flesh and blood, not mythical beings conjured up by the fancy of their worshippers, which some legerdemain of the mind has foisted into the shrine and encircled with the halo of divinity. Not that the Melanesians do not also worship beings who, so far as we can see, are purely mythical, though their worshippers firmly believe in their reality. But "they themselves make a clear distinction between the existing, conscious, powerful disembodied spirits of the dead, and other spiritual beings that never have been men at all. It is true that the two orders of beings get confused in native language and thought, but their confusion begins at one end and the confusion of their visitors at another; they think so much and constantly of ghosts that they speak of beings who were never men as ghosts; Europeans take the spirits of the lately dead for gods; less educated Europeans call them roundly devils."[585] [Sidenote: Way in which a dead warrior came to be worshipped as a martial ghost.] As an example of the way in which the ghost of a real man who has just died may come to be worshipped Dr. Codrington tells us the story of Ganindo, which he had from Bishop Selwyn. This Ganindo was a great fighting man of Honggo in Florida, one of the Solomon Islands. He went with other warriors on a head-hunting expedition against Gaeta; but being mortally wounded with an arrow near the collar-bone he was brought back by his comrades to the hill of Bonipari, where he died and was buried. His friends cut off his head, put it in a basket, built a house for it, and said that he was a worshipful ghost (_tindalo_). Afterwards they said, "Let us go and take heads." So they embarked on their canoe and paddled away to seek the heads of enemies. When they came to quiet water, they stopped paddling and waited till they felt the canoe rock under them, and when they felt it they said, "That is a ghost." To find out what particular ghost it was they called out the names of several, and when they came to the name of Ganindo, the canoe rocked again. So they knew that it was he who was making the canoe to rock. In like manner they learned what village they were to attack. Returning victorious with the heads of the foe they threw a spear into the roof of Ganindo's house, blew conch-shells, and danced round it, crying, "Our ghost is strong to kill!" Then they sacrificed fish and other food to him. Also they built him a new house, and made four images of him for the four corners, one of Ganindo himself, two of his sisters, and another. When it was all ready, eight men translated the relics to the new shrine. One of them carried Ganindo's bones, another his betel-nuts, another his lime-box, another his shell-trumpet. They all went into the shrine crouching down, as if burdened by a heavy weight, and singing in chorus, "Hither, hither, let us lift the leg!" At that the eight legs went up together, and then they sang, "Hither, hither!" and at that the eight legs went down together. In this solemn procession the relics were brought and laid on a bamboo platform, and sacrifices to the new martial ghost were inaugurated. Other warlike ghosts revered in Florida are known not to have been natives of the island but famous warriors of the western isles, where supernatural power is believed to be stronger.[586] [Sidenote: Offerings to the dead.] Throughout the islands of Central Melanesia prayers and offerings are everywhere made to ghosts or spirits or to both. The simplest and commonest sacrificial act is that of throwing a small portion of food to the dead; this is probably a universal practice in Melanesia. A morsel of food ready to be eaten, for example of yam, a leaf of mallow, or a bit of betel-nut, is thrown aside; and where they drink kava, a libation is made of a few drops, as the share of departed friends or as a memorial of them with which they will be pleased. At the same time the offerer may call out the name of some one who either died lately or is particularly remembered at the time; or without the special mention of individuals he may make the offering generally to the ghosts of former members of the community. To set food on a burial-place or before some memorial image is a common practice, though in some places, as in Santa Cruz, the offering is soon taken away and eaten by the living.[587] [Sidenote: Sacrificial ritual in the Solomon Islands.] In the Solomon Islands the sacrificial ritual is more highly developed. It may be described in the words of a native of San Cristoval. "In my country," he wrote, "they think that ghosts are many, very many indeed, some very powerful, and some not. There is one who is principal in war; this one is truly mighty and strong. When our people wish to fight with any other place, the chief men of the village and the sacrificers and the old men, and the elder and younger men, assemble in the place sacred to this ghost; and his name is Harumae. When they are thus assembled to sacrifice, the chief sacrificer goes and takes a pig; and if it be not a barrow pig they would not sacrifice it to that ghost, he would reject it and not eat of it. The pig is killed (it is strangled), not by the chief sacrificer, but by those whom he chooses to assist, near the sacred place. Then they cut it up; they take great care of the blood lest it should fall upon the ground; they bring a bowl and set the pig in it, and when they cut it up the blood runs down into it. When the cutting up is finished, the chief sacrificer takes a bit of flesh from the pig, and he takes a cocoa-nut shell and dips up some of the blood. Then he takes the blood and the bit of flesh and enters into the house (the shrine), and calls that ghost and says, 'Harumae! Chief in war! we sacrifice to you with this pig, that you may help us to smite that place; and whatsoever we shall carry away shall be your property, and we also will be yours.' Then he burns the bit of flesh in a fire upon a stone, and pours down the blood upon the fire. Then the fire blazes greatly upwards to the roof, and the house is full of the smell of pig, a sign that the ghost has heard. But when the sacrificer went in he did not go boldly, but with awe; and this is the sign of it; as he goes into the holy house he puts away his bag, and washes his hands thoroughly, to shew that the ghost shall not reject him with disgust." The pig was afterwards eaten. It should be observed that this Harumae who received sacrifices as a martial ghost, mighty in war, had not been dead many years when the foregoing account of the mode of sacrificing to him was written. The elder men remembered him alive, nor was he a great warrior, but a kind and generous man, believed to be plentifully endowed with supernatural power. His shrine was a small house in the village, where relics of him were preserved.[588] Had the Melanesians been left to themselves, it seems possible that this Harumae might have developed into the war-god of San Cristoval, just as in Central Africa another man of flesh and blood is known to have developed into the war-god of Uganda.[589] [Footnote 552: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), pp. 122, 123, 124, 180 _sq._] [Footnote 553: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_ (Oxford, 1891), pp. 247, 253.] [Footnote 554: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 248.] [Footnote 555: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 255 _sqq_., 264 _sqq_.] [Footnote 556: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ 253 _sq_.] [Footnote 557: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 254, 258, 261; compare _id._, pp. 125, 130.] [Footnote 558: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 120, 254.] [Footnote 559: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 118 _sqq._] [Footnote 560: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 254 _sq._] [Footnote 561: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 258 _sq._] [Footnote 562: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 255.] [Footnote 563: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 259.] [Footnote 564: G. Brown, D.D., _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 214, 217.] [Footnote 565: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 255.] [Footnote 566: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 255 _sq._] [Footnote 567: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 256 _sq._] [Footnote 568: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 260 _sq._] [Footnote 569: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 261 _sq._] [Footnote 570: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 263 _sq._] [Footnote 571: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 257.] [Footnote 572: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 264, 273 _sq._, 275-277.] [Footnote 573: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 274 _sq._] [Footnote 574: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 266, 276, 277, 286.] [Footnote 575: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 267-270.] [Footnote 576: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 269.] [Footnote 577: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 270 _sq._] [Footnote 578: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 275.] [Footnote 579: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 271 _sq._] [Footnote 580: G. Turner, _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long before_ (London, 1884), pp. 335 _sq._ This account is based on information furnished by Sualo, a Samoan teacher, who lived for a long time on the island. The statement that the fire kindled on the grave was intended "to enable the soul of the departed to rise to the sun" may be doubted; it may be a mere inference of Dr. Turner's Samoan informant. More probably the fire was intended to warm the shivering ghost. I do not remember any other evidence that the souls of the Melanesian dead ascend to the sun; certainly it is much more usual for them to descend into the earth.] [Footnote 581: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 281 _sq._] [Footnote 582: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 278 _sq._] [Sidenote: Journey of the ghost to the other world.] [Footnote 583: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 279 _sq._] [Footnote 584: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 124 _sq._] [Footnote 585: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 121.] [Footnote 586: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 125 _sqq._] [Footnote 587: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 127, 128.] [Footnote 588: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 129 _sq._] [Footnote 589: Rev. J. Roscoe, "Kibuka, the War God of the Baganda," _Man_, vii. (1907) pp. 161-166; _id._, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 301 _sqq._ The history of this African war-god is more or less mythical, but his personal relics, which are now deposited in the Ethnological Museum at Cambridge, suffice to prove his true humanity.] LECTURE XVII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF CENTRAL MELANESIA (_concluded_) [Sidenote: Public sacrifices to ghosts in the Solomon Islands.] At the close of last lecture I described the mode in which sacrifices are offered to a martial ghost in San Cristoval, one of the Solomon Islands. We saw that the flesh of a pig is burned in honour of the ghost and that the victim's blood is poured on the flames. Similarly in Florida, another of the Solomon Islands, food is conveyed to worshipful ghosts by being burned in the fire. Some ghosts are known by name to everybody, others may be known only to individuals, who have found out or been taught how to approach them, and who accordingly regard such ghosts as their private property. In every village a public ghost is worshipped, and the chief is the sacrificer. He has learned from his predecessor how to throw or heave the sacrifice, and he imparts this knowledge to his son or nephew, whom he intends to leave as his successor. The place of sacrifice is an enclosure with a little house or shrine in which the relics are kept; it is new or old according as the man whose ghost is worshipped died lately or long ago. When a public sacrifice is performed, the people assemble near but not in the sacred place; boys but not women may be present. The sacrificer alone enters the shrine, but he takes with him his son or other person whom he has instructed in the ritual. Muttering an incantation he kindles a fire of sticks, but may not blow on the holy flame. Then from a basket he takes some prepared food, such as a mash of yams, and throws it on the fire, calling out the name of the ghost and bidding him take his food, while at the same time he prays for whatever is desired. If the fire blazes up and consumes the food, it is a good sign; it proves that the ghost is present and that he is blowing up the flame. The remainder of the food the sacrificer takes back to the assembled people; some of it he eats himself and some of it he gives to his assistant to eat. The people receive their portions of the food at his hands and eat it or take it away. While the sacrificing is going on, there is a solemn silence. If a pig is killed, the portion burned in the sacrificial fire is the heart in Florida, but the gullet at Bugotu. One ghost who is commonly known and worshipped is called Manoga. When the sacrificer invokes this ghost, he heaves the sacrifice round about and calls him, first to the east, where rises the sun, saying, "If thou dwellest in the east, where rises the sun, Manoga! come hither and eat thy _tutu_ mash!" Then turning he lifts it towards where sets the sun, and says, "If thou dwellest in the west, where sets the sun, Manoga! come hither and eat thy _tutu_!" There is not a quarter to which he does not lift it up. And when he has finished lifting it he says, "If thou dwellest in heaven above, Manoga! come hither and eat thy _tutu_! If thou dwellest in the Pleiades or Orion's belt; if below in Turivatu; if in the distant sea; if on high in the sun, or in the moon; if thou dwellest inland or by the shore, Manoga! come hither and eat thy _tutu_!"[590] [Sidenote: First-fruits of the canarium nuts sacrificed to ghosts.] Twice a year there are general sacrifices in which the people of a village take part. One of these occasions is when the canarium nut, so much used in native cookery, is ripe. None of the nuts may be eaten till the first-fruits have been offered to the ghost. "Devil he eat first; all man he eat behind," is the lucid explanation which a native gave to an English enquirer. The knowledge of the way in which the first-fruits must be offered is handed down from generation to generation, and the man who is learned in this lore has authority to open the season. He observes the state of the crop, and early one morning he is heard to shout. He climbs a tree, picks some nuts, cracks them, eats, and puts some on the stones in his sacred place for the ghost. Then the rest of the people may gather the nuts for themselves. The chief himself sacrifices the new nuts, mixed with other food, to the public ghost on the stones of the village sanctuary; and every man who has a private ghost of his own does the same in his own sacred place. About two months afterwards there is another public sacrifice when the root crops generally have been dug; pig or fish is then offered; and a man who digs up his yams, or whatever it may be, offers his private sacrifice besides.[591] [Sidenote: Sacrifice of first-fruits to ancestral spirits in Tanna.] In like manner the natives of Tanna, one of the Southern New Hebrides, offered the first-fruits to the deified spirits of their ancestors. On this subject I will quote the evidence of the veteran missionary, the Rev. Dr. George Turner, who lived in Tanna for seven months in 1841. He says: "The general name for gods seemed to be _aremha_; that means a _dead man_, and hints alike at the origin and nature of their religious worship. The spirits of their departed ancestors were among their gods. Chiefs who reach an advanced age were after death deified, addressed by name, and prayed to on various occasions. They were supposed especially to preside over the growth of the yams and the different fruit trees. The first-fruits were presented to them, and in doing this they laid a little of the fruit on some stone, or shelving branch of the tree, or some more temporary altar of a few rough sticks from the bush, lashed together with strips of bark, in the form of a table, with its four feet stuck in the ground. All being quiet, the chief acted as high priest, and prayed aloud thus: 'Compassionate father! here is some food for you; eat it; be kind to us on account of it.' And, instead of an _amen_, all united in a shout. This took place about mid-day, and afterwards those who were assembled continued together feasting and dancing till midnight or three in the morning."[592] [Sidenote: Private ghosts. Fighting ghosts kept as auxiliaries.] In addition to the public ghosts, each of whom is revered by a whole village, many a man keeps, so to say, a private or tame ghost of his own on leash. The art of taming a ghost consists in knowing the leaves, bark, and vines in which he delights and in treating him accordingly. This knowledge a man may acquire by the exercise of his natural faculties or he may learn it from somebody else. However he may obtain the knowledge, he uses it for his own personal advantage, sacrificing to the ghost in order to win his favour and get something from him in return. The mode of sacrificing to a private ghost is the same as to a public ghost. The owner has a sacred place or private chapel of his own, where he draws near to the ghost in prayer and burns his bit of food in the fire. A man often keeps a fighting ghost (_keramo_), who helps him in battle or in slaying his private enemy. Before he goes out to commit homicide, he pulls up his ginger-plant and judges from the ease or difficulty with which the plant yields to or resists his tug, whether he will succeed in the enterprise or not. Then he sacrifices to the ghost, and having placed some ginger and leaves on his shield, and stuffed some more in his belt and right armlet, he sallies forth. He curses his enemy by his fighting ghost, saying, "Siria (if that should be the name of the ghost) eats thee, and I shall slay thee"; and if he kills him, he cries to the ghost, "Thine is this man, Siria, and do thou give me supernatural power!" No prudent Melanesian would attempt to commit manslaughter without a ghost as an accomplice; to do so would be to court disaster, for the slain man's ghost would have power over the slayer; therefore before he imbrues his hands in blood he deems it desirable to secure the assistance of a valiant ghost who can, if need be, overcome the ghost of his victim in single combat. If he cannot procure such a useful auxiliary in any other way, he must purchase him. Further, he fortifies himself with some personal relic, such as a tooth or lock of hair of the deceased warrior, whose ghost he has taken into his service; this relic he wears as an amulet in a little bag round the neck, when he is on active service; at other times it is kept in the house.[593] [Sidenote: Garden ghosts.] Different from these truculent spirits are the peaceful ghosts who cause the garden to bear fruit. If the gardener happens to know such a ghost, he can pray and sacrifice to him on his own account; but if he has no such friend in the spirit world, he must employ an expert. The man of skill goes into the midst of the garden with a little mashed food in his left hand, and smiting it with his right hand he calls on the ghost to come and eat. He says: "This produce thou shall eat; give supernatural power (_mana_) to this garden, that food may be good and plentiful." He digs holes at the four corners of the garden, and in them he buries such leaves as the ghost loves, so that the garden may have ghostly power and be fruitful. And when the yams sprout, he twines them with the particular creeper and fastens them with the particular wood to which the ghost is known to be partial. These agricultural ghosts are very sensitive; if a man enters the garden, who has just eaten pork or cuscus or fish or shell-fish, the ghost of the garden manifests his displeasure by causing the produce of the garden to droop; but if the eater lets three or four days go by after his meal, he may then enter the garden with impunity, for the food has left his stomach. For a similar reason, apparently, when the yam vines are being trained, the men sleep near the gardens and never approach their wives; for should they tread the garden after conjugal intercourse, the yams would be blighted.[594] [Sidenote: Human sacrifices to ghosts.] Sometimes the favour of a ghost is obtained by human sacrifices. On these occasions the flesh of the victim does not, like the flesh of a pig, furnish the materials of a sacrificial banquet; but little bits of it are eaten by young men to improve their fighting power and by elders for a special purpose. Such sacrifices are deemed more effectual than the sacrifices of less precious victims; and advantage was sometimes taken of a real or imputed crime to offer the criminal to some ghost. So, for example, within living memory Dikea, chief of Ravu, convicted a certain man of stealing tobacco, and sentenced him to be sacrificed; and the grown lads ate pieces of him cooked in the sacrificial fire. Again, the same chief offered another human sacrifice in the year 1886. One of his wives had proved false, and he sent her away vowing that she should not return till he had offered a human sacrifice to Hauri. Also his son died, and he vowed to kill a man for him. The vow was noised abroad, and everybody knew that he would pay well for somebody to kill. Now the Savo people had bought a captive boy in Guadalcanar, but it turned out a bad bargain, for the boy was lame and nearly blind. So they brought him to Dikea, and he gave them twenty coils of shell money for the lad. Then the chief laid his hand on the victim's breast and cried, "Hauri! here is a man for you," and his followers killed him with axes and clubs. The cripple's skull was added to the chief's collection, and his legs were sent about the country to make known what had been done. In Bugotu of Ysabel, when the people had slain an enemy in fight, they used to bring back his head in triumph, cut slices off it, and burn them in sacrifice. And if they took a prisoner alive, they would bring him to the sacred place, the grave of the man whose ghost was to be honoured. There they bound him hand and foot and buffeted him till he died, or if he did not die under the buffets they cut his throat. As they beat the man with their fists, they called on the ghost to take him, and when he was dead, they burned a bit of him in the fire for the ghost.[595] [Sidenote: Sacrifices to ghosts in Saa.] At Saa in Malanta, one of the Solomon Islands, sacrifices are offered to ghosts on various occasions. Thus on his return from a voyage a man will put food in the case which contains the relics of his dead father; and in the course of his voyage, if he should land in a desert isle, he will throw food and call on father, grandfather, and other deceased friends. Again, when sickness is ascribed to the anger of a ghost, a man of skill is sent for to discover what particular ghost is doing the mischief. When he has ascertained the culprit, he is furnished by the patient's relatives with a little pig, which he is to sacrifice to the ghost as a substitute for the sick man. Provided with this vicarious victim he repairs to the haunt of the ghost, strangles the animal, and burns it whole in a fire along with grated yam, coco-nut, and fish. As he does so, he calls out the names of all the ghosts of his family, his ancestors, and all who are deceased, down even to children and women, and he names the man who furnished the pig for the ghostly repast. A portion of the mixed food he preserves unburnt, wraps it in a dracaena leaf, and puts it beside the case which contains the relics of the man to whose ghost the sacrifice has been offered. Sometimes, however, instead of burning a pig in the fire, which is an expensive and wasteful form of sacrifice, the relatives of the sick man content themselves with cooking a pig or a dog in the oven, cutting up the carcase, and laying out all the parts in order. Then the sacrificer comes and sits at the animal's head, and calls out the names of all the dead members of the ghost's family in order downwards, saying, "Help, deliver this man, cut short the line that has bound him." Then the pig is eaten by all present except the women; nothing is burnt.[596] [Sidenote: Sacrifices of first-fruits to ghosts in Saa.] The last sort of sacrifices to ghosts at Saa which we need notice is the sacrifice of first-fruits. Thus, when the yams are ripe the people fetch some of them from each garden to offer to the ghosts. All the male members of the family assemble at the holy place which belongs to them. Then one of them enters the shrine, lays a yam beside the skull which lies there, and cries with a loud voice to the ghost, "This is yours to eat." The others call quietly on the names of all the ancestors and give their yams, which are very many in number, because one from each garden is given to each ghost. If any man has besides a relic of the dead, such as a skull, bones, or hair, in his house, he takes home a yam and sets it beside the relic. Again, the first flying-fish of the season are sacrificed to ghosts, who may take the form of sharks; for we shall see presently that Melanesian ghosts are sometimes supposed to inhabit the bodies of these ferocious monsters. Some ghost-sharks have sacred places ashore, where figures of sharks are set up. In that case the first flying-fish are cooked and set before the shark images. But it may be that a shark ghost has no sacred place on land, and then there is nothing for it but to take the flying-fish out to sea and shred them into the water, while the sacrificer calls out the name of the particular ghost whom he desires to summon to the feast.[597] [Sidenote: Vicarious sacrifices for the sick.] Vicarious sacrifices for the sick are offered in San Cristoval to a certain malignant ghost called Tapia, who is believed to seize a man's soul and tie it up to a banyan tree. When that has happened, a man who knows how to manage Tapia intercedes with him. He takes a pig or fish to the sacred place and offers it to the grim ghost, saying, "This is for you to eat in place of that man; eat this, don't kill him." With that he can loose the captive soul and take it back to the sick man, who thereupon recovers.[598] [Sidenote: Sacrifices to ghosts in Santa Cruz. The dead represented by a stock.] In Santa Cruz the sacrifices offered to ghosts are very economical; for if the offering is of food, the living eat it up after a decent interval; if it is a valuable, they remove it and resume the use of it themselves. The principle of this spiritual economy probably lies in the common belief that ghosts, being immaterial, absorb the immaterial essence of the objects, leaving the material substance to be enjoyed by men. When a man of mark dies in Santa Cruz, his relations set up a stock of wood in his house to represent him. This is renewed from time to time, till after a while the man is forgotten or thrown into the shade by the attractions of some newer ghost, so that the old stock is neglected. But when the stock is first put up, a pig is killed and two strips of flesh from the back bone are set before the stock as food for the ghost, but only to be soon taken away and eaten by the living. Similar offerings may be repeated from time to time, as when the stock is renewed. Again, when a garden is planted, they spread feather-money and red native cloth round it for the use of the ghost; but his enjoyment of these riches is brief and precarious.[599] [Sidenote: Native account of sacrifices to ghosts in Santa Cruz.] To supplement the foregoing account of sacrifices to ghosts in Santa Cruz, I will add a description of some of them which was given by a native of Santa Cruz in his own language and translated for us by a missionary. It runs thus: "When anyone begins to fall sick he seeks a doctor (_meduka_), and when the doctor comes near the sick man he stiffens his body, and all those in the house think a ghost has entered into the doctor, and they are all very quiet. Some doctors tell the sick man's relatives to kill a pig for the ghost who has caused the sickness. When they have killed the pig they take it into the ghost-house and invite some other men, and they eat with prayers to the ghost; and the doctor takes a little piece and puts it near the base of the ghost-post, and says to it: 'This is thy food; oh, deliver up again the spirit of thy servant, that he may be well again.' The little portion they have offered to the ghost is then eaten; but small boys may not eat of it."[600] "Every year the people plant yams and tomagos; and when they begin to work and have made ready the place and begun to plant, first, they offer to the ghost who they think presides over foods. There is an offering place in the bush, and they go there and take much food, and also feather money. Men, women, and children do this, and they think the ghost notices if there are many children, and gives much food at harvest; and the ghost to whom they offer is named Ilene. When the bread-fruit begins to bear they take great care lest anyone should light a fire near the bole of the tree, or throw a stone at the tree. The ghost, who they think protects the bread-fruit, is called Duka-Kane or Kae Tuabia, who has two names; they think this ghost has four eyes."[601] "The heathen thinks a ghost makes the sun to shine and the rain. If it is continual sunshine and the yams are withering the people assemble together and contribute money, and string it to the man with whom the rain-ghost abides, and food also, and beseech him not to do the thing he was doing. That man will not wash his face for a long time, he will not work lest he perspire and his body be wet, for he thinks that if his body be wet it will rain. Then this man, with whom the rain-ghost is, takes water and goes into the ghost-house and sprinkles it at the head of the ghost-post (_duka_), and if there are many ghost-posts in the house he pours water over them all that it may rain."[602] [Sidenote: Combination of magic with religion.] In these ceremonies for the making of rain we see a combination of magic with religion. The appeal to the rain-ghost is religious; but the pouring of the water on the ghost-post is magical, being an imitation of the result which the officiating priest or magician, whichever we choose to call him, desires to produce. The taboos observed by the owner of the rain-ghost so long as he wishes to prevent the rain from falling are also based on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic: he abstains from washing his face or working, lest the water or the sweat trickling down his body should mimick rain and thereby cause it to fall.[603] [Sidenote: Prayers to the dead.] The natives of Aneiteum, one of the Southern New Hebrides, worshipped the spirits of their ancestors, chiefly on occasions of sickness.[604] Again, the people of Vaté or Efat, another of the New Hebrides, worshipped the souls of their forefathers and prayed to them over the _kava_-bowl for health and prosperity.[605] As an example of prayers offered to the dead we may take the petition which the natives of Florida put up at sea to Daula, a well-known ghost, who is associated with the frigate-bird. They say: "Do thou draw the canoe, that it may reach the land; speed my canoe, grandfather, that I may quickly reach the shore whither I am bound. Do thou, Daula, lighten the canoe, that it may quickly gain the land and rise upon the shore." They also invoke Daula to help them in fishing. "If thou art powerful, O Daula," they say, "put a fish or two into this net and let them die there." After a good catch they praise him, saying, "Powerful is the ghost of the net." And when the natives of Florida are in danger on the sea, they call upon their immediate forefathers; one will call on his grandfather, another on his father, another on some dead friend, calling with reverence and saying, "Save us on the deep! Save us from the tempest! Bring us to the shore!" In San Cristoval people apply to ghosts for victory in battle, health in sickness, and good crops; but the word which they use to signify such an application conveys the notion of charm rather than of prayer. However, in the Banks' Islands what may be called prayer is strictly speaking an invocation of the dead; indeed the very word for prayer (_tataro_) seems to be identical with that for a powerful ghost (_'ataro_ in San Cristoval). A man in peril on the sea will call on his dead friends, especially on one who was in his lifetime a good sailor. And in Mota, when an oven is opened, they throw in a leaf of cooked mallow for a ghost, saying to him, "This is a lucky bit for your eating; they who have charmed your food or clubbed you (as the case may be), take hold of their hands, drag them away to hell, let them be dead." So when they pour water on the oven, they pray to the ghost, saying, "Pour it on the head of him down there who has laid plots against me, has clubbed me, has shot me, has stolen things of mine (as the case may be), he shall die." Again, when they make a libation before drinking, they pray, saying, "Grandfather! this is your lucky drop of kava; let boars come in to me; the money I have spent, let it come back to me; the food that is gone, let it come back hither to the house of you and me." And on starting for a voyage they will say, "Uncle! father! plenty of boars for you, plenty of money; kava for your drinking, lucky food for your eating in the canoe. I pray you with this, look down upon me, let me go on a safe sea." Or when the canoe labours with a heavy freight, they will pray, "Take off your burden from us, that we may speed on a safe sea."[606] [Sidenote: Sanctuaries of ghosts in Florida.] In the island of Florida, the sanctuary of a powerful ghost is called a _vunuhu_. Sometimes it is in the village, sometimes in the garden-ground, sometimes in the forest. If it is in the village, it is fenced about, lest the foot of any rash intruder should infringe its sanctity. Sometimes the sanctuary is the place where the dead man is buried; sometimes it merely contains his relics, which have been translated thither. In some sanctuaries there is a shrine and in some an image. Generally, if not always, stones may be seen lying in such a holy place. The sight of one of them has probably struck the fancy of the man who founded the worship; he thought it a likely place for the ghost to haunt, and other smaller stones and shells have been subsequently added. Once a sanctuary has been established, everything within it becomes sacred (_tambu_) and belongs to the ghost. Were a tree growing within it to fall across the path, nobody would step over it. When a sacrifice is to be offered to the ghost on the holy ground, the man who knows the ghost, and whose duty it is to perform the sacrifice, enters first and all who attend him follow, treading in his footsteps. In going out no one will look back, lest his soul should stay behind. No one would pass such a sanctuary when the sun was so low as to cast his shadow into it; for if he did the ghost would seize his shadow and so drag the man himself into his den. If there were a shrine in the sanctuary, nobody but the sacrificer might enter it. Such a shrine contained the weapons and other properties which belonged in his lifetime to the man whose ghost was worshipped on the spot.[607] [Sidenote: Sanctuaries of ghosts in Malanta.] At Saa in Malanta, another of the Solomon Islands, all burial-grounds where common people are interred are so far sacred that no one will go there without due cause; but places where the remains of nobles repose, and where sacrifices are offered to their ghosts, are regarded with very great respect, they may indeed be called family sanctuaries. Some of them are very old, the powerful ghosts who are worshipped in them being remote ancestors. It sometimes happens that the man who used to sacrifice in such a place dies without having instructed his son in the proper chant of invocation with which the worshipful ghost should be approached. In such a case the young man who succeeds him may fear to go to the old sanctuary, lest he should commit a mistake and offend the ghost; so he will take some ashes from the old sacrificial fire-place and found a new sanctuary. It is not common in that part of Malanta to build shrines for the relics of the dead, but it is sometimes done. Such shrines, on the other hand, are common in the villages of San Cristoval and in the sacred places of that island where great men lie buried. To trespass on them would be likely to rouse the anger of the ghosts, some of whom are known to be of a malignant disposition.[608] [Sidenote: Sanctuaries which are not burial-grounds.] But burial-grounds are not the only sanctuaries in the Solomon Islands. There are some where no dead man is known to be interred, though in Dr. Codrington's opinion there are probably none which do not derive their sanctity from the presence of a ghost. In the island of Florida the appearance of something wonderful will cause any place to become a sanctuary, the wonder being accepted as proof of a ghostly presence. For example, in the forest near Olevuga a man planted some coco-nut and almond trees and died not long afterwards. Then there appeared among the trees a great rarity in the shape of a white cuscus. The people took it for granted that the animal was the dead man's ghost, and therefore they called it by his name. The place became a sanctuary; no one would gather the coco-nuts and almonds that grew there, till two Christian converts set the ghost at defiance and appropriated his garden, with the coco-nuts and almonds. Through the same part of the forest ran a stream full of eels, one of which was so big that the people were quite sure it must be a ghost; so nobody would bathe in that stream or drink from it, except at one pool, which for the sake of convenience was considered not to be sacred. Again, in Bugotu, a district of Ysabel, which is another of the Solomon Islands, there is a pool known to be the haunt of a very old ghost. When a man has an enemy whom he wishes to harm he will obtain some scraps of his food and throw them into the water. If the food is at once devoured by the fish, which swarm in the pool, the man will die, but otherwise his life may be saved by the intervention of a man who knows the habits of the ghost and how to propitiate him. In these sacred places there are stones, on which people place food in order to obtain good crops, while for success in fishing they deposit morsels of cooked fish. Such stones are treated with reverence and seem to be in a fair way to develop into altars. However, when the old ghost is superseded, as he often is, by younger rivals, the development of an altar out of the stones is arrested.[609] [Sidenote: Ghosts in animals, such as sharks, alligators, snakes, bonitos, and frigate-birds.] From some of these instances we learn that Melanesian ghosts can sometimes take up their abode in animals, such as cuscuses, eels, and fish. The creatures which are oftenest used as vehicles by the spirits of the dead are sharks, alligators, snakes, bonitos, and frigate-birds. Snakes which haunt a sacred place are themselves sacred, because they belong to or actually embody the ghost. Sharks, again, in all these islands are very often thought to be the abode of ghosts; for men before their death will announce that they will appear as sharks, and afterwards any shark remarkable for size or colour which haunts a certain shore or coast is taken to be somebody's ghost and receives the name of the deceased. At Saa certain food, such as coco-nuts from particular trees, is reserved to feed such a ghost-shark; and men of whom it is known for certain that they will be sharks after their death are allowed to anticipate the posthumous honours which await them by devouring such food in the sacred place, just as if they were real sharks. Sharks are very commonly believed to be the abode of ghosts in Florida and Ysabel, and in Savo, where they are particularly numerous; hence, though all sharks are not venerated, there is no living creature so commonly held sacred by the Central Melanesians as a shark; and shark-ghosts seem even to form a class of powerful supernatural beings. Again, when a lizard was seen frequenting a house after a death, it would be taken for the ghost returning to its old home; and many ghosts, powerful to aid the mariner at sea, take up their quarters in frigate-birds.[610] [Sidenote: The belief in ghosts underlies the Melanesian conception of magic.] Again, a belief in powerful ghosts underlies to a great extent the Melanesian conception of magic, as that conception is expounded by Dr. Codrington. "That invisible power," he tells us, "which is believed by the natives to cause all such effects as transcend their conception of the regular course of nature, and to reside in spiritual beings, whether in the spiritual part of living men or in the ghosts of the dead, being imparted by them to their names and to various things that belong to them, such as stones, snakes, and indeed objects of all sorts, is that generally known as _mana_. Without some understanding of this it is impossible to understand the religious beliefs and practices of the Melanesians; and this again is the active force in all they do and believe to be done in magic, white or black. By means of this men are able to control or direct the forces of nature, to make rain or sunshine, wind or calm, to cause sickness or remove it, to know what is far off in time and space, to bring good luck and prosperity, or to blast and curse. No man, however, has this power of his own; all that he does is done by the aid of personal beings, ghosts or spirits."[611] [Sidenote: Illness generally thought to be caused by ghosts.] Thus, to begin with the medical profession, which is a branch of magic long before it becomes a department of science, every serious sickness is believed to be brought about by ghosts or spirits, but generally it is to the ghosts of the dead that illness is ascribed both by the Eastern and by the Western islanders. Hence recourse is had to ghosts for aid both in causing and in curing sickness. They are thought to inflict disease, not only because some offence, such as trespass, has been committed against them, or because one who knows their ways has instigated them thereto by sacrifice and spells, but because there is a certain malignity in the feeling of all ghosts towards the living, who offend them simply by being alive. All human faculties, apart from the mere bodily functions, are supposed to be enhanced by death; hence the ghost of a powerful and ill-natured man is only too ready to take advantage of his increased powers for mischief.[612] Thus in the island of Florida illness is regularly laid at the door of a ghost; the only question that can arise is which particular ghost is doing the mischief. Sometimes the patient imagines that he has offended his dead father, uncle, or brother, who accordingly takes his revenge by stretching him on a bed of sickness. In that case no special intercessor is required; the patient himself or one of his kinsfolk will sacrifice and beg the ghost to take the sickness away; it is purely a family affair. Sometimes the sick man thinks that it is his own private or tame ghost who is afflicting him; so he will leave the house in order to escape his tormentor. But if the cause of sickness remains obscure, a professional doctor or medicine-man will be consulted. He always knows, or at least can ascertain, the ghost who is causing all the trouble, and he takes his measures accordingly. Thus he will bind on the sick man the kind of leaves that the ghost loves; he will chew ginger and blow it into the patient's ears and on that part of the skull which is soft in infants; he will call on the name of the ghost and entreat him to remove the sickness. Should all these remedies prove vain, the doctor is by no means at the end of his resources. He may shrewdly suspect that somebody, who has an ill-will at the patient, has set his private ghost to maul the sick man and do him a grievous bodily injury. If his suspicions are confirmed and he discovers the malicious man who is egging on the mischievous ghost, he will bribe him to call off his ghost; and if the man refuses, the doctor will hire another ghost to assault and batter the original assailant. At Wango in San Cristoval regular battles used to be fought by the invisible champions above the sickbed of the sufferer, whose life or death depended on the issue of the combat. Their weapons were spears, and sometimes more than one ghost would be engaged on either side.[613] [Sidenote: Diagnosis of ghosts who have caused illness.] In Ysabel the doctor employs an ingenious apparatus for discovering the cause of sickness and ascertaining its cure. He suspends a stone at one end of a string while he holds the other end in his hand. Then he recites the names of all the people who died lately, and when the stone swings at anybody's name, he knows that the ghost of that man has caused the illness. It remains to find out what the ghost will take to relax his clutch on the sick man, it may be a mash of yams, a fish, a pig, or perhaps a human substitute. The question is put and answered as before; and whatever the oracle declares to be requisite is offered on the dead man's grave. Thus the ghost is appeased and the sufferer is made whole.[614] In these islands a common cause of illness is believed to be an unwarrantable intrusion on premises occupied by a ghost, who punishes the trespasser by afflicting him with bodily pains and ailments, or it may be by carrying off his soul. At Maewo in Aurora, one of the New Hebrides, when there is reason to think that a sickness is due to ghostly agency, the friends of the sick man send for a professional dreamer, whose business it is to ascertain what particular ghost has been offended and to make it up with him. So the dreamer falls asleep and in his sleep he dreams a dream. He seems to himself to be in the place where the patient was working before his illness; and there he spies a queer little old man, who is really no other than the ghost. The dreamer falls into conversation with him, learns his name, and winning his confidence extracts from him a true account of the whole affair. The fact is that in working at his garden the man encroached, whether wittingly or not is no matter, on land which the ghost regards as his private preserve; and to punish the intrusion the ghost carried off the intruder's soul and impounded it in a magic fence in his garden, where it still languishes in durance vile. The dreamer at once tenders a frank and manly apology on behalf of his client; he assures the ghost that the trespass was purely inadvertent, that no personal disrespect whatever was intended, and he concludes by requesting the ghost to overlook the offence for this time and to release the imprisoned soul. This appeal to the better feelings of the ghost has its effect; he pulls up the fence and lets the soul out of the pound; it flies back to the sick man, who thereupon recovers. Sometimes an orphan child is made sick by its dead mother, whose ghost draws away the soul of the infant to keep her company in the spirit land. In such a case, again, a dreamer is employed to bring back the lost soul from the far country; and if he can persuade the mother's ghost to relinquish the tiny soul of her baby, the child will be made whole.[615] Once more certain long stones in the Banks' Islands are inhabited by ghosts so active and robust that if a man's shadow so much as falls on one of them, the ghost in the stone will clutch the shadow and pull the soul clean out of the man, who dies accordingly. Such stones, dangerous as they unquestionably are to the chance passer-by, nevertheless for that very reason possess a valuable property which can be turned to excellent account. A man, for example, will put one of these stones in his house to guard it like a watch-dog in his absence; and if he sends a friend to fetch something out of it which he has forgotten, the messenger, on approaching the house, will take good care to call out the owner's name, lest the ghost in the stone, mistaking him for a thief and a robber, should pounce out on him and do him a mischief before he had time to explain.[616] [Sidenote: Contrast between Melanesian and European medicine.] Thus it appears that for a medical practitioner in Melanesia the first requisite is an intimate acquaintance, not with the anatomy of the human frame and the properties of drugs, but with ghosts, their personal peculiarities, habits, and haunts. Only by means of the influence which such a knowledge enables him to exert on these powerful and dangerous beings can the good physician mitigate and assuage the sufferings of poor humanity. His professional skill, while it certainly aims at the alleviation of physical evils, attains its object chiefly, if not exclusively, by a direct appeal to those higher, though invisible, powers which encompass the life of man, or at all events of the Melanesian. The firm faith in the spiritual and the unseen which these sable doctors display in their treatment of the sick presents a striking contrast to the procedure of their European colleagues, who trust exclusively to the use of mere physical remedies, such as drugs and lancets, now carving the body of the sufferer with knives, and now inserting substances, about which they know little, into places about which they know nothing. Has not science falsely so called still much to learn from savagery? [Sidenote: The weather believed to be regulated by ghosts and spirits. Weather-doctors.] But it is not the departments of medicine and surgery alone, important as these are to human welfare, which in Melanesia are directed and controlled by spiritual forces. The weather in those regions is also regulated by ghosts and spirits. It is they who cause the wind to blow or to be still, the sun to shine forth or to be overcast with clouds, the rain to descend or the earth to be parched with drought; hence fertility and abundance or dearth and famine prevail alternately at the will of these spiritual directors. From this it follows that men who stand on a footing of intimacy with ghosts and spirits can by judicious management induce them to adapt the weather to the varying needs of mankind. But it is to be observed that the supernatural beings, who are the real sources of atmospheric phenomena, have delegated or deputed a portion of their powers not merely to certain material objects, such as stones or leaves, but to certain set forms of words, which men call incantations or spells; and accordingly all such objects and formulas do, by virtue of this delegation, possess in themselves a real and we may almost say natural influence over the weather, which is often manifested in a striking congruity or harmony between the things themselves and the effects which they are calculated to produce. This adaptation of means to end in nature may perhaps be regarded as a beautiful proof of the existence of spirits and ghosts working their purposes unseen behind the gaily coloured screen or curtain of the physical universe. At all events men who are acquainted with the ghostly properties of material objects and words can turn them to account for the benefit of their friends and the confusion of their foes, and they do so very readily if only it is made worth their while. Hence it comes about that in these islands there are everywhere weather-doctors or weather-mongers, who through their familiarity with ghosts and spirits and their acquaintance with the ghostly or spiritual properties of things, are able to control the weather and to supply their customers with wind or calm, rain or sunshine, famine or abundance, at a reasonable rate and a moderate figure.[617] The advantages of such a system over our own blundering method of managing the weather, or rather of leaving it to its own devices, are too obvious to be insisted on. To take a few examples. In the island of Florida, when a calm is wanted, the weather-doctor takes a bunch of leaves, of the sort which the ghost loves, and hides the bunch in the hollow of a tree where there is water, at the same time invoking the ghost with the proper charm. This naturally produces rain and with the rain a calm. In the seafaring life of the Solomon Islanders the maker of calms is a really valuable citizen.[618] The Santa Cruz people are also great voyagers, and their wizards control the weather on their expeditions, taking with them the stock or log which represents their private or tame ghost and setting it up on a stage in the cabin. The presence of the familiar ghost being thus secured, the weather-doctor will undertake to provide wind or calm according to circumstances.[619] We have already seen how in these islands the wizard makes rain by pouring water on the wooden posts which represent the rain-ghosts.[620] [Sidenote: Black magic working through personal refuse or rubbish of the victim.] Such exercises of ghostly power for the healing of the sick and the improvement of the weather are, when well directed and efficacious, wholly beneficial. But ghostly power is a two-edged weapon which can work evil as well as good to mankind. In fact it can serve the purpose of witchcraft. The commonest application of this pernicious art is one which is very familiar to witches and sorcerers in many parts of the world. The first thing the wizard does is to obtain a fragment of food, a bit of hair, a nail-clipping, or indeed anything that has been closely connected with the person of his intended victim. This is the medium through which the power of the ghost or spirit is brought to bear; it is, so to say, the point of support on which the magician rests the whole weight of his infernal engine. In order to give effect to the charm it is very desirable, if not absolutely necessary, to possess some personal relic, such as a bone, of the dead man whose ghost is to set the machinery in motion. At all events the essential thing is to bring together the man who is to be injured and the ghost or spirit who is to injure him; and this can be done most readily by placing the personal relics or refuse of the two men, the living and the dead, in contact with each other; for thus the magic circuit, if we may say so, is complete, and the fatal current flows from the dead to the living. That is why it is most dangerous to leave any personal refuse or rubbish lying about; you never can tell but that some sorcerer may get hold of it and work your ruin by means of it. Hence the people are naturally most careful to hide or destroy all such refuse in order to prevent it from falling into the hands of witches and wizards; and this sage precaution has led to habits of cleanliness which the superficial European is apt to mistake for what he calls enlightened sanitation, but which a deeper knowledge of native thought would reveal to him in their true character as far-seeing measures designed to defeat the nefarious art of the sorcerer.[621] [Sidenote: Black magic working without any personal relic of the victim. The ghost-shooter.] Unfortunately, however, an adept in the black art can work his fell purpose even without any personal relic of his victim. In the Banks' Islands, for example, he need only procure a bit of human bone or a fragment of some lethal weapon, it may be a splinter of a club or a chip of an arrow, which has killed somebody. This he wraps up in the proper leaves, recites over it the appropriate charm, and plants it secretly in the path along which his intended victim is expected to pass. The ghost of the man who owned the bone in his life or perished by the club or the arrow, is now lurking like a lion in the path; and if the poor fellow strolls along it thinking no evil, the ghost will spring at him and strike him with disease. The charm is perfectly efficient if the man does come along the path, but clearly it misses fire if he does not. To remedy this defect in the apparatus a sorcerer sometimes has recourse to a portable instrument, a sort of pocket pistol, which in the Banks' Islands is known as a ghost-shooter. It is a bamboo tube, loaded not with powder and shot, but with a dead man's bone and other magical ingredients, over which the necessary spell has been crooned. Armed with this deadly weapon the sorcerer has only to step up to his unsuspecting enemy, whip out the pocket pistol, uncork the muzzle by removing his thumb from the orifice, and present it at the victim; the fatal discharge follows in an instant and the man drops to the ground. The ghost in the pistol has done his work. Sometimes, however, an accident happens. The marksman misses his victim and hits somebody else. This occurred, for example, not very many years ago in the island of Mota. A man named Isvitag was waiting with his ghost-shooter to pop at his enemy, but in his nervous excitement he let fly too soon, just as a woman with a child on her hip stepped across the path. The shot, or rather the ghost, hit the child point-blank, and it was his sister's child, his own next of kin! You may imagine the distress of the affectionate uncle at this deplorable miscarriage. To prevent inflammation of the wound he, with great presence of mind, plunged his pocket pistol in water, and this timely remedy proved so efficacious that the child took no hurt.[622] [Sidenote: Prophecy inspired by ghosts.] Another department of Melanesian life in which ghosts figure very prominently is prophecy. The knowledge of future events is believed to be conveyed to the people by a ghost or spirit speaking with the voice of a man, who is himself unconscious while he speaks. The predictions which emanate from the prophet under these circumstances are in the strictest sense inspired. His human personality is for the time being in abeyance, and he is merely the mouthpiece of the powerful spirit which has temporarily taken possession of his body and speaks with his voice. The possession is indeed painfully manifest. His eyes glare, foam bursts from his mouth, his limbs writhe, his whole body is convulsed. These are the workings of the mighty spirit shaking and threatening to rend the frail tabernacle of flesh. This form of inspiration is not clearly distinguishable from what we call madness; indeed the natives do not attempt to distinguish between the two things; they regard the madman and the prophet as both alike inspired by a ghost or spirit, and a man will sometimes pretend to be mad in order that he may get the reputation of being a prophet. At Saa a man will speak with the voice of a powerful man deceased, while he twists and writhes under the influence of the ghost; he calls himself by the name of the deceased who speaks through him, and he is so addressed by others; he will eat fire, lift enormous weights, and foretells things to come. When the inspiration, or insanity, is particularly violent, and the Banks' Islanders think they have had quite enough of it, the friends of the prophet or of the madman will sometimes catch him and hold him struggling and roaring in the smoke of strong-smelling leaves, while they call out the names of the dead men whose ghosts are most likely to be abroad at the time, for as soon as the right name is mentioned the ghost departs from the man, who then returns to his sober senses. But this method of smoking out a ghost is not always successful.[623] [Sidenote: Divination by means of ghosts.] There are many methods by which ghosts and spirits are believed to make known to men who employ them the secret things which the unassisted human intelligence could not discover; and some of them hardly perhaps need the intervention of a professional wizard. These methods of divination differ very little in the various islands. In the Solomon Islands, for instance, when an expedition has started in a fleet of canoes, there is sometimes a hesitation whether they shall proceed, or a doubt as to what direction they should take. Thereupon a diviner may declare that he has felt a ghost step on board; for did not the canoe tip over to the one side? Accordingly he asks the invisible passenger, "Shall we go on? Shall we go to such and such a place?" If the canoe rocks, the answer is yes; if it lies on an even keel, the answer is no. Again, when a man is sick and his friends wish to know what ghost is vexing or, as they say, eating him, a diviner or wizard is sent for. He comes bringing an assistant, and the two sit down, the wizard in front and the assistant at his back, and they hold a stick or bamboo by the two ends. The wizard then begins to slap the end of the bamboo he holds, calling out one after another the names of men not very long deceased, and when he names the one who is afflicting the sick man the stick of itself becomes violently agitated.[624] We are not informed, but we may probably assume, that it is the ghost and not the man who really agitates the stick. A somewhat different mode of divination was occasionally employed at Motlav in the Banks' Islands in order to discover a thief or other criminal. After a burial they would take a bag, put some Tahitian chestnut and scraped banana into it, and tie it to the end of a hollow bamboo tube about ten feet long in such a way that the end of the tube was inserted in the mouth of the bag. Then the bag was laid on the dead man's grave, and the diviners grasped the other end of the bamboo. The names of the recently dead were then called over, and while this was being done the men felt the bamboo grow heavy in their hands, for a ghost was scrambling up from the bag into the hollow of the bamboo. Having thus secured him they carried the imprisoned ghost in the bamboo into the village, where the roll of the recent dead was again called over in order to learn whose ghost had been caught in the trap. When wrong names were mentioned, the free end of the bamboo moved from side to side, but at the mention of the right name it revolved briskly. Having thus ascertained whom they had to deal with, they questioned the entrapped ghost, "Who stole so and so? Who was guilty in such a case?" Thereupon the bamboo, moved no doubt by the ghost inside, pointed at the culprit, if he was present, or made signs as before when the names of the suspected evildoers were mentioned.[625] [Sidenote: Taboo based on a fear of ghosts.] Of the many departments of Central Melanesian life which are permeated by a belief in ghostly power the last which I shall mention is the institution of taboo. In Melanesia, indeed, the institution is not so conspicuous as it used to be in Polynesia; yet even there it has been a powerful instrument in the consolidation of the rights of private property, and as such it deserves the attention of historians who seek to trace the evolution of law and morality. As understood in the Banks' Islands and the New Hebrides the word taboo (_tambu_ or _tapu_) signifies a sacred and unapproachable character which is imposed on certain things by the arbitrary will of a chief or other powerful man. Somebody whose authority with the people gives him confidence to make the announcement will declare that such and such an object may not be touched, that such and such a place may not be approached, and that such and such an action may not be performed under a certain penalty, which in the last resort will be inflicted by ghostly or spiritual agency. The object, place, or action in question becomes accordingly taboo or sacred. Hence in these islands taboo may be defined as a prohibition with a curse expressed or implied. The sanction or power at the back of the taboo is not that of the man who imposes it; rather it is that of the ghost or spirit in whose name or in reliance upon whom the taboo is imposed. Thus in Florida a chief will forbid something to be done or touched under a penalty; he may proclaim, for example, that any one who violates his prohibition must pay him a hundred strings of shell money. To a European such a proclamation seems a proof of the chief's power; but to the native the chiefs power, in this and in everything, rests on the persuasion that the chief has his mighty ghost at his back. The sense of this in the particular case is indeed remote, the fear of the chiefs anger is present and effective, but the ultimate sanction is the power of the ghost. If a common man were to take upon himself to taboo anything he might do so; people would imagine that he would not dare to make such an announcement unless he knew he could enforce it; so they would watch, and if anybody violated the taboo and fell sick afterwards, they would conclude that the taboo was supported by a powerful ghost who punished infractions of it. Hence the reputation and authority of the man who imposed the taboo would rise accordingly; for it would be seen that he had a powerful ghost at his back. Every ghost has a particular kind of leaf for his badge; and in imposing his taboo a man will set the leaf of his private ghost as a mark to warn trespassers of the spiritual power with which they have to reckon; when people see a leaf stuck, it may be, on a tree, a house, or a canoe, they do not always know whose it is; but they do know that if they disregard the mark they have to deal with a ghost and not with a man,[626] and the knowledge is a more effectual check on thieving and other crimes than the dread of mere human justice. Many a rascal fears a ghost who does not fear the face of man. [Sidenote: The life of the Central Melanesians deeply influenced by their belief in the survival of the human soul after death.] What I have said may suffice to impress you with a sense of the deep practical influence which a belief in the survival of the human soul after death exercises on the life and conduct of the Central Melanesian savage. To him the belief is no mere abstract theological dogma or speculative tenet, the occasional theme of edifying homilies and pious meditation; it is an inbred, unquestioning, omnipresent conviction which affects his thoughts and actions daily and at every turn; it guides his fortunes as an individual and controls his behaviour as a member of a community, by inculcating a respect for the rights of others and enforcing a submission to the public authorities. With him the fear of ghosts and spirits is a bulwark of morality and a bond of society; for he firmly believes in their unseen presence everywhere and in the punishments which they can inflict on wrongdoers. His whole theory of causation differs fundamentally from ours and necessarily begets a fundamental difference of practice. Where we see natural forces and material substances, the Melanesian sees ghosts and spirits. A great gulf divides his conception of the world from ours; and it may be doubted whether education will ever enable him to pass the gulf and to think and act like us. The products of an evolution which has extended over many ages cannot be forced like mushrooms in a summer day; it is vain to pluck the fruit of the tree of knowledge before it is ripe. [Footnote 590: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 130-132.] [Footnote 591: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 132 _sq._; C. M. Woodford, _A Naturalist among the Head-hunters_ (London, 1890), pp. 26-28.] [Footnote 592: G. Turner, LL.D., _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long before_ (London, 1884), pp. 318 _sq._ Yams are the principal fruits cultivated by the Tannese, who bestow a great deal of labour on the plantation and keep them in fine order. See G. Turner, _op. cit._ pp. 317 _sq._] [Footnote 593: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 133 _sq._] [Footnote 594: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 134.] [Footnote 595: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 135 _sq._] [Footnote 596: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 137 _sq._] [Footnote 597: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 138.] [Footnote 598: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 138 _sq._] [Footnote 599: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 139.] [Footnote 600: "Native Stories of Santa Cruz and Reef Islands," translated by the Rev. W. O'Ferrall, _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xxxiv. (1904) p. 223.] [Footnote 601: "Native Stories from Santa Cruz and Reef Islands," _op. cit._ p. 224.] [Footnote 602: "Native Stories from Santa Cruz and Reef Islands," _op. cit._ p. 225.] [Footnote 603: Compare _The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings_, i. 269 _sqq._] [Footnote 604: G. Turner, _Samoa a Hundred Years Ago and long before_ (London, 1884), p. 326.] [Footnote 605: G. Turner, _op. cit._ p. 334.] [Footnote 606: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 145-148.] [Footnote 607: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 175 _sq._] [Footnote 608: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 176 _sq._] [Footnote 609: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ pp. 177 _sq._] [Footnote 610: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 178-180.] [Footnote 611: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 191.] [Footnote 612: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 194.] [Footnote 613: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 194-196.] [Footnote 614: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 196.] [Footnote 615: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 208 _sq._ As to sickness supposed to be caused by trespass on the premises of a ghost see further _id._, pp. 194, 195, 218.] [Footnote 616: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 184.] [Footnote 617: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, p. 200.] [Footnote 618: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 200, 201. The spirit whom the Florida wizard appeals to for good or bad weather is called a _vigona_; and the natives believe it to be always the ghost of a dead man. But it seems very doubtful whether this opinion is strictly correct. See R. H. Codrington, _op cit._ pp. 124, 134.] [Footnote 619: R. H. Codrington, _op. cit._ p. 201. The Santa Cruz name for such a ghost is _duka_ (_ibid._ p. 139).] [Footnote 620: Above, p. 375.] [Footnote 621: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 202-204.] [Footnote 622: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 205 _sq._] [Footnote 623: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 209 _sq._, 218-220.] [Footnote 624: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 210.] [Footnote 625: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 211 _sq._] [Footnote 626: R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, pp. 215 _sq._] LECTURE XVIII THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF NORTHERN AND EASTERN MELANESIA [Sidenote: Northern Melanesia. Material culture of the North Melanesians.] In the last lecture I concluded my account of the belief in immortality and the worship of the dead among the natives of Central Melanesia. To-day we pass to what may be called Northern Melanesia, by which is to be understood the great archipelago lying to the north-east of New Guinea. It comprises the two large islands of New Britain and New Ireland, now called New Pomerania and New Mecklenburg, with the much smaller Duke of York Island lying between them, and the chain of New Hanover and the Admiralty Islands stretching away westward from the north-western extremity of New Ireland. The whole of the archipelago, together with the adjoining island of Bougainville in the Solomon Islands, is now under German rule. The people belong to the same stock and speak the same language as the natives of Central and Southern Melanesia, and their level of culture is approximately the same. They live in settled villages and subsist chiefly by the cultivation of the ground, raising crops of taro, yams, bananas, sugar-cane, and so forth. Most of the agricultural labour is performed by the women, who plant, weed the ground, and carry the produce to the villages. The ground is, or rather used to be, dug by sharp-pointed sticks. The men hunt cassowaries, wallabies, and wild pigs, and they catch fish by both nets and traps. Women and children take part in the fishing and many of them become very expert in spearing fish. Among the few domestic animals which they keep are pigs, dogs, and fowls. The villages are generally situated in the midst of a dense forest; but on the coast the natives build their houses not far from the beach as a precaution against the attacks of the forest tribes, of whom they stand greatly in fear. A New Britain village generally consists of a number of small communities or families, each of which dwells in a separate enclosure. The houses are very small and badly built, oblong in shape and very low. Between the separate hamlets which together compose a village lie stretches of virgin forest, through which run irregular and often muddy foot-tracks, scooped out here and there into mud-holes where the pigs love to wallow during the heat of the tropical day. As the people of any one district used generally to be at war with their neighbours, it was necessary that they should live together for the sake of mutual protection.[627] [Sidenote: Commercial habits of the North Melanesians. Their backwardness in other respects.] Nevertheless, in spite of their limited intercourse with surrounding villages, the natives of the New Britain or the Bismarck Archipelago were essentially a trading people. They made extensive use of shell money and fully recognised the value of any imported articles as mediums of exchange or currency. Markets were held on certain days at fixed places, where the forest people brought their yams, taro, bananas and so forth and exchanged them for fish, tobacco, and other articles with the natives of the coast. They also went on long trading expeditions to procure canoes, cuscus teeth, pigs, slaves, and so forth, which on their return they generally sold at a considerable profit. The shell which they used as money is the _Nassa immersa_ or _Nassa calosa_, found on the north coast of New Britain. The shells were perforated and threaded on strips of cane, which were then joined together in coils of fifty to two hundred fathoms.[628] The rights of private property were fully recognised. All lands belonged to certain families, and husband and wife had each the exclusive right to his or her goods and chattels. But while in certain directions the people had made some progress, in others they remained very backward. Pottery and the metals were unknown; no metal or specimen of metal-work has been found in the archipelago; on the other hand the natives made much use of stone implements, especially adzes and clubs. In war they never used bows and arrows.[629] They had no system of government, unless that name may be given to the power wielded by the secret societies and by chiefs, who exercised a certain degree of influence principally by reason of the reputation which they enjoyed as sorcerers and magicians. They were not elected nor did they necessarily inherit their office; they simply claimed to possess magical powers, and if they succeeded in convincing the people of the justice of their claim, their authority was recognised. Wealth also contributed to establish their position in the esteem of the public.[630] [Sidenote: The Rev. George Brown on the Melanesians.] With regard to the religious ideas and customs of the natives we are not fully informed, but so far as these have been described they appear to agree closely with those of their kinsfolk in Central Melanesia. The first European to settle in the archipelago was the veteran missionary, the Rev. George Brown, D.D., who resided in the islands from 1875 to 1880 and has revisited them on several occasions since; he reduced the language to writing for the first time,[631] and is one of our best authorities on the people. In what follows I shall make use of his valuable testimony along with that of more recent observers. [Sidenote: North Melanesian theory of the soul. Fear of ghosts, especially the ghosts of persons who have been killed and eaten.] The natives of the archipelago believe that every person is animated by a soul, which survives his death and may afterwards influence the survivors for good or evil. Their word for soul is _nio_ or _niono_, meaning a shadow. The root is _nio_, which by the addition of personal suffixes becomes _niong_ "my soul or shadow," _niom_ "your soul or shadow," _niono_ "his soul or shadow." They think that the soul is like the man himself, and that it always stays inside of his body, except when it goes out on a ramble during sleep or a faint. A man who is very sleepy may say, "My soul wants to go away." They believe, however, that it departs for ever at death; hence when a man is sick, his friends will offer prayers to prevent its departure. There is only one kind of soul, but it can appear in many shapes and enter into animals, such as rats, lizards, birds, and so on. It can hear, see, and speak, and present itself in the form of a wraith or apparition to people at the moment of or soon after death. On being asked why he thought that the soul does not perish with the body, a native said, "Because it is different; it is not of the same nature at all." They believe that the souls of the dead occasionally visit the living and are seen by them, and that they haunt houses and burial-places. They are very much afraid of the ghosts and do all they can to drive or frighten them away. Above all, being cannibals, they stand in great fear of the ghosts of the people whom they have killed and eaten. The man who is cutting up a human body takes care to tie a bandage over his mouth and nose during the operation of carving in order to prevent the enraged soul of the victim from entering into his body by these apertures; and for a similar reason the doors of the houses are shut while the cannibal feast is going on inside. And to keep the victim's ghost quiet while his body is being devoured, a cut from a joint is very considerately placed on a tree outside of the house, so that he may eat of his own flesh and be satisfied. At the conclusion of the banquet, the people shout, brandish spears, beat the bushes, blow horns, beat drums, and make all kinds of noises for the purpose of chasing the ghost or ghosts of the murdered and eaten men away from the village. But while they send away the souls, they keep the skulls and jawbones of the victims; as many as thirty-five jawbones have been seen hanging in a single house in New Ireland. As for the skulls, they are, or rather were placed on the branch of a dead tree and so preserved on the beach or near the house of the man who had taken them.[632] [Sidenote: Offerings to the souls of the dead.] With regard to the death of their friends they deem it very important to obtain the bodies and bury them. They offer food to the souls of their departed kinsfolk for a long time after death, until all the funeral feasts are over; but they do not hold annual festivals in honour of dead ancestors. The food offered to the dead is laid every day on a small platform in a tree; but the natives draw a distinction between offerings to the soul of a man who died a natural death and offerings to the soul of a man who was killed in a fight; for whereas they place the former on a living tree, they deposit the latter on a dead tree. Moreover, they lay money, weapons, and property, often indeed the whole wealth of the family, near the corpse of their friend, in order that the soul of the deceased may carry off the souls of these valuables to the spirit land. But when the body is carried away to be buried, most of the property is removed by its owners for their own use. However, the relations will sometimes detach a few shells from the coils of shell money and a few beads from a necklace and drop them in a fire for the behoof of the ghost. But when the deceased was a chief or other person of importance, some of his property would be buried with him. And before burial his body would be propped up on a special chair in front of his house, adorned with necklaces, wreaths of flowers and feathers, and gaudy with war-paint. In one hand would be placed a large cooked yam, and in the other a spear, while a club would be put on his shoulder. The yam was to stay the pangs of hunger on his long journey, and the weapons were to enable him to fight the foes who might resist his entrance into the spirit land. In the Duke of York Island the corpse was usually disposed of by being sunk in a deep part of the lagoon; but sometimes it was buried in the house and a fire kept burning on the spot.[633] [Sidenote: Burial customs in New Ireland and New Britain. Preservation of the skull.] In New Ireland the dead were rolled up in winding-sheets made of pandanus leaves, then weighted with stones and buried at sea. However, at some places they were deposited in deep underground watercourses or caverns. Towards the northern end of New Ireland corpses were burned on large piles of firewood in an open space of the village. A number of images curiously carved out of wood or chalk were set round the blazing pyre, but the meaning of these strange figures is uncertain. Men and women uttered the most piteous wailings, threw themselves on the top of the corpse, and pulled at the arms and legs. This they did not merely to express their grief, but because they thought that if they saw and handled the dead body while it was burning, the ghost could not or would not haunt them afterwards.[634] Amongst the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain the dead are generally buried in shallow graves in or near their houses. Some of the shell money which belonged to a man in life is buried with him. Women with blackened bodies sleep on the grave for weeks.[635] When the deceased was a great chief, his corpse, almost covered with shell money, is placed in a canoe, which is deposited in a small house. Thereupon the nearest female relations are led into the house, and the door being walled up they are obliged to remain there with the rotting body until all the flesh has mouldered away. Food is passed in to them through a hole in the wall, and under no pretext are they allowed to leave the hut before the decomposition of the corpse is complete. When nothing of the late chief remains but a skeleton, the hut is opened and the solemn funeral takes place. The bones of the dead are buried, but his skull is hung up in the taboo house in order, we are told, that his ghost may remain in the neighbourhood of the village and see how his memory is honoured. After the burial of the headless skeleton feasting and dancing go on, often for more than a month, and the expenses are defrayed out of the riches left by the deceased.[636] Even in the case of eminent persons who have been buried whole and entire in the usual way, a special mark of respect is sometimes paid to their memory by digging up their skulls after a year or more, painting them red and white, decorating them with feathers, and setting them up on a scaffold constructed for the purpose.[637] [Sidenote: Disposal of the dead among the Sulka of New Britain.] Somewhat similar is the disposal of the dead among the Sulka, a tribe of New Britain who inhabit a mountainous and well-watered country to the south of the Gazelle Peninsula. When a Sulka dies, his plantation is laid waste, and the young fruit-trees cut down, but the ripe fruits are first distributed among the living. His pigs are slaughtered and their flesh in like manner distributed, and his weapons are broken. If the deceased was a rich man, his wife or wives will sometimes be killed. The corpse is usually buried next morning. A hole is dug in the house and the body deposited in it in a sitting posture. The upper part of the corpse projects from the grave and is covered with a tower-like structure of basket-work, which is stuffed with banana-leaves. Great care is taken to preserve the body from touching the earth. Stones are laid round about the structure and a fire kindled. Relations come and sleep for a time beside the corpse, men and women separately. Some while afterwards the soul of the deceased is driven away. The time for carrying out the expulsion is settled by the people in whispers, lest the ghost should overhear them and prepare for a stout resistance. The evening before the ceremony takes place many coco-nut leaves are collected. Next morning, as soon as a certain bird (_Philemon coquerelli_) is heard to sing, the people rise from their beds and set up a great cry. Then they beat the walls, shake the posts, set fire to dry coco-nut leaves, and finally rush out into the paths. At that moment, so the people think, the soul of the dead quits the hut. When the flesh of the corpse is quite decayed, the bones are taken from the grave, sewed in leaves, and hung up. Soon afterwards a funeral feast is held, at which men and women dance. For some time after a burial taro is planted beside the house of death and enclosed with a fence. The Sulka think that the ghost comes and gathers the souls of the taro. The ripe fruit is allowed to rot. Falling stars are supposed to be the souls of the dead which have been hurled up aloft and are now descending to bathe in the sea. The trail of light behind them is thought to be a tail of coco-nut leaves which other souls have fastened to them and set on fire. In like manner the phosphorescent glow on the sea comes from souls disporting themselves in the water. Persons who at their death left few relations, or did evil in their life, or were murdered outside of the village, are not buried in the house. Their corpses are deposited on rocks or on scaffolds in the forest, or are interred on the spot where they met their death. The reason for this treatment of their corpses is not mentioned; but we may conjecture that their ghosts are regarded with contempt, dislike, or fear, and that the survivors seek to give them a wide berth by keeping their bodies at a distance from the village. The corpses of those who died suddenly are not buried but wrapt up in leaves and laid on a scaffold in the house, which is then shut up and deserted. This manner of disposing of them seems also to indicate a dread or distrust of their ghosts.[638] [Sidenote: Disposal of the dead among the Moanus of the Admiralty Islands. Prayers offered to the skull of a dead chief.] Among the Moanus of the Admiralty Islands the dead are kept in the houses unburied until the flesh is completely decayed and nothing remains but the bones. Old women then wash the skeleton carefully in sea-water, after which it is disjointed and divided. The backbone, together with the bones of the legs and upper arms, is deposited in one basket and put away somewhere; the skull, together with the ribs and the bones of the lower arms, is deposited in another basket, which is sunk for a time in the sea. When the bones are completely cleaned and bleached in the water, they are laid with sweet-smelling herbs in a wooden vessel and placed in the house which the dead man inhabited during his life. But the teeth have been previously extracted from the skull and converted into a necklace for herself by the sister of the deceased. After a time the ribs are distributed by the son among the relatives. The principal widow gets two, other near kinsfolk get one apiece, and they wear these relics under their arm-bands. The distribution of the ribs is the occasion of a great festival, and it is followed some time afterwards by a still greater feast, for which extensive preparations are made long beforehand. All who intend to be present at the ceremony send vessels of coco-nut oil in advance; and if the deceased was a great chief the number of the oil vessels and of the guests may amount to two thousand. Meantime the giver of the feast causes a scaffold to be erected for the reception of the skull, and the whole art of the wood-carver is exhausted in decorating the scaffold with figures of turtles, birds, and so forth, while a wooden dog acts as sentinel at either end. When the multitude has assembled, and the orchestra of drums, collected from the whole neighbourhood, has sent forth a far-sounding crash of music, the giver of the feast steps forward and pronounces a florid eulogium on the deceased, a warm panegyric on the guests who have honoured him by their presence, and a fluent invective against his absent foes. Nor does he forget to throw in some delicate allusions to his own noble generosity in providing the assembled visitors with this magnificent entertainment. For this great effort of eloquence the orator has been primed in the morning by the sorcerer. The process of priming consists in kneeling on the orator's shoulders and tugging at the hair of his head with might and main, which is clearly calculated to promote the flow of his rhetoric. If none of the hair comes out in the sorcerer's hands, a masterpiece of oratory is confidently looked forward to in the afternoon. When the speech, for which such painful preparations have been made, is at last over, the drums again strike up. No sooner have their booming notes died away over land and sea, than the sorcerer steps up to the scaffold, takes from it the bleached skull, and holds it in both his hands. Then the giver of the feast goes up to him, dips a bunch of dracaena leaves in a vessel of oil, and smites the skull with it, saying, "Thou art my father!" At that the drums again beat loudly. Then he strikes the skull a second time with the leaves, saying, "Take the food that has been made ready in thine honour!" And again there is a crash of drums. After that he smites the skull yet again and prays saying, "Guard me! Guard my people! Guard my children!" And every prayer of the litany is followed by the solemn roll of the drums. When these impressive invocations to the spirit of the dead chief are over, the feasting begins. The skull is thenceforth carefully preserved.[639] [Sidenote: Disposal of the dead in the Kaniet Islands. Preservation of the skull.] In the Kaniet Islands, a small group to the north-west of the Admiralty Islands, the dead are either sunk in the sea or buried in shallow graves, face downward, near the house. All the movable property of the deceased is piled on the grave, left there for three weeks, and then burnt. Afterwards the skull is dug up, placed in a basket, and having been decorated with leaves and feathers is hung up in the house. Thus adorned it not only serves to keep the dead in memory, but is also employed in many conjurations to defeat the nefarious designs of other ghosts, who are believed to work most of the ills that afflict humanity.[640] Apparently these islanders employ a ghost to protect them against ghosts on the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief. [Sidenote: Death attributed to witchcraft.] Amongst the natives of the Bismarck Archipelago few persons, if any, are believed to die from natural causes alone; if they are not killed in war they are commonly supposed to perish by witchcraft or sorcery, even when the cause of death might seem to the uninstructed European to be sufficiently obvious in such things as exposure to heavy rain, the carrying of too heavy a burden, or remaining too long a time under water. So when a man has died, his friends are anxious to discover who has bewitched him to death. In this enquiry the ghost is expected to lend his assistance. Thus on the night after the decease the friends will assemble outside the house, and a sorcerer will address the ghost and request him to name the author of his death. If the ghost, as sometimes happens, makes no reply, the sorcerer will jog his memory by calling out the name of some suspected person; and should the ghost still be silent, the wizard will name another and another, till at the mention of one name a tapping sound is heard like the drumming of fingers on a board or on a mat The sound may proceed from the house or from a pearl shell which the sorcerer holds in his hand; but come from where it may, it is taken as a certain proof that the man who has just been named did the deed, and he is dealt with accordingly. Many a poor wretch in New Britain has been killed and eaten on no other evidence than that of the fatal tapping.[641] [Sidenote: Burial customs in the Duke of York Island. Preservation of the skull.] When a man of mark is buried in the Duke of York Island, the masters of sorcery take leaves, spit on them, and throw them, with a number of poisonous things, into the grave, uttering at the same time loud imprecations on the wicked enchanter who has killed their friend. Then they go and bathe, and returning they fall to cursing again; and if the miscreant survived the first imprecations, it is regarded as perfectly certain that he will fall a victim to the second. Sometimes, when the deceased was a chief distinguished for bravery and wisdom, his corpse would be exposed on a high platform in front of his house and left there to rot, while his relatives sat around and inhaled the stench, conceiving that with it they absorbed the courage and skill of the departed worthy. Some of them would even anoint their bodies with the drippings from the putrefying corpse for the same purpose. The women also made fires that the ghost might warm himself at them. When the head became detached from the trunk, it was carefully preserved by the next of kin, while the other remains were buried in a shallow grave in the house. All the female relatives blackened their dusky faces for a long time, after which the skull was put on a platform, a great feast was held, and dances were performed for many nights in its honour. Then at last the spirit of the dead man, which till that time was supposed to be lingering about his old abode, took his departure, and his friends troubled themselves about him no more.[642] [Sidenote: Prayers to the spirits of the dead.] The souls of the dead are always regarded by these people as beings whose help can be invoked on special occasions, such as fighting or fishing or any other matter of importance; and since the spirits whom they invoke are always those of their own kindred they are presumed to be friendly to the petitioners. The objects for which formal prayers are addressed to the souls of ancestors appear to be always temporal benefits, such as victory over enemies and plenty of food; prayers for the promotion of moral virtue are seemingly unknown. For example, if a woman laboured hard in childbirth, she was thought to be bewitched, and prayers would be offered to the spirits of dead ancestors to counteract the spell. Again, young men are instructed by their elders in the useful art of cursing the enemies of the tribe; and among a rich variety of imprecations an old man will invoke the spirit of his brother, father, or uncle, or all of them, to put their fingers into the ears of the enemy that he may not hear, to cover his eyes that he may not see, and to stop his mouth that he may not cry for help, but may fall an easy prey to the curser and his friends.[643] More amiable and not less effectual are the prayers offered to the spirits of the dead over a sick man. At the mention of each name in the prayer the supplicants make a chirping or hissing sound, and rub lime over the patient. Before administering medicine they pray over it to the spirits of the dead; then the patient gulps it down, thus absorbing the virtue of the medicine and of the prayer in one. In New Britain they reinforce the prayers to the dead in time of need by wearing the jawbone of the deceased; and in the Duke of York Island people often wear a tooth or some hair of a departed relative, not merely as a mark of respect, but as a magical means of obtaining supernatural help.[644] [Sidenote: North Melanesian views as to the land of the dead.] Sooner or later the souls of all the North Melanesian dead take their departure for the spirit land. But the information which has reached the living as to that far country is at once vague and inconsistent. They call it _Matana nion_, but whereabout it lies they cannot for the most part precisely tell. All they know for certain is that it is far away, and that there is always some particular spot in the neighbourhood from which the souls take their departure; for example, the Duke of York ghosts invariably start from the little island of Nuruan, near Mioko. Wherever it may be, the land of souls is divided into compartments; people who have died of sickness or witchcraft go to one place, and people who have been killed in battle go to another. They do not go unattended; for when a man dies two friends sleep beside his corpse the first night, one on each side, and their spirits are believed to accompany the soul of the dead man to the spirit land. They say that on their arrival in the far country, betel-nut is presented to them all, but the two living men refuse to partake of it, because they know that were they to eat it they would return no more to the land of the living. When they do return, they have often, as might be expected, strange tales to tell of what they saw among the ghosts. The principal personage in the other world is called the "keeper of souls." It is said that once on a time the masterful ghost of a dead chief attempted to usurp the post of warden of the dead; in pursuance of this ambitious project he attacked the warden with a tomahawk and cut off one of his legs, but the amputated limb immediately reunited itself with the body; and a second amputation was followed by the same disappointing result. Life in the other world is reported to be very like life in this world. Some people find it very dismal, and others very beautiful. Those who were rich here will be rich there, and those who were poor on earth will be poor in Hades. As to any moral retribution which may overtake evil-doers in the life to come, their ideas are very vague; only they are sure that the ghosts of the niggardly will be punished by being dumped very hard against the buttress-roots of chestnut-trees. They say, too, that all breaches of etiquette or of the ordinary customs of the country will meet with certain appropriate punishments in the spirit land. When the soul has thus done penance, it takes possession of the body of some animal, for instance, the flying-fox. Hence a native is much alarmed if he should be sitting under a tree from which a flying-fox has been frightened away. Should anything drop from the bat or from the tree on which it was hanging, he would look on it as an omen of good or ill according to the nature of the thing which fell on or near him. If it were useless or dirty, he would certainly apprehend some serious misfortune. Sometimes when a man dies and his soul arrives in the spirit land, his friends do not want him there and drive him back to earth, so he comes to life again. That is the explanation which the natives give of what we call the recovery of consciousness after a faint or swoon.[645] [Sidenote: The land of the dead. State of the dead in the other world supposed to depend on the amount of money they left in this one.] Some of the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain imagine that the home of departed spirits is in Nakanei, the part of the coast to which they sail to get their shell money. Others suppose that it is in the islands off Cape Takes. So when they are sailing past these islands they dip the paddles softly in the water, and observe a death-like stillness, cowering down in the canoes, lest the ghosts should spy them and do them a mischief. At the entrance to these happy isles is posted a stern watchman to see that no improper person sneaks into them. To every ghost that arrives he puts three questions, "Who are you? Where do you come from? How much shell money did you leave behind you?" On his answers to these three questions hangs the fate of the ghost. If he left much money, he is free to enter the realm of bliss, where he will pass the time with other happy souls smoking and eating and enjoying other sensual delights. But if he left little or no money, he is banished the earthly paradise and sent home to roam like a wild beast in the forest, battening on leaves and filth. With bitter sighs and groans he prowls about the villages at night and seeks to avenge himself by scaring or plaguing the survivors. To stay his hunger and appease his wrath relatives or friends will sometimes set forth food for him to devour. Yet even for such an impecunious soul there is hope; for if somebody only takes pity on him and gives a feast in his honour and distributes shell money to the guests, the ghost may return to the islands of the blest, and the door will be thrown open to him.[646] [Sidenote: Fiji and the Fijians.] So much for the belief in immortality as it is reported to exist among the Northern Melanesians of New Britain and the Bismarck Archipelago. We now pass to the consideration of a similar belief among another people of the same stock, who have been longer known to Europe, the Fijians. The archipelago which they occupy lies to the east of the New Hebrides and forms in fact the most easterly outpost of the black Melanesian race in the Pacific. Beyond it to the eastward are situated the smaller archipelagoes of Samoa and Tonga, inhabited by branches of the brown Polynesian race, whose members are scattered over the islands of the Pacific Ocean from Hawaii in the north to New Zealand in the south. Of all the branches of the Melanesian stock the Fijians at the date of their discovery by Europeans appear to have made the greatest advance in culture, material, social, and political. "The Fijian," says one who knew him long and intimately, "takes no mean place among savages in the social scale. Long before the white man visited his shores he had made very considerable progress towards civilisation. His intersexual code had advanced to the 'patriarchal stage': he was a skilful and diligent husbandman, who carried out extensive and laborious agricultural operations: he built good houses, whose interior he ornamented with no little taste, carved his weapons in graceful and intricate forms, manufactured excellent pottery, beat out from the inner bark of a tree a serviceable papyrus-cloth, upon which he printed, from blocks either carved or ingeniously pieced together, elegant and elaborate patterns in fast colours; and, with tools no better than a stone hatchet, a pointed shell, and a firestick, he constructed large canoes capable of carrying more than a hundred warriors across the open sea."[647] [Sidenote: Political superiority of the Fijians over the other Melanesians.] Politically the Fijians shewed their superiority to all the other Melanesians in the advance they had made towards a regular and organised government. While among the other branches of the same race government can hardly be said to exist, the power of chiefs being both slender and precarious, in Fiji the highest chiefs exercised despotic sway and received from Europeans the title of kings. The people had no voice in the state; the will of the king was generally law, and his person was sacred. Whatever he touched or wore became thereby holy and had to be made over to him; nobody else could afterwards touch it without danger of being struck dead on the spot as if by an electric shock. One king took advantage of this superstition by dressing up an English sailor in his royal robes and sending him about to throw his sweeping train over any article of food, whether dead or alive, which he might chance to come near. The things so touched were at once conveyed to the king without a word of explanation being required or a single remonstrance uttered. Some of the kings laid claim to a divine origin and on the strength of the claim exacted and received from their subjects the respect due to deities. In these exorbitant pretensions they were greatly strengthened by the institution of taboo, which lent the sanction of religion to every exertion of arbitrary power.[648] Corresponding with the growth of monarchy was the well-marked gradation of social ranks which prevailed in the various tribes from the king downwards through chiefs, warriors, and landholders, to slaves. The resulting political constitution has been compared to the old feudal system of Europe.[649] [Sidenote: Means of subsistence of the Fijians. Ferocity and depravity of the Fijians.] Like the other peoples of the Melanesian stock the Fijians subsist chiefly by agriculture, raising many sorts of esculent fruits and roots, particularly yams, taro, plantains, bread-fruit, sweet potatoes, bananas, coco-nuts, ivi nuts, and sugar-cane; but the chief proportion of their food is derived from yams (_Dioscorea_), of which they cultivate five or six varieties.[650] It has been observed that "the increase of cultivated plants is regular on receding from the Hawaiian group up to Fiji, where roots and fruits are found that are unknown on the more eastern islands."[651] Yet the Fijians in their native state, like all other Melanesian and Polynesian peoples, were entirely ignorant of the cereals; and in the opinion of a competent observer the consequent defect in their diet has contributed to the serious defects in their national character. The cereals, he tells us, are the staple food of all races that have left their mark in history; and on the other hand "the apathy and indolence of the Fijians arise from their climate, their diet and their communal institutions. The climate is too kind to stimulate them to exertion, their food imparts no staying power. The soil gives the means of existence for every man without effort, and the communal institutions destroy the instinct of accumulation."[652] Nor are apathy and indolence the only or the worst features in the character of these comparatively advanced savages. Their ferocity, cruelty, and moral depravity are depicted in dark colours by those who had the best opportunity of knowing them in the old days before their savagery was mitigated by contact with a milder religious faith and a higher civilisation. "In contemplating the character of this extraordinary portion of mankind," says one observer, "the mind is struck with wonder and awe at the mixture of a complicated and carefully conducted political system, highly finished manners, and ceremonious politeness, with a ferocity and practice of savage vices which is probably unparalleled in any other part of the world."[653] One of the first civilised men to gain an intimate acquaintance with the Fijians draws a melancholy contrast between the baseness and vileness of the people and the loveliness of the land in which they live.[654] [Sidenote: Scenery of the Fijian islands.] For the Fijian islands are exceedingly beautiful. They are of volcanic origin, mostly high and mountainous, but intersected by picturesque valleys, clothed with woods, and festooned with the most luxuriant tropical vegetation. "Among their attractions," we are told, "are high mountains, abrupt precipices, conical hills, fantastic turrets and crags of rock frowning down like olden battlements, vast domes, peaks shattered into strange forms; native towns on eyrie cliffs, apparently inaccessible; and deep ravines, down which some mountain stream, after long murmuring in its stony bed, falls headlong, glittering as a silver line on a block of jet, or spreading like a sheet of glass over bare rocks which refuse it a channel. Here also are found the softer features of rich vales, cocoa-nut groves, clumps of dark chestnuts, stately palms and bread-fruit, patches of graceful bananas or well-tilled taro-beds, mingling in unchecked luxuriance, and forming, with the wild reef-scenery of the girdling shore, its beating surf, and far-stretching ocean beyond, pictures of surpassing beauty."[655] Each island is encircled by a reef of white coral, on which the sea breaks, with a thunderous roar, in curling sheets of foam; while inside the reef stretches the lagoon, a calm lake of blue crystalline water revealing in its translucent depths beautiful gardens of seaweed and coral which fill the beholder with delighted wonder. Great and sudden is the contrast experienced by the mariner when he passes in a moment from the tossing, heaving, roaring billows without into the unbroken calm of the quiet haven within the barrier reef.[656] [Sidenote: Fijian doctrine of souls.] Like most savages, the Fijians believed that man is animated by a soul which quits his body temporarily in sleep and permanently at death, to survive for a longer or a shorter time in a disembodied state thereafter. Indeed, they attributed souls to animals, vegetables, stones, tools, houses, canoes, and many other things, allowing that all of them may become immortal.[657] On this point I will quote the evidence of one of the earliest and best authorities on the customs and beliefs of the South Sea Islanders. "There seems," says William Mariner, "to be a wide difference between the opinions of the natives in the different clusters of the South Sea islands respecting the future existence of the soul. Whilst the Tonga doctrine limits immortality to chiefs, _matabooles_, and at most, to _mooas_, the Fiji doctrine, with abundant liberality, extends it to all mankind, to all brute animals, to all vegetables, and even to stones and mineral substances. If an animal or a plant die, its soul immediately goes to Bolotoo; if a stone or any other substance is broken, immortality is equally its reward; nay, artificial bodies have equal good luck with men, and hogs, and yams. If an axe or a chisel is worn out or broken up, away flies its soul for the service of the gods. If a house is taken down, or any way destroyed, its immortal part will find a situation on the plains of Bolotoo; and, to confirm this doctrine, the Fiji people can show you a sort of natural well, or deep hole in the ground, at one of their islands, across the bottom of which runs a stream of water, in which you may clearly perceive the souls of men and women, beasts and plants, of stocks and stones, canoes and houses, and of all the broken utensils of this frail world, swimming or rather tumbling along one over the other pell-mell into the regions of immortality. Such is the Fiji philosophy, but the Tonga people deny it, unwilling to think that the residence of the gods should be encumbered with so much useless rubbish. The natives of Otaheite entertain similar notions respecting these things, viz. that brutes, plants, and stones exist hereafter, but it is not mentioned that they extend the idea to objects of human invention."[658] [Sidenote: Reported Fijian doctrine of two human souls, a light one and a dark one.] According to one account, the Fijians imagined that every man has two souls, a dark soul, consisting of his shadow, and a light soul, consisting of his reflection in water or a looking-glass: the dark soul departs at death to Hades, while the light soul stays near the place where he died or was killed. "Probably," says Thomas Williams, "this doctrine of shadows has to do with the notion of inanimate objects having spirits. I once placed a good-looking native suddenly before a mirror. He stood delighted. 'Now,' said he, softly, 'I can see into the world of spirits.'"[659] However, according to another good authority this distinction of two human souls rests merely on a misapprehension of the Fijian word for shadow, _yaloyalo_, which is a reduplication of _yalo_, the word for soul.[660] Apparently the Fijians pictured to themselves the human soul as a miniature of the man himself. This may be inferred from the customs observed at the death of a chief among the Nakelo tribe. When a chief dies, certain men who are the hereditary undertakers call him, as he lies, oiled and ornamented, on fine mats, saying, "Rise, sir, the chief, and let us be going. The day has come over the land." Then they conduct him to the river side, where the ghostly ferryman comes to ferry Nakelo ghosts across the stream. As they attend the chief on his last journey, they hold their great fans close to the ground to shelter him, because, as one of them explained to a missionary, "His soul is only a little child."[661] [Sidenote: Absence of the soul in sleep. Catching the soul of a rascal in a scarf.] The souls of some men were supposed to quit their bodies in sleep and enter into the bodies of other sleepers, troubling and disturbing them. A soul that had contracted this bad habit was called a _yalombula_. When any one fainted or died, his vagrant spirit might, so the Fijians thought, be induced to come back by calling after it. Sometimes, on awaking from a nap, a stout man might be seen lying at full length and bawling out lustily for the return of his own soul.[662] In the windward islands of Fiji there used to be an ordeal called _yalovaki_ which was much dreaded by evil-doers. When the evidence was strong against suspected criminals, and they stubbornly refused to confess, the chief, who was also the judge, would call for a scarf, with which "to catch away the soul of the rogue." A threat of the rack could not have been more effectual. The culprit generally confessed at the sight and even the mention of the light instrument; but if he did not, the scarf would be waved over his head until his soul was caught in it like a moth or a fly, after which it would be carefully folded up and nailed to the small end of a chief's canoe, and for want of his soul the suspected person would pine and die.[663] [Sidenote: Fijian dread of sorcery and witchcraft.] Further, the Fijians, like many other savages, stood in great terror of witchcraft, believing that the sorcerer had it in his power to kill them by the practice of his nefarious art. "Of all their superstitions," says Thomas Williams, "this exerts the strongest influence on the minds of the people. Men who laugh at the pretensions of the priest tremble at the power of the wizard; and those who become christians lose this fear last of all the relics of their heathenism."[664] Indeed "native agents of the mission who, in the discharge of their duty, have boldly faced death by open violence, have been driven from their posts by their dread of the sorcerer; and my own observation confirms the statement of more than one observer that savages not unfrequently die of fear when they think themselves bewitched."[665] Professed practitioners of witchcraft were dreaded by all classes, and by destroying mutual confidence they annulled the comfort and shook the security of society. Almost all sudden deaths were set down to their machinations. A common mode of effecting their object was to obtain a shred of the clothing of the man they intended to bewitch, some refuse of his food, a lock of his hair, or some other personal relic; having got it they wrapped it up in certain leaves, and then cooked or buried it or hung it up in the forest; whereupon the victim was supposed to die of a wasting disease. Another way was to bury a coco-nut, with the eye upward, beneath the hearth of the temple, on which a fire was kept constantly burning; and as the life of the nut was destroyed, so the health of the person whom the nut represented would fail till death put an end to his sufferings. "The native imagination," we are told, "is so absolutely under the control of fear of these charms, that persons, hearing that they were the object of such spells, have lain down on their mats, and died through fear."[666] To guard against the fell craft of the magician the people resorted to many precautions. A man who suspected another of plotting against him would be careful not to eat in his presence or at all events to leave no morsel of food behind, lest the other should secrete it and bewitch him by it; and for the same reason people disposed of their garments so that no part could be removed; and when they had their hair cut they generally hid the clippings in the thatch of their own houses. Some even built themselves a small hut and surrounded it with a moat, believing that a little water had power to neutralise the charms directed against them.[667] [Sidenote: The fear of sorcery has had the beneficial effect of enforcing habits of personal cleanliness.] "In the face of such instances as these," says one who knows the Fijians well, "it demands some courage to assert that upon the whole the belief in witchcraft was formerly a positive advantage to the community. It filled, in fact, the place of a system of sanitation. The wizard's tools consisting in those waste matters that are inimical to health, every man was his own scavenger. From birth to old age a man was governed by this one fear; he went into the sea, the graveyard or the depths of the forest to satisfy his natural wants; he burned his cast-off _malo_; he gave every fragment left over from his food to the pigs; he concealed even the clippings of his hair in the thatch of his house. This ever-present fear even drove women in the western districts out into the forest for the birth of their children, where fire destroyed every trace of their lying-in. Until Christianity broke it down, the villages were kept clean; there were no festering rubbish-heaps nor filthy _raras_."[668] [Sidenote: Fijian dread of ghosts. Uproar made to drive away ghosts.] Of apparitions the Fijians used to be very much afraid. They believed that the ghosts of the dead appeared often and afflicted mankind, especially in sleep. The spirits of slain men, unchaste women, and women who died in childbed were most dreaded. After a death people have been known to hide themselves for a few days, until they supposed the soul of the departed was at rest. Also they shunned the places where people had been murdered, particularly when it rained, because then the moans of the ghost could be heard as he sat up, trying to relieve his pain by resting his poor aching head on the palms of his hands. Some however said that the moans were caused by the soul of the murderer knocking down the soul of his victim, whenever the wretched spirit attempted to get up.[669] When Fijians passed a spot in the forest where a man had been clubbed to death, they would sometimes throw leaves on it as a mark of homage to his spirit, believing that they would soon be killed themselves if they failed in thus paying their respects to the ghost.[670] And after they had buried a man alive, as they very often did, these savages used at nightfall to make a great din with large bamboos, trumpet-shells, and so forth, in order to drive away his spirit and deter him from loitering about his old home. "The uproar is always held in the late habitation of the deceased, the reason being that as no one knows for a certainty what reception he will receive in the invisible world, if it is not according to his expectations he will most likely repent of his bargain and wish to come back. For that reason they make a great noise to frighten him away, and dismantle his former habitation of everything that is attractive, and clothe it with everything that to their ideas seems repulsive."[671] [Sidenote: Killing a ghost.] However, stronger measures were sometimes resorted to. It was believed to be possible to kill a troublesome ghost. Once it happened that many chiefs feasted in the house of Tanoa, King of Ambau. In the course of the evening one of them related how he had slain a neighbouring chief. That very night, having occasion to leave the house, he saw, as he believed, the ghost of his victim, hurled his club at him, and killed him stone dead. On his return to the house he roused the king and the rest of the inmates from their slumbers, and recounted his exploit. The matter was deemed of high importance, and they all sat on it in solemn conclave. Next morning a search was made for the club on the scene of the murder; it was found and carried with great pomp and parade to the nearest temple, where it was laid up for a perpetual memorial. Everybody was firmly persuaded that by this swashing blow the ghost had been not only killed but annihilated.[672] [Sidenote: Dazing the ghost of a grandfather.] A more humane method of dealing with an importunate ghost used to be adopted in Vanua-levu, the largest but one of the Fijian islands. In that island, as a consequence, it is said, of reckoning kinship through the mother, a child was considered to be more closely related to his grandfather than to his father. Hence when a grandfather died, his ghost naturally desired to carry off the soul of his grandchild with him to the spirit land. The wish was creditable to the warmth of his domestic affection, but if the survivors preferred to keep the child with them a little longer in this vale of tears, they took steps to baffle grandfather's ghost. For this purpose when the old man's body was stretched on the bier and raised on the shoulders of half-a-dozen stout young fellows, the mother's brother would take the grandchild in his arms and begin running round and round the corpse. Round and round he ran, and grandfather's ghost looked after him, craning his neck from side to side and twisting it round and round in the vain attempt to follow the rapid movements of the runner. When the ghost was supposed to be quite giddy with this unwonted exercise, the mother's brother made a sudden dart away with the child in his arms, the bearers fairly bolted with the corpse to the grave, and before he could collect his scattered wits grandfather was safely landed in his long home.[673] [Sidenote: Special relation of grandfather to grandchild. Soul of a grandfather reborn in his grandchildren.] Mr. Fison, who reports this quaint mode of bilking a ghost, explains the special attachment of the grandfather to his grandchild by the rule of female descent which survives in Vanua-levu; and it is true that where exogamy prevails along with female descent, a child regularly belongs to the exogamous class of its grandfather and not of its father and hence may be regarded as more closely akin to the grandfather than to the father. But on the other hand it is to be observed that exogamy at present is unknown in Fiji, and at most its former prevalence in the islands can only be indirectly inferred from relics of totemism and from the existence of the classificatory system of relationship.[674] Perhaps the real reason why in Vanua-levu a dead grandfather is so anxious to carry off the soul of his living grandchild lies nearer to hand in the apparently widespread belief that the soul of the grandfather is actually reborn in his grandchild. For example, in Nukahiva, one of the Marquesas Islands, every one "is persuaded that the soul of a grandfather is transmitted by nature into the body of his grandchildren; and that, if an unfruitful wife were to place herself under the corpse of her deceased grandfather, she would be sure to become pregnant."[675] Again, the Kayans of Borneo "believe in the reincarnation of the soul, although this belief is not clearly harmonised with the belief in the life in another world. It is generally believed that the soul of a grandfather may pass into one of his grandchildren, and an old man will try to secure the passage of his soul to a favourite grandchild by holding it above his head from time to time. The grandfather usually gives up his name to his eldest grandson, and reassumes the original name of his childhood with the prefix or title _Laki_, and the custom seems to be connected with this belief or hope."[676] [Sidenote: A dead grandfather may reasonably reclaim his own soul from his grandchild.] Now where such a belief is held, it seems reasonable enough that a dead grandfather should reclaim his own soul for his personal use before he sets out for the spirit land; else how could he expect to be admitted to that blissful abode if on arriving at the portal he were obliged to explain to the porter that he had no soul about him, having left that indispensable article behind in the person of his grandchild? "Then you had better go back and fetch it. There is no admission at this gate for people without souls." Such might very well be the porter's retort; and foreseeing it any man of ordinary prudence would take the precaution of recovering his lost spiritual property before presenting himself to the Warden of the Dead. This theory would sufficiently account for the otherwise singular behaviour of grandfather's ghost in Vanua-levu. At the same time it must be admitted that the theory of the reincarnation of a grandfather in a grandson would be suggested more readily in a society where the custom of exogamy was combined with female descent than in one where the same custom coexisted with male descent; since, given exogamy and female descent, grandfather and grandson regularly belong to the same exogamous class, whereas father and son never do so.[677] Thus Mr. Fison may after all be right in referring the partiality of a Fijian grandfather for his grandson in the last resort to a system of exogamy and female kinship. [Footnote 627: G. Brown, D.D., _Melanesians and Polynesians_ (London, 1910), pp. 23 _sq._, 125, 320 _sqq._] [Footnote 628: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 294 _sqq._; P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küstenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_ (Hiltrup bei Münster, N.D.), pp. 90 _sqq._ The shell money is called _tambu_ in New Britain, _diwara_ in the Duke of York Island, and _aringit_ in New Ireland.] [Footnote 629: Rev. G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 307, 313, 435, 436.] [Footnote 630: Rev. G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 270 _sq._, compare pp. 127, 200.] [Footnote 631: Rev. G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. v., 18.] [Footnote 632: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 141 _sq._, 144, 145, 190-193.] [Footnote 633: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 142, 192, 385, 386 _sq._] [Footnote 634: G. Brown, _op. cit._ p. 390. The custom of cremating the dead in New Ireland is described more fully by Mr. R. Parkinson, who says that the life-sized figures which are burned with the corpse represent the deceased (_Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_, pp. 273 _sqq._). In the central part of New Ireland the dead are buried in the earth; afterwards the bones are dug up and thrown into the sea. See Albert Hahl, "Das mittlere Neumecklenburg," _Globus_, xci. (1907) p. 314.] [Footnote 635: R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_ (Stuttgart, 1907) p. 78; P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küstenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_ (Hiltrup bei Münster, N.D.), p. 222.] [Footnote 636: Mgr. Couppé, "En Nouvelle-Poméranie," _Les Missions Catholiques_, xxiii. (1891) pp. 364 _sq._; J. Graf Pfeil, _Studien und Beobachtungen aus der Südsee_ (Brunswick, 1899), p. 79.] [Footnote 637: R. Parkinson, _op. cit._ p. 81.] [Footnote 638: _P._ Rascher, _M.S.C._, "Die Sulka, ein Beitrag zur Ethnographic Neu-Pommern," _Archiv für Anthropologie_, xxix. (1904) pp. 214 _sq._, 216; R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_, pp. 185-187.] [Footnote 639: R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_, pp. 404-406.] [Footnote 640: R. Parkinson, _op. cit._ pp. 441 _sq._] [Footnote 641: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 176, 183, 385 _sq._ As to the wide-spread belief in New Britain that what we call natural deaths are brought about by sorcery, see further _P._ Rascher, _M.S.C._, "Die Sulka, ein Beitrag zur Ethnographic Neu-Pommern," _Archiv für Ethnographie_, xxix. (1904) pp. 221 _sq._; R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_, pp. 117 _sq._ 199-201; P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küsten-bewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_ (Hiltrup bei Münster, N.D.), p. 215.] [Footnote 642: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 387-390.] [Footnote 643: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 35, 89, 196, 201.] [Footnote 644: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 177, 183, 184.] [Footnote 645: G. Brown, _op. cit._ pp. 192-195.] [Footnote 646: P. A. Kleintitschen, _Die Küstenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel_, pp. 225 _sq._ Compare R. Parkinson, _Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee_, p. 79.] [Footnote 647: Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_ (London, 1904), p. xiv.] [Footnote 648: Thomas Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 22-26.] [Footnote 649: Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 77; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 18.] [Footnote 650: Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 332 _sqq._; Thomas Williams _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 60 _sqq._; Berthold Seeman, _Viti_ (Cambridge, 1862), pp. 279 _sqq._; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_ (London, 1908), pp. 335 _sq._] [Footnote 651: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 60 _sq._] [Footnote 652: Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 338, 389 _sq._ The Fijians are in the main vegetarians, but the vegetables which they cultivate "contain a large proportion of starch and water, and are deficient in proteids. Moreover, the supply of the principal staples is irregular, being greatly affected by variable seasons, and the attacks of insects and vermin. Very few of them will bear keeping, and almost all of them must be eaten when ripe. As the food is of low nutritive value, a native always eats to repletion. In times of plenty a full-grown man will eat as much as ten pounds' weight of vegetables in the day; he will seldom be satisfied with less than five. A great quantity, therefore, is required to feed a very few people, and as everything is transported by hand, a disproportionate amount of time is spent in transporting food from the plantation to the consumer. The time spent in growing native food is also out of all proportion to its value" (Basil Thomson, _op. cit._ pp. 334 _sq._). The same writer tells us (p. 335) that it has never occurred to the Fijians to dry any of the fruits they grow and to grind them into flour, as is done in Africa.] [Footnote 653: Capt. J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), pp. 272 _sq._] [Footnote 654: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 46, 363. As to the cruelty and depravity of the Fijians in the old days see further Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_ (London, 1904), pp. xv. _sqq._] [Footnote 655: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 6 _sq._ As to the scenery of the Fijian archipelago see further _id._, i. 4 _sqq._; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 46, 322; _Stanford's Compendium of Geography and Travel, Australasia_, vol. ii. _Malaysia and the Pacific Archipelago_, edited by F. H. H. Guillemard (London, 1894), pp. 467 _sqq._; Miss Beatrice Grimshaw, _From Fiji to the Cannibal Islands_ (London, 1907), pp. 43 _sq._, 54 _sq._, 76-78, 106, 109 _sq._] [Footnote 656: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 5 _sq._, 11; Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 46 _sq._ However, there is a remarkable difference not only in climate but in appearance between the windward and the leeward sides of these islands. The windward side, watered by abundant showers, is covered with luxuriant tropical vegetation; the leeward side, receiving little rain, presents a comparatively barren and burnt appearance, the vegetation dying down to the grey hues of the boulders among which it struggles for life. Hence the dry leeward side is better adapted for European settlement. See Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 320 _sq._; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 10; B. Seeman, _Viti, an Account of a Government Mission to the Vitian or Fijian Islands in the years 1860-1861_ (Cambridge, 1862), pp. 277 _sq._] [Footnote 657: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 241; J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 249; B. Seeman, _Viti_ (Cambridge, 1862), p. 398.] [Footnote 658: William Mariner, _An Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands_, Second Edition (London, 1818), ii. 129 _sq._ The _matabooles_ were a sort of honourable attendants on chiefs and ranked next to them in the social hierarchy; the _mooas_ were the next class of people below the _matabooles_. See W. Mariner, _op. cit._ ii. 84, 86. Bolotoo or Bulu was the mythical land of the dead.] [Footnote 659: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 241.] [Footnote 660: This is the opinion of my late friend, the Rev. Lorimer Fison, which he communicated to me in a letter dated 26th August, 1898.] [Footnote 661: Communication of the late Rev. Lorimer Fison in a letter to me dated 3rd November, 1898. I have already published it in _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 29 _sq._] [Footnote 662: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 242; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, pp. 163 _sq._; _Taboo and the Perils of the Soul_, pp. 39 _sq._] [Footnote 663: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 250.] [Footnote 664: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 248.] [Footnote 665: Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ p. xxxii.] [Footnote 666: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 248 _sq._; Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ pp. xxxi. _sq._] [Footnote 667: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 249.] [Footnote 668: Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_ (London, 1908), p. 166. A _rara_ is a public square (Rev. Lorimer Fison, in _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) p. 17).] [Footnote 669: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 241.] [Footnote 670: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 50.] [Footnote 671: Narrative of John Jackson, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), p. 477.] [Footnote 672: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 85.] [Footnote 673: Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ pp. 168 _sq_.] [Footnote 674: W. H. R. Rivers, "Totemism in Fiji," _Man_, viii. (1908) pp. 133 _sqq._; _Totemism and Exogamy_, ii. 134 _sqq._] [Footnote 675: U. Lisiansky, _A Voyage Round the World_ (London, 1814), p. 89.] [Footnote 676: Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, _The Pagan Tribes of Borneo_ (London, 1912), ii. 47.] [Footnote 677: Compare _Totemism and Exogamy_, iii. 297-299.] LECTURE XIX THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF EASTERN MELANESIA (FIJI) (_continued_) [Sidenote: Fijian indifference to death.] At the close of last lecture I illustrated the unquestioning belief which the Fijians entertain with regard to the survival of the human soul after death. "The native superstitions with regard to a future state," we are told, "go far to explain the apparent indifference of the people about death; for, while believing in an eternal existence, they shut out from it the idea of any moral retribution in the shape either of reward or punishment. The first notion concerning death is that of simple rest, and is thus contained in one of their rhymes:-- "Death is easy: Of what use is life? To die is rest."[678] Again, another writer, speaking of the Fijians, says that "in general, the passage from life to death is considered as one from pain to happiness, and I was informed that nine out of ten look forward to it with anxiety, in order to escape from the infirmities of old age, or the sufferings of disease."[679] [Sidenote: John Jackson's account of the burying alive of a young Fijian man. Son buried alive by his father.] The cool indifference with which the Fijians commonly regarded their own death and that of other people might be illustrated by many examples. I will give one in the words of an English eye-witness, who lived among these savages for some time like one of themselves. At a place on the coast of Viti Levu, the largest of the Fijian Islands, he says, "I walked into a number of temples, which were very plentiful, and at last into a _bure theravou_ (young man's _bure_), where I saw a tall young man about twenty years old. He appeared to be somewhat ailing, but not at all emaciated. He was rolling up the mat he had been sleeping upon, evidently preparing to go away somewhere. I addressed him, and asked him where he was going, when he immediately answered that he was going to be buried. I observed that he was not dead yet, but he said he soon should be dead when he was put under ground. I asked him why he was going to be buried? He said it was three days since he had eaten anything, and consequently he was getting very thin; and that if he lived any longer he would be much thinner, and then the women would call him a _lila_ (skeleton), and laugh at him. I said he was a fool to throw himself away for fear of being laughed at; and asked him what or who his private god was, knowing it to be no use talking to him about Providence, a thing he had never heard of. He said his god was a shark, and that if he were cast away in a canoe and was obliged to swim, the sharks would not bite him. I asked him if he believed the shark, his god, had any power to act over him? He said yes. 'Well then,' said I, 'why do you not live a little longer, and trust to your god to give you an appetite?' Finding that he could not give me satisfactory answers, and being determined to get buried to avoid the jeers of the ladies, which to a Feejeean are intolerable, he told me I knew nothing about it, and that I must not compare him to a white man, who was generally insensible to all shame, and did not care how much he was laughed at. I called him a fool, and said the best thing he could do was to get buried out of the way, because I knew that most of them work by the rules of contrary; but it was all to no purpose. By this time all his relations had collected round the door. His father had a kind of wooden spade to dig the grave with, his mother a new suit of _tapa_ [bark-cloth], his sister some vermilion and a whale's tooth, as an introduction to the great god of Rage-Rage. He arose, took up his bed and walked, not for life, but for death, his father, mother, and sister following after, with several other distant relations, whom I accompanied. I noticed that they seemed to follow him something in the same way that they follow a corpse in Europe to the grave (that is, as far as relationship and acquaintance are concerned), but, instead of lamenting, they were, if not rejoicing, acting and chatting in a very unconcerned way. At last we reached a place where several graves could be seen, and a spot was soon selected by the man who was to be buried. The old man, his father, began digging his grave, while his mother assisted her son in putting on a new _tapa_ [bark-cloth], and the girl (his sister) was besmearing him with vermilion and lamp-black, so as to send him decent into the invisible world, he (the victim) delivering messages that were to be taken by his sister to people then absent. His father then announced to him and the rest that the grave was completed, and asked him, in rather a surly tone, if he was not ready by this time. The mother then _nosed_ him, and likewise the sister. He said, 'Before I die, I should like a drink of water.' His father made a surly remark, and said, as he ran to fetch it in a leaf doubled up, 'You have been a considerable trouble during your life, and it appears that you are going to trouble us equally at your death.' The father returned with the water, which the son drank off, and then looked up into a tree covered with tough vines, saying he should prefer being strangled with a vine to being smothered in the grave. His father became excessively angry, and, spreading the mat at the bottom of the grave, told the son to die _faka tamata_ (like a man), when he stepped into the grave, which was not more than four feet deep, and lay down on his back with the whale's tooth in his hands, which were clasped across his belly. The spare sides of the mats were lapped over him so as to prevent the earth from getting to his body, and then about a foot of earth was shovelled in upon him as quickly as possible. His father stamped it immediately down solid, and called out in a loud voice, '_Sa tiko, sa tiko_ (You are stopping there, you are stopping there),' meaning 'Good-bye, good-bye.' The son answered with a very audible grunt, and then about two feet more earth was shovelled in and stamped as before by the loving father, and '_Sa tiko_' called out again, which was answered by another grunt, but much fainter. The grave was then completely filled up, when, for curiosity's sake, I said myself, '_Sa tiko_' but no answer was given, although I fancied, or really did see, the earth crack a little on the top of the grave. The father and mother then turned back to back on the middle of the grave, and, having dropped some kind of leaves from their hands, walked away in opposite directions towards a running stream of water hard by, where they and all the rest washed themselves, and made me wash myself, and then we returned to the town, where there was a feast prepared. As soon as the feast was over (it being then dark), began the dance and uproar which are always carried on either at natural or violent deaths."[680] [Sidenote: The readiness of the Fijians to die seems to have been partly a consequence of their belief in immortality.] The readiness with which the Fijians submitted to or even sought death appears to have been to some extent a direct consequence of their belief in immortality and of their notions as to the state of the soul hereafter. Thus we are informed by an early observer of this people that "self-immolation is by no means rare, and they believe that as they leave this life, so will they remain ever after. This forms a powerful motive to escape from decrepitude, or from a crippled condition, by a voluntary death."[681] Or, as another equally early observer puts it more fully, "the custom of voluntary suicide on the part of the old men, which is among their most extraordinary usages, is also connected with their superstitions respecting a future life. They believe that persons enter upon the delights of their elysium with the same faculties, mental and physical, that they possess at the hour of death, in short, that the spiritual life commences where the corporeal existence terminates. With these views, it is natural that they should desire to pass through this change before their mental and bodily powers are so enfeebled by age as to deprive them of their capacity for enjoyment. To this motive must be added the contempt which attaches to physical weakness among a nation of warriors, and the wrongs and insults which await those who are no longer able to protect themselves. When therefore a man finds his strength declining with the advance of age, and feels that he will soon be unequal to discharge the duties of this life, and to partake in the pleasures of that which is to come, he calls together his relations, and tells them that he is now worn out and useless, that he sees they are all ashamed of him, and that he has determined to be buried." So on a day appointed they met and buried him alive.[682] [Sidenote: The sick and aged put to death by their relatives.] The proposal to put the sick and aged to death did not always emanate from the parties principally concerned; when a son, for example, thought that his parents were growing too old and becoming a burden to him, he would give them notice that it was time for them to die, a notice which they usually accepted with equanimity, if not alacrity. As a rule, it was left to the choice of the aged and infirm to say whether they would prefer to be buried alive or to be strangled first and buried afterwards; and having expressed a predilection one way or the other they were dealt with accordingly. To strangle parents or other frail and sickly relatives with a rope was considered a more delicate and affectionate way of dispatching them than to knock them on the head with a club. In the old days the missionary Mr. Hunt witnessed several of these tender partings. "On one occasion, he was called upon by a young man, who desired that he would pray to his spirit for his mother, who was dead. Mr. Hunt was at first in hopes that this would afford him an opportunity of forwarding their great cause. On inquiry, the young man told him that his brothers and himself were just going to bury her. Mr. Hunt accompanied the young man, telling him he would follow in the procession, and do as he desired him, supposing, of course, the corpse would be brought along; but he now met the procession, when the young man said that this was the funeral, and pointed out his mother, who was walking along with them, as gay and lively as any of those present, and apparently as much pleased. Mr. Hunt expressed his surprise to the young man, and asked him how he could deceive him so much by saying his mother was dead, when she was alive and well. He said, in reply, that they had made her death-feast, and were now going to bury her; that she was old; that his brother and himself had thought she had lived long enough, and it was time to bury her, to which she had willingly assented, and they were about it now. He had come to Mr. Hunt to ask his prayers, as they did those of the priest. He added, that it was from love for his mother that he had done so; that, in consequence of the same love, they were now going to bury her, and that none but themselves could or ought to do so sacred an office! Mr. Hunt did all in his power to prevent so diabolical an act; but the only reply he received was, that she was their mother, and they were her children, and they ought to put her to death. On reaching the grave, the mother sat down, when they all, including children, grandchildren, relations, and friends, took an affectionate leave of her; a rope, made of twisted _tapa_ [bark-cloth], was then passed twice around her neck by her sons, who took hold of it, and strangled her; after which she was put into her grave, with the usual ceremonies. They returned to feast and mourn, after which she was entirely forgotten as though she had not existed."[683] [Sidenote: Wives strangled or buried alive at their husbands' funerals.] Again, wives were often strangled, or buried alive, at the funeral of their husbands, and generally at their own instance. Such scenes were frequently witnessed by white residents in the old days. On one occasion a Mr. David Whippy drove away the murderers, rescued the woman, and carried her to his own house, where she was resuscitated. But far from feeling grateful for her preservation, she loaded him with reproaches and ever afterwards manifested the most deadly hatred towards him. "That women should desire to accompany their husbands in death, is by no means strange when it is considered that it is one of the articles of their belief, that in this way alone can they reach the realms of bliss, and she who meets her death with the greatest devotedness, will become the favourite wife in the abode of spirits. The sacrifice is not, however, always voluntary; but, when a woman refuses to be strangled, her relations often compel her to submit. This they do from interested motives; for, by her death, her connexions become entitled to the property of her husband. Even a delay is made a matter of reproach. Thus, at the funeral of the late king Ulivou, which was witnessed by Mr. Cargill, his five wives and a daughter were strangled. The principal wife delayed the ceremony, by taking leave of those around her; whereupon Tanoa, the present king, chid her. The victim was his own aunt, and he assisted in putting the rope around her neck, and strangling her, a service he is said to have rendered on a former occasion to his own mother."[684] In the case of men who were drowned at sea or killed and eaten by enemies in war, their wives were sacrificed in the usual way. Thus when Ra Mbithi, the pride of Somosomo, was lost at sea, seventeen of his wives were destroyed; and after the news of a massacre of the Namena people at Viwa in 1839 eighty women were strangled to accompany the spirits of their murdered husbands.[685] [Sidenote: Human "grass" for the grave.] The bodies of women who were put to death for this purpose were regularly laid at the bottom of the grave to serve as a cushion for the dead husband to lie upon; in this capacity they were called grass (_thotho_), being compared to the dried grass which in Fijian houses used to be thickly strewn on the floors and covered with mats.[686] On this point, however, a nice distinction was observed. While wives were commonly sacrificed at the death of their husbands, in order to be spread like grass in their graves, it does not transpire that husbands were ever sacrificed at the death of their wives for the sake of serving as grass to their dead spouses in the grave. The great truth that all flesh is grass appears to have been understood by the Fijians as applicable chiefly to the flesh of women. Sometimes a man's mother was strangled as well as his wives. Thus Ngavindi, a young chief of Lasakau, was laid in the grave with a wife at his side, his mother at his feet, and a servant not far off. However, men as well as women were killed to follow their masters to the far country. The confidential companion of a chief was expected as a matter of common decency to die with his lord; and if he shirked the duty, he fell in the public esteem. When Mbithi, a chief of high rank and greatly esteemed in Mathuata, died in the year 1840, not only his wife but five men with their wives were strangled to form the floor of his grave. They were laid on a layer of mats, and the body of the chief was stretched upon them.[687] There used to be a family in Vanua Levu which enjoyed the high privilege of supplying a hale man to be buried with the king of Fiji on every occasion of a royal decease. It was quite necessary that the man should be hale and hearty, for it was his business to grapple with the Fijian Cerberus in the other world, while his majesty slipped past into the abode of bliss.[688] [Sidenote: Sacrifices of foreskins and fingers in honour of the dead. Circumcision performed on a lad as a propitiatory sacrifice to save the life of his father or father's brother. The rite of circumcision followed by a licentious orgy.] A curious sacrifice offered in honour of a dead chief consisted in the foreskins of all the boys who had arrived at a suitable age; the lads were circumcised on purpose to furnish them. Many boys had their little fingers chopped off on the same occasion, and the severed foreskins and fingers were placed in the chief's grave. When this bloody rite had been performed, the chief's relatives presented young bread-fruit trees to the mutilated boys, whose friends were bound to cultivate them till the boys could do it for themselves.[689] Women as well as boys had their fingers cut off in mourning. We read of a case when after the death of a king of Fiji sixty fingers were amputated and being each inserted in a slit reed were stuck along the eaves of the king's house.[690] Why foreskins and fingers were buried with a dead chief or stuck up on the roof of his house, we are not informed, and it is not easy to divine. Apparently we must suppose that, when they were buried with the body, they were thought to be of some assistance to the departed spirit in the land of souls. At all events it deserves to be noted that according to a very good authority a similar sacrifice of foreskins used to be made not only for the dead but for the living. When a man of note was dangerously ill, a family council would be held, at which it might be agreed that a circumcision should take place as a propitiatory measure. Notice having been given to the priests, an uncircumcised lad, the sick man's own son or the son of one of his brothers, was then taken by his kinsman to the _Vale tambu_ or God's House, and there presented as a _soro_, or offering of atonement, in order that his father or father's brother might be made whole. His escort at the same time made a present of valuable property at the shrine and promised much more in future, should their prayers be answered. The present and the promises were graciously received by the priest, who appointed a day on which the operation was to be performed. In the meantime no food might be taken from the plantations except what was absolutely required for daily use; no pigs or fowls might be killed, and no coco-nuts plucked from the trees. Everything, in short, was put under a strict taboo; all was set apart for the great feast which was to follow the performance of the rite. On the day appointed the son or nephew of the sick chief was circumcised, and with him a number of other lads whose friends had agreed to take advantage of the occasion. Their foreskins, stuck in the cleft of a split reed, were taken to the sacred enclosure (_Nanga_) and presented to the chief priest, who, holding the reeds in his hand, offered them to the ancestral gods and prayed for the sick man's recovery. Then followed a great feast, which ushered in a period of indescribable revelry and licence. All distinctions of property were for the time being suspended. Men and women arrayed themselves in all manner of fantastic garbs, addressed one another in the foulest language, and practised unmentionable abominations openly in the public square of the town. The nearest relationships, even that of own brother and sister, seemed to be no bar to the general licence, the extent of which was indicated by the expressive phrase of an old Nandi chief, who said, "While it lasts, we are just like the pigs." This feasting and orgy might be kept up for several days, after which the ordinary restraints of society and the common decencies of life were observed once more. The rights of private property were again respected; the abandoned revellers and debauchees settled down into staid married couples; and brothers and sisters, in accordance with the regular Fijian etiquette, might not so much as speak to one another. It should be added that these extravagances in connexion with the rite of circumcision appear to have been practised only in certain districts of Viti Levu, the largest of the Fijian Islands, where they were always associated with the sacred stone enclosures which went by the name of _Nanga_.[691] [Sidenote: These orgies were apparently associated with the worship of the dead, to whom offerings were made in the _Nanga_ or sacred enclosure of stones.] The meaning of such orgies is very obscure, but from what we know of the savage and his ways we may fairly assume that they were no mere outbursts of unbridled passion, but that in the minds of those who practised them they had a definite significance and served a definite purpose. The one thing that seems fairly clear about them is that in some way they were associated with the worship or propitiation of the dead. At all events we are told on good authority that the _Nanga_, or sacred enclosure of stones, in which the severed foreskins were offered, was "the Sacred Place where the ancestral spirits are to be found by their worshippers, and thither offerings are taken on all occasions when their aid is to be invoked. Every member of the _Nanga_ has the privilege of approaching the ancestors at any time. When sickness visits himself or his kinsfolk, when he wishes to invoke the aid of the spirits to avert calamity or to secure prosperity, or when he deems it advisable to present a thank-offering, he may enter the _Nanga_ with proper reverence and deposit on the dividing wall his whale's tooth, or bundle of cloth, or dish of toothsome eels so highly prized by the elders, and therefore by the ancestors whose living representatives they are: or he may drag into the Sacred _Nanga_ his fattened pig, or pile up there his offering of the choicest yams. And, having thus recommended himself to the dead, he may invoke their powerful aid, or express his thankfulness for the benefits they have conferred, and beg for a continuance of their goodwill."[692] The first-fruits of the yam harvest were presented with great ceremony to the ancestors in the _Nanga_ before the bulk of the crop was dug for the people's use, and no man might taste of the new yams until the presentation had been made. The yams so offered were piled up in the sacred enclosure and left to rot there. If any one were impious enough to appropriate them to his own use, it was believed that he would be smitten with madness. Great feasts were held at the presentation of the first-fruits; and the sacred enclosure itself was often spoken of as the _Mbaki_ or Harvest.[693] [Sidenote: Periodical initiation of young men in the _Nanga_.] But the most characteristic and perhaps the most important of the rites performed in the _Nanga_ or sacred stone enclosure was the periodical initiation of young men, who by participation in the ceremony were admitted to the full privileges of manhood. According to one account the ceremony of initiation was performed as a rule only once in two years; according to another account it was observed annually in October or November, when the _ndrala_ tree (_Erythrina_) was in flower. The flowering of the tree marked the beginning of the Fijian year; hence the novices who were initiated at this season bore the title of _Vilavou_, that is, "New Year's Men." As a preparation for the feasts which attended the ceremony enormous quantities of yams were garnered and placed under a strict taboo; pigs were fattened in large numbers, and bales of native cloth stored on the tie-beams of the house-roofs. Spears of many patterns and curiously carved clubs were also provided against the festival. On the day appointed the initiated men went first into the sacred enclosure and made their offerings, the chief priest having opened the proceedings by libation and prayer. The heads of the novices were clean shaven, and their beards, if they had any, were also removed. Then each youth was swathed in long rolls of native cloth, and taking a spear in one hand and a club in the other he marched with his comrades, similarly swathed and armed, in procession into the sacred enclosure, though not into its inner compartment, the Holy of Holies. The procession was headed by a priest bearing his carved staff of office, and it was received on the holy ground by the initiates, who sat chanting a song in a deep murmuring tone, which occasionally swelled to a considerable volume of sound and was thought to represent the muffled roar of the surf breaking on a far-away coral reef. On entering the enclosure the youths threw down their weapons before them, and with the help of the initiated men divested themselves of the huge folds of native cloth in which they were enveloped, each man revolving slowly on his axis, while his attendant pulled at the bandage and gathered in the slack. The weapons and the cloth were the offerings presented by the novices to the ancestral spirits for the purpose of rendering themselves acceptable to these powerful beings. The offerings were repeated in like manner on four successive days; and as each youth was merely, as it were, the central roller of a great bale of cloth, the amount of cloth offered was considerable. It was all put away, with the spears and clubs, in the sacred storehouse by the initiated men. A feast concluded each day and was prolonged far into the night. [Sidenote: Ceremony of death and resurrection.] On the fifth day, the last and greatest of the festival, the heads of the young men were shaven again and their bodies swathed in the largest and best rolls of cloth. Then, taking their choicest weapons in their hands, they followed their leader as before into the sacred enclosure. But the outer compartment of the holy place, where on the previous days they had been received by the grand chorus of initiated men, was now silent and deserted. The procession stopped. A dead silence prevailed. Suddenly from the forest a harsh scream of many parrots broke forth, and then followed a mysterious booming sound which filled the souls of the novices with awe. But now the priest moves slowly forward and leads the train of trembling novices for the first time into the inner shrine, the Holy of Holies, the _Nanga tambu-tambu_. Here a dreadful spectacle meets their startled gaze. In the background sits the high priest, regarding them with a stony stare; and between him and them lie a row of dead men, covered with blood, their bodies seemingly cut open and their entrails protruding. The leader steps over them one by one, and the awestruck youths follow him until they stand in a row before the high priest, their very souls harrowed by his awful glare. Suddenly he utters a great yell, and at the cry the dead men start to their feet, and run down to the river to cleanse themselves from the blood and filth with which they are besmeared. They are initiated men, who represent the departed ancestors for the occasion; and the blood and entrails are those of many pigs that have been slaughtered for that night's revelry. The screams of the parrots and the mysterious booming sound were produced by a concealed orchestra, who screeched appropriately and blew blasts on bamboo trumpets, the mouths of which were partially immersed in water. [Sidenote: Sacrament of food and water.] The dead men having come to life again, the novices offered their weapons and the bales of native cloth in which they were swathed. These were accordingly removed to the storehouse and the young men were made to sit down in front of it. Then the high priest, cheered perhaps by the sight of the offerings, unbent the starched dignity of his demeanour. Skipping from side to side he cried in stridulous tones, "Where are the people of my enclosure? Are they gone to Tongalevu? Are they gone to the deep sea?" He had not called long when an answer rang out from the river in a deep-mouthed song, and soon the singers came in view moving rhythmically to the music of their solemn chant. Singing they filed in and took their places in front of the young men; then silence ensued. After that there entered four old men of the highest order of initiates; the first bore a cooked yam carefully wrapt in leaves so that no part of it should touch the hands of the bearer; the second carried a piece of baked pork similarly enveloped; the third held a drinking-cup of coco-nut shell or earthenware filled with water and wrapt round with native cloth; and the fourth bore a napkin of the same material. Thereupon the first elder passed along the row of novices putting the end of the yam into each of their mouths, and as he did so each of them nibbled a morsel of the sacred food; the second elder did the same with the sacred pork; the third elder followed with the holy water, with which each novice merely wetted his lips; and the rear was brought up by the fourth elder, who wiped all their mouths with his napkin. Then the high priest or one of the elders addressed the young men, warning them solemnly against the sacrilege of divulging to the profane any of the high mysteries they had seen and heard, and threatening all such traitors with the vengeance of the gods. [Sidenote: Presentation of the pig.] That ceremony being over, all the junior initiated men (_Lewe ni Nanga_) came forward, and each man presented to the novices a yam and a piece of nearly raw pork; whereupon the young men took the food and went away to cook it for eating. When the evening twilight had fallen, a huge pig, which had been specially set aside at a former festival, was dragged into the sacred enclosure and there presented to the novices, together with other swine, if they should be needed to furnish a plenteous repast. [Sidenote: Acceptance of the novices by the ancestral spirits.] The novices were now "accepted members of the _Nanga_, qualified to take their place among the men of the community, though still only on probation. As children--their childhood being indicated by their shaven heads--they were presented to the ancestors, and their acceptance was notified by what (looking at the matter from the natives' standpoint) we might, without irreverence, almost call the _sacrament_ of food and water, too sacred even for the elders' hands to touch. This acceptance was acknowledged and confirmed on the part of all the _Lewe ni Nanga_ [junior initiated men] by their gift of food, and it was finally ratified by the presentation of the Sacred Pig. In like manner, on the birth of an infant, its father acknowledges it as legitimate, and otherwise acceptable, by a gift of food; and his kinsfolk formally signify approval and confirmation of his decision on the part of the clan by similar presentations." [Sidenote: The initiation followed by a period of sexual license. Sacred pigs.] Next morning the women, their hair dyed red and wearing waistbands of hibiscus or other fibre, came to the sacred enclosure and crawled through it on hands and knees into the Holy of Holies, where the elders were singing their solemn chant. The high priest then dipped his hands into the water of the sacred bowl and prayed to the ancestral spirits for the mothers and for their children. After that the women crawled back on hands and feet the way they had come, singing as they went and creeping over certain mounds of earth which had been thrown up for the purpose in the sacred enclosure. When they emerged from the holy ground, the men and women addressed each other in the vilest language, such as on ordinary occasions would be violently resented; and thenceforth to the close of the ceremonies some days later very great, indeed almost unlimited, licence prevailed between the sexes. During these days a number of pigs were consecrated to serve for the next ceremony. The animals were deemed sacred, and had the run of the fleshpots in the villages in which they were kept. Indeed they were held in the greatest reverence. To kill one, except for sacrifice at the rites in the _Nanga_, would have been a sacrilege which the Fijian mind refused to contemplate; and on the other hand to feed the holy swine was an act of piety. Men might be seen throwing down basketfuls of food before the snouts of the worshipful pigs, and at the same time calling the attention of the ancestral spirits to the meritorious deed. "Take knowledge of me," they would cry, "ye who lie buried, our heads! I am feeding this pig of yours." Finally, all the men who had taken part in the ceremonies bathed together in the river, carefully cleansing themselves from every particle of the black paint with which they had been bedaubed. When the novices, now novices no more, emerged from the water, the high priest, standing on the river bank, preached to them an eloquent sermon on the duties and responsibilities which devolved on them in their new position.[694] [Sidenote: The intention of the initiatory rites seems to be to introduce the young men to the ancestral spirits. The drama of death and resurrection. The Fijian rites of initiation seem to have been imported by Melanesian immigrants from the west.] The general intention of these initiatory rites appears to be, as Mr. Fison has said in the words which I have quoted, to introduce the young men to the ancestral spirits at their sanctuary, to incorporate them, so to say, in the great community which embraces all adult members of the tribe, whether living or dead. At all events this interpretation fits in very well with the prayers which are offered to the souls of departed kinsfolk on these occasions, and it is supported by the analogy of the New Guinea initiatory rites which I described in former lectures; for in these rites, as I pointed out, the initiation of the youths is closely associated with the conceptions of death and the dead, the main feature in the ritual consisting indeed of a simulation of death and subsequent resurrection. It is, therefore, significant that the very same simulation figures prominently in the Fijian ceremony, nay it would seem to be the very pivot on which the whole ritual revolves. Yet there is an obvious and important difference between the drama of death and resurrection as it is enacted in New Guinea and in Fiji; for whereas in New Guinea it is the novices who pretend to die and come to life again, in Fiji the pretence is carried out by initiated men who represent the ancestors, while the novices merely look on with horror and amazement at the awe-inspiring spectacle. Of the two forms of ritual the New Guinea one is probably truer to the original purpose of the rite, which seems to have been to enable the novices to put off the old, or rather the young, man and to put on a higher form of existence by participating in the marvellous powers and privileges of the mighty dead. And if such was really the intention of the ceremony, it is obvious that it was better effected by compelling the young communicants, as we may call them, to die and rise from the dead in their own persons than by obliging them to assist as mere passive spectators at a dramatic performance of death and resurrection. Yet in spite of this difference between the two rituals, the general resemblance between them is near enough to justify us in conjecturing that there may be a genetic connexion between the one and the other. The conjecture is confirmed, first, by the very limited and definite area of Fiji in which these initiatory rites were practised, and, second, by the equally definite tradition of their origin. With regard to the first of these points, the _Nanga_ or sacred stone enclosure with its characteristic rites was known only to certain tribes, who occupied a comparatively small area, a bare third of the island of Viti Levu. These tribes are the Nuyaloa, Vatusila, Mbatiwai, and Mdavutukia. They all seem to have spread eastward and southward from a place of origin in the western mountain district. Their physical type is pure Melanesian, with fewer traces of Polynesian admixture than can be detected in the tribes on the coast.[695] Hence it is natural to enquire whether the ritual of the _Nanga_ may not have been imported into Fiji by Melanesian immigrants from the west. The question appears to be answered in the affirmative by native tradition. "This is the word of our fathers concerning the _Nanga_," said an old Wainimala grey-beard to Mr. Fison. "Long, long ago their fathers were ignorant of it; but one day two strangers were found sitting in the _rara_ (public square), and they said they had come up from the sea to give them the _Nanga_. They were little men, and very dark-skinned, and one of them had his face and bust painted red, while the other was painted black. Whether these two were gods or men our fathers did not tell us, but it was they who taught our people the _Nanga_. This was in the old old times when our fathers were living in another land--not in this place, for we are strangers here. Our fathers fled hither from Navosa in a great war which arose among them, and when they came there was no _Nanga_ in the land. So they built one of their own after the fashion of that which they left behind them." "Here," says Mr. Basil Thomson, "we have the earliest tradition of missionary enterprise in the Pacific. I do not doubt that the two sooty-skinned little men were castaways driven eastward by one of those strong westerly gales that have been known to last for three weeks at a time. By Fijian custom the lives of all castaways were forfeit, but the pretence to supernatural powers would have saved men full of the religious rites of their Melanesian home, and would have assured them a hearing. The Wainimala tribes can name six generations since they settled in their present home, and therefore the introduction of the _Nanga_ cannot have been less than two centuries ago. During that time it has overspread one third of the large island." [Sidenote: The general licence associated with the ritual of the _Nanga_ may be a temporary revival of primitive communism.] A very remarkable feature in the _Nanga_ ritual consists in the temporary licence accorded to the sexes and the suspension of proprietary rites in general. What is the meaning of this curious and to the civilised mind revolting custom? Here again the most probable, though merely conjectural, answer is furnished by Mr. Fison. "We cannot for a moment believe," he says, "that it is a mere licentious outbreak, without an underlying meaning and purpose. It is part of a religious rite, and is supposed to be acceptable to the ancestors. But why should it be acceptable to them unless it were in accordance with their own practice in the far-away past? There may be another solution of this difficult problem, but I confess myself unable to find any other which will cover all the corroborating facts."[696] In other words, Mr. Fison supposes that in the sexual licence and suspension of the rights of private property which characterise these festivals we have a reminiscence of a time when women and property were held in common by the community, and the motive for temporarily resuscitating these obsolete customs was a wish to propitiate the ancestral spirits, who were thought to be gratified by witnessing a revival of that primitive communism which they themselves had practised in the flesh so long ago. Truly a religious revival of a remarkable kind! [Sidenote: Description of the _Nanga_ or sacred enclosure of stones.] To conclude this part of my subject I will briefly describe the construction of a _Nanga_ or sacred stone enclosure, as it used to exist in Fiji. At the present day only ruins of these structures are to be seen, but by an observation of the ruins and a comparison of the traditions which still survive among the natives on the subject it is possible to reconstruct one of them with a fair degree of exactness. A _Nanga_ has been described as an open-air temple, and the description is just. It consisted of a rough parallelogram enclosed by flat stones set upright and embedded endwise in the earth. The length of the enclosure thus formed was about one hundred feet and its breadth about fifty feet. The upright stones which form the outer walls are from eighteen inches to three feet high, but as they do not always touch they may be described as alignments rather than walls. The long walls or alignments run east and west, the short ones north and south; but the orientation is not very exact. At the eastern end are two pyramidal heaps of stones, about five feet high, with square sloping sides and flat tops. The narrow passage between them is the main entrance into the sacred enclosure. Internally the structure was divided into three separate enclosures or compartments by two cross-walls of stone running north and south. These compartments, taking them from east to west, were called respectively the Little Nanga, the Great Nanga, and the Sacred Nanga or Holy of Holies (_Nanga tambu-tambu_). The partition walls between them were built solid of stones, with battering sides, to a height of five feet, and in the middle of each there was an opening to allow the worshippers to pass from one compartment to another. Trees, such as the candlenut and the red-leaved dracaena, and odoriferous shrubs were planted round the enclosure; and outside of it, to the west of the Holy of Holies, was a bell-roofed hut called _Vale tambu_, the Sacred House or Temple. The sacred _kava_ bowl stood in the Holy of Holies.[697] It is said that when the two traditionary founders of the _Nanga_ in Fiji were about to erect the first structure of that name in their new home, the chief priest poured a libation of _kava_ to the ancestral gods, "and, calling upon those who died long, long ago by name, he prayed that the people of the tribe, both old and young, might live before them."[698] [Sidenote: Comparison of the _Nanga_ with the cromlechs and other megalithic monuments of Europe.] The sacred enclosures of stones which I have described have been compared to the alignments of stones at Carnac in Brittany and Merivale on Dartmoor, and it has been suggested that in the olden time these ancient European monuments may have witnessed religious rites like those which were till lately performed in the rude open-air temples of Fiji.[699] If there is any truth in the suggestion, which I mention for what it is worth, it would furnish another argument in favour of the view that our European cromlechs and other megalithic monuments were erected specially for the worship of the dead. The mortuary character of Stonehenge, for example, is at least suggested by the burial mounds which cluster thick around and within sight of it; about three hundred such tombs have been counted within a radius of three miles, while the rest of the country in the neighbourhood is comparatively free from them.[700] [Footnote 678: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 242 _sq._] [Footnote 679: Charles Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 86.] [Footnote 680: John Jackson's Narrative, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), pp. 475-477. The narrator, John Jackson, was an English seaman who resided alone among the Fijians for nearly two years and learned their language.] [Footnote 681: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 96.] [Footnote 682: _United States Exploring Expedition, Ethnology and Philology_, by H. Hale (Philadelphia, 1846), p. 65. Compare Capt. J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 248: "It would also seem that a belief in the resurrection of the body, in the exact condition in which it leaves the world, is one of the causes that induce, in many instances, a desire for death in the vigour of manhood, rather than in the decrepitude of old age"; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 183: "The heathen notion is, that, as they die, such will their condition be in another world; hence their desire to escape extreme infirmity."] [Footnote 683: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 94 _sq._ Compare Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 183-186; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_ (London, 1904), pp. xxv. _sq._] [Footnote 684: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 96. Compare Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 188 _sq._, 193 _sqq._, 200-202; Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ pp. xxv. _sq._] [Footnote 685: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 200.] [Footnote 686: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 189; Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ p. xvi.] [Footnote 687: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 189.] [Footnote 688: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 197.] [Footnote 689: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 100. Williams also says (_op. cit._ i. 167) that the proper time for performing the rite of circumcision was after the death of a chief, and he tells us that "many rude games attend it. Blindfolded youths strike at thin vessels of water hung from the branch of a tree. At Lakemba, the men arm themselves with branches of the cocoa-nut, and carry on a sham fight. At Ono, they wrestle. At Mbau, they fillip small stones from the end of a bamboo with sufficient force to make the person hit wince again. On Vanua Levu, there is a mock siege."] [Footnote 690: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 198.] [Footnote 691: Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) pp. 27 _sq._ On the other hand Mr. Basil Thomson's enquiries, made at a later date, did not confirm Mr. Fison's statement that the rite of circumcision was practised as a propitiation to recover a chief from sickness. "I was assured," he says, "on the contrary, that while offerings were certainly made in the _Nanga_ for the recovery of the sick, every youth was circumcised as a matter of routine, and that the rite was in no way connected with sacrifice for the sick" (Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 156 _sq._). However, Mr. Fison was a very careful and accurate enquirer, and his testimony is not to be lightly set aside.] [Footnote 692: Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) p. 26. Compare Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, p. 147: "The _Nanga_ was the 'bed' of the Ancestors, that is, the spot where their descendants might hold communion with them; the _Mbaki_ were the rites celebrated in the _Nanga_, whether of initiating the youths, or of presenting the first-fruits, or of recovering the sick, or of winning charms against wounds in battle."] [Footnote 693: Rev. Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ p. 27.] [Footnote 694: Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) pp. 14-26. The _Nanga_ and its rites have also been described by Mr. A. B. Joske ("The Nanga of Viti-levu," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, ii. (1889) pp. 254-266), and Mr. Basil Thomson (_The Fijians_, pp. 146-156). As to the interval between the initiatory ceremonies Mr. Fison tells us that it was normally two years, but he adds: "This period, however, is not necessarily restricted to two years. There are always a number of youths who are growing to the proper age, and the length of the interval depends upon the decision of the elders. Whenever they judge that there is a sufficient number of youths ready for admission, a _Nanga_ is appointed to be held; and thus the interval may be longer or shorter, according to the supply of novices" (_op. cit._ p. 19). According to Mr. Basil Thomson the rites were celebrated annually. Mr. Fison's evidence as to the gross license which prevailed between the sexes after the admission of the women to the sacred enclosure is confirmed by Mr. Basil Thomson, who says, amongst other things, that "a native of Mbau, who lived for some years near the _Nanga_, assured me that the visit of the women to the _Nanga_ resulted in temporary promiscuity; all tabus were defied, and relations who could not speak to one another by customary law committed incest" (_op. cit._ p. 154).] [Footnote 695: Rev. Lorimer Fison, "The Nanga, or Sacred Stone Enclosure, of Wainimala, Fiji," _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, xiv. (1885) pp. 14 _sqq._; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 147, 149.] [Footnote 696: Rev. Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ p. 30.] [Footnote 697: Rev. Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ pp. 15, 17, with Plate I.; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 147 _sq._ Mr. Fison had not seen a _Nanga_; his description is based on information received from natives. Mr. Basil Thomson visited several of these structures and found them so alike that one description would serve for all. He speaks of only two inner compartments, which he calls the Holy of Holies (_Nanga tambu-tambu_) and the Middle Nanga (_Loma ni Nanga_), but the latter name appears to imply a third compartment, which is explicitly mentioned and named by Mr. Fison. The bell-shaped hut or temple to the west of the sacred enclosure is not noticed by Mr. Thomson.] [Footnote 698: Rev. Lorimer Fison, _op. cit._ p. 17.] [Footnote 699: Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, p. 147.] [Footnote 700: As to these monuments see Sir John Lubbock (Lord Avebury), _Prehistoric Times_, Fifth Edition (London, 1890), p. 127.] LECTURE XX THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY AMONG THE NATIVES OF EASTERN MELANESIA (FIJI) (_concluded_) [Sidenote: Worship of ancestors in Fiji.] In the last lecture I described the rites of ancestor worship which in certain parts of Fiji used to be celebrated at the sacred enclosures of stones known as _Nangas_. But the worship of ancestral spirits was by no means confined to the comparatively small area in Fiji where such sacred enclosures were erected, nor were these open-air temples the only structures where the homage of the living was paid to the dead. On the contrary we are told by one who knew the Fijians in the old heathen days that among them "as soon as beloved parents expire, they take their place amongst the family gods. _Bures_, or temples, are erected to their memory, and offerings deposited either on their graves or on rudely constructed altars--mere stages, in the form of tables, the legs of which are driven into the ground, and the top of which is covered with pieces of native cloth. The construction of these altars is identical with that observed by Turner in Tanna, and only differs in its inferior finish from the altars formerly erected in Tahiti and the adjacent islands. The offerings, consisting of the choicest articles of food, are left exposed to wind and weather, and firmly believed by the mass of Fijians to be consumed by the spirits of departed friends and relations; but, if not eaten by animals, they are often stolen by the more enlightened class of their countrymen, and even some of the foreigners do not disdain occasionally to help themselves freely to them. However, it is not only on tombs or on altars that offerings are made; often, when the natives eat or drink anything, they throw portions of it away, stating them to be for their departed ancestors. I remember ordering a young chief to empty a bowl containing _kava_, which he did, muttering to himself, 'There, father, is some _kava_ for you. Protect me from illness or breaking any of my limbs whilst in the mountains.'"[701] [Sidenote: Fijian notion of divinity. Two classes of gods, namely, gods strictly so called, and deified men.] "The native word expressive of divinity is _kalou_, which, while used to denote the people's highest notion of a god, is also constantly heard as a qualificative of any thing great or marvellous, or, according to Hazlewood's Dictionary, 'anything superlative, whether good or bad.'... Often the word sinks into a mere exclamation, or becomes an expression of flattery. 'You are a _kalou_!' or, 'Your countrymen are gods!' is often uttered by the natives, when hearing of the triumphs of art among civilized nations."[702] The Fijians distinguished two classes of gods: first, _kalou vu_, literally "Root-gods," that is, gods strictly so called, and second, _kalou yalo_, literally, "Soul-gods," that is, deified mortals. Gods of the first class were supposed to be absolutely eternal; gods of the second class, though raised far above mere humanity, were thought nevertheless to be subject to human passions and wants, to accidents, and even to death. These latter were the spirits of departed chiefs, heroes, and friends; admission into their number was easy, and any one might secure his own apotheosis who could ensure the services of some one to act as his representative and priest after his death.[703] However, though the Fijians admitted the distinction between the two classes of gods in theory, they would seem to have confused them in practice. Thus we are informed by an early authority that "they have superior and inferior gods and goddesses, more general and local deities, and, were it not an obvious contradiction, we should say they have gods _human_, and gods _divine_; for they have some gods who were gods originally, and some who were originally men. It is impossible to ascertain with any degree of probability how many gods the Fijians have, as any man who can distinguish himself in murdering his fellow-men may certainly secure to himself deification after death. Their friends are also sometimes deified and invoked. I have heard them invoke their friends who have been drowned at sea. I need not advert to the absurdity of praying to those who could not save themselves from a watery grave. Tuikilakila, the chief of Somosomo, offered Mr. Hunt a preferment of this sort. 'If you die first,' said he, 'I shall make you my god.' In fact, there appears to be no certain line of demarcation between departed spirits and gods, nor between gods and living men, for many of the priests and old chiefs are considered as sacred persons, and not a few of them will also claim to themselves the right of divinity. 'I am a god,' Tuikilakila would sometimes say; and he believed it too. They were not merely the words of his lips; he believed he was something above a mere man."[704] Writers on Fiji have given us lists of some of the principal gods of the first class,[705] who were supposed never to have been men; but in their account of the religious ritual they do not distinguish between the worship which was paid to such deities and that which was paid to deified men. Accordingly we may infer that the ritual was practically the same, and in the sequel I shall assume that what is told us of the worship of gods in general holds good of the worship of deified men in particular. [Sidenote: The Fijian temple (_bure_).] Every Fijian town had at least one _bure_ or temple, many of them had several. Significantly enough the spot where a chief had been killed was sometimes chosen for the site of a temple. The structure of these edifices was somewhat peculiar. Each of them was built on the top of a mound, which was raised to the height of from three to twenty feet above the ground and faced on its sloping sides with dry rubble-work of stone. The ascent to the temple was by a thick plank, the upper surface of which was cut into notched steps. The proportions of the sacred edifice itself were inelegant, if not uncouth, its height being nearly twice as great as its breadth at the base. The roof was high-pitched; the ridge-pole was covered with white shells (_Ovula cypraea_) and projected three or four feet at each end. For the most part each temple had two doors and a fire-place in the centre. From some temples it was not lawful to throw out the ashes, however much they might accumulate, until the end of the year, which fell in November. The furniture consisted of a few boxes, mats, several large clay jars, and many drinking vessels. A temple might also contain images, which, though highly esteemed as ornaments and held sacred, were not worshipped as idols. From the roof depended a long piece of white bark-cloth; it was carried down the angle so as to hang before the corner-post and lie on the floor. This cloth formed the path down which the god was believed to pass in order to enter and inspire his priest. It marked the holy place which few but he dared to approach. However, the temples were by no means dedicated exclusively to the use of religion. Each of them served also as a council-chamber and town-hall; there the chiefs lounged for hours together; there strangers were entertained; and there the head persons of the village might even sleep.[706] In some parts of Viti Levu the dead were sometimes buried in the temples, "that the wind might not disturb, nor the rain fall upon them," and in order that the living might have the satisfaction of lying near their departed friends. A child of high rank having died under the charge of the queen of Somosomo, the little body was placed in a box and hung from the tie-beam of the principal temple. For some months afterwards the daintiest food was brought daily to the dead child, the bearers approaching with the utmost respect and clapping their hands when the ghost was thought to have finished his meal just as a chiefs retainers used to do when he had done eating.[707] [Sidenote: Worship at the temples.] Temples were often unoccupied for months and allowed to fall into ruins, until the chief had some request to make to the god, when the necessary repairs were first carried out. No regular worship was maintained, no habitual reverence was displayed at the shrines. The principle of fear, we are told, seemed to be the only motive of religious observances, and it was artfully fomented by the priests, through whom alone the people had access to the gods when they desired to supplicate the favour of the divine beings. The prayers were naturally accompanied by offerings, which in matters of importance comprised large quantities of food, together with whales' teeth; in lesser affairs a tooth, club, mat, or spear sufficed. Of the food brought by the worshippers part was dedicated to the god, but as usual he only ate the soul of it, the substance being consumed by the priest and old men; the remainder furnished a feast of which all might partake.[708] [Sidenote: The priests.] The office of priest (_mbete_, _bete_) was usually hereditary, but when a priest died without male heirs a cunning fellow, ambitious of enjoying the sacred character and of living in idleness, would sometimes simulate the convulsive frenzy, which passed for a symptom of inspiration, and if he succeeded in the imposture would be inducted into the vacant benefice. Every chief had his priest, with whom he usually lived on a very good footing, the two playing into each other's hands and working the oracle for their mutual benefit. The people were grossly superstitious, and there were few of their affairs in which the priest had not a hand. His influence over them was great. In his own district he passed for the representative of the deity; indeed, according to an early missionary, the natives seldom distinguished the idea of the god from that of his minister, who was viewed by them with a reverence that almost amounted to deification.[709] [Sidenote: Oracles given by the priest under the inspiration of the god. Paroxysm of inspiration.] The principal duty of the priest was to reveal to men the will of the god, and this he always did through the direct inspiration of the deity. The revelation was usually made in response to an enquiry or a prayer; the supplicant asked, it might be, for a good crop of yams or taro, for showers of rain, for protection in battle, for a safe voyage, or for a storm to drive canoes ashore, so that the supplicant might rob, murder, and eat the castaways. To lend force to one or other of these pious prayers the worshipper brought a whale's tooth to the temple and presented it to the priest. The man of god might have had word of his coming and time to throw himself into an appropriate attitude. He might, for example, be seen lying on the floor near the sacred corner, plunged in a profound meditation. On the entrance of the enquirer the priest would rouse himself so far as to get up and then seat himself with his back to the white cloth, down which the deity was expected to slide into the medium's body. Having received the whale's tooth he would abstract his mind from all worldly matters and contemplate the tooth for some time with rapt attention. Presently he began to tremble, his limbs twitched, his features were distorted. These symptoms, the visible manifestation of the entrance of the spirit into him, gradually increased in violence till his whole frame was convulsed and shook as with a strong fit of ague: his veins swelled: the circulation of the blood was quickened. The man was now possessed and inspired by the god: his own human personality was for a time in abeyance: all that he said and did in the paroxysm passed for the words and acts of the indwelling deity. Shrill cries of "_Koi au! Koi au!_" "It is I! It is I!" filled the air, proclaiming the actual presence of the powerful spirit in the vessel of flesh and blood. In giving the oracular response the priest's eyes protruded from their sockets and rolled as in a frenzy: his voice rose into a squeak: his face was pallid, his lips livid, his breathing depressed, his whole appearance that of a furious madman. At last sweat burst from every pore, tears gushed from his eyes: the strain on the organism was visibly relieved; and the symptoms gradually abated. Then he would look round with a vacant stare: the god within him would cry, "I depart!" and the man would announce the departure of the spirit by throwing himself on his mat or striking the ground with his club, while blasts on a shell-trumpet conveyed to those at a distance the tidings that the deity had withdrawn from mortal sight into the world invisible.[710] "I have seen," says Mr. Lorimer Fison, "this possession, and a horrible sight it is. In one case, after the fit was over, for some time the man's muscles and nerves twitched and quivered in an extraordinary way. He was naked except for his breech-clout, and on his naked breast little snakes seemed to be wriggling for a moment or two beneath his skin, disappearing and then suddenly reappearing in another part of his chest. When the _mbete_ (which we may translate 'priest' for want of a better word) is seized by the possession, the god within him calls out his own name in a stridulous tone, 'It is I! Katouviere!' or some other name. At the next possession some other ancestor may declare himself."[711] [Sidenote: Specimens of the oracular utterances of Fijian gods.] From this last description of an eye-witness we learn that the spirit which possessed a priest and spoke through him was often believed to be that of a dead ancestor. Some of the inspired utterances of these prophets have been recorded. Here are specimens of Fijian inspiration. Speaking in the name of the great god Ndengei, who was worshipped in the form of a serpent, the priest said: "Great Fiji is my small club. Muaimbila is the head; Kamba is the handle. If I step on Muaimbila, I shall sink it into the sea, whilst Kamba shall rise to the sky. If I step on Kamba, it will be lost in the sea, whilst Muaimbila would rise into the skies. Yes, Viti Levu is my small war-club. I can turn it as I please. I can turn it upside down." Again, speaking by the mouth of a priest, the god Tanggirianima once made the following observations: "I and Kumbunavannua only are gods. I preside over wars, and do as I please with sickness. But it is difficult for me to come here, as the foreign god fills the place. If I attempt to descend by that pillar, I find it pre-occupied by the foreign god. If I try another pillar, I find it the same. However, we two are fighting the foreign god; and if we are victorious, we will save the woman. I _will_ save the woman. She will eat food to-day. Had I been sent for yesterday, she would have eaten then," and so on. The woman, about whose case the deity was consulted and whom he announced his fixed intention of saving, died a few hours afterwards.[712] [Sidenote: Human sacrifices in Fiji.] Ferocious and inveterate cannibals themselves, the Fijians naturally assumed that their gods were so too; hence human flesh was a common offering, indeed the most valued of all.[713] Formal human sacrifices were frequent. The victims were usually taken from a distant tribe, and when war and violence failed to supply the demand, recourse was sometimes had to negotiation. However obtained, the victims destined for sacrifice were often kept for a time and fattened to make them better eating. Then, tightly bound in a sitting posture, they were placed on hot stones in one of the usual ovens, and being covered over with leaves and earth were roasted alive, while the spectators roared with laughter at the writhings and contortions of the victims in their agony. When their struggles ceased and the bodies were judged to be done to a nicety, they were raked out of the oven, their faces painted black, and so carried to the temple, where they were presented to the gods, only, however, to be afterwards removed, cut up, and devoured by the people.[714] [Sidenote: Human sacrifices offered when a king's house was built or a great new canoe launched.] However, roasting alive in ovens was not the only way in which men and women were made away with in the service of religion. When a king's house was built, men were buried alive in the holes dug to receive the posts: they were compelled to clasp the posts in their arms, and then the earth was shovelled over them and rammed down. And when a large new canoe was launched, it was hauled down to the sea over the bodies of living men, who were pinioned and laid out at intervals on the beach to serve as rollers on which the great vessel glided smoothly into the water, leaving a row of mangled corpses behind. The theory of both these modes of sacrifice was explained by the Fijians to an Englishman who witnessed them. I will quote their explanation in his words. "They said in answer to the questions I put respecting the people being buried alive with the posts, that a house or palace of a king was just like a king's canoe: if the canoe was not hauled over men, as rollers, she would not be expected to float long, and in like manner the palace could not stand long if people were not to sit down and continually hold the posts up. But I said, 'How could they hold the posts up after they were dead?' They said, if they sacrificed their lives endeavouring to hold the posts in their right position to their superior's _turanga kai na kalou_ (chiefs and god), that the virtue of the sacrifice would instigate the gods to uphold the house after they were dead, and that they were honoured by being considered adequate to such a noble task."[715] Apparently the Fijians imagined that the souls of the dead men would somehow strengthen the souls of the houses and canoes and so prolong the lives of these useful objects; for it is to be remembered that according to Fijian theology houses and canoes as well as men and women were provided with immortal souls. [Sidenote: High estimation in which murder was held by the Fijians.] Perhaps the same theory of immortality partially accounts for the high honour in which the Fijian held the act of murder and for the admiration which he bestowed on all murderers. "Shedding of blood," we are told, "to him is no crime, but a glory. Whoever may be the victim,--whether noble or vulgar, old or young, man, woman, or child,--whether slain in war, or butchered by treachery,--to be somehow an acknowledged murderer is the object of the Fijian's restless ambition."[716] It was customary throughout Fiji to give honorary names to such as had clubbed to death a human being, of any age or either sex, during a war. The new epithet was given with the complimentary prefix _Koroi_. Mr. Williams once asked a man why he was called _Koroi_. "Because," he replied, "I, with several other men, found some women and children in a cave, drew them out and clubbed them, and then was consecrated."[717] Mr. Fison learned from another stout young warrior that he had earned the honourable distinction of _Koroi_ by lying in wait among the mangrove bushes at the waterside and killing a miserable old woman of a hostile tribe, as she crept along the mudflat seeking for shellfish. The man would have been equally honoured, adds Mr. Fison, if his victim had been a child. The hero of such an exploit, for two or three days after killing his man or woman, was allowed to besmear his face and bust with a mixture of lampblack and oil which differed from the common black war-paint; decorated with this badge of honour he strutted proudly through the town, the cynosure of all eyes, an object of envy to his fellows and of tender interest to the girls. The old men shouted approval after him, the women would _lulilu_ admiringly as he passed by, and the boys looked up to him as a superior being whose noble deeds they thirsted to emulate. Higher titles of honour still were bestowed on such as had slain their ten, or twenty, or thirty; and Mr. Fison tells us of a chief whose admiring countrymen had to compound all these titles into one in order to set forth his superlative claims to glory. A man who had never killed anybody was of very little account in this life, and he received the penalty due to his sin in the life hereafter. For in the spirit land the ghost of such a poor-spirited wretch was sentenced to what the Fijians regarded as the most degrading of all punishments, to beat a heap of muck with his bloodless club.[718] [Sidenote: Ceremony of consecrating a manslayer. The temporary restrictions laid on a manslayer were probably dictated by a fear of his victim's ghost.] The ceremony of consecrating a manslayer was elaborate. He was anointed with red oil from the hair of his head to the soles of his feet; and when he had been thus incarnadined he exchanged clubs with the spectators, who believed that their weapons acquired a mysterious virtue by passing through his holy hands. Afterwards the anointed one, attended by the king and elders, solemnly stalked down to the sea and wetted the soles of his feet in the water. Then the whole company returned to the town, while the shell-trumpets sounded and the men raised a peculiar hoot. Custom required that a hut should be built in which the anointed man and his companions must pass the next three nights, during which the hero might not lie down, but had to sleep as he sat; all that time he might not change his bark-cloth garment, nor wash the red paint away from his body, nor enter a house in which there was a woman.[719] The reason for observing these curious restrictions is not mentioned, but in the light of similar practices, some of which have been noticed in these lectures,[720] we may conjecture that they were dictated by a fear of the victim's ghost, who among savages generally haunts his slayer and will do him a mischief, if he gets a chance. As it is especially in dreams that the naturally incensed spirit finds his opportunity, we can perhaps understand why the slayer might not lie down for the first three nights after the slaughter; the wrath of the ghost would then be at its hottest, and if he spied his murderer stretched in slumber on the ground, the temptation to take an unfair advantage of him might have been too strong to be resisted. But when his anger had had time to cool down or he had departed for his long home, as ghosts generally do after a reasonable time, the precautions taken to baffle his vengeance might be safely relaxed. Perhaps, as I have already hinted, the reverence which the Fijians felt for any man who had taken a human life, or at all events the life of an enemy, may have partly sprung from a belief that the slayer increased his own strength and valour either by subjugating the ghost of his victim and employing it as his henchman, or perhaps rather by simply absorbing in some occult fashion the vital energy of the slain. This view is confirmed by the permission given to the killer to assume the name of the killed, whenever his victim was a man of distinguished rank;[721] for by taking the name he, according to an opinion common among savages, assumed the personality of his namesake. [Sidenote: Other funeral customs based on a fear of the ghost.] The same fear of the ghost of the recently departed which manifested itself, if my interpretation of the customs is right, in the treatment of manslayers, seems to have imprinted itself, though in a more attenuated form, on some of the practices observed by Fijian mourners after a natural, not a violent, death. [Sidenote: Persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food. Seclusion of grave-diggers.] Thus all the persons who had handled a corpse were forbidden to touch anything for some time afterwards; in particular they were strictly debarred from touching their food with their hands; their victuals were brought to them by others, and they were fed like infants by attendants or obliged to pick up their food with their mouths from the ground. The time during which this burdensome restriction lasted was different according to the rank of the deceased: in the case of great chiefs it lasted from two to ten months; in the case of a petty chief it did not exceed one month; and in the case of a common person a taboo of not more than four days sufficed. When a chief's principal wife did not follow him to the other world by being strangled or buried alive, she might not touch her own food with her hands for three months. When the mourners grew tired of being fed like infants or feeding themselves like dogs, they sent word to the head chief and he let them know that he would remove the taboo whenever they pleased. Accordingly they sent him presents of pigs and other provisions, which he shared among the people. Then the tabooed persons went into a stream and washed themselves; after that they caught some animal, such as a pig or a turtle, and wiped their hands on it, and the animal thereupon became sacred to the chief. Thus the taboo was removed, and the men were free once more to work, to feed themselves, and to live with their wives. Lazy and idle fellows willingly undertook the duty of waiting on the dead, as it relieved them for some time from the painful necessity of earning their own bread.[722] The reason why such persons might not touch food with their hands was probably a fear of the ghost or at all events of the infection of death; the ghost or the infection might be clinging to their hands and might so be transferred from them to their food with fatal effects. In Great Fiji not every one might dig a chief's grave. The office was hereditary in a certain clan. After the funeral the grave-digger was shut up in a house and painted black from head to foot. When he had to make a short excursion, he covered himself with a large mantle of painted native cloth and was supposed to be invisible. His food was brought to the house after dark by silent bearers, who placed it just within the doorway. His seclusion might last for a long time;[723] it was probably intended to screen him from the ghost. [Sidenote: Hair cropped and finger-joints cut off in mourning.] The usual outward sign of mourning was to crop the hair or beard, or very rarely both. Some people merely made bald the crown of the head. Indeed the Fijians were too vain of their hair to part with it lightly, and to conceal the loss which custom demanded of them on these occasions they used to wear wigs, some of which were very skilfully made. The practice of cutting off finger-joints in mourning has already been mentioned; one early authority affirms and another denies that joints of the little toes were similarly amputated by the living as a mark of sorrow for the dead. So common was the practice of lopping off the little fingers in mourning that till recently few of the older natives could be found who had their hands intact; most of them indeed had lost the little fingers of both hands. There was a Fijian saying that the fourth finger "cried itself hoarse in vain for its absent mate" (_droga-droga-wale_). The mutilation was usually confined to the relations of the deceased, unless he happened to be one of the highest chiefs. However, the severed joints were often sent by poor people to wealthy families in mourning, who never failed to reward the senders for so delicate a mark of sympathy. Female mourners burned their skin into blisters by applying lighted rolls of bark-cloth to various parts of their bodies; the brands so produced might be seen on their arms, shoulders, necks, and breasts.[724] During the mourning for a king people fasted till evening for ten or twenty days; the coast for miles was tabooed and no one might fish there; the nuts also were made sacred. Some people in token of grief for a bereavement would abstain from fish, fruit, or other pleasant food for months together; others would dress in leaves instead of in cloth.[725] [Sidenote: Men whipped by women in time of mourning for a chief.] Though the motive for these observances is not mentioned, we may suppose that they were intended to soothe and please the ghost by testifying to the sorrow felt by the survivors at his decease. It is more doubtful whether the same explanation would apply to another custom which the Fijians used to observe in mourning. During ten days after a death, while the soul of a deceased chief was thought to be still lingering in or near his body, all the women of the town provided themselves with long whips, knotted with shells, and applied them with great vigour to the bodies of the men, raising weals and inflicting bloody wounds, while the men retorted by flirting pellets of clay from splinters of bamboo.[726] According to Mr. Williams, this ceremony was performed on the tenth day or earlier, and he adds: "I have seen grave personages, not accustomed to move quickly, flying with all possible speed before a company of such women. Sometimes the men retaliate by bespattering their assailants with mud; but they use no violence, as it seems to be a day on which they are bound to succumb."[727] As the soul of the dead was believed to quit his body and depart to his destined abode on the tenth day after death,[728] the scourging of the men by the women was probably supposed in some way to speed the parting guest on his long journey. [Sidenote: The dead taken out of the house by a special opening made in a wall. Examples of the custom among Aryan peoples.] When a certain king of Fiji died, the side of the house was broken down to allow the body to be carried out, though there were doorways wide enough for the purpose close at hand. The missionary who records the fact could not learn the reason of it.[729] The custom of taking the dead out of the house by a special opening, which is afterwards closed up, has not been confined to Fiji; on the contrary it has been practised by a multitude of peoples, savage, barbarous, and civilised, in many parts of the world. For example, it was an old Norse rule that a corpse might not be carried out of the house by the door which was used by the living; hence a hole was made in the wall at the back of the dead man's head and he was taken out through it backwards, or a hole was dug in the ground under the south wall and the body was drawn out through it.[730] The custom may have been at one time common to all the Aryan or Indo-european peoples, for it is mentioned in other of their ancient records and has been observed by widely separated branches of that great family down to modern times. Thus, the Zend-Avesta prescribes that, when a death has occurred, a breach shall be made in the wall and the corpse carried out through it by two men, who have first stripped off their clothes.[731] In Russia "the corpse was often carried out of the house through a window, or through a hole made for the purpose, and the custom is still kept up in many parts."[732] Speaking of the Hindoos a French traveller of the eighteenth century says that "instead of carrying the corpse out by the door they make an opening in the wall by which they pass it out in a seated posture, and the hole is closed up after the ceremony."[733] Among various Hindoo castes it is still customary, when a death has occurred on an inauspicious day, to remove the corpse from the house not through the door, but through a temporary hole made in the wall.[734] Old German law required that the corpses of criminals and suicides should be carried out through a hole under the threshold.[735] In the Highlands of Scotland the bodies of suicides were not taken out of the house for burial by the doors, but through an opening made between the wall and the thatch.[736] [Sidenote: Examples of the custom among non-Aryan peoples.] But widespread as such customs have been among Indo-european peoples, they have been by no means confined to that branch of the human race. It was an ancient Chinese practice to knock down part of the wall of a house for the purpose of carrying out a corpse.[737] Some of the Canadian Indians would never take a corpse out of the hut by the ordinary door, but always lifted a piece of the bark wall near which the dead man lay and then drew him through the opening.[738] Among the Esquimaux of Bering Strait a corpse is usually raised through the smoke-hole in the roof, but is never taken out by the doorway. Should the smoke-hole be too small, an opening is made in the rear of the house and then closed again.[739] When a Greenlander dies, "they do not carry out the corpse through the entry of the house, but lift it through the window, or if he dies in a tent, they unfasten one of the skins behind, and convey it out that way. A woman behind waves a lighted chip backward and forward, and says: 'There is nothing more to be had here.'"[740] Similarly the Hottentots, Bechuanas, Basutos, Marotse, Barongo, and many other tribes of South and West Africa never carry a corpse out by the door of the hut but always by a special opening made in the wall.[741] A similar custom is observed by the maritime Gajos of Sumatra[742] and by some of the Indian tribes of North-west America, such as the Tlingit and the Haida.[743] Among the Lepchis of Sikhim, whose houses are raised on piles, the dead are taken out by a hole made in the floor.[744] Dwellers in tents who practise this custom remove a corpse from the tent, not by the door, but through an opening made by lifting up an edge of the tent-cover: this is done by European gypsies[745] and by the Koryak of north-eastern Asia.[746] [Sidenote: The motive of the custom is a desire to prevent the ghost from returning to the house.] In all such customs the original motive probably was a fear of the ghost and a wish to exclude him from the house, lest he should return and carry off the survivors with him to the spirit land. Ghosts are commonly credited with a low degree of intelligence, and it appears to be supposed that they can only find their way back to a house by the aperture through which their bodies were carried out. Hence people made a practice of taking a corpse out not by the door, but through an opening specially made for the purpose, which was afterwards blocked up, so that when the ghost returned from the grave and attempted to enter the house, he found the orifice closed and was obliged to turn away disappointed. That this was the train of reasoning actually followed by some peoples may be gathered from the explanations which they themselves give of the custom. Thus among the Tuski of Alaska "those who die a natural death are carried out through a hole cut in the back of the hut or _yaráng_. This is immediately closed up, that the spirit of the dead man may not find his way back."[747] Among the Esquimaux of Hudson Bay "the nearest relatives on approach of death remove the invalid to the outside of the house, for if he should die within he must not be carried out of the door but through a hole cut in the side wall, and it must then be carefully closed to prevent the spirit of the person from returning."[748] Again, "when a Siamese is dead, his relations deposit the body in a coffin well covered. They do not pass it through the door but let it down into the street by an opening which they make in the wall. They also carry it thrice round the house, running at the top of their speed. They believe that if they did not take this precaution, the dead man would remember the way by which he had passed, and that he would return by night to do some ill turn to his family."[749] In Travancore the body of a dead rajah "is taken out of the palace through a breach in the wall, made for the purpose, to avoid pollution of the gate, and afterwards built up again so that the departed spirit may not return through the gate to trouble the survivors."[750] Among the Kayans of Borneo, whose dwellings are raised on piles above the ground, the coffin is conveyed out of the house by lowering it with rattans either through the floor, planks being taken up for the purpose, or under the eaves at the side of the gallery. "In this way they avoid carrying it down the house-ladder; and it seems to be felt that this precaution renders it more difficult for the ghost to find its way back to the house."[751] Among the Cheremiss of Russia, "old custom required that the corpse should not be carried out by the door but through a breach in the north wall, where there is usually a sash-window. But the custom has long been obsolete, even among the heathen, and only very old people speak of it. They explain it as follows: to carry it out by the door would be to shew the _Asyrèn_ (the dead man) the right way into the house, whereas a breach in the wooden wall is immediately closed by replacing the beams in position, and thus the _Asyrèn_ would in vain seek for an entrance."[752] The Samoyeds never carry a corpse out of the hut by the door, but lift up a piece of the reindeer-skin covering and draw the body out, head foremost, through the opening. They think that if they were to carry a corpse out by the door, the ghost would soon return and fetch away other members of the family.[753] On the same principle, as soon as the Indians of Tumupasa, in north-west Bolivia, have carried a corpse out of the house, "they shift the door to the opposite side, in order that the deceased may not be able to find it."[754] Once more, in Mecklenburg "it is a law regulating the return of the dead that they are compelled to return by the same way by which the corpse was removed from the house. In the villages of Picher, Bresegard, and others the people used to have movable thresholds at the house-doors, which, being fitted into the door-posts, could be shoved up. The corpse was then carried out of the house under the threshold, and therefore could not return over it."[755] [Sidenote: Some people only remove in this manner the bodies of persons whose ghosts are especially feared.] Even without such express testimonies to the meaning of the custom we may infer from a variety of evidence that the real motive for practising it is a fear of the ghost and a wish to prevent his return. For it is to be observed that some peoples do not carry out all their dead by a special opening, but that they accord this peculiar mode of removal only to persons who die under unlucky or disgraceful circumstances, and whose ghosts accordingly are more than usually dreaded. Thus we have seen that some modern Hindoo castes observe the custom only in the case of people who have died on inauspicious days; and that in Germany and the Highlands of Scotland this mode of removal was specially reserved for the bodies of suicides, whose ghosts are exceedingly feared by many people, as appears from the stringent precautions taken against them.[756] Again, among the Kavirondo of Central Africa, "when a woman dies without having borne a child, she is carried out of the back of the house. A hole is made in the wall and the corpse is ignominiously pushed through the hole and carried some distance to be buried, as it is considered a curse to die without a child. If the woman has given birth to a child, then her corpse is carried out through the front door and buried in the verandah of the house."[757] In Brittany a stillborn child is removed from the house, not by the door, but by the window; "for if by ill-luck it should chance otherwise, the mothers who should pass through that fatal door would bear nothing but stillborn infants."[758] In Perche, another province of France, the same rule is observed with regard to stillborn children, though the reason for it is not alleged.[759] But of all ghosts none perhaps inspire such deep and universal terror as the ghosts of women who have died in childbed, and extraordinary measures are accordingly taken to disable these dangerous spirits from returning and doing a mischief to the living.[760] Amongst the precautions adopted to keep them at bay is the custom of carrying their corpses out of the house by a special opening, which is afterwards blocked up. Thus in Laos, a province of Siam, "the bodies of women dying in childbirth, or within a month afterwards, are not even taken out of the house in the ordinary way by the door, but are let down through the floor."[761] The Kachins of Burma stand in such fear of the ghosts of women dying in childbed that no sooner has such a death occurred than the husband, the children, and almost all the people in the house take to flight lest the woman's ghost should bite them. "The body of the deceased must be burned as soon as possible in order to punish her for dying such a death, and also in order to frighten her ghost (_minla_). They bandage her eyes with her own hair and with leaves to prevent her from seeing anything; they wrap her in a mat, and they carry her out of the house, not by the ordinary door, but by an opening made for the purpose in the wall or the floor of the room where she breathed her last. Then they convey her to a deep ravine, where no one dares to pass; they lay her in the midst of a great pyre with all the clothes, jewellery, and other objects which belonged to her and of which she made use; and they burn the whole to cinders, to which they refuse the rites of sepulture. Thus they destroy all the property of the unfortunate woman, in order that her soul may not think of coming to fetch it afterwards and to bite people in the attempt."[762] Similarly among the Kayans or Bahaus of Central Borneo "the corpses of women dying in childbed excite a special horror; no man and no young woman may touch them; they are not carried out of the house through the front gallery, but are thrown out of the back wall of the dwelling, some boards having been removed for the purpose."[763] Indeed so great is the alarm felt by the Kayans at a miscarriage of this sort that when a woman labours hard in childbed, the news quickly spreads through the large communal house in which the people dwell; and if the attendants begin to fear a fatal issue, the whole household is thrown into consternation. All the men, from the chief down to the boys, will flee from the house, or, if it is night, they will clamber up among the beams of the roof and there hide in terror; and, if the worst happens, they remain there until the woman's corpse has been removed from the house for burial.[764] [Sidenote: Sometimes the custom is observed when the original motive for it is forgotten.] Sometimes, while the custom continues to be practised, the idea which gave rise to it has either become obscured or has been incorrectly reported. Thus we are told that when a death has taken place among the Indians of North-west America "the body is at once taken out of the house through an opening in the wall from which the boards have been removed. It is believed that his ghost would kill every one if the body were to stay in the house."[765] Such a belief, while it would furnish an excellent reason for hurrying the corpse out of the house as soon as possible, does not explain why it should be carried out through a special opening instead of through the door. Again, when a Queen of Bali died, "the body was drawn out of a large aperture made in the wall to the right-hand side of the door, in the absurd opinion of _cheating the devil_, whom these islanders believe to lie in wait in the ordinary passage."[766] Again, in Mukden, the capital of Manchuria, the corpses of children "must not be carried out of a door or window, but through a new or disused opening, in order that the evil spirit which causes the disease may not enter. The belief is that the Heavenly Dog which eats the sun at an eclipse demands the bodies of children, and that if they are denied to him he will bring certain calamity on the household."[767] These explanations of the custom are probably misinterpretations adopted at a later time when its original meaning was forgotten. For a custom often outlives the memory of the motives which gave it birth. And as royalty is very conservative of ancient usages, it would be no matter for surprise if the corpses of kings should continue to be carried out through special openings long after the bodies of commoners were allowed to be conveyed in commonplace fashion through the ordinary door. In point of fact we find the old custom observed by kings in countries where it has apparently ceased to be observed by their subjects. Thus among the Sakalava and Antimerina of Madagascar, "when a sovereign or a prince of the royal family dies within the enclosure of the king's palace, the corpse must be carried out of the palace, not by the door, but by a breach made for the purpose in the wall; the new sovereign could not pass through the door that had been polluted by the passage of a dead body."[768] Similarly among the Macassars and Buginese of Southern Celebes there is in the king's palace a window reaching to the floor through which on his decease the king's body is carried out.[769] That such a custom is only a limitation to kings of a rule which once applied to everybody becomes all the more probable, when we learn that in the island of Saleijer, which lies to the south of Celebes, each house has, besides its ordinary windows, a large window in the form of a door, through which, and not through the ordinary entrance, every corpse is regularly removed at death.[770] [Sidenote: Another Fijian funeral custom.] To return from this digression to Fiji, we may conclude with a fair degree of probability that when the side of a Fijian king's house was broken down to allow his corpse to be carried out, though there were doors at hand wide enough for the purpose, the original intention was to prevent the return of his ghost, who might have proved a very unwelcome intruder to his successor on the throne. But I cannot offer any explanation of another Fijian funeral custom. You may remember that in Fiji it was customary after the death of a chief to circumcise such lads as had reached a suitable age.[771] Well, on the fifth day after a chief's death a hole used to be dug under the floor of a temple and one of the newly circumcised lads was secreted in it. Then his companions fastened the doors of the temple securely and ran away. When the lad hidden in the hole blew on a shell-trumpet, the friends of the deceased chief surrounded the temple and thrust their spears at him through the fence.[772] What the exact significance of this curious rite may have been, I cannot even conjecture; but we may assume that it had something to do with the state of the late chief's soul, which was probably supposed to be lingering in the neighbourhood. [Sidenote: Fijian notions concerning the other world and the way thither. The River of the Souls.] It remains to say a little as to the notions which the Fijians entertained of the other world and the way thither. After death the souls of the departed were believed to set out for Bulu or Bulotu, there to dwell with the great serpent-shaped god Ndengei. His abode seems to have been generally placed in the Nakauvandra mountains, towards the western end of Viti Levu, the largest of the Fijian Islands. But on this subject the ideas of the people were, as might be expected, both vague and inconsistent. Each tribe filled in the details of the mythical land and the mythical journey to suit its own geographical position. The souls had generally to cross water, either the sea or a river, and they were put across it by a ghostly ferryman, who treated the passengers with scant courtesy.[773] According to some people, the River of the Souls (_Waini-yalo_) is what mortals now call the Ndravo River. When the ghosts arrived on the bank, they hailed the ferryman and he paddled his canoe over to receive them. But before he would take them on board they had to state whether they proposed to ship as steerage or as cabin passengers, and he gave them their berths accordingly; for there was no mixing up of the classes in the ferry-boat; the ghosts of chiefs kept strictly to themselves at one end of the canoe, and the ghosts of commoners huddled together at the other end.[774] The natives of Kandavu, in Southern Fiji, say that on clear days they often see Bulotu, the spirit land, lying away across the sea with the sun shining sweetly on it; but they have long ago given up all hope of making their way to that happy land.[775] They seem to say with the Demon Lover, "O yonder are the hills of heaven Where you will never win." [Sidenote: The place of embarcation for the ghosts.] Though every island and almost every town had its own portal through which the spirits passed on their long journey to the far country, yet there was one called Nai Thombothombo, which appears to have been more popular and frequented than any of the others as a place of embarcation for ghosts. It is at the northern point of Mbua Bay, and the ghosts shew their good taste in choosing it as their port to sail from, for really it is a beautiful spot. The foreland juts out between two bays. A shelving beach slopes up to precipitous cliffs, their rocky face mantled with a thick green veil of creepers. Further inland the shade of tall forest trees and the softened gloom cast by crags and rocks lend to the scene an air of solemnity and hallowed repose well fitted to impress the susceptible native mind with an awful sense of the invisible beings that haunt these sacred groves. Natives have been known to come on pilgrimage to the spot expecting to meet ghosts and gods face to face.[776] [Sidenote: The ghost and the pandanus tree.] Many are the perils and dangers that beset the Path of the Souls (_Sala Ni Yalo_). Of these one of the most celebrated is a certain pandanus tree, at which every ghost must throw the ghost of the real whale's tooth which was placed for the purpose in his hand at burial. If he hits the tree, it is well for him; for it shews that his friends at home are strangling his wives, and accordingly he sits down contentedly to wait for the ghosts of his helpmeets, who will soon come hurrying to him. But if he makes a bad shot and misses the tree, the poor ghost is very disconsolate, for he knows that his wives are not being strangled, and who then will cook for him in the spirit land? It is a bitter thought, and he reflects with sorrow and anger on the ingratitude of men and especially of women. His reflections, as reported by the best authority, run thus: "How is this? For a long time I planted food for my wife, and it was also of great use to her friends: why then is she not allowed to follow me? Do my friends love me no better than this, after so many years of toil? Will no one, in love to me, strangle my wife?"[777] [Sidenote: Hard fate of unmarried ghosts.] But if the lot of a married ghost, whose wives have not been murdered, is hard, it is nevertheless felicity itself compared to the fate of bachelor ghosts. In the first place there is a terrible being called the Great Woman, who lurks in a shady defile, ready to pounce out on him; and if he escapes her clutches it is only to fall in with a much worse monster, of the name of Nangganangga, from whom there is, humanly speaking, no escape. This ferocious goblin lays himself out to catch the souls of bachelors, and so vigilant and alert is he that not a single unmarried Fijian ghost is known to have ever reached the mansions of the blest. He sits beside a big black stone at high-water mark waiting for his prey. The bachelor ghosts are aware that it would be useless to attempt to march past him when the tide is in; so they wait till it is low water and then try to sneak past him on the wet sand left by the retiring billows. Vain hope! Nangganangga, sitting by the stone, only smiles grimly and asks, with withering sarcasm, whether they imagine that the tide will never flow again? It does so only too soon for the poor ghosts, driving them with every breaking wave nearer and nearer to their implacable enemy, till the water laps on the fatal stone, and then he grips the shivering souls and dashes them to pieces on the big black block.[778] [Sidenote: The Killer of Souls.] Again, there is a very terrible giant armed with a great axe, who lies in wait for all and sundry. He makes no nice distinction between the married and the unmarried, but strikes out at all ghosts indiscriminately. Those whom he wounds dare not present themselves in their damaged state to the great God Ndengei; so they never reach the happy fields, but are doomed to roam the rugged mountains disconsolate. However, many ghosts contrive to slip past him unscathed. It is said that after the introduction of fire-arms into the islands the ghost of a certain chief made very good use of a musket which had been providentially buried with his body. When the giant drew near and was about to lunge out with the axe in his usual style, the ghost discharged the blunderbuss in his face, and while the giant was fully engaged in dodging the hail of bullets, the chief rushed past him and now enjoys celestial happiness.[779] Some lay the scene of this encounter a little beyond the town of Nambanaggatai; for it is to be remembered that many of the places in the Path of the Souls were identified with real places in the Fijian Islands. And the name of the giant is Samu-yalo, that is, the Killer of Souls. He artfully conceals himself in some mangrove bushes just beyond the town, from which he rushes out in the nick of time to fell the passing ghosts. Whenever he kills a ghost, he cooks and eats him and that is the end of the poor ghost. It is the second death. The highway to the Elysian fields runs, or used to run, right through the town of Nambanaggatai; so all the doorways of the houses were placed opposite each other to allow free and uninterrupted passage to the invisible travellers. And the inhabitants spoke to each other in low tones and communicated at a little distance by signs. The screech of a paroquet in the woods was the signal of the approach of a ghost or ghosts; the number of screeches was proportioned to the number of the ghosts,--one screech, one ghost, and so on.[780] [Sidenote: A trap for unwary ghosts.] Souls who escape the Killer of Souls pass on till they come to Naindelinde, one of the highest peaks of the Kauvandra mountains. Here the path ends abruptly on the brink of a precipice, the foot of which is washed by a deep lake. Over the edge of the precipice projects a large steer-oar, and the handle is held either by the great god Ndengei himself or, according to the better opinion, by his deputy. When a ghost comes up and peers ruefully over the precipice, the deputy accosts him. "Under what circumstances," he asks, "do you come to us? How did you conduct yourself in the other world?" Should the ghost be a man of rank, he may say, "I am a great chief. I lived as a chief, and my conduct was that of a chief. I had great wealth, many wives, and ruled over a powerful people. I have destroyed many towns, and slain many in war." "Good, good," says the deputy, "just sit down on the blade of that oar, and refresh yourself in the cool breeze." If the ghost is unwary enough to accept the invitation, he has no sooner seated himself on the blade of the oar with his legs dangling over the abyss, than the deputy-deity tilts up the other end of the oar and precipitates him into the deep water, far far below. A loud smack is heard as the ghost collides with the water, there is a splash, a gurgle, a ripple, and all is over. The ghost has gone to his account in Murimuria, a very second-rate sort of heaven, if it is nothing worse. But a ghost who is in favour with the great god Ndengei is warned by him not to sit down on the blade of the oar but on the handle. The ghost takes the hint and seats himself firmly on the safe end of the oar; and when the deputy-deity tries to heave it up, he cannot, for he has no purchase. So the ghost remains master of the situation, and after an interval for refreshment is sent back to earth to be deified.[781] [Sidenote: Murimuria, an inferior sort of heaven. The Fijian Elysium.] In Murimuria, which, as I said, is an inferior sort of heaven, the departed souls by no means lead a life of pure and unmixed enjoyment. Some of them are punished for the sins they committed in the flesh. But the Fijian notion of sin differs widely from ours. Thus we saw that the ghosts of men who did no murder in their lives were punished for their negligence by having to pound muck with clubs. Again, people who had not their ears bored on earth are forced in Hades to go about for ever bearing on their shoulders one of the logs of wood on which bark-cloth is beaten out with mallets, and all who see the sinner bending under the load jeer at him. Again, women who were not tattooed in their life are chased by the female ghosts, who scratch and cut and tear them with sharp shells, giving them no respite; or they scrape the flesh from their bones and bake it into bread for the gods. And ghosts who have done anything to displease the gods are laid flat on their faces in rows and converted into taro beds. But the few who do find their way into the Fijian Elysium are blest indeed. There the sky is always cloudless; the groves are perfumed with delicious scents; the open glades in the forest are pleasant; there is abundance of all that heart can desire. Language fails to describe the ineffable bliss of the happy land. There the souls of the truly good, who have murdered many of their fellows on earth and fed on their roasted bodies, are lapped in joy for ever.[782] [Sidenote: Fijian doctrine of transmigration.] Nevertheless the souls of the dead were not universally believed to depart by the Spirit Path to the other world or to stay there for ever. To a certain extent the doctrines of transmigration found favour with the Fijians. Some of them held that the spirits of the dead wandered about the villages in various shapes and could make themselves visible or invisible at pleasure. The places which these vagrant souls loved to haunt were known to the people, who in passing by them were wont to make propitiatory offerings of food or cloth. For that reason, too, they were very loth to go abroad on a dark night lest they should come bolt upon a ghost. Further, it was generally believed that the soul of a celebrated chief might after death enter into some young man of the tribe and animate him to deeds of valour. Persons so distinguished were pointed out and regarded as highly favoured; great respect was paid to them, they enjoyed many personal privileges, and their opinions were treated with much consideration.[783] [Sidenote: Few souls saved under the old Fijian dispensation.] On the whole, when we survey the many perils which beset the way to the Fijian heaven, and the many risks which the souls of the dead ran of dying the second death in the other world or of being knocked on the head by the living in this, we shall probably agree with the missionary Mr. Williams in concluding that under the old Fijian dispensation there were few indeed that were saved. "Few, comparatively," he says, "are left to inhabit the regions of Mbulu, and the immortality even of these is sometimes disputed. The belief in a future state is universal in Fiji; but their superstitious notions often border upon transmigration, and sometimes teach an eventual annihilation."[784] * * * * * [Sidenote: Concluding observations.] Here I must break off my survey of the natural belief in immortality among mankind. At the outset I had expected to carry the survey further, but I have already exceeded the usual limits of these lectures and I must not trespass further on your patience. Yet the enquiry which I have opened seems worthy to be pursued, and if circumstances should admit of it, I shall hope at some future time to resume the broken thread of these researches and to follow it a little further through the labyrinth of human history. Be that as it may, I will now conclude with a few general observations suggested by the facts which I have laid before you. [Sidenote: Strength and universality of the natural belief in immortality among savages. Wars between savage tribes spring in large measure from their belief in immortality. Economic loss involved in sacrifices to the dead.] In the first place, then, it is impossible not to be struck by the strength, and perhaps we may say the universality, of the natural belief in immortality among the savage races of mankind. With them a life after death is not a matter of speculation and conjecture, of hope and fear; it is a practical certainty which the individual as little dreams of doubting as he doubts the reality of his conscious existence. He assumes it without enquiry and acts upon it without hesitation, as if it were one of the best-ascertained truths within the limits of human experience. The belief influences his attitude towards the higher powers, the conduct of his daily life, and his behaviour towards his fellows; more than that, it regulates to a great extent the relations of independent communities to each other. For the state of war, which normally exists between many, if not most, neighbouring savage tribes, springs in large measure directly from their belief in immortality; since one of the commonest motives for hostility is a desire to appease the angry ghosts of friends, who are supposed to have perished by the baleful arts of sorcerers in another tribe, and who, if vengeance is not inflicted on their real or imaginary murderers, will wreak their fury on their undutiful fellow-tribesmen. Thus the belief in immortality has not merely coloured the outlook of the individual upon the world; it has deeply affected the social and political relations of humanity in all ages; for the religious wars and persecutions, which distracted and devastated Europe for ages, were only the civilised equivalents of the battles and murders which the fear of ghosts has instigated amongst almost all races of savages of whom we possess a record. Regarded from this point of view, the faith in a life hereafter has been sown like dragons' teeth on the earth and has brought forth crop after crop of armed men, who have turned their swords against each other. And when we consider further the gratuitous and wasteful destruction of property as well as of life which is involved in sacrifices to the dead, we must admit that with all its advantages the belief in immortality has entailed heavy economical losses upon the races--and they are practically all the races of the world--who have indulged in this expensive luxury. It is not for me to estimate the extent and gravity of the consequences, moral, social, political, and economic, which flow directly from the belief in immortality. I can only point to some of them and commend them to the serious attention of historians and economists, as well as of moralists and theologians. [Sidenote: How does the savage belief in immortality bear on the question of the truth or falsehood of that belief in general? The answer depends to some extent on the view we take of human nature. The view of the grandeur and dignity of man.] My second observation concerns, not the practical consequences of the belief in immortality, but the question of its truth or falsehood. That, I need hardly say, is an even more difficult problem than the other, and as I intimated at the outset of the lectures I find myself wholly incompetent to solve it. Accordingly I have confined myself to the comparatively easy task of describing some of the forms of the belief and some of the customs to which it has given rise, without presuming to pass judgment upon them. I must leave it to others to place my collections of facts in the scales and to say whether they incline the balance for or against the truth of this momentous belief, which has been so potent for good or ill in history. In every enquiry much depends upon the point of view from which the enquirer approaches his subject; he will see it in different proportions and in different lights according to the angle and the distance from which he regards it. The subject under discussion in the present case is human nature itself; and as we all know, men have formed very different estimates of themselves and their species. On the one hand, there are those who love to dwell on the grandeur and dignity of man, and who swell with pride at the contemplation of the triumphs which his genius has achieved in the visionary world of imagination as well as in the realm of nature. Surely, they say, such a glorious creature was not born for mortality, to be snuffed out like a candle, to fade like a flower, to pass away like a breath. Is all that penetrating intellect, that creative fancy, that vaulting ambition, those noble passions, those far-reaching hopes, to come to nothing, to shrivel up into a pinch of dust? It is not so, it cannot be. Man is the flower of this wide world, the lord of creation, the crown and consummation of all things, and it is to wrong him and his creator to imagine that the grave is the end of all. To those who take this lofty view of human nature it is easy and obvious to find in the similar beliefs of savages a welcome confirmation of their own cherished faith, and to insist that a conviction so widely spread and so firmly held must be based on some principle, call it instinct or intuition or what you will, which is deeper than logic and cannot be confuted by reasoning. [Sidenote: The view of the pettiness and insignificance of man.] On the other hand, there are those who take a different view of human nature, and who find in its contemplation a source of humility rather than of pride. They remind us how weak, how ignorant, how short-lived is the individual, how infirm of purpose, how purblind of vision, how subject to pain and suffering, to diseases that torture the body and wreck the mind. They say that if the few short years of his life are not wasted in idleness and vice, they are spent for the most part in a perpetually recurring round of trivialities, in the satisfaction of merely animal wants, in eating, drinking, and slumber. When they survey the history of mankind as a whole, they find the record chequered and stained by folly and crime, by broken faith, insensate ambition, wanton aggression, injustice, cruelty, and lust, and seldom illumined by the mild radiance of wisdom and virtue. And when they turn their eyes from man himself to the place he occupies in the universe, how are they overwhelmed by a sense of his littleness and insignificance! They see the earth which he inhabits dwindle to a speck in the unimaginable infinities of space, and the brief span of his existence shrink into a moment in the inconceivable infinities of time. And they ask, Shall a creature so puny and frail claim to live for ever, to outlast not only the present starry system but every other that, when earth and sun and stars have crumbled into dust, shall be built upon their ruins in the long long hereafter? It is not so, it cannot be. The claim is nothing but the outcome of exaggerated self-esteem, of inflated vanity; it is the claim of a moth, shrivelled in the flame of a candle, to outlive the sun, the claim of a worm to survive the destruction of this terrestrial globe in which it burrows. Those who take this view of the pettiness and transitoriness of man compared with the vastness and permanence of the universe find little in the beliefs of savages to alter their opinion. They see in savage conceptions of the soul and its destiny nothing but a product of childish ignorance, the hallucinations of hysteria, the ravings of insanity, or the concoctions of deliberate fraud and imposture. They dismiss the whole of them as a pack of superstitions and lies, unworthy the serious attention of a rational mind; and they say that if such drivellings do not refute the belief in immortality, as indeed from the nature of things they cannot do, they are at least fitted to invest its high-flown pretensions with an air of ludicrous absurdity. [Sidenote: The conclusion left open.] Such are the two opposite views which I conceive may be taken of the savage testimony to the survival of our conscious personality after death. I do not presume to adopt the one or the other. It is enough for me to have laid a few of the facts before you. I leave you to draw your own conclusion. [Footnote 701: Berthold Seeman, _Viti, an Account of a Government Mission to the Vitian or Fijian Islands_ (Cambridge, 1862), pp. 391 _sq._] [Footnote 702: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 216.] [Footnote 703: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 216, 218 _sq._; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, p. 112.] [Footnote 704: Hazlewood, quoted by Capt. J. E. Erskine, _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), pp. 246 _sq._] [Footnote 705: Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 83 _sq._; Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 217 _sqq._] [Footnote 706: Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 49, 86, 351, 352; Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 221-223; B. Seeman, _Viti_, pp. 392-394.] [Footnote 707: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 191 _sq._] [Footnote 708: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 223, 231.] [Footnote 709: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 87; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 226, 227; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 157 _sqq._] [Footnote 710: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 87 _sq._; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 224 _sq._; Capt. J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 250; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_ (London, 1904), pp. 166 _sq._ As for the treatment of castaways, see J. E. Erskine, _op. cit._ p. 249; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 210. The latter writer mentions a recent case in which fourteen or sixteen shipwrecked persons were cooked and eaten.] [Footnote 711: The Rev. Lorimer Fison, in a letter to me dated August 26th, 1898. I have already quoted the passage in _The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings_, i. 378.] [Footnote 712: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 225 _sq._] [Footnote 713: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 231.] [Footnote 714: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 97; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 53.] [Footnote 715: John Jackson's Narrative, in Capt. J. E. Erskine's _Journal of a Cruise among the Islands of the Western Pacific_ (London, 1853), pp. 464 _sq._, 472 _sq._ The genital members of the men over whom the canoe was dragged were cut off and hung on a sacred tree (_akau-tambu_), "which was already artificially prolific in fruit, both of the masculine and feminine gender." The tree which bore such remarkable fruit was commonly an ironweed tree standing in a conspicuous situation. As to these sacrifices compare Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 97; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, pp. xvi. _sq._] [Footnote 716: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i, 112.] [Footnote 717: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 55.] [Footnote 718: Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, pp. xx., xxi. _sq._; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 247; B. Seeman, _Viti_ (Cambridge, 1862), p. 401.] [Footnote 719: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 55 _sq._ The writer witnessed what he calls the ceremony of consecration in the case of a young man of the highest rank in Somosomo and he has described what he saw. In this case a special hut was not built for the manslayer, and he was allowed to pass the nights in the temple of the war god.] [Footnote 720: See above, pp. 205 _sq._, 229 _sq._, 258, 279 _sq._, 323, 396, 415.] [Footnote 721: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 55.] [Footnote 722: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 98, 99 _sq._ Compare Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, p. 163: "A person who has defiled himself by touching a corpse is called _yambo_, and is not allowed to touch food with his hands for several days." The custom as to a surviving widow is mentioned by Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 198.] [Footnote 723: Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, p. 167.] [Footnote 724: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 101; Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 197 _sq._; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, p. 168; Basil Thomson, _The Fijian_, p. 375.] [Footnote 725: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 197, 198.] [Footnote 726: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 99.] [Footnote 727: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 198 _sq._] [Footnote 728: Ch. Wilkes, _l.c._] [Footnote 729: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 197.] [Footnote 730: K. Weinhold, _Altnordisches Leben_ (Berlin, 1856), p. 476.] [Footnote 731: _The Zend-Avesta_, Part i. _The Vendidâd,_ translated by James Darmesteter (Oxford, 1880), p. 95 (Fargard, viii. 2. 10) (_Sacred Books of the East_, vol. iv.).] [Footnote 732: W. R. S. Ralston, _The Songs of the Russian People_, Second Edition (London, 1872), p. 318.] [Footnote 733: Sonnerat, _Voyage aux Indes Orientales et à la Chine_ (Paris, 1782), i. 86.] [Footnote 734: J. A. Dubois, _Moeurs, Institutions et Cérémonies des Peuples de l'Inde_ (Paris, 1825), ii. 225; E. Thurston, _Ethnographic Notes in Southern India_ (Madras, 1906), pp. 226 _sq._] [Footnote 735: J. Grimm, _Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer_ 3rd ed. (Göttingen, 1881), pp. 726 _sqq._] [Footnote 736: Rev. J. G. Campbell, _Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland_ (Glasgow, 1900), p. 242.] [Footnote 737: _The Sacred Books of China_, translated by James Legge, Part iii. _The Lî-Kî_, i.-x. (Oxford, 1885) pp. 144 _sq._ (Bk. ii. Sect. i. Pt. II. 33) (_Sacred Books of the East_, vol. xxvii.); J. F. Lafitau, _Moeurs des Sauvages Ameriquains_ (Paris, 1724), ii. 401 _sq._, citing Le Comte, _Nouv. Mémoires de la Chine_, vol. ii. p. 187.] [Footnote 738: _Relations des Jésuites_, 1633, p. 11; _id._, 1634, p. 23 (Canadian reprint, Quebec, 1858); J. G. Kohl, _Kitschi-Gami_ (Bremen, 1859), p. 149 note.] [Footnote 739: E. W. Nelson, "The Eskimo about Bering Strait," _Eighteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology_, Part i. (Washington, 1899), p. 311.] [Footnote 740: David Crantz, _History of Greenland_ (London, 1767), i. 237. Compare Hans Egede, _Description of Greenland_, Second Edition (London, 1818), pp. 152 _sq._; Captain G. F. Lyon, _Private Journal_ (London, 1824), p. 370; C. F. Hall, _Narrative of the Second Arctic Expedition_ (Washington, 1879), p. 265 (Esquimaux).] [Footnote 741: P. Kolben, _The Present State of the Cape of Good Hope_ (London, 1731-1738), i. 316; C. P. Thunberg, "An Account of the Cape of Good Hope," in Pinkerton's _Voyages and Travels_, xvi. (London, 1814) p. 142; _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_ (Paris), ii, Série, ii. (1834) p. 196 (Bechuanas); _id._, vii. Série, vii. (1886) p. 587 (Fernando Po); T. Arbousset et F. Daumas, _Relation d'un Voyage d'Exploration au Nord-est de la Colonie du Cap de Bonne-Espérance_ (Paris, 1842), pp. 502 _sq._; C. J. Andersson, _Lake Ngami_, Second Edition (London, 1856), p. 466; G. Fritsch, _Die Eingeborenen Süd-Afrika's_ (Breslau, 1872), pp. 210, 335; R. Moffat, _Missionary Labours and Scenes in Southern Africa_ (London, 1842), p. 307; E. Casalis, _The Basutos_ (London, 1861), p. 202; Ladislaus Magyar, _Reisen in Süd-Afrika_ (Buda-Pesth and Leipsic, 1859), p. 350; Rev. J. Macdonald, _Light in Africa_, Second Edition (London, 1890), p. 166; E. Béguin, _Les Ma-Rotse_ (Lausanne and Fontaines, 1903), p. 115; Henri A. Junod, _Les Ba-Ronga_ (Neuchâtel, 1898), p. 48; _id._, _The Life of a South African Tribe_, i. (Neuchâtel, 1912) p. 138; Dudley Kidd, _The Essential Kafir_ (London, 1904), p. 247; A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, _British Nigeria_ (London, 1902), p. 234; Ramseyer and Kühne, _Four Years in Ashantee_ (London, 1875), p. 50; A. B. Ellis, _The Land of Fetish_ (London, 1883), p. 13; _id._, _The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast_ (London, 1887), p. 239; E. Perregaud, _Chez les Achanti_ (Neuchâtel, 1906), p. 127; J. Spieth, _Die Ewe-Stämme_ (Berlin, 1906), p. 756; H. R. Palmer, "Notes on the Korôrofawa and Jukoñ," _Journal of the African Society_, No. 44 (July, 1912), p. 414. The custom is also observed by some tribes of Central Africa. See Miss A. Werner, _The Natives of British Central Africa_ (London, 1906), p. 161; B. Gutmann, "Trauer und Begräbnisssitten der Wadschagga," _Globus_, lxxxix. (1906) p. 200; Rev. N. Stam, "Religious Conceptions of the Kavirondo," _Anthropos_, v. (1910) p. 361.] [Footnote 742: C. Snouck Hurgronje, _Het Gajoland en zijne Bewoners_ (Batavia, 1903), p. 313.] [Footnote 743: Aurel Krause, _Die Tlinkit-Indianer_ (Jena, 1885), p. 225; Franz Boas, in _Sixth Report of the Committee on the North-western Tribes of Canada_, p. 23 (separate reprint from the _Report of the British Association for the Advancement of Science_, Leeds Meeting, 1890); J. R. Swanton, _Contributions to the Ethnology of the Haida_ (Leyden and New York, 1905), pp. 52, 54 (_The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History_).] [Footnote 744: J. A. H. Louis, _The Gates of Thibet_ (Calcutta, 1894), p. 114.] [Footnote 745: H. von Wlislocki, _Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Zigeuner_ (Münster i. W., 1891), p. 99.] [Footnote 746: W. Jochelson, _The Koryak_ (New York and Leyden, 1908), pp. 110 _sq._ (_The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History_).] [Footnote 747: W. H. Dall, _Alaska and its Resources_ (London, 1870), p. 382.] [Footnote 748: Lucien M. Turner, "Ethnology of the Ungava District, Hudson Bay Territory," _Eleventh Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_ (Washington, 1894), p. 191.] [Footnote 749: Mgr. Bruguière, in _Annales de l'Association de la Propagation de la Foi_, v. (Lyons and Paris, 1831) p. 180. Compare Mgr. Pallegoix, _Description du royaume Thai ou Siam_ (Paris, 1854), i. 245; Adolf Bastian, _Die Volker des östlichen Asien_, iii. (Jena, 1867) p. 258; E. Young, _The Kingdom of the Yellow Robe_ (Westminster, 1898), p. 246.] [Footnote 750: S. Mateer, _Native Life in Travancore_ (London, 1883), p. 137. Compare A. Butterworth, "Royal Funerals in Travancore," _Indian Antiquary_, xxxi. (1902) p. 251.] [Footnote 751: Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, _The Pagan Tribes of Borneo_ (London, 1912), ii. 35.] [Footnote 752: S. K. Kusnezow, "�ber den Glauben vom Jenseits und den Todtencultus der Tscheremissen," _Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie_, ix. (1896) p. 157.] [Footnote 753: P. S. Pallas, _Reise durch verschiedene Provinzen des Russischen Reichs_ (St. Petersburg, 1771-1776), iii. 75; Middendorff, _Reise in den äussersten Norden und Osten Sibiriens_, iv. 1464.] [Footnote 754: _Exploraciones y Noticias hidrograficas de los Rios del Norte de Bolivia_, publicados por Manuel V. Ballivian, Segunda Parte, _Diario del Viage al Madre de Dios hecho por el P. Fr. Nicolas Armentia, en los años de 1884 y 1885_ (La Paz, 1890), p. 20: _"Cuando muere alguno, apénas sacan el cadáver de la casa, cambian la puerta al lado opuesto, para que no dé con ella el difunto."_] [Footnote 755: Karl Bartsch, _Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg_ (Vienna, 1879-1880), ii. 100, § 358.] [Footnote 756: For some evidence on this subject, see R. Lasch, "Die Behandlung der Leiche des Selbstmörders," _Globus_, lxxxvi. (1899) pp. 63-66; Rev. J. Roscoe, _The Baganda_ (London, 1911), pp. 20 _sq._; A. Karasek, "Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Waschamba," _Baessler-Archiv_, i. (1911) pp. 190 _sq._] [Footnote 757: Rev. N. Stam, "The Religious Conceptions of the Kavirondo," _Anthropos_, v. (1910) p. 361.] [Footnote 758: Alfred de Nore, _Coutumes, Mythes, et Traditions des Provinces de France_ (Paris and Lyons, 1846), p. 198.] [Footnote 759: Félix Chapiseau, _Le Folk-lore de la Beauce et du Perche_ (Paris, 1902), ii. 164.] [Footnote 760: For some evidence on this subject see _Psyche's Task_, pp. 64 _sq._] [Footnote 761: Carl Bock, _Temples and Elephants_ (London, 1884), p. 262.] [Footnote 762: Ch. Gilhodes, "Naissance et Enfance chez les Katchins (Birmanie)," _Anthropos_, vi. (1911) pp. 872 _sq._] [Footnote 763: A. W. Nieuwenhuis, _Quer durch Borneo_ (Leyden, 1901-1907), i. 91.] [Footnote 764: Ch. Hose and W. McDougall, _The Pagan Tribes of Borneo_ (London, 1912), ii. 155.] [Footnote 765: Franz Boas, in _Sixth Report of the Committee on the North-western Tribes of Canada_, p. 23 (separate reprint from the _Report of the British Association for the Advancement of Science_, Leeds Meeting, 1890).] [Footnote 766: Prevost, quoted by John Crawford, _History of the Indian Archipelago_ (Edinburgh, 1820), ii. 245. Compare Adolf Bastian, _Die Völker des östlichen Asien_, v. (Jena, 1869) p. 83.] [Footnote 767: Mrs. Bishop (Isabella L. Bird), _Korea and her Neighbours_ (London, 1898), i. 239 _sq._] [Footnote 768: Arnold van Gennep, _Tabou et Totémisme à Madagascar_ (Paris, 1904), p. 65, quoting Dr. Catat.] [Footnote 769: B. F. Matthes, _Bijdragen tot de Ethnologie van Zuid-Celebes_ (The Hague, 1875), p. 139; _id._, "Over de âdá's of gewoonten der Makassaren en Boegineezen," _Verslagen en Mededeelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen_, Afdeeling Letterkunde, Derde Reeks, ii. (Amsterdam, 1885) p. 142.] [Footnote 770: W. M. Donselaar "Aanteekeningen over het eiland Saleijer," _Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap_, i. (1857) p. 291.] [Footnote 771: See above, p. 426.] [Footnote 772: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, Second Edition (London, 1860), i. 167.] [Footnote 773: Ch. Wilkes, _Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition_, New Edition (New York, 1851), iii. 83; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, p. 117.] [Footnote 774: Basil Thomson, _op. cit._ p. 121.] [Footnote 775: Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, p. 163.] [Footnote 776: Th. Williams, _Fiji and the Fijians_, i. 239.] [Footnote 777: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 243 _sq._ Compare Berthold Seeman, _Viti, an Account of a Government Mission to the Vitian of Fijian Islands in the years 1860-1861_ (Cambridge, 1862), p. 399; Lorimer Fison, _Tales from Old Fiji_, p. 163; Basil Thomson, _The Fijians_, pp. 120 _sq._, 121 _sq._] [Footnote 778: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i, 244 _sq._] [Footnote 779: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 83.] [Footnote 780: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 245 _sq._] [Footnote 781: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 246 _sq._] [Footnote 782: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 247.] [Footnote 783: Ch. Wilkes, _op. cit._ iii. 85 _sq._] [Footnote 784: Th. Williams, _op. cit._ i. 248.] NOTE MYTH OF THE CONTINUANCE OF DEATH[785] The following story is told by the Balolo of the Upper Congo to explain the continuance, if not the origin, of death in the world. One day, while a man was working in the forest, a little man with two bundles, one large and one small, went up to him and said, "Which of these bundles will you have? The large one contains knives, looking-glasses, cloth and so forth; and the small one contains immortal life." "I cannot choose by myself," answered the man; "I must go and ask the other people in the town." While he was gone to ask the others, some women arrived and the choice was left to them. They tried the edges of the knives, decked themselves in the cloth, admired themselves in the looking-glasses, and, without more ado, chose the big bundle. The little man, picking up the small bundle, vanished. So when the man came back from the town, the little man and his bundles were gone. The women exhibited and shared the things, but death continued on the earth. Hence the people often say, "Oh, if those women had only chosen the small bundle, we should not be dying like this!"[786] [Footnote 785: See above, p. 77.] [Footnote 786: Rev. John H. Weeks, "Stories and other Notes from the Upper Congo," _Folk-lore_, xii. (1901) p. 461; _id._, _Among Congo Cannibals_ (London, 1913), p. 218. The country of the Balolo lies five miles south of the Equator, on Longitude 18° East.] INDEX Abinal, Father, 49 Abipones, their belief in sorcery as a cause of death, 35 Abnormal mental states explained by inspiration, 15 Aborigines, magical powers attributed by immigrants to, 193 Abstinence from certain food in mourning, 198, 208, 209, 230, 314, 360, 452 Abundance of food and water favourable to social progress, 90 _sq._ Action as a clue to belief, 143 Actors personating ghosts and spirits, 176, 179 _sq._, 180 _sqq._, 185 _sqq._ Adiri, the land of the dead, 211, 212, 213, 214 Admiralty Islands, 393, 400, 401 ---- Islanders, their myths of the origin of death, 71, 76 _sq._ Advance of culture among the aborigines of South-Eastern Australia, 141 _sq._, 148 _sq._ Africa, aborigines of, their ideas as to the cause of death, 49 _sqq._; use of poison ordeal in, 50 _sqq._ ----, British Central, 162 ----, British East, 61, 66, 254 Agriculture, rise of, favourable to astronomy, 140 _sq._; Fijian, 408 Akamba, their story of the origin of death, 61 _sq._ Akikuyu, resurrection and circumcision among the, 254 _Alcheringa_ or dream times, 96, 103, 114 ---- ancestors, their marvellous powers, 103 ---- home of the dead, 167 Alfoors of Celebes, 166 Alligators, ghosts in, 380 _Alols_, bachelors' houses, 221, 222 Altars, stones used as, 379 Amputation of fingers in mourning, 199, 426 _sq._, 451 Amulets consisting of relics of the dead, 332, 370 Ancestor, totemic, developing into a god, 113 Ancestor-worship possibly evolved from totemism, 114 _sq._ Ancestors, reincarnation of, 92 _sqq._; marvellous powers ascribed to remote, 103, 114 _sq._; totemic, traditions concerning, 115 _sqq._; dramatic ceremonies to commemorate the doings of, 118 _sqq._; possible evolution of worship of, in Central Australia, 125 _sq._; worshipped, 221, 297 _sq._, 328 _sqq._, 338, 340; ghosts of, appealed to for help, 258 _sq._; offerings to, 298; prayers to, 329 _sq._, 332 _sqq._ _See also_ Dead Ancestral gods, foreskins of circumcised lads offered to, 427; libations to, 430, 438 ---- images, 307 _sqq._, 315, 316 _sq._, 321, 322 ---- spirits help hunters and fishers, 226; shrines for, 316, 317; worshipped as gods, 369; worshipped in the _Nanga_, 428 _sq._; first-fruits offered to, 429; cloth and weapons offered to, 430 _sq._; novices presented to, at initiation, 432 _sq._, 434. Angola, the poison ordeal in, 51 _sq._ Angoni, their burial customs, 162 Animals, souls of sorcerers in, 39; spirits of, go to the spirit land, 210; sacrifices to the souls of, 239; transmigration of dead into, 242, 245; ghosts in the form of, 282; ghosts turn into, 287; ghosts incarnate in, 379 _sq._ Animistic views of the Papuans, 264 Anjea, a mythical being, 128 Annam, 67, 69 Anointing manslayers, 448 Ant-hills, ghosts turn into, 287 Ant totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, 120 _sq._ Ants' nests, ghosts turn into, 351 Anthropology, comparative and descriptive, 230 _sq._ Antimerina of Madagascar, burial custom of the, 461 Anuto, a creator, 296 Apparitions, 396; fear of, 414 Appearance of the dead in dreams, 229 Araucanians of Chili, their disbelief in natural death, 35, 53 _sq._ Arawaks of Guiana, 36; their myth of the origin of death, 70 Arm-bone, final burial ceremony performed with the, 167 _sq._; lower, of dead preserved, 274 ---- -bones, special treatment of the, 199; of dead preserved, 225, 249 Aroma district of British New Guinea, 201, 202 Arrow-heads made of bones of the dead, 352 Art, primitive religious, 114; Papuan, 220 _Arugo_, soul of dead, 207 _Arumburinga_, spiritual double, 164 Arunta, the, of Central Australia, 94; ceremonies connected with totems, 119 _sqq._; their magical ceremonies for the multiplication of the totems, 122 _sq._; their customs as to the hair of the dead, 138; their cuttings for the dead, 155 _sq._, 159; burial customs of the, 164 _sq._, 166 Aryan burial custom, 453 _Asa_, Secret Society, 233 Ashantee story of the origin of death, 63 _sq._ Ashes smeared on mourners, 184, 361 Astrolabe Bay in German New Guinea, 218, 230, 235, 237 Astronomy, rise of, favoured by agriculture, 140 _sq._ Asylums, 243 _Asyrèn_, dead man, 457 _Ataro_, a powerful ghost, 377 Atonement for sick chief, 427 Aukem, a mythical being, 181 Aurora, one of the New Hebrides, 360, 382 Australia, causes which retarded progress in, 89 _sq._; germs of a worship of the dead in, 168 _sq._ _See also_ Central Australia, Western Australia ----, the aborigines of, their ideas as to death from natural causes, 40 _sqq._; their primitive character, 88, 91; the belief in immortality among, 127 _sqq._; thought to be reborn in white people, 130, 131 _sqq._; their burial customs, 144 _sqq._; their primitive condition, 217 ----, South, beliefs as to the dead in, 134 _sqq._ Australia, South-Eastern, beliefs as to the dead in, 133 _sq._, 139; burial customs among the aborigines of, 145 _sqq._ ----, Western, burial customs in, 147, 150, 151 Authority of chiefs based on their claim to magical powers, 395 Avenging a death, pretence of, 282, 328 Bachelor ghosts, hard fate of, 464 Bachelors' houses, 221 Bad and good, different fate of the, after death, 354 Baganda, the, their ideas as to the causes of death, 56 _n._ 2; their myth of the origin of death, 78 _sqq._ _See also_ Uganda Bahaus, the, of Borneo, 459 Bahnars of Cochinchina, 74 Bakaïri, the, of Brazil, 35 Bakerewe, the, of the Victoria Nyanza, 50 Bali, burial custom in, 460 Balking ghosts, 455 _sqq._ Balolo, of the Upper Congo, their myth of the continuance of death, 472 _Balum_, ghost or spirit of dead, 244; name for bull-roarer, 250; name for a ghost or monster who swallows lads at initiation, 251, 255, 260, 261; soul of a dead man, 257, 261 Bamler, G., 291, 297 _sq._ Bananas in myths of the origin of death, 60, 70, 72 _sq._ Bandages to prevent entrance of ghosts, 396 Bandaging eyes of corpse, 459 Banks' Islands, 343, 353, 386; myths of the origin of death in, 71, 83 _sq._ ---- Islanders, funeral customs of the, 355 _sqq._ Bantu family, 60 Baronga, the, 61; burial custom of the, 454 Bartle Bay, 206, 208 Basutos, the, 61; burial custom of the, 454 Bat in myth of origin of death, 75 Bathing in sea after funeral, 207 _sq._; as purification after a death, 314, 319 Battel, Andrew, 51 _sq._ Bechuanas, the, 61; burial custom of the, 454 Beetles in myth of the origin of death, 70 Belep tribe of New Caledonia, 325 Belief, acts as a clue to, 143 Belief in immortality, origin of belief in, 25 _sqq._; almost universal among races of mankind, 33; among the aborigines of Central Australia, 87 _sqq._; among the islanders of Torres Straits, 170 _sqq._; among the natives of British New Guinea, 190 _sqq._; among the natives of German New Guinea, 216 _sqq._; among the natives of Dutch New Guinea, 303 _sqq._; among the natives of Southern Melanesia, 324 _sqq._; among the natives of Central Melanesia, 343 _sqq._; its practical effect on the life of the Central Melanesians, 391 _sq._; among the natives of Northern Melanesia, 393 _sqq._; among the Fijians, 406 _sqq._; strongly held by savages, 468; destruction of life and property entailed by the, 468 _sq._; the question of its truth, 469 _sqq._ Belief in sorcery a cause of keeping down the population, 38, 40 Berkeley, his theory of knowledge, 11 _sq._ Berlin Harbour in German New Guinea, 218 Bernau, Rev. J. H., 38 Beryl-stone in _Rose Mary_, 130 Betindalo, the land of the dead, 350 Bhotias, the, of the Himalayas, 163 Biak or Wiak, island, 303 Bilking a ghost, 416 Bird in divination as to cause of death, 45 Birds, souls of sorcerers in, 39 Birth, new, at initiation, pretence of, 254 Birthplaces, the dead buried in their, 160 Birth-stones and birth-sticks (_churinga_) of the Central Australians, 96 _sqq._ Bismarck Archipelago, 70, 394, 402 Black, mourners painted, 178, 241, 293; gravediggers painted, 451 ---- -snake people, 94 Blackened, faces of mourners, 403 Blood of mourners dropped on corpse or into grave, 158 _sq._, 183, 185; and hair of mourners offered to the dead, 183; of pigs smeared on skulls and bones of the dead, 200; soul thought to reside in the, 307; of sacrificial victim not allowed to fall on the ground, 365 ---- revenge, duty of, 274, 276 _sq._; discharged by sham fight, 136 _sq._ Bogadyim, in German New Guinea, 230, 231 Boigu, the island of the dead, 175, 184, 213 Bolafagina, the lord of the dead, 350 Bolotoo, the land of souls, 411 Bones of the dead, second burial of the, 166 _sq._; kept in house, 203; worn by survivors, 225; disinterred and kept in house, 225, 294; making rain by means of the, 341 ---- and skulls of dead smeared with blood of pigs, 200 Bonitos, ghosts in, 380 _Boollia_, magic, 41 _sq._ "Born of an oak or a rock," 128 Bougainville, island of, 393 Boulia district of Queensland, 147, 155 Bow, divination by, 241 Bread-fruit trees, stones to make them bear fruit, 335 _sq._ Breaking things offered to the dead, 276 Breath, vital principle associated with the, 129 _sq._ Brett, Rev. W. H., 35 _sqq._ Brewin, an evil spirit, 45 Brittany, burial custom in, 458 Brothers-in-law in funeral rites, 177 Brown, Rev. Dr. George, 48, 395 Buandik, the, 138 Buckley, the convict, 131 Buginese, burial custom of the, 461 Bugotu, 350, 352; in Ysabel, 372, 379 Building king's house, men sacrificed at, 446 Bukaua, the, of German New Guinea, 242, 256 _sqq._ Bull-roarers, 243; used in divination, 249; described, 250; used at initiation of young men among the Yabim, 250 _sqq._; among the Kaya-Kaya, 255; at initiation among the Bukaua, 260 _sq._; associated with the spirits of the dead, 261; at initiation among the Kai, 263, 291; at initiation of young men among the Tami, 301, 302 Bulotu or Bulu, the land of the dead, 462, 463 Bundle, the fatal, 472; story of, 77 _sq._ _Bures_, Fijian temples, 439 Burial different for old and young, married and unmarried, etc., 161 _sqq._; and burning of the dead, 162 _sq._; special modes of, intended to prevent or facilitate the return of the spirit, 163 _sqq._; second, custom of, 166 _sq._; in trees, 203; in island, 319; in the sea, 347 _sq._ ---- customs of the Australian aborigines, 144 _sqq._; in Tumleo, 223; of the Kai, 274; of the New Caledonians, 326 _sq._, 339 _sq._; in New Ireland, 397 _sq._; in the Duke of York Island, 403. _See also_ Corpse, Grave ---- -grounds, sacred, 378 Buried alive, old people, 359 _sq._ Burma, 75 Burning and burial of the dead, 162 _sq._ ---- bodies of women who died in childbed, 459 Burns inflicted on themselves by mourners, 154, 155, 157, 327, 451 Burnt offerings to the dead, 294 ---- sacrifices, reasons for, 348 _sq._; to ghosts, 366, 367 _sq._, 373 Burying alive the sick and old, Fijian custom of, 420 _sqq._ ---- people in their birthplaces, 160 Bushmen, 65 _Buwun_, deities, 296 Caffres of South Africa, their beliefs as to the causes of death, 55 _sq._ Calabar, poison ordeal in, 52 California, Indians of, 68 Calling back a lost soul, 312 Calm and wind produced by weather-doctors, 385 _sq._ Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, 171, 191 Canaanites, the heathen, 154 Canadian Indians, burial custom of the, 454 Canarium nuts, first-fruits of, offered to ghosts, 368 _sq._ Cannibal feasts in Fiji, 446 Cannibals fear the ghosts of their victims, 396 Canoe, men sacrificed at launching a new, 446 _sq._ Canoes, Papuan, 220 Cape Bedford in Queensland, 129, 130, 131 ---- King William in German New Guinea, 218, 238 Carnac in Brittany, 438 Catching soul in a scarf, 412 _sq._ Cause, Hume's analysis of, 18 _sq._ Causes, the propensity to search for, 17 _sq._; two classes of, 22 Caves used as burial-places or charnel-houses, 330 _sqq._ Celebes, Central, 72 Central Australia, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, 46 _sq._; their ideas as to resurrection, 68; their belief in immortality, 87 _sqq._; their belief in reincarnation of the dead, 92 _sqq._; their attitude towards the dead, 124 _sqq._ Cereals unknown to Melanesians and Polynesians, 408 Ceremonial impurity of manslayer, 229 _sq._ Ceremonies performed in honour of the Wollunqua, a mythical water-snake, 108 _sqq._; dramatic, to commemorate the doings of ancestors, 118 _sqq._; funeral, of the Torres Straits Islanders, 176 _sqq._ _See also_ Dramatic Ceremonies, Dramatic Representations, Funeral Ceremonies, Totems Chameleon in myths of the origin of death, 60 _sqq._ Chams of Annam, 67 Charms imparted by dead in dreams, 139 Charnel-houses, 221 _sq._, 225, 328 Cheating the devil, 460 Chepara, the, 139 Cheremiss of Russia, burial custom of the, 457 Cherokee Indians, 77 Chief, spirit of dead, a worshipful ghost, 352 Chief's power in Central Melanesia based on a fear of ghosts, 391 Chiefs deified after death, 369 Chiefs' authority based on their claim to magical powers, 395 Chieftainship, rise of, 141 Childbed, treatment of ghosts of women dying in, 358; special fear of ghosts of women dying in, 458 _sqq._ Childless women, burial of, 458 Children, Central Australian theory of the birth of, 93 _sq._; belief of Queensland natives as to the birth of, 128 Children buried in trees, 161, 312 _sq._; stillborn, burial of, 458 Child-stones, 93 _sq._ Chingpaws of Burma, 75 _Choi_, disembodied human spirits, 128 Chukchansi Indians, 163 _Churinga_, sacred sticks or stones, 96 _sqq._ Circumcision as initiatory rite of young men, 233; among the Yabim, 250 _sqq._; among the Akikuyu, 254; among the Bukaua, 260 _sq._; among the Kai, 290 _sq._; among the Tami, 301 _sq._; as a propitiatory sacrifice, 426 _sqq._ Clans, totemic, 104 Clay, widow's body smeared with, 223 Cleanliness due to fear of sorcery, 386 _sq._, 414 Cleft stick used in cure, 271 Clercq, F. S. A. de, 316 Cloth and weapons offered to ancestral spirits, 430 _sq._ Clubhouses for men, 221, 225, 226, 243, 256 _sq._, 355 Cochinchina, 74 Coco-nut trees of dead cut down, 208, 209, 327; stones to blight, 335 ---- -nuts tabooed, 297 Codrington, Dr. R. H., 54 _sq._, 344, 345 _sq._, 353, 355, 359, 362 _sq._, 368, 380 _sq._ Collins, David, 133 Commemorative and magical ceremonies combined, 122, 126 Commercial habits of the North Melanesians, 394 Communal houses, 304 Communism, temporary revival of primitive, 436 _sq._ Comparative and descriptive anthropology, their relation, 230 _sq._ Comparative method applied to the study of religion, 5 _sq._; in anthropology, 30 Compartments in land of the dead, 244, 354, 404 Competition as a cause of progress, 89 _sq._ Conception in women, Central Australian theory of, 93 _sq._; belief of Queensland natives concerning, 128 Conception of death, the savage, 31 _sqq._ Concert of spirits, 340 _sq._ Confession of sins, 201 Congo, natives of the, their ideas as to natural death, 50; worship of the moon on the, 68 Consecration of manslayers in Fiji, 448 _sq._ Consultation of ancestral images, 308 _sqq._ Continence, required in training yam vines, 371 Continuance of death, myth of the, 472 Contradictions and inconsistencies in reasoning not peculiar to savages, 111 _sq._ Convulsions as evidence of inspiration, 443, 444 Co-operative system of piety, 333 Coorgs, the, 163 Cord worn round neck by mourners, 241, 242, 249, 259, 361 Corpse inspected to discover sorcerer, 37, 38, 53 _sq._; dried on fire, 135, 184, 249, 313, 355; tied to prevent ghost from walking, 144; mauled and mutilated in order to disable the ghost, 153; putrefying juices of, received by mourners on their bodies, 167, 205; carried out feet foremost, 174; decked with ornaments and flowers, 232; painted white and red, 233; crowned with red roses, 233, 234; stript of ornaments before burial, 234, 241; kept in house, 355; property displayed beside the, 397; persons who have handled a corpse forbidden to touch food with their hands, 450 _sq._; carried out of house by special opening, 452 _sqq._ Corpses mummified, 313; of women dying in childbed burnt, 459 Costume of mourners, 184, 198, 241 _sq._; of widow and widower, 204 Costumes of actors in dramatic ceremonies concerned with totems, 119 _sqq._ Crabs in myth of the origin of death, 70 Cracking joints of fingers at incantation, 223 Creator, the, and the origin of death, 73 Crocodiles, transmigration of dead into, 245 Cromlechs, 438 Crops, ghosts expected to make the crops thrive, 259, 284, 288 _sq._ Cross-questioning a ghost by means of fire, 278 Cultivation of the ground, spirits of ancestors supposed to help in the, 259 Culture, advance of, among the aborigines of South-Eastern Australia, 141 _sq._, 148 _sq._; advanced, of the Fijians, 407 Cursing enemies, 370, 403, 404 Cutting down trees of the dead, 208, 209 Cuttings of the flesh in honour of the dead, 154 _sqq._, 183, 184 _sq._, 196, 272, 327, 359 Dance of death, 185 _sqq._ Dances as funeral rites, 179 _sqq._, 200; masked, of the Monumbo, 228; masked, of a Secret Society, 233; at deaths, 293 _sq._; of masked men in imitation of spirits, 297; at festivals, 316; at festivals of the dead, 321; at funeral feasts, 399 ---- and games at festivals, 226 Dark, ghosts dreaded in the, 197, 283, 306, 467; female mourners remain in the, 360 Daula, a ghost associated with the frigate-bird, 376 Dawson, James, 42, 142, 143 Dazing a ghost, 416 Dead, worship of the, 23 _sqq._, 31, 328 _sqq._, 338; seen in dreams, 27; belief in the reincarnation of the, 92 _sqq._, 107; spirits of, associated with conspicuous features of the landscape, 115 _sqq._; reincarnation of the, 124 _sq._, 127 _sqq._; souls of the, supposed to go to the sky, 133 _sq._, 135, 138 _sq._, 141, 142; souls of the, supposed to be in stars, 134, 140; names of the, not mentioned, 135; magical virtue attributed to the hair of the, 137 _sq._; appear to the living in dreams, 139, 195, 213, 229; attentions paid to the, in regard to food, fire, property, etc., 144 _sqq._; property of, deposited in grave, 145 _sqq._; motive for destroying the property of the, 147 _sq._; economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the, 149; incipient worship of the, in Australia, 149, 150; feared, 152 _sq._, 173 _sqq._, 196 _sq._, 201, 203, 244, 248; cuttings of the flesh in honour of the, 154 _sqq._, 183, 184 _sq._, 196, 327, 359; thought to be strengthened by blood, 159; disposed of in different ways according to their age, manner of death, etc., 161 _sqq._; fear of the, 168; germs of a worship of the, in Australia, 168 _sq._; destruction of the property of the, 174; land of the, 175 _sq._, 192, 193, 194 _sq._, 202, 203, 207, 209 _sq._, 211 _sqq._, 224, 228 _sq._, 244, 260, 286 _sq._, 292, 299, 305 _sq._, 307, 322, 326, 345, 350 _sq._, 353 _sq._, 404 _sqq._, 462 _sqq._; personated by masked men, 176, 179 _sq._, 182 _sq._, 185 _sqq._; food offered to the, 183, 211, 214, 232, 241, 332, 338, 348 _sq._, 364 _sq._, 367 _sq._, 372 _sq._, 396 _sq._, 429, 442, 467; elements of a worship of the, in Torres Straits, 189; laid on platforms, 199, 203, 205; worshipped in British New Guinea, 201 _sq._; prayers to the, 201 _sq._, 214, 259, 288, 307, 329 _sq._, 332 _sqq._, 340, 376 _sq._, 401, 403 _sq._, 427, 441; names of, not mentioned, 210, 246; monuments of the, 225; offerings of hunters and fishers to the, 226; oracles of the, 235; buried in the house, 236, 347, 352, 397, 398, 399; offerings to the, 239, 276, 292, 298; transmigrate into animals, 242, 245; spirits of the, give good crops, 247 _sq._; elements of a worship of the dead among the Yabim, 255; spirits of the, believed to be mischievous, 257; ancestors supposed to help in the cultivation of the ground, 259; first-fruits offered to the, 259; buried under houses, 259; envious of the living, 267, 381; burnt offerings to the, 294; predominance of the worship of the, 297 _sq._; power of the, over the living, 298, 306 _sq._, 307; sacrifices to the, 307, 338; wooden images (_korwar_) of the, 307 _sqq._, 315, 316 _sq._, 321, 322; buried in island, 319; festival of the, 320 _sq._; medicine-men, inspired by spirits of the, 322; spirits of the, embodied in their skulls, 338; spirits of the, identified with white men, 342; buried in the sea, 347 _sq._, 397; relics of the, preserved, 348; bodies of the, preserved for a time in the house, 351; represented by wooden stocks, 374, 386; burned in New Ireland, 397; carried out of house by special opening, 452 _sqq._ _See also_ Ghost Dead kings of Uganda consulted as oracles, 151 Death, the problem of, 31 _sqq._; the savage conception of, 31 _sqq._; thought to be an effect of sorcery, 33 _sqq._; by natural causes, recognised by some savages, 55 _sq._; myths of the origin of, 59 _sqq._; personified in tales, 79 _sqq._; not regarded as a natural necessity, 84 _sqq._; the second, of the dead, 195, 286, 299, 345, 350, 351, 354; attributed to sorcery, 249; violent, ascribed to sorcery, 268 _sq._; myth of the continuance of, 472 Death and resurrection at initiation, ceremony of, 431, 434 _sq._; pretence of, at initiation, 254 _sq._, 261, 302 Death-dances, 293 _sq._; of the Torres Straits Islanders, 179 _sqq._ Deaths from natural causes, disbelief of savages in, 33 _sqq._; attributed to sorcery, 136, 203; set down to sorcery or ghosts, 203, 268, 270 Deceiving the ghost, 237, 273, 280 _sqq._, 328 Deceiving the spirits, 298 Deification of the dead, 24, 25; of parents, 439 Deity consumes soul of offering, 297 Demon carries off soul of sick, 194 Demons as causes of disease and death, 36 _sq._ Demonstrations, extravagant, of grief at a death, dictated by fear of the ghost, 271 _sqq._ Déné or Tinneh Indians, their ideas as to death, 39 _sq._ Departure of ghost thought to coincide with disappearance of flesh from bones, 165 _sq._ Descent of the living into the nether world, 300, 355 Descriptive and comparative anthropology, their relation, 230 _sq._ Descriptive method in anthropology, 30 Desertion of house after a death, 195, 196 _n._ 1, 210, 248, 275, 349, 400; of village after a death, 275 Deserts as impediments to progress, 89, 90 Design emblematic of totem, 168 Destruction of house after a death, 210 ---- of life and property entailed by the belief in immortality, 468 _sq._ ---- of property of the dead, 174, 459; motive for, 147 _sq._, 327 Development arrested or retarded in savagery, 88 _sqq._ Dieri, the, 138; their burial customs, 144 Differentiation of function in prayer, 332 _sq._ Disbelief of savages in death from natural causes, 34 _sqq._ Disease supposed to be caused by sorcery, 35 _sqq._; demons regarded as causes of, 36 _sq._; recognised by some savages as due to natural causes, 55 _sq._; special modes of disposing of bodies of persons who die of, 162, 163. _See also_ Sickness Diseases ascribed to ghosts, 257 Disinterment of the bones of the dead, 225, 294 Dissection of corpse to discover cause of death, 53 _sq._ Divination to discover cause of death, 35, 36, 37 _sq._, 38, 39 _sq._, 44, 45 _sq._, 50 _sqq._, 53 _sq._, 136; by liver, 54; by dreams, 136, 383; by the skulls of the dead, 179; to discover sorcerer who caused death, 240 _sq._, 249 _sq._, 257, 402; by bow, 241; by hair to discover cause of death, 319; by means of ghosts, 389 _sq._; to discover ghost who has caused sickness, 382 Divinity of kings, 16; of Fijian kings, 407 _sq._; Fijian notion of, 440 _sq._ Dog, in myth of the origin of death, 66; the Heavenly, 460 Dogs sacrificed to the dead, 232, 234; sacrificed in epidemics, 296 Doreh Bay in Dutch New Guinea, 303, 306 Dragon supposed to swallow lads at initiation, 301. _See also_ Monster Drama of death and resurrection at initiation, 431, 434 _sq._ ----, evolution of, 189 Dramatic ceremonies in Central Australia, magical intention of, 122 _sq._, 126 ---- concerned with totems, 119 _sqq._ ---- to commemorate the doings of ancestors, 118 _sqq._ Dramatic representation of ghosts and spirits by masked men, 176, 179 _sq._, 180 _sqq._, 185 _sqq._ Drawings on ground in religious or magical ceremony, 112 _sq._ ---- on rocks, 318 Dread of witchcraft, 413 _sq._ Dreamer, professional, 383 Dreams as a source of the belief in immortality and of the worship of the dead, 27 _sq._, 214; divination by, 136; appearance of the dead to the living in, 139, 195, 213, 229; savage faith in the truth of, 139 _sq._; consultation of the dead in, 179; danger of, 194; the dead communicate with the living in, 248 Driving away the ghost, 178, 197, 248, 305, 306, 323, 356 _sqq._, 396, 399, 415 Drowning of ghosts, 224 Duke of York Island, 393, 397, 403, 404 Dying, threats of the, 273 Ears of corpse stopped with hot coals, 152; of mourners cut, 183, 272, 327 Earth-burial and tree-burial, 161, 166 _sq._ Earthquakes ascribed to ghosts, 286, 288; caused by deities, 296 Eating totemic animals or plants, 120 _sq._ Economic loss entailed by sacrifices to the dead, 149; entailed by the belief in immortality, 468 _sq._ Eel, ghost in, 379 Eels offered to the dead, 429 Egypt, custom at embalming a corpse in ancient, 178 Elysium, the Fijian, 466 _sq._ Embryology of religion, 88 Emu totem, dramatic ceremonies concerned with, 122, 123 Encounter Bay tribe of South Australia, 42 Epilepsy ascribed to anger of ghosts, 257, 283 ---- and inspiration, 15 Erdweg, Father Josef, 218, 219, 227 Erskine, Capt. J. E., 409 _Ertnatulunga_, sacred store-house, 99 _Erythrophloeum guiniense_, in poison ordeal, 50 Esquimaux, burial custom of the, 454, 456 Essence, immaterial, of sacrifice absorbed by ghosts and spirits, 285, 287, 374 Euhemerism, 24 _sq._ Euhemerus, 24 European teaching, influence of, on native beliefs, 142 _sq._ Evil spirits regarded as causes of death, 36 _sq._ Excitement as mark of inspiration, 14 Exogamy with female descent, 416, 418 Exorcism as cure for sickness, 222 _sq._ Experience defined, 12; two sorts of, 13 _sq._ ---- and intuition, 11 External world, question of the reality of, 13 _sq._; an illusion, 21 Eye, soul resides in the, 267 Eyes of corpse bandaged, 459 Faints ascribed to action of ghosts, 257, 283 Faith, weakening of religious, 4 Falling stars the souls of the dead, 229, 399 Family prayers of the New Caledonians, 332 _sq._, 340 ---- priests, 332, 340 Famine, the stone of, 334 _sq._ Fasting in mourning for a king, 451 _sq._ Father-in-law, mourning for a, 155 Favourable natural conditions, their influence in stimulating social progress, 141 _sq._, 148 _sq._ Fear of ghosts, 134, 135, 147, 151 _sqq._, 158, 173 _sqq._, 195, 196 _sq._, 201, 203, 229 _sq._, 232, 237, 276, 282 _sq._, 305, 321, 327, 347, 396, 414 _sq._, 449, 455, 467; a moral restraint, 175; the source of extravagant demonstrations of grief at death, 271 _sqq._; taboo based on, 390 _sq._; a bulwark of morality, 392; funeral customs based on, 450 _sqq._; of women dying in childbed, 458 _sqq._ Fear of the dead, 152 _sq._, 168, 173 _sqq._, 195, 196 _sq._, 201, 203, 244, 248 ---- of witchcraft, 244 ---- the only principle of religious observances in Fiji, 443 Feasts provided for ghosts, 247 _sq._ _See also_ Funeral Feasts Feather-money offered to ghosts, 374, 375 Feet foremost, corpse carried out, 174 Ferry for ghosts, 224, 244 _sq._, 350, 412, 462 Festival of the dead, 320 _sq._ Fig-trees, sacred, 199 Fighting or warrior ghosts, 370 Fiji and the Fijians, 406 _sqq._ ----, human sacrifices in, 446 _sq._ Fijian islands, scenery of, 409 _sq._ ---- myths of origin of death, 66 _sq._, 75 _sq._ Fijians, belief in immortality among the, 406 _sqq._; their advanced culture, 407 Fingers amputated in mourning, 199, 451 ---- of living sacrificed in honour of the dead, 426 _sq._ Finsch Harbour in German New Guinea, 218, 242, 262 Fire as a means of keeping off ghosts, 131 ---- -flies, ghosts as, 352 ---- kindled on grave, to warm ghost, 144 _sq._, 196 _sq._, 209, 211, 223, 275, 359 ---- supplied to ghost, 246 _sq._; used to keep off ghosts, 258, 283; used in cross-questioning a ghost, 278 Firstborn children, skull-topped images made of dead, 312 First-fruits offered to the dead, 259; of canarium nuts offered to ghosts, 368 _sq._; offered to deified spirits of dead chiefs, 369; offered to ghosts, 373 _sq._; of yams offered to the ancestral spirits, 429 Fish offered by fishermen to the dead, 226; prayers for, 329; ghost in, 379 ---- totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, 119 _sq._, 121 Fishermen pray to ghosts, 289 ----, stones to help, 337 Fison, Lorimer, 407, 412, 416, 418, 428 _n._ 1, 434, 435 _sqq._, 438 _n._ 1, 445, 448 Fits ascribed to contact with ghosts, 283. _See also_ Epilepsy Florida, one of the Solomon Islands, 346, 347, 348, 349, 367, 368, 376, 377, 379, 380 Flutes, sacred, 221, 226, 233, 252 Flying-foxes, souls of the dead in, 405 Food placed on grave, 144; offered to the dead, 183, 201, 208, 211, 214, 232, 241, 332, 338, 364 _sq._, 367 _sq._, 372 _sq._, 396 _sq._, 429, 442, 467; abstinence from certain, in mourning, 198, 208, 209, 230, 314, 360, 452; supply promoted by ghosts, 283; offered to ancestral spirits, 316; offered to the skulls of the dead, 339 _sq._, 352; offered to ghosts, 348 _sq._; of ghosts, the living not to partake of the, 355 ---- not to be touched with the hands by gravediggers, 327; not to be touched with hands by persons who have handled a corpse, 450 _sq._ ---- and water, abundance of, favourable to social progress, 90 _sq._; offered to the dead, 174 Fool and Death, 83 Footprints, magic of, 45 Foundation-sacrifice of men, 446 Fowlers pray to ghosts, 289 Frenzy a symptom of inspiration, 443, 444 _sq._ Frigate-bird, mark of the, 350; ghost associated with the, 376 Frigate-birds, ghosts in, 380 Frog in stories of the origin of death, 61, 62 _sq._ Fruit-trees cut down for ghost, 246 ---- of the dead cut down, 399 Funeral ceremonies intended to dismiss the ghost from the land of the living, 174 _sq._ ---- ceremonies of the Torres Straits Islanders, 176 _sqq._ ---- customs of the Tami, 293 _sq._; of the Central Melanesians, 347 _sqq._, 355 _sqq._; based on fear of ghosts, 450 _sqq._ ---- feasts, 348, 351, 358 _sq._, 360, 396; orations, 355 _sq._ Forces, impersonal, the world conceived as a complex of, 21 Foreskins sacrificed in honour of the dead, 426 _sq._; of circumcised lads presented to ancestral gods, 427 Gaboon, the, 54 Gajos of Sumatra, burial custom of the, 455 Gall used in divination, 54 Game offered by hunters to the dead, 226 Ganindo, a warrior ghost, 363 _sq._ Gardens, ghosts of, 371 Gazelle Peninsula, New Britain, 48, 69, 398, 405 Geelvink Bay, in Dutch New Guinea, 303, 307 Genital members of human victims hung on tree, 447 _n._ 1 German burial custom, 453, 458 Ghost appeased by sham fight, 137; hunted into the grave, 164 _sq._; thought to linger near body till flesh is decayed, 165 _sq._; elaborate funeral ceremonies designed to get rid of, 174 _sq._; driven away, 178, 197, 248; extracted from body of patient, 271; calls for vengeance, 278; cursed and ill-treated, 285; who causes sunshine and rain, 375 ---- -posts, 375 ---- -seer, 204 _sq._, 214, 229 ---- -shooter, 387 _sq._ Ghostly ferry, 350, 412. _See also_ Ferry Ghosts, mischievous nature of, 28; as causes of sickness, 54 _sqq._, 195, 197, 222, 300, 305, 322, 389; feared, 134, 135, 147, 151 _sqq._, 158, 173 _sqq._, 195, 196 _sq._, 201, 203, 229 _sq._, 232, 237, 271 _sqq._, 276, 282 _sq._, 305, 321, 327, 347, 396, 414 _sq._, 449, 457, 467; attentions paid to, in regard to food, fire, property, etc., 144 _sqq._; feared only of recently departed, 151 _sq._; of nearest relations most feared, 153; represented dramatically by masked men, 176, 179 _sq._, 182 _sq._, 185 _sqq._; should have their noses bored, 192, 194 _sq._; return of the, 195, 198, 246, 300; carry off the souls of the living, 197; cause bad luck in hunting and fishing, 197; identified with phosphorescent lights, 198, 258; appear to seer, 204 _sq._; of slain enemies especially dreaded, 205; of the hanged specially feared, 212; certain classes of ghosts specially feared, 212; malignity of, 212, 381; drowned, 224; village of, 231 _sq._, 234; give information, 240; provided with fire, 246 _sq._; feasts provided for, 247 _sq._; thought to give good crops, 247 _sq._; communicate with the living in dreams, 248; diseases ascribed to action of, 257; of the slain, special fear of, 258, 279, 306, 323; of ancestors appealed to for help, 258 _sq._; precautions taken against, 258; expected to make the crops thrive, 259, 284, 288 _sq._; natural death ascribed to action of, 268; sickness ascribed to action of, 269 _sq._, 271, 279, 372, 375, 381 _sqq._; deceived, 273, 280 _sqq._, 328; thought to help hunters, 274, 284 _sq._; in the form of animals, 282; help the living by promoting supply of food, 283; cause earthquakes, 286, 288; as patrons of hunting and other departments, 287; die the second death, 287; turn into animals, 287; turn into ant-hills, 287; of warriors invoked by warriors, 288; invoked by warriors, farmers, fowlers, fishermen, etc., 288 _sqq._; of men may grow into gods, 289 _sq._; of the dead in the form of serpents, 300; driven away, 305, 306, 323, 356 _sqq._, 396, 399, 415; cause all sorts of misfortunes, 306 _sq._; call for vengeance, 310, 468; sacrifices to, 328; of power and ghosts of no account, distinction between, 345 _sq._; of the recent dead most powerful, 346; prayers to, 348; of land and sea, 348; food offered to, 348 _sq._; live in islands, 350, 353; live underground, 353 _sq._; worshipful, 362 _sq._; public and private, 367, 369 _sq._; first-fruits offered to, 368 _sq._, 373 _sq._; warlike, 370; of gardens, 371; human sacrifices to, 371 _sq._; incarnate in sharks, 373; sacrifices to, at planting, 375; sanctuaries of, 377 _sq._; incarnate in animals, 379 _sq._; envious of the living, 381; carry off souls, 383; in stones, 383 _sq._; inspiration by means of, 389 _sq._; killed, 415 _sq._; dazed, 416; prevented from returning to the house, 455 _sq._; unmarried, hard fate of, 464 Ghosts and spirits, distinction between, in Central Melanesia, 343, 363; regulate the weather, 384 _sq._ ---- of women dying in childbed, special fear of, 458 _sqq._; special treatment of, 358. _See also_ Dead _and_ Spirits Giant, mythical, thought to appear annually with the south-east monsoon, 255 Gifford, Lord, 2, 3 Girdle made from hair of dead, 138 Gnanji, the, of Central Australia, 92 Goat in story of the origin of death, 64 God, the question of his existence, 2; defined, 9 _sq._; knowledge of, how acquired, 11 _sqq._; inferred as a cause, 22 _sq._; and the origin of death, 61 _sqq._; in form of serpent, 445, 462 Gods created by man in his own likeness, 19 _sq._; of nature, 20; human, 20, 23 _sqq._; unknown among aborigines of Australia, 91; often developed out of ghosts, 289 _sq._; ancestors worshipped as, 340, 369; ancestral, sacrifice of foreskins to, 427; ancestral, libations to, 438; two classes of, in Fiji, 440 ---- and spirits, no certain demarcation between, 441 Goldie, Rev. Hugh, 52 Good crops given by ghosts, 247 _sq._ ---- spirit, 143 ---- and bad, different fate of the, after death, 354 Gran Chaco, in Argentina, 165 Grandfather, soul of, reborn in grandchild, 417; his ghost dazed, 416 Grandfather and grandchild, their relation under exogamy and female kinship, 416, 418 Grandidier, A., 49 Grass for graves, euphemism for human victims buried with the dead, 425 _sq._ ---- -seed, magical ceremony for increasing, 102 Grave, food placed on, 144, 145; property of dead deposited in, 145 _sqq._; hut erected on, 203; of worshipful dead a sanctuary, 347; stones heaped on, 360; sacrifices to ghost on, 382 Gravediggers, purification of, 314; secluded, 327; secluded and painted black, 451 Graves, huts built on, for use of ghosts, 150 _sq._; under the houses, 274. _See also_ Huts Great Woman, the, 464 Greek tragedy, W. Ridgeway on the origin of, 189 Greeks, purificatory rites of ancient, 206 Greenlanders, burial custom of the, 454 Grey, Sir George, 41; taken for an Australian aboriginal, 131 _sqq._ Grief, extravagant demonstrations of grief in mourning, their motives, 135 _sq._ ---- at a death, extravagant demonstrations of, dictated by fear of the ghost, 271 _sqq._ _Grihya-Sutras_, 163 Ground drawings in magical or religious ceremony, 112 _sq._ Groves, sacred, the dead buried in, 326 Guadalcanar, one of the Solomon Islands, 350, 372 Guardian spirits, 227 Guiana, Indians of, their ideas as to the cause of death, 35 _sqq._; their offerings to the dead, 165 Gullet of pig sacrificed, 368 Gulu, king of heaven, 78 Gypsies, European, burial custom of, 455 Haddon, Dr. A. C., 171, 172 _sq._, 175, 176, 180 Hagen, Dr. B., 230, 231 Haida, burial custom of the, 455 Hair burnt as charm, 43; cut in mourning, 135, 320, 451; of widow unshorn, 184; of dead child worn by mother, 315; of gravediggers not cut, 327; used as amulet, 332 ---- of the dead, magical virtue attributed to, 137 _sq._; worn by relatives, 249; divination by means of, 319 ---- of mourners offered to the dead, 183; cut off, 183, 204 Hakea flower totem, dramatic ceremony concerned with, 119, 121 Hands, gravediggers and persons who have handled a corpse not to touch food with their, 327, 450 _sq._ Hanged, ghosts of the, specially feared, 212 Hare in myth of the origin of death, 65 Harumae, a warrior ghost, 365 _sq._ Hasselt, J. L. van, 305 Hauri, a worshipful ghost, 372 Head-dress of gravediggers, 327 Head-hunters, 352 Head of corpse cut off in order to disable the ghost, 153; removed and preserved, 178. _See also_ Skulls Heads of mourners shaved, 208 ----, human, cut off in honour of the dead, 352 Heaps of stones on grave, 360 Heart supposed to be the seat of human spirit, 129 ---- of pig sacrificed, 368 Heavenly Dog, 460 Hebrew prophets, 14 Hen in myth of the origin of death, 79 Highlands of Scotland, burial custom in the, 453, 458 Hindoos, burial custom of the, 453, 458 Historical method of treating natural theology, 2 _sq._ History of religion, its importance, 3 Hiyoyoa, the land of the dead, 207 Hole in the wall, dead carried out through a, 452 _sqq._ Holy of Holies, 430, 431, 433, 437, 438 Homer on blood-drinking ghosts, 159 Homicides, precautions taken by, against the ghosts of their victims, 205 _sq._; purification of, 206; honours bestowed on, in Fiji, 447 _sq._ _See also_ Manslayers Homoeopathic magic, 288, 376 ---- or imitative magic, 335, 336, 338 Honorary titles of homicides in Fiji, 447 _sq._ Hood Peninsula of British New Guinea, 47, 202, 203 Hos of Togoland, their myth of the origin of death, 81 _sqq._ Hose, Ch., and McDougall, W., quoted, 265 _n._, 417 Hottentots, their myth of the origin of death, 65; burial custom of the, 454 House deserted after a death, 195, 196 _n._ 1, 248, 275, 349, 400; deserted or destroyed after a death, 210; dead buried in the, 236, 347, 352, 397, 398, 399; dead carried out of, by special opening, 452 _sqq._ Houses, native, at Kalo, 202; communal, 304 Howitt, Dr. A. W., 44 _sq._, 139, 141 Human gods, 20, 23 _sqq._ ---- nature, two different views of, 469 _sqq._ ---- sacrifices to ghosts, 371 _sq._; in Fiji, 446 _sq._ Hume's analysis of cause, 18 _sq._ Hunt, Mr., his experience in Fiji, 423 _sq._ Hunters supposed to be helped by ghosts, 274, 284 _sq._ Huon Gulf, in German New Guinea, 242, 256 Hut built to represent mythical monster at initiation, 251, 290, 301 _sq._ Huts erected on graves for use of ghosts, 150 _sq._; erected on graves, 203, 223, 248, 259, 275, 293, 294 Hypocritical lamentations at a death, 273 ---- indignation of accomplice at a murder, 280 _sqq._ Idu, mountain of the dead, 193, 194 _sq._ Iguana in myth of origin of death, 70 Ilene, a worshipful ghost, 373 Ill-treatment of ghost who gives no help, 285 Illusion of the external world, 21 Images of the dead, wooden (_korwar_ or _karwar_), 307 _sqq._, 311, 315, 316 _sq._, 321, 322; of sharks, 373; in temples, 442 Imitation of totems by disguised actors, 119 _sqq._; of totemic animals, 177 Imitative magic, 335, 336, 338, 376 Immortality, belief in, among the aborigines of Central Australia, 87 _sqq._; among the islanders of Torres Straits, 170 _sqq._; among the natives of British New Guinea, 190 _sqq._; among the natives of German New Guinea, 216 _sqq._; among the natives of Dutch New Guinea, 303 _sqq._; among the natives of Southern Melanesia, 324 _sqq._; among the natives of Central Melanesia, 343 _sqq._; among the natives of Northern Melanesia, 393 _sqq._; among the Fijians, 406 _sqq._; strongly held by savages, 468 Immortality, limited sense of, 25; origin of belief in, 25 _sqq._; belief in human, almost universal among races of mankind, 33; rivalry between men and animals for gift of, 74 _sq._; question of the truth of the belief in, 469 _sqq._; destruction of life and property entailed by the belief in, 468 _sq._ ---- in a bundle, 77 _sq._ Impecunious ghosts, hard fate of, 406 Impurity, ceremonial, of manslayer, 229 _sq._ Im Thurn, Sir Everard F., 38 _sq._ Incantations or spells, 385 Inconsistencies and contradictions in reasoning not peculiar to savages, 111 _sq._ Inconsistency of savage thought, 143 Indians of Guiana, their ideas about death, 35 _sqq._; their beliefs as to the dead, 165 ---- of North-West America, burial custom of the, 455, 460 Indifference to death, 419; a consequence of belief in immortality, 422 _sq._ Indo-European burial custom, 453 Infanticide as cause of diminished population, 40 Influence of European teaching on native beliefs, 142 _sq._ Initiation at puberty regarded as a process of death and resurrection, 254, 261 ---- of young men, 233; in Central Australia, 100; among the Yabim, 250 _sqq._; among the Bukaua, 260 _sq._; among the Kai, 290 _sq._; in Fiji, 429 _sqq._ Insanity, influence of, in history, 15 _sq._ ---- and inspiration not clearly distinguished, 388 Insect in divination as to cause of death, 44, 46 Inspiration, theory of, 14 _sq._; of medium by ancestral spirits, 308 _sqq._; by spirits of the dead, 322; by ghosts in Central Melanesia, 388 _sq._; attested by frenzy, 443, 444 _sq._ ---- and insanity not clearly distinguished, 388 Insufflations, magical, to heal the sick, 329 _Intichiuma_, magical ceremonies for the multiplication of totems, 122 _sq._ Intuition and experience, 11 Invocation of ghosts, 288 _sq._; of the dead, 329 _sq._, 332 _sqq._, 377, 378, 401, 441 Island, dead buried in, 319 ---- of the dead, fabulous, 175 Islands, ghosts live in, 350, 353 Isle of Pines, 325, 330, 337 Israelites forbidden to cut themselves for the dead, 154 Ivory Coast, 52 Jackson, John, quoted, 419 _sqq._, 447 Jappen or Jobi, island, 303 Jawbone of husband worn by widow, 204; lower, of corpse preserved, 234 _sq._, 236, 274; of dead king of Uganda preserved and consulted oracularly, 235 Jawbones of the dead preserved, 351 _sq._; of dead worn by relatives, 404 Journey of ghosts to the land of the dead, 286 _sq._, 361 _sq._, 462 _sqq._ Juices of putrefaction received by mourners on their bodies, 167, 205, 403 ---- of putrefying corpse drunk by widow, 313; drunk by women, 355 Kachins of Burma, burial custom of the, 459 Kafirs, their beliefs as to the causes of death, 56 Kagoro, the, of Northern Nigeria, 28 _n._ 1, 49 Kai, the, of German New Guinea, 71, 262 _sqq._; theory of the soul, 267 Kaikuzi, brother of Death, 80 Kaitish, the, 68, 158, 166 Kalo, in British New Guinea, 202 _sq._ _Kalou_, Fijian word for "god," 440 _Kalou vu_, "root gods," 440 _Kalou yalo_, "soul gods," 440 _Kami_, the souls of the dead, 297 _sq._ Kamilaroi tribe of New South Wales, 46, 155 _Kanaima_ (_kenaima_), 36, 38 _Kani_, name applied to ghosts, to bull-roarers, and to the monster who is thought to swallow lads at circumcision, 301 Kaniet islands, 401 _Kava_ offered to ancestral spirits, 440 Kavirondo, burial custom of the, 458 Kaya-Kaya or Tugeri, the, of Dutch New Guinea, 255 Kayans, the, of Borneo, 417; burial custom of, 456 _sq._, 459 Kemp Welch River, 202 _Keramo_, a fighting ghost, 370 Keysser, Ch., 262, 263 _sq._, 267, 269 _n._ 3 Kibu, the land of the dead, 175 Kibuka, war-god of Uganda, 366 Kidd, Dudley, 55 Kidney-fat, extraction of, 43 Killer of Souls, the, 465 _sq._ Killing a ghost, 415 _sq._ King, mourning for a, 451 _sq._ King's corpse not carried out through the door, 452, 461 Kings, divinity of, 16; sanctity of Fijian, 407 _sq._ Kintu and the origin of death, 78 _sqq._ Kiwai, beliefs and customs concerning the dead in island of, 211 _sqq._ Koita or Koitapu, of British New Guinea, 193 Kolosh Indians, 163 Komars, the, 163 _Koroi_, honorary title of homicides in Fiji, 447 _sq._ _Korwar_, or _karwar_, wooden images of the dead, 307 _sqq._, 315, 316 _sq._, 321, 322 Koryak, burial custom of the, 455 Kosi and the origin of death, 76 _sq._ Knowledge, natural, how acquired, 11 ---- of God, how acquired, 11 _sqq._; of ghosts essential to medical practitioners in Melanesia, 384 Kulin, the, 138 Kurnai tribe of Victoria, 44, 138 Kweariburra tribe, 153 _Kwod_, sacred or ceremonial ground, 179 Lambert, Father, 325, 327, 328, 332, 339 Lamboam, the land of the dead, 260, 292, 299 Lamentations, hypocritical, at a death, 271 _sqq._, 280 _sqq._ Land burial and sea burial, 347 _sq._ ---- cleared for cultivation, 238, 242 _sq._, 256, 262 _sq._, 304 ---- ghosts and sea ghosts, 348 ---- of the dead, 175 _sq._, 192, 193, 194 _sq._, 202, 203, 207, 209 _sq._, 211 _sqq._, 224, 228 _sq._, 244, 260, 286 _sq._, 292, 299, 305 _sq._, 307, 322, 326, 345, 350 _sq._, 353 _sq._, 404 _sqq._, 462 _sqq._; journeys of the living to the, 207, 355; way to the, 212 _sq._, 462 _sqq._ Landtman, Dr. G., 214 Lang, Andrew, 216 _sq._ Laos, burial custom in, 459 Leaf as badge of a ghost, 391 Leaves thrown on scene of murder, 415 Leg bones of the dead preserved, 221, 249 Legs of corpse broken in order to disable the ghost, 153 Lehner, Stefan, 256 Lepchis of Sikhim, burial custom of the, 455 Le Souëf, A. A. C., 40 _sq._ Libations to ancestral gods, 430, 438 Licence, period of, following circumcision, 427 _sq._; following initiation, 433, 434 _n._ 1, 436 _sq._ Licentious orgy following circumcision, 427 _sq._ Life in the other world like life in this, 286 _sq._ Lightning, savage theory of, 19 Lights, phosphorescent, thought to be ghosts, 198, 258 Lime, powdered, used to dust the trail of a ghost, 277 _sq._ _Lio'a_, a powerful ghost, 346 Liver extracted by magic, 50; divination by, 54 Livers of pigs offered to the dead, 360 _sq._ Lizard in divination as to cause of death, 44; in myths of the origin of death, 60 _sq._, 70, 74 _sq._ Lizards, ghosts in, 380 Local totem centres, 97, 99, 124 Long soul and short soul, 291 _sq._ Lost souls, recovery of, 270 _sq._, 300 _sq._ Luck, bad, in fishing and hunting, caused by ghosts, 197 Luck of a village dependent on ghosts, 198 _Lum_, men's clubhouse, 243, 250, 257 Mabuiag, island of, 174 Macassars, burial custom of the, 461 Macluer Gulf in Dutch New Guinea, 317, 318 Mad, stones to drive people, 335 Madagascar, ideas as to natural death in, 48 _sq._ Mafulu (Mambule), the, of British New Guinea, 198 _sqq._ Maggots, appearance of, sign of departure of soul, 292 Magic as a cause of death, 34 _sqq._; Age of, 58; attributed to aboriginal inhabitants of a country, 193; homoeopathic or imitative, 288, 335, 336, 338, 376; combined with religion, 111 _sq._, 334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 376; Melanesian conception of, 380 _sq._; working by means of personal refuse, 413 _sq._ _See also_ Sorcery _and_ Witchcraft ---- and religion compared in reference to their destruction of human life, 56 _sq._ Magical ceremonies for increasing the food supply, 102; ceremonies for the multiplication of totems, 124 _sq._; intention of dramatic ceremonies in Central Australia, 122 _sq._, 126; virtues attributed to sacred stones in New Caledonia, 334 _sqq._ Magician or priest, 336, 338. _See also_ Sorcerer Magicians, their importance in history, 16; but no priests at Doreh, 306 Malagasy, their ideas as to natural death, 48 _sq._ Malanta, one of the Solomon Islands, 350 Malayalis, the, of Malabar, 162 Malignity of ghosts, 212, 381 Malo, island of, 48 Man creates gods in his own likeness, 19 _sq._ ----, grandeur and dignity of, 469 _sq._; pettiness and insignificance of, 470 _sq._ _Mana_, supernatural or spiritual power, 346 _sq._, 352, 371, 380 _Manoam_, evil spirits, 321 Manoga, a worshipful ghost, 368 Manslayers, precautions taken by, against the ghosts of their victims, 205 _sq._, 258, 279, 323; secluded, 279 _sq._, consecration of, 448 _sq._; restrictions imposed on, 449. _See also_ Homicides _Mari_ or _mar_, ghost, 173 _Mariget_, "ghost-hand," 177 Mariner, William, 411 Mariners, stones to help, 337 Markets, native, 394 Marotse, burial custom of the, 454 Marquesas Islands, 417 Married and unmarried, different modes of disposing of their corpses, 162 Masai, their myth of the origin of death, 65 _sq._ Masked men, dramatic representation of ghosts and spirits by, 176, 179 _sq._, 180 _sqq._, 185 _sqq._ ---- dances, 297; of the Monumbo, 228 Masks worn by actors in sacred ceremonies, 179; used in dances, 233, 297 Masquerades, 297 Massim, the, of British New Guinea, 206 Master of Life, 163 Matacos Indians, 165 Mate, a worshipful spirit, 239 Material culture of the natives of New Guinea, 191; of the natives of Tumleo, 219 _sq._; of Papuans, 231; of the Yabim, 242 _sq._; of the Noofoor, 304 _sq._; of the New Caledonians, 339; of the North Melanesians, 393 _sqq._ Mawatta or Mowat, 47 _Mbete_, priest, 443, 445 Mea, a spiritual medium, 196 Mecklenburg, burial custom in, 457 Medicine-men, their importance in history, 16; inspired by spirits of the dead, 322 Medium inspired by soul of dead, 308 _sq._ Mediums, spiritual, 196 Mediums who send their souls to deadland, 300 Megalithic monuments, 438 Melanesia, Central, belief in immortality among the natives of, 343 _sqq._ ----, Northern, belief in immortality among the natives of, 393 _sqq._ ----, Southern, belief in immortality among the natives of, 324 _sqq._ Melanesian myths of the origin of death, 69, 71 _sq._, 83 _sq._; theory of the soul, 344 _sq._ Melanesians, their ideas as to natural deaths, 48, 54 _sq._; Central, funeral customs of the, 347 _sqq._, 355 _sqq._; and Papuans in New Guinea, 190 _sq._ Memorial trees, 225 Men sacrificed to support posts of new house, 446 _sq._; whipped by women in mourning, 452 Men's clubhouses, 221, 225, 226, 243, 256 _sq._, 355 Mentras or Mantras of the Malay Peninsula, 73 Merivale on Dartmoor, 438 Messengers, the Two, myth of origin of death, 60 _sqq._ Messou, Indian magician, 78 Metals unknown in Northern Melanesia, 395 Metempsychosis, widespread belief in, 29 Methods of treating natural theology, 1 _sqq._ ---- of natural knowledge, 11 Mexicans, the ancient, 163 Meyer, H. E. A., 42 Migration of villages, 339 Migratory cultivation, 243 Miklucho-Maclay, Baron N., 235 Milky Way, Central Australian belief as to the, 140; souls of dead go to, 153 Milne Bay, 207 Mimika district in Dutch New Guinea, 318 Minnetaree Indians, 163 Misfortunes of all kinds caused by ghosts, 306 _sq._ Moanus, the, of the Admiralty Islands, 400 Monarchical government, rise of, 141 _sq._ Monsoon, south-east, festival at, 255 Monsoons, seasons determined by, 216 Monster supposed to swallow lads at initiation, 251 _sq._, 255, 260, 261, 290 _sq._, 301 _sq._ Monumbo, the, of German New Guinea, 227 _sq._ Monuments of the dead, 225 Moon, the waxing and waning, in myths of the origin of death, 60, 65 _sqq._ ---- in relation to doctrine of resurrection, 67 _sq._; worship of the, 68 Moral restraint afforded by a fear of ghosts, 175 ---- depravity of the Fijians, 409 Morality, superstition a crutch to, 175 Mortuary dramas, 189 _Mos_, a disembodied soul, 224 Mota, island of, 387 Motlav, in the Banks' Islands, 357 Motu, the, of British New Guinea, 192 Mound erected in a totemic ceremony, 110 _sq._ Mounds on graves, 150, 164 Mourners, professional, 136 ---- smeared with white clay, 158, 177; painted black, 178, 293, 403; garb of, 184, 198; cut their hair, 183, 204, 320, 451; abstain from certain foods, 198, 208, 209, 230, 314, 360, 452; restrictions observed by, 313 _sq._; tattooed, 314; purified by bathing, 314, 319; plastered with mud, 318; cut or tear their ears, 183, 272, 327; secluded, 360; smeared with ashes, 361; anoint themselves with juices of putrefying corpse, 403; amputate their fingers, 199, 451; burn their skin, 154, 155, 157, 327, 451. _See also_ Cuttings _and_ Seclusion Mourning, hair cut in, 135; extravagant demonstrations of grief in, 135 _sq._; for a father-in-law, 155; amputation of fingers in, 199; varying period of, 274, 293; for a king, 451 _sq._ ---- costume, 249, 274, 320; a protection against ghosts, 241 _sq._; of widower and widow, 259 _sq._ Mowat or Mawatta, 47 Mud, mourners plastered with, 318 Mukden, burial custom in, 460 Mukjarawaint tribe, 155 Mummies of dead preserved in houses, 188 Mummification of the dead, 184, 185, 313 _Mungai_, places associated with totems, 117, 124 Murder, leaves thrown on scene of, 415 ---- highly esteemed in Fiji, 447 _sq._ Murdered man, ghost of, haunts murderer, 248 Murimuria, a second-rate heaven, 466 Murray Island, 174 Mutilations, bodily, at puberty, 303 Myth of the prelogical savage, 266 ---- of the continuance of death, 472 Myths of the origin of death, 59 _sqq._ _Nai_, souls of the dead, 240 Nai Thombothombo, in Fiji, 463 Nails of dead detached, 145; preserved, 339 Naindelinde in Fiji, 465 Naiteru-kop, a Masai god, 65 Namaquas, their myth of the origin of death, 65 Nambanaggatai, in Fiji, 465 Nambi and the origin of death, 78 _sqq._ Name of mythical water-snake not uttered, 105 Names of the dead not mentioned, 135, 210, 246 Nandi, their myth of the origin of death, 66 _Nanga_, sacred stone enclosure, 428 _sqq._; description of, 437 _sq._ Nangganangga, the foe of unmarried ghosts, 464 _Nanja_ tree or stone, 98 ---- spot, 164, 165 Narrinyeri tribe of South Australia, 43; their beliefs as to the dead, 134 _sqq._ Nassau, Rev. R. H., 51 Native beliefs influenced by European teaching, 142 _sq._ Natural theology defined, 1, 8 ---- death, disbelief of savages in, 33 _sqq._ ---- causes of death recognised by some savages, 55 _sq._ ---- features of landscape associated with traditions about the dead, 115 _sqq._ Nature, gods of, 20; souls of the dead identified with spirits of, 130; two different views of human, 469 _sqq._ Nayars, the, of Cochin, 162 _sq._ Ndengei, Fijian god in form of serpent, 445, 462, 464, 465, 466 Necklaces worn in mourning, 198 Negen Negorijen in Dutch New Guinea, 316, 317 Negrito admixture in New Guinea, 198 Nemunemu, a creator, 240 Nether world, the lord of the, 286; abode of the dead in the, 292, 299, 322, 326, 353 _sq._; descent of the living into the, 300; _See also_ Land of the Dead Nets worn by widows in mourning, 249, 260, 274, 293; worn by women in mourning, 241 New birth at initiation, pretence of, 254 New Britain (New Pomerania), 48, 69, 393, 394, 402, 404 ---- Caledonia, natives of, 324; their beliefs and customs concerning the dead, 325 _sqq._; their system of family prayers, 332 _sq._, 340; material culture of the, 339 ---- Georgia, 48 ---- Guinea, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, 47; the races of, 190 _sq._; belief in immortality among the natives of British, 190 _sqq._; belief in immortality among the natives of Dutch, 303 _sqq._; belief in immortality among the natives of German, 216 _sqq._ New Hebrides, myth of the origin of death in, 71, 343, 353 ---- Ireland (New Mecklenburg), 393, 397 ---- South Wales, aborigines of, their ideas as to the causes of death, 45 _sq._; as to the home of the dead, 133 _sq._ Newton, Alfred, 90 _n._ 1 Neyaux, the, of the Ivory Coast, 52 _Ngai_, human spirit, 129 Ngoc, the, of Annam, 69 Ngoni, the, 61 Nias, island of, 70 Nigeria, Northern, 28 _n._ 1, 49 Niggardly people punished in the other world, 405 Noblemen alone immortal, 33 Noofoor, the, of Dutch New Guinea, 303 Noomfor, island, 303 Norse burial custom, 453 Noses bored, ghosts should have their, 192, 194 _sq._ Novices presented to ancestral spirits at initiation, 432 _sq._, 434 Nukahiva, one of the Marquesas Islands, 417 Objects offered to the dead broken, 276 Offering, soul of, consumed by deity or spirit, 297, 298 Offerings of food and water to the dead, 174; of food to the dead, 183, 201, 208, 211, 214, 232, 241, 332, 338, 364 _sq._, 367 _sq._, 372 _sq._, 396 _sq._, 429, 442, 467; of blood and hair to the dead, 183; of game and fish to the dead, 226; to the dead, 239, 276, 292; of first-fruits to the dead, 259; to ancestors, 298; of food to ghosts, 348 _sq._; to ghosts, 364 _sq._; of first-fruits to ancestral spirits, 429; of cloth and weapons to ancestral spirits, 430 _sq._ _See also_ Sacrifices ----, burnt, to the dead, 294 _Oknanikilla_, local totem centre, 97, 99, 124 Old and young, difference between the modes of burying, 161, 162 _sq._ Old people buried alive, 359 Olympia, Pelops at, 159 Omens after a death, 319 Opening, special, for carrying dead out of house, 452 _sqq._ Oracles of dead kings, 151 ---- of the dead, 151, 176, 179, 235 Oracular responses of Fijian priests, 443 _sqq._ Oranges, spirits of the dead play with, 326 Ordeal to detect sorcerer, 50 _sqq._ Orgy, licentious, following circumcision, 427 _sq._ Origin of belief in immortality, 26 _sqq._ ---- of death, myths of the, 59 _sqq._ Orion's belt, 368 Ornaments of corpse removed before burial, 223, 234, 241 Pahouins, the, 54 Palsy, a Samoan god, 72 Pandanus, reason for planting, 362 ---- and ghosts, 463 Panoi, Melanesian land of the dead, 83, 345, 353 _sq._, 355, 356 Papuan art, 220 Papuans, animistic views of the, 264 ---- and Melanesians in New Guinea, 190 _sq._ _Paraks_, temples, 220 Parents deified, 439 Parkinson, R., 219, 221 Pelops, human blood offered on grave of, 159 Penates in New Guinea, 308, 317 Pennefather River, natives of the, their belief in reincarnation of the dead, 128 Perche, burial custom in, 458 Personal refuse, magic working through, 386, 413 _sq._ Personification of natural phenomena, 20; of death, 81 Phosphorescent lights supposed to be ghosts, 198, 258 _Physostigma venenosum_ in poison ordeal, 52 Piety, two types of, 23; co-operative system of, 333 Pigs, blood of, smeared on skulls and bones of the dead, 200; sacrificed to the dead, 201; sacrificed to monster who swallows lads at initiation, 251, 253, 260, 290, 301; sacrificed at grave, 356; sacrificed at burial, 359; sacrificed to ghosts, 365 _sq._; sacrificed vicariously for the sick, 373, 374, 375; sacred, 433 ----, livers of, offered to the dead, 360 _sq._ Pines, Isle of, 325, 330, 337 Pirnmeheel, good spirit, 143 Place of sacrifice to ghosts, 370 Planting, sacrifices to ghosts at, 375 Platforms, dead laid on, 199, 203, 205 Plato, on death, 33 Pleiades, the, 368 Plum-tree people, 94 ---- totem, dramatic ceremony connected with, 120, 121 Poison ordeal to detect sorcerers, 50 _sqq._ Political constitution of the Fijians, 407 Pollution, ceremonial, of gravediggers, 327 Polynesian blood, infusion of, in New Guinea, 291 ---- race, 406 Polytheism and monotheism, 11 Polytheism discarded, 20 _sq._ Population, belief in sorcery a cause of keeping down the, 38, 40, 46 _sq._, 51 _sqq._ Port Lincoln tribe of S. Australia, 42 ---- Moresby, 193, 195 Poso in Celebes, 72 Posts of new house, men sacrificed to support, 446 _sq._ Potsdam Harbour, in German New Guinea, 218, 227 Pottery, native, 220; in New Guinea, 305 ----, Fijian, 407 ---- unknown in Northern Melanesia, 395 Practical character of the savage, 274 Prayer-posts, 333 _sq._ Prayers to the dead, 201 _sq._, 214, 222 _sq._, 259, 288, 307, 329 _sq._, 332 _sqq._, 340, 376 _sq._, 401, 403 _sq._, 427, 441; to ghosts, 348 Precautions taken against ghosts, 152 _sq._, 258; against a wife's ghost, 197; against ghosts of the slain, 205 _sq._ Predominance of the worship of the dead, 297 _sq._ Prelogical savage, myth of the, 266 Pretence of attacking persons engaged in attending to a corpse, 177, 178 ---- of avenging the dead, 136 _sq._, 282, 328 _See also_ Sham fight Priest, family, 332, 340 ----, chief or high, 430, 431, 432, 433, 434 ---- or magician, 336, 338 Priests, Fijian, 433 _sqq._ Private or tame ghosts, 369 _sq._, 381, 382, 386 ---- property, rights of, consolidated by taboo, 390 Problem of death, 31 _sqq._ Progress partly determined by competition, 89 _sq._ ----, social, stimulated by favourable natural conditions, 148 _sq._ Promiscuity, temporary, 427 _sq._, 433, 434 _n._ 1, 436 _sq._ Property displayed beside the corpse, 397 ----, rights of private, consolidated by taboo, 390; temporarily suspended, 427 _sq._ Property of dead deposited in grave, 145 _sqq._, 359, 397; motive for destroying, 147 _sq._; hung up on trees, 148; destroyed, 327, 459; burnt, 401 _sq._ Prophecy inspired by ghosts, 388 Prophets inspired by ghosts, 388 _sq._ ----, Hebrew, 14 Propitiation of the dead, 201, 307, 338; of ghosts and spirits, 226, 239, 348 Puberty, initiation at, 254 _sq._; bodily mutilations at, 303 Public ghosts, 367, 369 Purification of homicides, 206, 229 ---- by bathing and shaving, 208 ---- of mourners by bathing, 314, 319 Queensland, belief in reincarnation of the dead among the aborigines of, 127 _sqq._; burial customs in, 147 Rain sent by a mythical water-snake, 112, 114; prayers for, 288; stones to make, 336 _sq._ ---- and sunshine caused by a ghost, 375 ---- -ghost, 375 ---- -making, 288; by the bones of the dead, 341 Rat in myth of the origin of death, 67 Rationality of the savage, 264 _sqq._ Rebirth of the dead, 93 _sq._, 107, 127 _sq._ _See also_ Reincarnation ---- of parents in their children, 315 Recovery of lost souls, 194, 270 _sq._, 300 _sq._ Red, skulls painted, 178 Red bark in poison ordeals, 50, 52 ---- paint, manslayers smeared with, 448, 449 ---- roses, corpse crowned with, 233, 234 Reflection or shadow, soul associated with, 207, 267 Refuse, personal, magic working by means of, 413 _sq._ Reincarnation, widespread belief in, 29. _See also_ Rebirth ---- doctrine of, unknown in Torres Straits, 172 ---- of the dead, belief of Central Australians in, 92 _sqq._, 107 ---- of the dead, 124 _sq._, 127 _sq._; of Australian aborigines in white people, 130, 131 _sqq._; of parents in their children, 315; of grandfather in grandchild, 417, 418 Relics of the dead as amulets, 332, 370; preserved, 348 Religion, importance of the history of, 3; embryology of, 88 Religion and magic compared in reference to their destruction of human life, 57 _sq._; combined in ritual, 111 _sq._, 334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 376 ---- and theology, how related, 9 Resemblance of children to the dead, a source of belief in the transmigration of souls, 28 _sq._ Restrictions observed by mourners, 313 _sq._; ceremonial, laid on gravediggers, 327; imposed on manslayers, 449 Resurrection, ceremony of, among the Akikuya, 254 ---- from the dead after three days, 67 _sq._; of the dead, steps taken to prevent the, 144; as an initiatory rite at puberty, 254 _sq._, 261, 302, 431, 434 _sq._ Return of the ghosts, 195, 198, 246, 300 Revelation, the question of a supernatural, 8 _sq._ Revival, temporary, of primitive communism, 436 _sq._ Rheumatism attributed to sorcery, 45 Rhodesia, 77 Ribs of dead distributed among relatives, 400 Ridgeway, W., on the origin of Greek tragedy, 189 Rights of property temporarily suspended, 427 _sq._ Ritual combining elements of religion and magic, 111 _sq._ Rivalry between man and animals for gift of immortality, 74 _sq._ River crossed by souls of the dead, 299, 462 Rocking stone, 213 Roro-speaking tribes of British New Guinea, 47, 196, 198 Roth, W. E., 128 Run or Ron, island, 303, 311 Russia, burial custom in, 453 Saa, in Malanta, 350, 351, 372, 378 Sacrament of pork and water at initiation, 432 _sq._ Sacred stones in New Caledonia, magical virtues attributed to, 334 _sqq._ ---- enclosure of stones (_Nanga_) in Fiji, 428 _sqq._, 437 _sq._ ---- pigs, 433 Sacrifice, crude motives for, 298 _sq._; place of, 332 ---- of dogs in epidemics, 296; of foreskins and fingers in honour of the dead, 426 _sq._ Sacrifices to the dead, economic loss entailed by, 149 ---- to the dead, 239, 307, 338. _See also_ Offerings Sacrifices, burnt, reasons for, 348 _sq._; burnt, to ghosts, 366, 367 _sq._, 373 ---- to ghosts, 328; at planting, 375 ----, human, to ghosts, 371 _sq._; human, in Fiji, 446 _sq._ Sacrificial ritual in the Solomon Islands, 365 _sq._ Saddle Mountain in German New Guinea, 262 St. Joseph River in New Guinea, 196, 198 Sakalava, the, of Madagascar, 49; burial custom of, 461 Saleijer, island of, burial custom in, 461 Samoa, 406 ---- Harbour, in German New Guinea, 256 Samoan myth of the origin of death, 72 Samoyeds, burial custom of the, 457 Samu-yalo, the killer of souls, 465 San Cristoval, one of the Solomon Islands, 347, 376 Sanctuaries, primitive, 99 ---- of ghosts, 377 _sq._ Sanctuary, grave of worshipful dead becomes a, 347 Sanitation based on fear of sorcery, 386 _sq._, 414 Santa Cruz Islands, 343 Santa Cruz, in the Solomon Islands, burial customs at, 352; sacrifices to ghosts in, 374 _sq._ Savage, myth of the prelogical, 266 ----, practical character of the, 274 ----, rationality of the, 264 _sqq._ ---- notions of causality, 19 _sq._; conception of death, 31 _sqq._; disbelief in death from natural causes, 33 _sqq._; thought vague and inconsistent, 143 ---- religion, the study of, 7 Savagery, importance of the study of, 6 _sq._; a case of arrested or retarded development, 88 _sq._; rise of monarchy essential to emergence from, 142 Savages pay little attention to the stars, 140; strength and universality of belief in immortality among, 468 Savo, one of the Solomon Islands, 347 Scarf, soul caught in a, 412 _sq._ Scenery of Fiji, 409 _sq._ Schomburgk, Richard, 38 Schürmann, C. W., 42 _sq._ Scientific conception of the world as a system of impersonal forces, 20 _sq._ Scotland, burial custom in, 453, 458 Sea, land of the dead at the bottom of the, 307, 326 ---- -burial, 397 ---- -burial and land-burial, 347 _sq._ ---- -ghosts and land-ghosts, 348 Seclusion of widow and widower, 204, 248 _sq._, 259, 275; of relatives at grave, 209; of mourners, 223 _sq._, 313 _sq._, 360; of novices at circumcision, 251 _sq._, 260 _sq._, 302; of manslayers, 279 _sq._; of gravediggers, 327, 451; of female mourners, 398 Seclusion and purification of manslayer, 229 _sq._ Second death of the dead, 195, 287, 299, 345, 350, 351, 354 Secret societies, 395 ---- Society (_Asa_), 233 Seemann, Berthold, 439 _sq._ Seer describes ghosts, 204 _sq._ Seget Sélé, the, of Dutch New Guinea, 317 Seligmann, Dr. C. G., 47, 191, 197, 206 Selwyn, Bishop, 363 Serpent and his cast skin in myths of the origin of death, 60, 69 _sqq._, 74 _sq._, 83 ----, god in form of, 445, 462 Serpents, souls of the dead in the form of, 300 Setting sun, ghosts attracted to the, 175 _sq._ Sexual licence following initiation, 433, 434 _n._ 1, 436 _sq._ Shadow or reflection, human soul associated with, 129, 130, 173, 207, 267, 395, 412 Shadows of people seized by ghosts, 378, 383 Shaking of medium a symptom of inspiration, 308, 309, 311 Sham attack on men engaged in attending to a corpse, 177, 178 ---- burial, 356 ---- fight to appease ghost, 136 _sq._; as a funeral ceremony, 235 _sq._, 327 _sq._; as a ceremony to promote the growth of yams, 330. _See also_ Pretence Sharks animated by ghosts, 348 ----, ghosts incarnate in, 373, 380; images of, 373 Shaving heads of mourners, 208 Sheep in story of the origin of death, 64 Shell-money, 394; laid on corpse and buried with it, 398 Shortlands Islands, 71 Shrine of warrior ghost, 365 Shrines for ancestral spirits, 316, 317 Siamese, burial custom of the, 456 Siasi Islands, 244 Sick and old buried alive in Fiji, 420 _sqq._ Sickness caused by demons, 194; caused by ghosts, 56 _sq._, 195, 197, 222, 269 _sq._, 271, 279, 300, 305, 322, 372, 381 _sqq._, 389 ---- supposed to be an effect of witchcraft, 35 _sqq._ Sickness and death set down to sorcery, 240, 257 ---- and disease recognised by some savages as due to natural causes, 55 _sq._ _See also_ Disease Sido, his journey to the land of the dead, 211 _sq._ Sins, confession of, 201 Skin cast as a means of renewing youth, 69 _sqq._, 74 _sq._, 83 Skull-shaped stones in rain-making, 336 _sq._ Skulls, spirits of the dead embodied in their, 338 ---- and arm-bones, special treatment of the, 199 _sq._; carried by dancers at funeral dance, 200 ---- of the dead preserved, 199 _sqq._, 209, 249, 318, 328, 339, 347, 351 _sq._, 398, 400 _sq._, 403; preserved and consulted as oracles, 176, 178 _sq._, 179; used in divination, 213; kept in men's clubhouses, 221, 225; inserted in wooden images, 311 _sq._, 321; religious ceremonies performed with the, 329 _sq._; food offered to the, 339 _sq._, 352; used to fertilise plantations, 340; used in conjurations, 402 Sky, souls of the dead thought to be in the, 133 _sq._, 135, 138 _sq._, 141, 142 Slain, ghosts of the, especially dreaded, 205, 258, 279, 306, 323 Sleep, soul thought to quit body in, 257, 291, 395, 412 Smith, E. R., 53 Smyth, R. Brough, 43 _sq._ Snakes, ghosts in, 380 Sneezing, omens from, 194 Social progress stimulated by favourable natural conditions, 141 _sq._, 148 _sq._ ---- ranks, gradation of, in Fiji, 408 Solomon Islands, 343, 346 _sqq._; sacrificial ritual in the, 365 _sq._ Somosomo, one of the Fijian islands, 425, 441, 442 Sorcerers, their importance in history, 16 ---- catch and detain souls, 267, 268 _sq._, 270 ---- put to death, 35, 35 _sq._, 37 _sq._, 40 _sq._, 44, 50, 136, 250, 269, 277, 278 _sq._, 341 _sq._ _See also_ Magician Sorcery as the supposed cause of natural deaths, 33 _sqq._, 136, 268, 270, 402; sickness and death ascribed to, 257 ---- a cause of keeping down the population, belief in, 38, 40, 46 _sq._, 51 _sqq._ ---- Fijian dread of, 413 _sq._; _See also_ Magic _and_ Witchcraft Sores ascribed to action of ghosts, 257 _Soro_, atonement, 427 Soul, world-wide belief in survival of soul after death, 24, 25, 33 Soul of sleeper detained by enemy, 49; human, associated with shadow or reflection, 173, 267, 395, 412; pretence of carrying away the, 181 _sq._; detained by demon, 194; recovery of a lost, 194, 270 _sq._; thought to quit body in sleep, 257, 291, 395, 412; resides in the eye, 267; thought to pervade the body, 267; two kinds of human, 267 _sq._; caught and detained by sorcerer, 267, 268 _sq._, 270; long soul and short soul, 291 _sq._; of offering consumed by deity or spirit, 297, 298; thought to reside in the blood, 307; Melanesian theory of the, 344 _sq._; of sick tied up by ghost, 374; North Melanesian theory of the, 395 _sq._; in form of animals, 396; Fijian theory of the, 410 _sqq._; caught in a scarf, 412 _sq._; of grandfather reborn in grandchild, 417; of offerings consumed by gods, 443 ---- -stuff or spiritual essence, 267 _sq._, 270, 271, 279. _See also_ Spirit Souls, recovery of lost, 300 _sq._; River of the, 462; the killer of, 464 _sq._ ---- of animals, sacrifices to the, 239; of animals offered to ghosts, 246 ---- attributed by the Fijians to animals, vegetables, and inanimate things, 410 _sq._ ---- of the dead identified with spirits of nature, 130; turned into animals, 229; as falling stars, 229; live in trees, 316 ---- carried off by ghosts, 197, 383; of sorcerers in animals, 39 ---- of noblemen only saved, 33; of those who died from home called back, 311 Spells or incantations, 385 Spencer and Gillen, 46 _sq._, 91 _sq._, 103, 104, 105, 106, 108, 116 _sqq._, 123 _sq._, 140, 148, 156, 157, 158 Spider and Death, 82 _sq._ Spirit, human, associated with the heart, 129; associated with the shadow, 129, 130. _See also_ Soul Spirits, ancestral, help hunters and fishers, 226; worshipped in the _Nanga_, 428 _sq._; cloth and weapons offered to, 430 _sq._; novices presented to, at initiation, 432 _sq._, 434 ---- of animals go to the spirit land, 210 ---- consume spiritual essence of sacrifices, 285, 287, 297, 298 ---- of the dead thought to be strengthened by blood, 159; reborn in women, 93 _sq._; give information to the living, 240; give good crops, 247 _sq._; thought to be mischievous, 257 Spirits and ghosts, distinction between, in Central Melanesia, 343, 363 ---- and gods, no certain demarcation between, 441 ----, grand concert of, 340 _sq._; represented by masked dancers, 297; in tree-tops, 313 ----, guardian, 227 ---- of nature identified with souls of the dead, 130. _See also_ Dead _and_ Ghost Spiritual essence or soul-stuff, 267 _sq._, 279. _See also_ Soul-stuff Squatting posture of corpse in burial, 207 Stanbridge, W. E., 44 Stars associated with the souls of the dead, 134, 140; little regarded by savages, 140; falling, the souls of the dead, 229 Steinen, K. von den, 35 Sternberg, L., 15 _n._ 1 Stick, cleft, used in cure, 271 Stillborn children, burial of, 458 Stocks, wooden, as representatives of the dead, 374, 386 Stolz, Mr., 238, 239 Stomach, soul seated in, 291 _sq._ Stone, a rocking, 213 ---- used in rain-making, 288 ---- of Famine, 334 ---- of the Sun, 336 Stonehenge, 438 Stones, sacred, in New Caledonia, magical virtues attributed to, 334 _sqq._; sacred, in sanctuaries, 377 _sq._ ---- used as altars, 379 Stones inhabited by ghosts, 383 _sq._ Store-houses, sacred, in Central Australia, 99, 101 Strangling the sick and aged in Fiji, 423 _sq._ _Sua_, human spirit or ghost, 193 Suicide to escape decrepitude of old age, 422 _sq._ Suicides, burial of, 164, 453, 458 Sulka, the, of New Britain, 398 _sq._ Sumatra, the Gajos of, 455 Sun and the origin of death, 77 ----, ghosts attracted to the setting, 175 _sq._ ----, Stone of the, 336 Sunshine, the making of, 336 ---- and rain caused by a ghost, 375 Supernatural or spiritual power (_mana_) acquired from ghosts, 346 _sq._, 352, 371, 380 Superstition a crutch to morality, 175 Supreme Being unknown among aborigines of Central Australia, 91 _sq._; among the Monumbo, 228 Survival of human soul after death, world-wide belief in, 24, 25, 33 Swallowed by monster, pretence that candidates at initiation are, 251 _sqq._, 260 _sq._, 290 _sq._, 301 _sq._ Swine sent to ravage fields by ghosts, 278 Symbolism of prayer-posts, 333 _sq._ Taboo, meaning of, 390; in Central Melanesia based on a fear of ghosts, 390 _sq._; a prop of monarchical power, 408 _Tabu_, demon, 194 Tago, spirits, 297 Tahiti, 439 Tamanachiers, an Indian tribe, 70 _sq._ Tami Islanders of German New Guinea, 291 _sqq._ Taming a ghost, 370 Tamos, the, of German New Guinea, 230 Tanna, one of the New Hebrides, 369, 439 Tanoa, king of Fiji, 425 Taplin, Rev. George, 43, 134 _sqq._ _Tapum_, guardian spirits, 227 Taro, prayer for good crop of, 289 Tasmanians, the, 89 Tattooing as sign of mourning, 314 Teeth of dead worn by relatives, 314 _sq._, 400, 404; used as amulets, 332; preserved as relics, 339; used to fertilise plantations, 340 Temples (_paraks_) in Tumleo, 220 _sq._ ----, Fijian, 439, 441 _sq._ Terer, a mythical being, 181 Thapauerlu, a pool, 105, 108 Theology, natural, defined, 1, 8 ---- and religion, how related, 9 Thomson, Basil, 408, 414, 428 _n._ 1, 429 _n._ 1, 434 _n._ 1, 436 Threats of the dying, 273 Three days, resurrection after, 67 _sq._ Threshold, the dead carried out under the, 453, 457; movable, 457 Thrush in story of the origin of death, 61 _sq._ Thunder the voice of a mythical being, 112, 114, 143 _Tindalo_, a powerful ghost, 346 Tinneh or Déné Indians, their ideas as to death, 39 _sq._ Tlaloc, Mexican rain-god, 163 Tlingit Indians, 163; burial custom of the, 455 To Kambinana, 69 To Korvuvu, 69 Togoland, West Africa, 81 Toll exacted from ghosts, 224 Tollkeeper, ghostly, 224 Tonga, 406, 411 Tongans, their limited doctrine of immortality, 33 Torres Islands, 343, 353 ---- Straits Islanders, their ideas as to sickness and death, 47; their belief in immortality, 170 _sqq._; their ethnological affinity and social culture, 170 _sqq._; funeral ceremonies of the, 176 _sqq._ Totem, a dominant, 113; design emblematic of, 168 Totemic ancestor developing into a god, 113; ancestors, traditions concerning, 115 _sqq._ ---- animals, imitation of, 177 ---- clans, 104; animals and plants eaten, 120 _sq._; animals and plants dramatically represented by actors, 121 _sq._ Totemism, 95; possibly developing into ancestor worship, 114 _sq._; in Torres Straits, 172 Totems, dramatic ceremonies connected with, 119 _sqq._; eaten, 120 _sqq._; magical ceremonies for the multiplication of, 124 _sq._ Tracking a ghost, 277 _sq._ Traditions of the dead associated with conspicuous features of the landscape, 115 _sqq._ Transmigration, widespread belief in, 29; of dead into animals, 242, 245; of souls, 322; Fijian doctrine of, 467 Travancore, burial custom in, 456 Tree of immortality, 74 Tree-burial, 161, 166, 167, 199, 203; of young children, 312 _sq._ ---- -tops, spirits in, 313 Trees, property of dead hung up on, 148; as monuments of the dead, 225; huts built in, 263; souls of the dead live in, 316 Tremearne, Major A. J. N., 28 _n._ 1 Truth of the belief in immortality, question of the, 469 _sqq._ Tsiabiloum, the land of the dead, 326 Tube inserted in grave, 277 Tubes, magical, 269, 270 Tubetube, island of, 206, 209, 210 Tugeri or Kaya-Kaya, the, of Dutch New Guinea, 255 Tully River in Queensland, 130 Tulmeng, lord of the nether world, 286 Tumleo, island of, 218 _sqq._ Tumudurere, a mythical being, 207 Tumupasa, burial custom of the Indians of, 457 Turner, Dr. George, 325, 339, 369 Turrbal tribe, 146 Tuski of Alaska, burial custom of the, 456 Two Messengers, the, myth of the origin of death, 60 _sqq._ Uganda, first man in, 78; dead kings of, worshipped, 151; jawbones of dead kings of, preserved, 235; war-god of, 366. _See also_ Baganda Unburied dead, ghosts of the, 349 Unfruitful wife, mode of impregnating, 417 Unkulunkulu, 60 Unmarried ghosts, hard fate of, 464 Umatjera tribe, 68, 166 Urabunna, the, of Central Australia, 95 Vagueness and inconsistency of savage thought, 143 _Vale tambu_, the Sacred House, 438 Vanigela River, 202, 203 Vanua Lava, mountain, 355 ---- -levu, one of the Fijian Islands, 416, 417, 418, 426 Vaté or Efat, one of the New Hebrides, 359, 376 Vengeance taken on enemies by means of a ghost, 258; ghost calls for, 278, 310, 468 Vetter, Konrad, 242, 244, 245, 248, 255 Vicarious sacrifices of pigs for the sick, 372, 374, 375 Victoria, aborigines of, their ideas as to natural death, 40 _sq._, 42; their beliefs as to the dead, 142; their burial customs, 145, 145 _sq._; cuttings for the dead among the, 154 _sq._ Views of human nature, two different, 469 _sqq._ Village of ghosts, 231 _sq._, 234 ---- deserted after a death, 275 Viti Levu, one of the Fijian Islands, 419, 428, 435, 445 Vormann, Franz, 228 _sq._ Vuatom, island, 70 Wagawaga, in British New Guinea, 206 _sqq._ Wainimala in Fiji, 436 Wakelbura, the, 152 Wallace, Alfred Russel, on death, 85 _sq._ War, ancestral images taken to, 310, 315; perpetual state of, 339 ---- -god of Uganda, 366 Warramunga, the, of Central Australia, 94; their totem the Wollunqua, 103 _sqq._, 108 _sqq._; dramatic ceremonies connected with totems among the, 123 _sq._; cuttings for the dead among the, 156 _sqq._; burial customs of the, 167 _sq._ Warrior ghost, 363 _sq._ Warriors pray to ghosts, 288 Wars among savages undertaken to appease angry ghosts, 468 Wa-Sania, tribe of E. Africa, 66 Washing body a rain-charm, 375 Watch-an-die, tribe of W. Australia, 41 Watch at the grave, 293 ---- of widow or widower on grave, 241 Water as a barrier against ghosts, 152; poured as a rain-charm, 375 _sq._ ---- great, to be crossed by ghosts, 224 ---- -snake, great mythical (Wollunqua), 104 _sqq._, 108 _sqq._ Way to the land of the dead, 212 _sq._ Weakening of religious faith, 4 Weapons deposited with the dead, 145 _sqq._; deposited at grave, 211; of dead broken, 399 Weather regulated by ghosts and spirits, 384 _sq._ ---- -doctors, 385 _sq._ Weaving in New Guinea, 305 Weismann, August, on death, 84 _sq._ Wemba, the, of Northern Rhodesia, 77 Western Australia, beliefs as to death among the natives of, 41 _sq._ Whale's teeth as offerings, 420, 421, 429, 443, 444 Whip of souls, 270 Whipping men in mourning, 452 White ants' nests, ghosts turn into, 351 ---- clay smeared on mourners, 158, 177 ---- men identified with the spirits of the dead, 342 ---- people, souls of dead Australian aborigines thought to be reborn in, 130, 131 _sqq._ Whitened with chalk, bodies of lads after circumcision, 302 Widow, mourning costume of, 184, 204; seclusion of, 204; killed to accompany the ghost of her husband, 249, 275; drinks juices of putrefying corpse, 313 Widower exposed to attacks of his wife's ghost, 197; costume of, 204; seclusion of, 204, 248 _sq._, 259 Widows cut and burn their bodies in mourning, 176 Wigs worn by Fijians, 451 Wiimbaio tribe, 145 Wilkes, Charles, 424 _sq._ Williams, Thomas, 408, 412, 413, 452, 467 Williamson, R. W., 201 Wind, ghosts float down the, 176 Windessi, in Dutch New Guinea, burial customs at, 318 _sq._ _Wingara_, early mythical times, 116 Witchcraft, fear of, 244; death ascribed to, 277, 402; Fijian terror of, 413 _sq._; benefits derived from, 414 Witchcraft or black magic in Central Melanesia, 386 _sq._ ---- as a cause of death, 34 _sqq._ _See also_ Sorcery Witchetty grub totem, dramatic ceremonies concerned with, 121 _sq._, 123 Wives of the dead killed, 399; strangled or buried alive at their husbands' funerals in Fiji, 424 _sq._ Woibu, the land of the dead, 211 Wolgal tribe, 146 Wollunqua, mythical water-snake, totem of the Warramunga, 103 _sqq._, 108 _sqq._, 125; ceremonies in honour of the, 108 _sqq._ Woman, old, in myths of the origin of death, 64, 71 _sq._ ----, the Great, 464 Women thought not to have immortal spirits, 92; cut and burn their bodies in mourning, 154 _sqq._, 196, 203; excluded from circumcision ground, 291, 301; dance at deaths, 293; drink juices of putrefying corpse, 355; not allowed to be present at sacrifices, 367; whip men in mourning, 452; burial of childless, 458; the cause of death, 472 ---- dying in childbed, special treatment of their ghosts, 358; their ghosts specially feared, 212, 458 _sqq._ Wordsworth on immortality, 26 _n._ 1 Worship of ancestors, 221, 328 _sqq._, 338; predominance of the, 297 _sq._; possibly evolved from totemism, 114 _sq._ _See also_ Worship of the dead. ---- of ancestors in Central Australia, possible evolution of, 125 _sq._; of ancestral spirits in the _Nanga_, 428 _sq._ ---- of the dead, 23 _sqq._, 328 _sqq._, 338; in part based on a theory of dreams, 27 _sq._; elements of it widespread, 31; in British New Guinea, 201 _sq._; predominance of the, 297 _sq._ ---- of the dead, incipient, in Australia, 149, 150, 168 _sq._ ---- of the dead in Torres Straits, elements of a, 189; among the Yabim, elements of a, 255 Worshipful ghosts, 362 _sq._ Wotjobaluk, the, 67, 139 Wraiths, 396 Wurunjerri, the, 146 Yabim, the, of German New Guinea, 242 _sqq._; their ideas as to death, 47 Yams, prayers for, 330; stones to make yams grow, 337 _sq._ Young children buried on trees, 312 _sq._ Young and old, difference between the modes of burying, 161, 162 _sq._ Youth supposed to be renewed by casting skin, 69 _sqq._, 74 _sq._, 83 Ysabel, one of the Solomon Islands, 350, 372, 379, 380 Yule Island, 196 _n._ 2, 197 Zahn, Heinrich, 242, 244 Zend-Avesta, 453 Zulus, their story of the origin of death, 60 _sq._ END OF VOL. I * * * * * Works by J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D., Litt.D. THE GOLDEN BOUGH A STUDY IN MAGIC AND RELIGION Third Edition, revised and enlarged. 8vo. Part I. The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings. Two volumes, 20s. net. II. Taboo and the Perils of the Soul. One volume. 10s. net. III. The Dying God. One volume. Second Impression. 10s. net. IV. Adonis, Attis, Osiris. One volume. Second Edition. 10s. net. V. Spirits of the Corn and of the Wild. Two volumes. 20s. net. VI. The Scapegoat. (_Spring_, 1913.) VII. Balder the Beautiful. (_Spring_, 1913.) _TIMES._--"The verdict of posterity will probably be that _The Golden Bough_ has influenced the attitude of the human mind towards supernatural beliefs and symbolical rituals more profoundly than any other books published in the nineteenth century except those of Darwin and Herbert Spencer." LECTURES ON THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE KINGSHIP. 8vo. 8s. 6d. net. _ATHEN�UM._--"It is the effect of a good book not only to teach, but also to stimulate and to suggest, and we think this the best and highest quality, and one that will recommend these lectures to all intelligent readers, as well as to the learned." PSYCHE'S TASK. A Discourse concerning the Influence of Superstition on the Growth of Institutions. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. _TIMES._--"Dr. Frazer has answered the question of how the moral law has been safeguarded, especially in its infancy, with a wealth of learning and a clearness of utterance that leave nothing to be desired. Perhaps the uses of superstition is not quite such a new theme as he seems to fancy. Even the most ignorant of us were aware that many false beliefs of a religious or superstitious character had had very useful moral or physical, or especially sanitary, results. But if the theme is fairly familiar, the curious facts which are adduced in support of it will be new to most people, and will make the book as interesting to read as the lectures must have been to hear." THE SCOPE OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY. 8vo. Sewed. 6d. net. _OXFORD MAGAZINE._--"In his inaugural lecture the new Professor of Social Anthropology in the University of Liverpool defines his Science, states its aims, and puts in a spirited plea for the scientific study of primitive man while there is still time, before the savage in his natural state becomes as extinct as the dodo." TOTEMISM AND EXOGAMY. A Treatise on Certain Early Forms of Superstition and Society. With Maps. Four vols. 8vo. 50s. net. Mr. A. E. Crawley in _NATURE_.--"Prof. Frazer is a great artist as well as a great anthropologist. He works on a big scale; no one in any department of research, not even Darwin, has employed a wider induction of facts. No one, again, has dealt more conscientiously with each fact; however seemingly trivial, it is prepared with minute pains and cautious tests for its destiny as a slip to be placed under the anthropological microscope. He combines, so to speak, the merits of Tintoretto and Meissonier.... That portion of the book which is concerned with totemism (if we may express our own belief at the risk of offending Prof. Frazer's characteristic modesty) is actually 'The Complete History of Totemism, its Practice and its Theory, its Origin and its End.'... Nearly two thousand pages are occupied with an ethnographical survey of totemism, an invaluable compilation. The maps, including that of the distribution of totemic peoples, are a new and useful feature." PAUSANIAS'S DESCRIPTION OF GREECE. Translated with a Commentary, Illustrations, and Maps. Second Edition. Six vols. 8vo. 126s. net. _ATHEN�UM._--"All these writings in many languages Mr. Frazer has read and digested with extraordinary care, so that his book will be for years _the_ book of reference on such matters, not only in England, but in France and Germany. It is a perfect thesaurus of Greek topography, archæology, and art. It is, moreover, far more interesting than any dictionary of the subject; for it follows the natural guidance of the Greek traveller, examining every town or village which he describes; analysing and comparing with foreign parallels every myth or fairy tale which he records; citing every information which can throw light on the works of art he admires." PAUSANIAS AND OTHER GREEK SKETCHES. Globe 8vo. 4s. net. _GUARDIAN._--"Here we have material which every one who has visited Greece, or purposes to visit it, most certainly should read and enjoy.... We cannot imagine a more excellent book for the educated visitor to Greece." LETTERS OF WILLIAM COWPER. Chosen and Edited with a Memoir and a few Notes by J. G. Frazer, D.C.L., LL.D., Litt.D. Two vols. Globe 8vo. 8s. net. (_Eversley Series._) Mr. Clement Shorter in the _DAILY CHRONICLE_.--"To the task Dr. Frazer has given a scholarly care that will make the edition one that is a joy to possess. His introductory Memoir, of some eighty pages in length, is a valuable addition to the many appraisements of Cowper that these later years have seen. It is no mere perfunctory 'introduction' but a piece of sound biographical work.... Dr. Frazer has given us two volumes that are an unqualified joy." MacMillan and Co., Ltd., London.